Wish-I-Could-Bottle-It-And-Keep-It

When I opened my eyes this morning, it was nearly six. *sigh* I know a lot of people love to sleep in. They stay in bed, feel pampered, rested, happy.

I hate it when I accidentally sleep in. I feel as if I missed something. The world is doing and being and happening, and I miss it all.

I don’t get as much written or accomplished, and I feel kind of pfffffft.

So today when I finally open my eyes at just before six, I’m more than just a little disappointed. After dragging a comb through my hair, I stumble downstairs.

And, oh! A great surprise!

The sun isn’t quite over the horizon, so the world is still a little shadowy, all the colors sweet and muted and absolutely gorgeous. The temperature is 59 degrees. Wish-I-could-bottle-it-and-keep-it weather.

Makes me want to sing opera. Or at least The Sound of Music. (Think Julie Andrews spinning on her mountain.)

The music is birdsong. We have a mockingbird who likes to go through his repertoire of songs. I’m not sure which bird the rest of the music is coming from, but I’m grooving on it. 

I love mornings!

David must have just experienced mornings just like this one, because he put what I’m feeling into words.

¹ Praise the Lord, my soul. Lord my God, you are very great; you are clothed with splendor and majesty. ² The Lord wraps himself in light as with a garment; he stretches out the heavens like a tent ³and lays the beams of his upper chambers on their waters. He makes the clouds his chariot and rides on the wings of the wind. ⁴ He makes winds his messengers,flames of fire his servants. ⁵ He set the earth on its foundations; it can never be moved.    Psalm 104 NIV 

Happy Birthday, Sister Debbie!

Debbie gave me this picture several years ago in a frame that says, “Sisters.” She’s the baby,  and that’s our gorgeous mama.

And today’s Deb’s birthday.

One of my favorite things about Debbie is her wonderful and warped sense of humor.I don’t remember what Jeffrey did to crack us up in this picture. Debbie’s seated here, wearing black and  white, and saying, ”I’m the nice one.”

That made us laugh all over again.

Debbie is the sister everyone wishes they had. She’s fun and funny, a wonderful, loyal friend, a cohort in crime and a world class shopper.

Her life hasn’t always been easy, but she’s always taken the high road.

More than the sister of a lifetime, she’s a sister for eternity. Debbie is one of the most spiritual people I know.

Deb is on the right.

When trouble came in her life that would have made most women run to a lawyer, she ran to the Lord. She fasted and prayed for over a year, seeking God’s perfect will.

Thank you, Debbie, for being a special sister of my heart.

Thank you for getting in trouble with me, for being so much like Mama even though I look most like her , for being there every time I’ve needed you, for having a sense of humor and for know God in a way few people ever do and being so willing to share Him.

Happy birthday!

I love you!

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Confession

Hydrangea macrophylla – Hortensia hydrangea, picture from Longwood Gardens (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve always thought I was too lazy to have an addiction, but I have one now.

My addiction is to . . . Gardening Magazines.

Weird, I know, but it’s true. I love reading magazines about gardens.

I have four magazine storage boxes full of them. And yes, I do go back and read them.

Why? you ask. What can they put in one magazine that’s not already been in?

Well . . . I like seeing new plants–right now I’m looking for a Penny Mac Hydrangea to replace the big azalea I lost in the drought last year, next to my porch–and I love seeing other people’s gardens, even if it’s only on paper.

It’s great to read hints and tips about making gardening easier. And I adore learning about people who also enjoy something about gardening. The terminal curiosity in me wants to know how they got started. Why they do what they do. How they know what they know.

There’s not one particular publication I like, really, but I find I most enjoy the  ones that make me feel cozy and in the country. The ones that are about gardens that belong in the Queen’s backyards . . . not so much. And mags about the biology of a plant make my eyes glaze over.

It used to be that I couldn’t pass a GM without buying it. They just held too much allure for me to pass them by! But then I started to notice one picture would be used in several magazines. And some stories were little more than reruns, so I’ve learned to check them out before I buy.

I was just thinking yesterday there should be a GM specific to Okie-Land. After all, we have our own climate issues and areas where one thing grows better than another. And native plants always grow better than imported ones.

Guess what? There is!

