A day in the life of.....Gray Baby

THE END.  :)

Shopping for Clothes

The only thing worse than shopping for groceries is shopping for clothes.  I. HATE. SHOPPING. FOR. CLOTHES.   It is such a pain in the butt to grab a handful of clothes that MIGHT fit, take them to the dressing room, take off garments, put on garments, grimace at my reflection in a mirror that is definitely not my friend.  Repeat until frustrated and flustered and leave the store empty-handed.

I have never enjoyed anything about trying on clothes.  Shopping for school clothes were some of the most miserable days of my youth.  By the time I was in the fifth grade, Mama finally got the message and left me at home while taking the other three kids to buy new clothes and shoes.  Mama would pick out clothes and shoes for me with hopes that everything would fit properly.  There wasn't really any way she could go wrong with jeans and t-shirts.  Prom dresses?  Mama picked those out for me as well.  

Poor Kristin.  She had to suffer through my bad attitude when I took her shopping for clothes.  Thank goodness for Garanimals --- the best mix and match line of clothes ever! Kristin would try on a pair of pants, shorts and shirt until we found the right size of each.  From there, I bought one of each color.  Bam!  Finished shopping in 30 minutes or less.  

These days, I am so very grateful for on-line clothes shopping.  I have determined my "true fit" with each website I visit so all I have to do is figure out what I like and put it in my virtual shopping cart.  Pop-pop, click-click!  Finished shopping in 30 minutes or less.  My sanity remains intact and my attitude is right on track.  :) 

Official Rain Gauge

As most of you know, I refer to our rain gauge as the "Jetton Slave Ranch official rain gauge" when reporting rainfall at the end of the dirt road.  It isn't anything fancy.  No glitter or ribbons to attract the rain.  Just a simple, durable plastic contraption which captures measurable moisture.  

The actual gauge fits inside a cylinder.  Then a funnel (shown to the left of the gauge in the picture) is secured on top of the gauge.  The cylinder is secured to a fence post near the house.  This gauge measures to the (pardon me) "gnat's ass".  

It really is an "official" gauge.  We report our rainfall report to the National Weather Service which, for our region, is based in San Angelo.  We have actually reported mere/100ths of an inch (reference "gnat's ass" in previous paragraph) on more than one occasion.    

There are several rain gauges posted at various spots on the ranch.  Sometimes it rains more on the west side than east side, south side than north side, etc.  But we report only the rain in the Jetton Slave Ranch official rain gauge to the NWS.  Sam keeps rainfall records for the entire ranch for all pertinent purposes.  

And there you have it.  Let's hope we can get into a routine of reporting substantial rainfall amounts like we did earlier this week.  PRAY FOR RAIN!  :) 

Flying Kites

I.  Hate.  The.  Wind.  I enjoy a breeze while sitting on the porch on a hot summer afternoon.  There is a HUGE difference between a gentle, soothing breeze as opposed to the 30mph gusts we have been experiencing lately.


My only good memory of wind is flying kites.  Mama would take us to Gibson's (located across from the Texan Theater) and let us pick out kites.  Marshall was drawn to the ones with eyes and teeth.  I preferred the ones with bright colors.  There was never enough string on the roll that came with the packaged kite.  With that in mind, Mama would buy us more rolls of string.  We would prepare our endless amount feet of string rolls and be ready for  the WIND! 


We had a field in front of the house that was perfect for flying kites.  No trees, no electrical lines and unlimited space all around us.  With great anticipation, we would unfurl our kites, toss them in the air and run like heck to launch the kites.  Our kites would encounter a couple of nose dives before we got the hang of things.  I forgot to mention competition.  Of course we had to see who could get their kite the highest in the sky.  We would very meticulously let out more string and watch the kites become mere dots in the sky.  Our kites were soaring like buzzards!!