Naturally, I brought it home and inside, I saw a picture of the woman I used to buy my plants from when I lived in Pryor Creek.

The couple who owned the nursery started it next to a small motel. I’m not sure if they managed the motel or owned it, but they enjoyed plants and flowers so much, before long they were only in the nursery business. It’s good to know they’re still in it.

It was just a thumbnail pic of her, but she’d hardly changed. They’d asked her for her favorite bedding plants, and her answer was Greek to me. But that’s no surprise. I don’t recognize the “real” name to most plants.

Mine all have names like Hitler, Midget, Columbus and Lazarus.

Do you have GMs you like to read? What’s your fave?

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♥ Things I Love ♥

This is one of my all time favorite Mother’s Day cards. #3 son, Brad, made it for me. I should have written the date on it, but I didn’t think of it. :(

I don’t remember if Brad didn’t have any money that year or if he ran out of time, but he wanted to give me a card for Mother’s Day, so he made his own.

For years I’ve kept it close at hand, just like some of the letters to Santa my boys wrote. They warm my heart and make me feel very much loved.

The front says,

Dear Susan Carol Spess, Shay.

Happy Mothers Day

It’s decorated with all the things I love–Watermelon, flowers, a fountain, tulips. (Smart kid, huh?)

Inside is a poem.

 Dear Susan C Shay,

Hope you have a happy Mothers day.

Because this is a special day.

Happy Mothers Day. Yeah!!!

He signed it with a heart.

I’ve had many years of Mother’s Day cards and gifts–funny, happy and once in a while, sappy–and each one was very special because it came from my children or their father. But none of them is more special than this card from my little boy’s heart.

And the funny part? The part that makes me laugh and cry and want to hug my little boy one more time?

Can you read it?

“P. S. Sorry this is not a real card.”

I think it’s among the realest cards I’ve ever received.

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Sharing Grins

Here it is, Friday, again. How’s your week been? Good? Fan-flipping-tastic?

When you judge your week, how do you do it? One of my favorite friends and favorite writers, Marilyn Pappano, is probably judging her week by the number of pages she gets written. She’s under contract for about a gazillion books this year (yay!) so that’s important.

School kids are counting down to the end of school. They’re now in the single digits, making for a great week.

Dad judges his by the number of days until he gets his new/old chicken coop (more on that later) and by measuring the growth in his garden.

I like to judge my week by the number of things that made me grin.

Yeah, I know. Weird, right? I can’t help it. It’s the way my twig is bent.

This week at work, we had some really grinny days and some that were laugh out loud funny.

Deegan, the office ruler, keeps us all grinning.

He’s decided that Cousin Rick is the king of the world. It’s hard to get Deegan to walk past Rick’s door without going in for a visit, and to put on Rick’s hat. And Deegan demands that Rick take him outside to play in the back of his pickup several times a day.

I doubt if you can tell what this is, but it makes me grin every time I drive past it.

There. Is that any better? Someone who lives at the top of this hill has planted pink roses so they’ll grown down the side. Isn’t it gorgeous?

How did it happen?

Did someone plant a climbing rose and over fertilize it? Did they forget it was there and let it just go to town?

Or was someone just extra thoughtful? Maybe they planted several roses and aimed them toward the expressway to give people on the drive to and from T-Town a little something to enjoy?

Who/what/however it was . . . THANKS! You make me grin. (Or at least your roses do.)

One of my tomato plants disappeared this week. That shouldn’t make me grin, but it’s like someone came along and plucked it right out of the ground. No leaves left. No stem. Nada.

I can’t help but remember the old cartoon of the gopher underground in his run, popping vegetables out of the ground overhead.

BTW: There’s no sign of a gopher or a mole, but I have a grin.

And finally, my biggest grin of the week has been Car Wars.

We don’t have assigned parking at work. There are areas where we park out of habit, but even the boss and TV star–well, he’s the boss anyway–doesn’t have squatters rights to his spot.

One day this week, one of the secretaries got hungry and was running out to get something to eat just as another woman was arriving. First Woman had pulled halfway out of her spot when the next woman pulled up and waited. First Woman, not wanting to lose her space, pulled back in.  She waited. Woman in the street waited. They both waited. And waited. The universe expanded. Finally, sensing a stalemate, the woman in the street finally went to a space farther away.