And then it happened.  The string on my kite broke and my kite sailed away.  I could only encourage Marshall to continue to fly his kite while I pouted about the loss of my kite.  Snap!  The string broke on Marshall's kite and it, too, sailed away.  Well, that wouldn't do!  We jumped on our bikes for a kite search-and-rescue effort.  For all we knew, the kites were halfway to the next county but we had to look for them.  By the time we got to the river, we had lost interest in the kites and skipped rocks (another competition) until our arms were sore.


Now-a-days, I cuss the wind when I'm driving. I cuss the wind when it blows so hard that the hummingbird feeders sway and sugar water goes all over the place.  I cuss the wind when I'm trying to contain my mail from the post office to the vehicle.  I cuss the wind simply because I. HATE. THE. WIND.  Maybe I should fly a kite just to make peace with the wind.  Nah.  I'll just stay indoors and cuss the wind.  :)

For the Love of Reading

Books are a mainstay in my life.  On cold winter mornings while sitting on the floor in the front of the fire place, Aunt Jane was teaching me how to sound out words when I was four years old.   Going to the public library with Grandmom was a treat!  I thought Mrs. Mahler had the best job in the world as librarian. 

I went through the Trixie Beldon mystery books like wildfire.  Mama bought "Little House on the Prairie" series which should have kept me entertained for at least six weeks.  Laura Ingalls was my new favorite pioneer girl.  I zipped through the prairie life in a couple of weeks.  Fairy tales and Little Golden Books were great places to visit.  

And then Nancy Drew took the spotlight from Trixie Beldon on the mystery front.  Mama signed me up with a book club in which I received one Nancy Drew book a month.  Each book had two mystery stories.  Each book equaled one afternoon of reading.  I would re-read each story just in case I missed an important clue along the way.  

Mama was in the same book club and received two Harlequin Romance novels each month.  I never could quite get a good hold on the romance novels.  Damsels in distress being rescued by pirates or rouges living the hard life didn't hold my attention like mysteries did.  

I still have my Nancy Drew and Little House on the Prairie book collections.  Over the years I have added new collections to my small home library which are shelved all over the house.   Mystery novels are still my favorite reading material.  It is best to steer clear of me when I'm engrossed in a darn good book.  Just ask Sam.....

Reading is good for the soul.  It is true what they say, "Don't judge a book by its cover."  You might just miss out on the story of a lifetime.   :)

Babysitting

That was a heck of a hiatus!  We have been super crazy busy at work (that's a good thing) but it sure has interfered with things I would rather be doing --- like blogging.  Sitting down at the home computer after spending hours on the work computer simply does not happen.  

I must give a "shout out" to Jerry Stewart.  He asked me yesterday, "What happened to your blogging?"  I promised him I would get back on track with a story about babysitting.  So, here goes....

My best friend, LeAnn, and I spent a lot of time together back in the day.  Our daughters, each named Kristin, were playmates and grew up like sisters.  Either we were all at my house or LeAnn's house on most afternoons and weekends.  We would sit outside in lawn chairs while the girls performed skits, dances and baked mud pies for us.  It was one such afternoon at LeAnn's house when we were perched in her front yard in our lawn chairs.  We were using the cooler containing adult beverages as a footrest and watching the girls play.  

Enter Jerry.  His parents live next door to where LeAnn lived.  Jerry came home from work and found us sitting in the yard sipping our beverages and talking about life.  He ambled over and asked us, "What are y'all doing?"  We both answered, "Babysitting.  Want to join us?" He pulled up a lawn chair, grabbed a cold one and helped us babysit.  

Here's to the days of babysitting and sitting in lawn chairs in the yard with friends and a cooler of adult beverages!  :) 

  

A Horse Named Darrell

Modern days call for modern means of rounding up the goats and cattle.  My modern horse is named "Darrell".  I inherited Darrell from one of our lease hunters whose name is (surprise!) Darrell.  Darrell would leave his 4-wheeler on the ranch year-round.  He told us to utilize the 4-wheeler and keep it in good shape during off-season as opposed to it collecting dust and not starting up each hunting season when he would use it.  I claimed it since the other ranch 4-wheelers are pretty much spoken for.  

Darrell (the wheeler, not the hunter) is my means of transportation on the ranch.  It comes in handy when hauling trash, feed and even Buddy Dog.  Buddy likes to ride in the back basket.  The front basket is the perfect size to hold my care package, camera and tools. Darrell is equipped with a clock which comes in handy when I'm out and about and supposed to pick up Sam at a particular time from wherever he is clearing brush on the bulldozer.  

Last fall, Darrell (the hunter) gave me full ownership of Darrell (the wheeler).  The hunter said he prefers to travel in the comfort of his pickup to and from the blinds.  "There is more room in the back of the pickup than on the back of the 4-wheeler to haul the big bucks back to camp."  

Darrell (the wheeler, not the hunter) and I have traveled many miles together and hope to travel many more.  It is especially nice to have when I travel cross-country to the river.  Thanks, Darrell (the hunter), for the best kind of horse a woman could ask for!  :)

The Cave

Sam discovered this cave while clearing cedar in what we call the "250" or "White Tail Pasture".  His bull dozer shifted on the rock plate as he went over it.  Kennon was the guinea pig and took these photos to share with those of us who are claustrophobic.  With the help of Sam and Mike, Kennon was lowered into the cave using the winch on the 4-wheeler.  As you can tell by the picture to the left, Sam and Mike are quite pleased with themselves.  The cave opening is about twelve feet from the top to the floor of the cave.  The main floor is tall enough to stand up in with room for three to four people.  There is one room to the north of the main floor.  At a later time and date, Mike army-crawled as far back as he could go. No bats, no animal carcasses, no human remains.  And best of all, no spiders or snakes!  In the meantime, Sam constructed a metal ladder that makes for easier access into and out of the cave.  A couple of months after the initial discovery, I worked up the courage to wiggle myself into the cave.  I lasted all of three minutes before I clambered out of there.  I didn't prove anything myself and remain claustrophobic. We have stumbled across other caves on the ranch but none is quite is as impressive as this one.  A smaller cave on the ranch is actually a rattlesnake den and is marked with orange flagging as a warning marker.  No sense in tempting fate.  :)

Stalactites in Main Room
 



Close up of Stalactites in Main Room

Red Velvet Cake

The story of the red velvet cake goes back to my childhood.  Red Velvet Cake is the ultimate birthday cake! Mama would bake each of us a Red Velvet Cake on our birthdays.  We actually looked forward to the special cake as much or more than we did our birthday gifts. Three layers of yummy goodness equals a very happy birthday! As Mama's kids began their own families, the requests for a Red Velvet Cake increased with each additional grandchild.  Four cakes a year became thirteen cakes a year!  Layered cakes became sheet cakes.  Mama decided we would have to share cakes with those having birthdays in the same month. She even tried to trick us into a "quarterly" cake to encompass three birthday months at a time.

A couple of years ago, Kristin was honored with her very own Red Velvet Cake on her 21st birthday. Her Nana had it ready to be picked up when Kristin rolled into town.  It was carefully placed in a tupperware container.  (As a rule of thumb, the Heaps and descendents of the Heaps tend to be, um, clumsy.)  I met Kris at the door to help her carry her in her bags.  She insisted on carrying the cake to the table herself.  There is a grate located at the base of the house steps that we use to clean our muddy shoes.  And that is where the stumble happened.  Down went Kris holding on to the container for dear life trying to save the cake.  I could only watch helplessly from the porch as she crashed.  The look on Kris' face was of dismay and the bottom lip was beginning to tremble. We ended up with a pile of sweet goodness that wasn't much to look at once we got it to the table.  Don't underestimate the power the ultimate birthday cake has over any of Mama's kids or grandkids!  :)

From Kodak to Canon

Cameras have come a long way since my Kodak Instamatic 110.  I believe my parents gave it to me for my 12th birthday.  The film cartridge was offered with 12 or 24 frames.  Depending on how much money I had saved determined which cartridge I was able to purchase.  I only took pictures of important things like dogs, cats, my poster of Garfield, Mama's dang birds, etc.  It was always with excitement to see the developed prints of which most looked like nothing I thought I had captured on film.  There were a lot of images with my finger covering half the objects of my important pictures.