Whew! Saved. First Woman started to pull out again and another worker pulled up and waited to pull in. First Woman pulled back in and, with a lot of determination, out waited that one, too.

Finally! First Woman thought she was safe to dash over, get her food and get back before anyone could steal her spot. She started to pull out again when a third woman pulled up and waited. For the third time, First Woman pulled back in and  out waited the interloper.

But Third Woman outwitted the spot-squatter. She pulled around the block and waited until she saw First Woman drive away. Then she circled the block and zipped right into the coveted spot.

After all her work, time, patience and determination, First Woman had her parking spot stolen right from under her.

And I missed the whole thing! (I’ve got to start getting to work earlier.)

I heard the story from an unhappy Blocked Parker–all three, actually–and laughed my guts out.

That’s just too funny! (Maybe because I wasn’t involved.) Especially when you remember that, like everyone I know (me, too!) these women are looking for ways to get more exercise.

LOL!

So how about you? Any grins you can share this week?

♥♥♥ Mother’s Day Torture ♥♥♥

Mother’s Day, 2012. Are you ready?

As an official Mother, I take the holiday very seriously. Hey, it’s time when Moms get to rake in gifts! What’s not to love?

In fact, each year I take out my beautiful Mother’s Day memories and polished them bright.

When I was a little girl, Grandmother lived next door. Each MD, she reminded us we were supposed to wear a red rose to church that morning, but she wore a white one. Why? we always asked. Because our mother was here on earth, hers was in Heaven.

So on MD morning, we’d ravage the rose bushes at the Spess houses. I don’t remember using clippers, and scissors went missing more often than not, so we just kind of peeled them off the bush.

I don’t raise roses, but even I know that can’t be a good thing.

When we’d get to church, there was always a contest to see who had the most kids. It started out with every mother with 1 child, stand up. (That way every mom was recognized.) Then it went on until it got to six kids. Someone (Mrs. Maxwell?) had more kids, so some years the kids had to be present just to give Mama a chance.

After Mrs. Maxwell (or whomever it was) passed away, Mom had the prize by the horns. Other moms crossed their fingers and hoped our mom would have to be gone one year, but she never missed. And yes, her kids were nearly always there. (Hey, it’s Mother’s Day.)

One of my favorite Mother’s Day Memories stars Danny. Because of his lack of remorse over it, I’ve reserved the right to torture him as much as possible.

One year, he was in Sunday School with his two cousins, Grant and Kyle. They made Mother’s Day cards for their craft that day.

When they came out of SS, they came out together and ran up to Debbie. “Here, Mama.” Grant handed her his card.

“Here, Mama.” Kyle handed her his card.

“Here, Aunt Deb.”

Danny had made his card for my sister.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Aunt Deb.”

I laughed so hard, I nearly cried.

And to this day, he refuses to feel guilty about it. “Peer pressure, Mom. Gets me every time.”

I wonder if Sister Debbie saved that card? I would have. (Tear.)

In his honor, I found a delightful website with absolutely hilarious Mother’s Day cards. It’s called Wit and Whistle. I’m always the last to hear about these things, so everyone else has probably enjoyed them for years.

If you haven’t, check it out. It might not be your cup of tea, but at least you’ll get a little insight into my skewed sense of humor.

Front: ”thanks for loving me even though I plowed through your lady parts with my big bulbous baby head”

Inside: “you’re the best”

The perfect brand new, first time mom card! LOL.

Front: ”thanks for squeezing me out”

Inside: Blank.

But what can you say after that?

 Front: ”in the animal kingdom some mothers eat their babies”

Inside: ”Thanks for not eating me. Happy Mother’s Day!”

I can’t help it. They make me snort with laughter.

This next one, I like best. It doesn’t make me laugh, but it makes me smile a really, really big smile.

Front: “you were always my favorite”

 Inside: “don’t tell dad”

Maybe #1 could buy that for Aunt Deb this year.

So how about your family? Do you go for the sweet and sappy cards or is your mom like me, just a little bit twisted?

Here’s a hint–laughter keeps a woman young. Go for it!

Ps: I don’t know the women at Wit and Whistle. I saw their website today for the first time. (Love the Bee Vomit card, btw) I’ve never even bought a card. But I have a feeling I will. Oh, yeah!