Armed with a pack of candy cigarettes, I would spend hours outside looking for the opportunity to take the perfect picture.  I had to discipline myself to be patient since I was limited with the amount of frames on the cartridge.  Peacocks were my favorite subjects --- especially when the males were strutting their tail feathers.  To capture the beauty of peacocks was always my idea of the perfect picture.  And I did!  I was so excited about it when I told Mama about my ability to be still and be patient.  It was all good until my excitement caused me to pop out the cartridge BEFORE using all the frames.  Exposed film meant no perfect peacock picture. 

Fast forward thirty-seven years and I am now the proud owner of a Canon Rebel T3i 600D.  (I had to look on the box to remember what kind of camera it is.)  This camera is amazing!  I am still taking pictures of important things like Buddy Dog, Gray Cat, goats, the outside kitties, house shoes, etc. No worries of overexposing or developing film. And I just hit delete if I don't like the looks of the picture.  I am still working on the perfect peacock picture..... :)

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Check Your Boots at the Door

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME!  The new carpet was installed yesterday in the living room.  I was already walking across it barefoot before the guys were finished.  Even though I suggested the guys wear masks when removing the UGLY blue carpet, I caught some slack for the UGLY blue carpet's condition.  What did they expect after 30 years, give or take, of wear and tear and animals?? 

There is no such thing as a squeaky clean house when living at the end of a dirt road.  I asked Gramps how old he thought this house is.  He told me it was here when he and his family moved to the ranch in 1927.  The house has gone through several remodels and updates and overall improvements throughout the years.  We aren't through with upgrades.  Oops, I'M not through with upgrades.  Sam is on a need-to-know basis in the meantime. 

Sam noticed the blue valences and plastic (egad!) mini-blinds were MIA when his computer time was shortened due to the lack of coverage on the east windows.  I kind of like not having anything on the windows.  I wouldn't be surprised if Sam hung a dang sheet on the east living room windows.  Therefore, I best be working on a window treatment plan.

Back to the carpet.  It looks great!  It smells great!  No stickers!  And it feels sooo good on bare feet!  I had to prompt Sam to remove his boots at the front door yesterday evening.  I suspect he did it just to amuse me.  And what color is the carpet, you ask?  The color is a perfectly blended mix of caliche and dirt.  :)

The Corn Barrel

The corn barrel.  It has been on Grandmom's front porch for as long as I can remember.  It was always a treat to be the one to throw the corn on the front walk.  The feeling of reaching into the barrel and filling up the can was a powerful moment. And then we'd sit on the porch and/or steps and watch the deer and peacocks make their way to the feast. 

We would hear Doesy-Doe's neck bell long before she made her appearance.  Other deer would slowly emerge once Doesy-Doe made it evident they weren't in any danger.  The peacocks would take the opportunity to strut for the peahens.  The males would put on one heck of a show for us as well.  Beautiful tail feathers that we were forbidden to try to pull! 

I always stop at Grandmom's house on my way to the river.  Like a moth to a flame, I am drawn to the corn barrel.  I have to open the lid even though I know the barrel is empty.  Sitting on the front steps and listening to the ditch gurgle along its path brings back a rush of memories.  I can close my eyes and hear the rustle of tail feathers and Doesy-Doe's bell jingling as she makes her way to the yard.  It is a good memory.  And the corn barrel serves as a constant reminder that I am fortunate to have such fond memories of years gone by.  :)

Forbidden Fruit

There were two places I was forbidden to go during my high school years.  There would be hell to pay if I was seen at either place and Mama found out about it.  And we all know there are no secrets in a small town.

The first place that was taboo was London Dance Hall.  That didn't bother me too much because most of my friends weren't allowed to go there either.  I have to admit we would drive to London and turn around just to see who might be out there.  Oftentimes we would leave a note on a friend's windshield to let him/her we would be dragging Main Street and to look for us later.  The first time I stepped inside London Dance Hall I was 20 years old.  And that's a fact, Jack!

The second place that was forbidden territory was.......THE DAM.  I am a water rat and to tell me I couldn't hang out "across the dam" with my friends was devastating in the world of being a teenager.  As a matter of fact, I was told to stay completely away from the river in town.  I managed to do just that until the summer before my junior year in high school.  And someone double-dog dared me to jump off the bridge into the river.  Seriously?  Terrified of heights but desperate to be a "cool" kid, I climbed to the Jump-Off rail.  Perched precariously on the rail I had several thoughts running through my head.  What was going to hurt worse?  Hitting the water and smacking my head on a rock?  Mama busting my behind because I disobeyed her and then be grounded forever?  Not willing to take a chance either way I decided being called a chicken and disbarred from the Cool Kid Group was just fine with me. 

As an adult, I can understand Mama's reasons for wanting me to stay away from both places as a teenager.  Its a good thing I didn't have a yen to two-step until I moved to Austin!  And not to slight "Lake Junction" but I have access to one of the most beautiful spots on the South Llano River in my own backyard.  I wonder if I ever told my mother about almost jumping off the bridge on a dare?  :)

Under the Weather

For the past week, I wake up each morning and ask myself, "Is today the day I'm going to feel better?"  I take a deep breath and the coughing starts again.  And then I have to blow my nose.  I cough so hard I almost pee my pants.  I blow my nose so hard I see fireflies buzzing around my head. 

And then I stop for a moment and chastise myself for being so selfish.  There are people in my very own community who wake up each morning and ask themselves, "Is today the day the doctors will find a way to make me feel better?"  "Is today the day the doctors will find a cure for my illness?"  "Is today the day I will be able to go outside and smell the fresh air and let the sunshine touch my face?"  

Four months ago, ET was sent home to die.  The doctor told us he might make it another week.  ET begged us to do something to make his passing along quicker than a week.  He wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again.  We weren't ready for him to die and the Lord wasn't ready for him either.  After a couple of surgeries and minor setbacks, ET is still with us today and healthier than he was last September.  I picked up ET's grocery list one morning as he was having breakfast.  He was eating Lum's potato salad!  He told me he was having a snack before he ate his oatmeal.  Yep, he is living life to the fullest!  

Being sick is no fun but I know this virus will eventually run its course. I hope those who are fighting worse illnesses and health problems will have the chance to wake up one morning and say "Today is the day I feel better!"  Please excuse me for I have just had another ferocious coughing fit.  I must remember to cross my legs when I cough and sneeze.  Stay healthy, my friends!  :)

 

A Reminder

Old Plow at Far Field on Jetton Ranch

I'm going to let this picture take you back to a slower pace of life.  A time when manual labor defined the character of a person.  A time when counting one's blessings at the end of the day included having shoes on one's feet, fuel for the tractor, and food on the table.  Have a blessed day, my friends.    :)

A New Hobby

Kris and I took a three hour tour of the slave ranch yesterday afternoon.  I'm paying for it this morning with my "cedar fever".  Santa brought me a camera for Christmas and I really hadn't had a chance to experiment with it.  The weather was absolutely perfect on Saturday to air ourselves out.

We loaded Buddy Dog in the Ranger and headed out with no particular destination in mind.  I was intimidated by my new camera because it has a lot of bells and whistles that are foreign to me.  Kristin's boyfriend has the same kind of camera so he gave me the basic rundown until I get more comfortable with my camera.  Yes, I allowed Kris to use the camera as well.  She has a natural knack when it comes to taking pictures. 

I never knew trees, grass and old buildings could be such great photo ops!  My favorite subjects to "shoot" were Kris and Buddy Dog.  And they were kind enough to be patient with me as we stopped every 100 yards or so in order for me to utilize the camera.  Well, Kris was patient; Buddy, not so much. 