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Rerun Wednesday

As I mentioned Monday, George Lindsey went to that Great Gas Station in the sky last weekend. George played Goober, who worked at Wally’s Gas Station on The Andy Griffith Show.

The Andy Griffith Show has lasted as long in reruns as just about any show out there because it’s about the warm and wacky people in a Small Town World . . . just my kind of show! And apparently lots of other people, too.

So to honor Goober, Andy, Barney, Opie, Aunt Bea, Gomer and all the rest–I’m going to share one of my blogs from 2007.

AUNT BETTY BUTT

One day several years ago, I noticed that I’d received my inheritance from my Aunt Betty. I got her butt. Honest, I have an exact replica of my aunt’s hind end.

No, it’s not the pretty kind that’s small and round in just the right spot. It’s shaped more like a ham. A full ham, if you get my drift. So naturally I named my butt Aunt Betty.

How can you keep from joking about a ‘blessing’ like that? If I accidentally bump someone, I tell them Aunt Betty’s getting out of hand, that sort of thing.

Recently I noticed, Aunt Betty’s trying to take over the world, and she’s growing with leaps and bounds. (Sort of moves that way, too.) What did I do about it?

I joined the local gym.

BF Marilyn Pappano got way too much enjoyment out of that. When she stopped laughing and could breathe again she said, “I can’t believe you joined a gym. That would be like Julia Sugarbaker (Designing Women) pumping iron and sweating. I just can’t see it.”

When I told her our gym used to be a church, she laughed even harder. (Maybe Marilyn’s Aunt Betty is small because she keeps laughing it off. At me.) “Is that so when you work out you can pray to survive?”

Yes. Or die.

The first day I put on headphones with a tape from RWA National so I wouldn’t have to listen to myself pant and wheeze, and started out on the treadmill. Five minutes to warm up. Then I headed for the weight machines.

By the way, that’s not me in the picture. I borrowed the picture from #4′s website, but not #4 in the picture.  It’s not Aunt Betty, either.

Thankfully no one else was there at the time. I worked my inner thighs and my outter thighs. Then my front thighs. (Who knew they had so many machines for specific areas?)

I did a twisty thing that I think is to whittle my waist. Next I saw an interesting machine with handle bars dangling in front. Not paying too much attention to the actual contraption itself, I straddled the mechanism and dropped onto the seat. Well, I thought I was going to land on the seat, but I missed. (On the right side.)

With a little chuckle, I got up and tried it again. You’re not going to believe it, but I missed, again. (This time on the left side.)

It’s pretty bad when you aren’t smarter than a big chunk of metal. Grabbing the seat with both hands, I carefully sat down in the middle and balanced there.

But I couldn’t make the thing work. I have a “bad” shoulder that the doctor did shrinky dink surgery on–used a laser to shorten the ligament that holds the ball in the joint–so I try not to put too much stress on it.

That machine was too much stress. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) Besides, I got a lot of exercise just trying to get on the silly thing.

When I got off the machine with the dodging seat, I found someone else had come in and was on a treadmill, but I hadn’t heard them because of the headphones.

I just hope she got a lot of enjoyment out of her afternoon.

A few days later, when I could walk again without limping, I went back to the gym/church/torture chamber. This time a friend was there who showed me the ins and outs of the machines. (I’m not a person who can look at a machine and instantly know how it works. Big surprise.)

So we worked out together. Sort of. This woman has been working out for only 2 1/2 weeks. When she’s at the gym, it’s the machines that get the workout. She knows how all of them work and puts them to good use. After lifting weights for an eternity, I was ready to leave, but she tempted me back to the treadmill. (I’d already warmed up on it for 5 minutes before I machined.)

Did I mention I forgot to take a bottle of water? Needless to say, by the time I was through, I needed a drink badly!

And now I feel wonderful–sore muscles, achy knees and all. I probably wouldn’t need to work out again for a while, except for the fact that Aunt Betty is still hanging in there. Or out there. So I’ll pop back over tonight and at least walk the treadmill.

Even if my friend’s not there to work out with me, I’ll always have Aunt Betty to keep me company.

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Bunny Leaps

Remember our Garden Blessing Bunnies?Not much later (like the next morning) baby bunnies became Bullet Dodgers.