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder so what I may think are excellent pictures may be boring to others.  I hope you will enjoy my new addiction as I share with you life at the end of the dirt road in living color.  :)

Virgos

VIRGO – The One that Waits (August 23 to September 22)
Dominant in relationships. Someone loves them right now. Always wants the last word. Caring. Smart. Loud. Loyal. Easy to talk to. Everything you ever wanted. Easy to please. A pushover. Loves to gamble and take chances. Needs to have the last say in everything. They think they know everything and usually do. Respectful to others but you will quickly lose their respect if you do something untrustworthy towards them and never regain respect. They do not forgive and never forget. The one and only.

Let me touch on a few points about the above mentioned description of a Virgo:

Sam was born on September 10 and I was born on September 8.  It has been said that Virgos tend to get along better with their own kind than any other sign.  I can say from experience that living with a Virgo is a huge challenge.  I want to thank my friends in advance for overlooking my Virgo faults. 

Sam is much more hard headed than I am.  He is analytical by nature with a degree in chemical engineering to confirm it.  I find Sam to be way more detail oriented than I am.  He is methodical in his way of work from welding to fence building.  And those that know him know he is very LOUD!  He refers to his LOUD voice as his TEACHER voice.  Well, he's not teaching anymore and needs to be reminded of that fact from time to time.

I am honest to a fault when asked for advice which doesn't always win me brownie points.  I am not as obsessive and compulsive as I once was.  Although Sam drives me crazy when he tracks dirt and mud across the freshly mopped kitchen floor.  (Vitamin L helps me tolerate the little things I have no control over.) I do not like chaos.  My world needs to be orderly and functional.  And if I'm loud it is because I've been talking to my father-in-law or trying to be heard over Sam. 

Sam and I both want the last word in everything.  However, I know I don't know everything whereas he believes he is the authority on everything.  I admit he is a very intelligent man.  He once told me he wouldn't have given me another thought if I hadn't of been able to hold my own against him intellectually.   We both have a tender and caring side.  Sam only plays those cards when the situation calls for it.  Test our loyalty and don't bother knocking on the door again. 

Oh, by the way, Mike was born on September 11.  You ought to hear Sam and Mike discuss ranch and deer management.  I leave the room and shut the door between them and me.  :)

Smoking Broom Straw

My childhood home had central heat and air in our house but it was too costly to heat the house in the winter and cool it down in the summer.  We relied on the fire in the fire place to keep us warm when it was cold and ceiling fans to keep us cool when it was hot.

Daddy got up before the roosters even thought about crowing every morning.  We were assured on those cold winter mornings there would be a roaring fire to back up to once we poked our noses out from under the covers.  There was a hearth big enough for us to perch upon.  And like all owners of fireplaces, we had the necessary tools to tend to the fire.  We had a poker, tongs, shovel and broom. 

Mind you, we were taught that a fireplace is not a place to burn trash because of (1) it could cause quicker build up of soot in the chimney and (2) the embers from trash could land on top of the shingle roof and catch the house on fire.  Kids don't always listen.

Marshall and I are pyros.  We inherited the pyro gene from our father.  Therefore, we were most fascinated with the broom in the tool set.  We would break off a piece of straw and light the end of it and pretend we were smoking cigarettes.  Sexy; right?  Our parents never caught us "smoking" broom straw.  However, it was obvious at the end of the cold season that we were responsible for the broom being nothing but a nub.

If we were feeling really brave, we would toss a sheet of Kleenex in the fire just to see how quickly it would burn.  Newspaper made the prettiest flames -- especially the Sunday comic pages.   Thankfully we never caught the roof on fire.  I'm sure the father figure cursed a little when he cleaned the chimney. 