We quickly learned that Yorkshire Terriers like to chase baby bunnies, too. In fact, they were bred for it.

According to my friend, Wiki:

The Yorkshire Terrier is a small dog breed of terriertype, developed in the 19th century in the county of Yorkshire, England to catch rats in clothing mills.

I read somewhere Yorkies are famous for controlling mice, moles, rabbits–anything that scurries along the ground, and yeah, that’s our Molly.

Once she saw a mole peep out of its run. She got curious (which is why she so belongs in MY family) dug into the hole and did poor mole boy in.

My apologies to mole lovers everywhere.

(Aside: To keep that from happening again, I now plant Castor Bean plants in my yard to keep moles and gophers from wanting to come for a visit.)

Anyway, Molly noticed the rabbit hole with the baby bunnies in it. She didn’t do much except look in the hole, until the babies started to get more active. One day I came home from work and G-Man said, “I need your help in the garden.”

Since the garden is usually my part of our world, I was a little wary. “What happened?”

“The bunnies were out playing and Molly chased one off the wall.”

The wall is only about a yard high, but we have a fence and no gate out there. Before I got home, my man had taken off the fence hardware so he could get through it, but needed me to help hold it open for him. He squeezed through, went down the wall and started his bunny  hunt.

The property right behind us is a tree filled, which means leaves get there and multiply. Somewhere in all those leaves, a baby bunny was lost from its brothers and sisters, and G-Man couldn’t stand it.

My man took my little hand rake and dug through those leaves until–WOOHOO!–he found it.

We got him back with his sibs.

My man made the bunnies a little protection after that.

This is a box the milk man used in that Small Town to the North. I rescued it along with its brother when we cleaned out G-Man’s parents’ house. He put that over the hole so Miss M couldn’t get to the babies, propped up the box so Mama Bunny could get in to feed the babies and teach them Bunny Tricks.

 Because the Queen of our Castle is able to open sliding doors and squeeze under gates and fences if given a challenge, he put this rock on top to keep her from pushing the box-house out of the way.

The Bunny Hole is empty now. I’ve put away the Bunny House (milk box) and the rock. Molly still goes out to the garden and stares into the Bunny Hole, hoping to find a new challenge.

And the bunnies? I saw one or two of the babies on Saturday. I don’t know if the others moved on to another yard or found free falling from the wall so much fun, they couldn’t resist another go.

But I’m hoping they acted like “Peter Rabbit” , squeezed through our fence and found Farmer McGregor’s garden. If they did, I hope McGreg is blind to them. And doesn’t have a dog.

G-Man was a little disappointed we couldn’t bring them into the house and let Molly mother them. He thought they’d make a great YouTube clip with her flock of babies at her side.

Maybe next time.

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Magic Reruns

Goober died yesterday.

That’s a test–sort of.

If you hadn’t see the report of him dying and you read, “Goober died,” would you have known who I’m talking about?

 George Lindsey.

My family watched The Andy Griffith show without fail, every week from the beginning in October, 1960.

The Andy Griffith Show was a spinoff from The Danny Thomas Show. Do you remember the episode that introduced Andy and Mayberry?

If I remember right (and my BIL, Noel, can correct me if I’m wrong) we don’t see the inciting incident where Andy arrests Danny for not stopping at a stop sign. Andy takes him to the jail/courthouse, where Danny protests he shouldn’t have to pay a fine because there was no road.

Andy tells him they can’t afford the road yet.

Danny argues and decides he’s going to take it up with the judge. Andy says that’s fine. Then he puts on his judge’s robe and bangs the gavel. He’s the judge, too.

I don’t remember what happened after that, except it all turns out good with warm, love-your-neighbor feelings all around.

I loved watching Andy (who reminded me of my dad) Aunt Bea and Opie. I wasn’t a huge Barney fan, probably because some of his mistakes were things I could relate to. Too well.

I enjoyed laughing at the easy-going Gomer Pyle, and in 1965 his cousin, Goober joined the cast. George had originally read for Gomer, but Jim Nabors got the part.

Jim and George are both from Alabama, so they made great cousins.

From Wikipedia–

Goober was viewed as backward and not very bright. This was perhaps best seen on The Andy Griffith Show episode where Goober believed his new dog spoke English, which then filled his head with make-it-rich scenarios. In reality, the “talking dog” was a practical joke played by Opie and a friend, who had hidden a walkie-talkie under the dog’s collar, giving voice to the shaggy beast.

Although Goober portrayed a somewhat childlike and happy-go-lucky character, he had the ability to view life and people with a sense of wonder and goodness. And, his automotive mechanical skills were exceptional, as evidenced in one episode by taking Gilley Walker’s car apart and reassembling it inside the sheriff’s office, and then taking it apart again, and reassembling it again outside.

I didn’t realize it, but George played parts other than Goober Pyle.

As Lindsey started his portrayal as Goober, he also had a minor role in the Walter Brennan series The Tycoon on ABC. Lindsey also had a role in Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea entitled Submarine Sunk Here. He played a blackmailing taxicab driver in the “Bed of Roses” episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour. He was also on Hee-Haw a couple of times.

But Goober is what he was famous for.

Do you remember the Goober Dance? How about Goober’s impersonation of Cary Grant and Edward G. Robinson? He could walk like Chester and sew his fingers together to make a puppet. Remember? Those writers really gave the guy some talents, didn’t they? But Goober loved sharing them.

He loved Super-Heros and movie monsters.

Very few people name The Andy Griffith Show as their all time favorite (some won’t even admit to watching it) except maybe my BIL, Noel, who can answer AGS trivia questions the way my kids can answer Simpson trivia.

It’s not my all timer, either. But I have fond memories of my family, gathering together to watch it whenever possible.

The world will be just a little bit sadder place to live because George is no longer in it. But that’s to the Magic of Reruns. We’ll always have Goober.

Did you watch The Andy Griffith Show? Who was your favorite character? Favorite Episode?

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Garden Play

Yesterday, being Saturday, I got to play in my garden. But before I could play, I had to hit a couple of garden stores.

 Just about noon, so the shadows are awful. Hopefully, you can see the falls.

I probably should mention, this is not my pond. It’s at the garden store and just beautiful. I’ll be redoing mine this year, so I took the pictures for inspiration. (I’ll be checking out Larry Lawrence’s pond pics, too, when I get started.)

Nice, isn’t it?

 Can you see the stream, leading from the falls to the actual pond itself? So natural looking.

My pond won’t look just like this, of course. If I’m doing it, it won’t be nearly that perfect. But I’ll love it just the same. You can barely make out the skimmer on the right. The water goes out there to be pumped back to the falls. When it goes out, leaves and other debris land in the basket. Great idea! I hope to borrow that for sure.

Of course, there was way more than just a pond at the store. I’m always worried someone will stop me when I take pictures like that, so I try not to take too many.

Couldn’t resist this guy, though.

No, I didn’t buy him, but I’m thinking he’d make a great HRIC. (Head Rooster In Charge.)

When I finally got home, I went to work in earnest. All the gardens needed watering, and I planted several babies but I didn’t get finished. (I need a pot and new soil for some herbs.)

Next I cleared part of the deck, moved a washstand to said deck and plan to copy Sister Deb’s design. (Sincerest form of flattery. Right?)

And then I attacked what used to be my herb garden. It was a casual garden, even in the beginning. My sage flowed into my lemon verbena, which grew near my chives, and they all grew in front of my lavender.

And then I planted oregano. At least I believe it was oregano. Whatever it was, I call it Hitler. The big bully marched right over everything as if it was his right. He trampled the sage, which had a branch about an inch in diameter, and got my lemon verbena without blinking an eye. Swallowed the chives whole!

The only thing he didn’t get is my lavender. But that’s because my lavender was too big to attack.

I dug up the oregano yesterday with a sharp shooter shovel. It felt good!

But I had to dig the lavender up, too.

I’ll never be able to work on the pond with him in the way, but I’ll miss him. He’s given me tons of fragrance over the years.

 A view of the body.

Here’s the last offender–polk. He’s gone now, too. All that’s left is to move all the rocks and get started.

Oh, I forgot to mention. I ran into this little guy, romping in the yard, a couple of times.

More on the bunny saga later in the week.

Are you a gardener? What’s your favorite garden chore? Least favorite?

If you have time, check out my Garden Blessing.

 

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