Sam and I live in a ranch house that has no central heat or air.  We rely on the propane gas inserts in the fire places to keep us warm during the cold season.  Window units and ceiling fans keep us cool during the hot season.  I haven't smoked broom straw in over 35 years but I bet I could go through at least three brooms per cold season if I picked up the habit again.  :)

 

Grocery Shopping

Although I dislike grocery shopping with a passion, I have had some interesting experiences at the grocery store as follows.....

Standing in line is probably the worst part of shopping.  About three or four years ago, I was standing behind a woman I did not know but noticed she was fidgeting with the $20 bill in her hands.  She only had a few items to pay for and handed the money to the cashier.  Cashier counted out the change from the $20 bill.  The woman pitched a fit and insisted she gave the cashier a $50 bill.  Whoa!  Really?  The cashier disagreed and even double checked her drawer for a $50 bill. and the woman demanded to see a manager.  I stepped up and said I believed it was $20 she gave to the cashier.  Red faced and mad as heck, the woman took her change and sack of goods and stormed out of the store.  The cashier thanked me and we went on about our business.  Think it is over?  Nope.  The woman was waiting outside for me.  I pushed my cart around her and she got in her vehicle.  That woman was so mad that she followed me around town as I tended to my chores.  I admit I was getting a little nervous so I drove to the sheriff's department and the woman followed me.  All I did was go in and say hello to whoever was dispatching that day.  But it worked! 

Shopping in HEB is not fun.  As in not fun at all.  So I make the best of it and try to keep a positive attitude.  Starting in the produce department, I was picking out tomatoes.  I noticed an elderly man on a scooter and he seemed, um, lost.  I asked him if he needed any help and he growled at me.  I moved along.  I met him three or four more times on different aisles.  I would smile and he would growl.  On our last encounter in the dairy department, I said to him, "Here we are again!  We must have the same items on our lists today."  He growled and said, "I really wish you would stop talking to me."  He wheeled off on his scooter and I told him to have a nice day.  I'm pretty sure he pumped his fist in the air as he made the corner.

And just last week at our local grocery store I was pushing my cart back to the store and noticed three men dressed in, gasp!, camouflage.  I asked one of the men if he needed a basket and offered the one I had to him.  He frowned and said, "No.  I will get my own basket."  We walked together to the front of the store where I parked my basket.  He took a cart that was closer to the door.  He must have missed the buck of a lifetime that morning to have had such a sour disposition. 

I noticed the boys have started a grocery list on the kitchen counter.  :)

Mrs. Chandler

I was a member of the first kindergarten class taught at JISD in 1970.  Mrs. Chandler was my teacher and oh, how I loved her!  There were about fourteen children in my class and all of us were a little unsure of how to make friends at the ages of 5 and 6. Mrs. Chandler helped us get over that barrier in no time.

Mrs. Chandler was a very gifted teacher.  With each lesson came a group activity and we weren't aware we were learning lessons.  We acted out "Three Billy Goats" in which we got to walk across one of our activity tables and make goat noises.  I don't remember who the troll was but we would look under the table for several days to make sure a troll wasn't really under there. 

Mrs. Chandler guided us in making a T-Rex out of wire and paper mache during our lesson about the pre-historic era.  We painted our dinosaur green and all the kids got to have their picture taken with our bigger-than-life T-Rex.  And being original as kids will be, we named him "Rex". 

Movie Day was the best day of all!  We would sit Indian-style on the floor, wide-eyed and squirming with excitement while Mrs. Chandler would set up the movie projector.  You remember the one on rollers and huge screen?  She would put the film on the reel, open the doors to the screen, turn out the lights and we would be whisked away to a whatever place we were currently learning about.  Some kids would fall asleep during movie time.  Tsk-tsk.

Nap time was the worst for me.  We would take our towels out of our assigned cubby holes and find a place to rest on the floor.  I was not a nap person then and still don't take naps to this day.  I would get restless and scoot around on my towel trying to find someone to whisper to.  Our teacher would reward us after nap time.  I usually ended up with a red yarn bow to wear because of my restlessness and for disturbing my fellow classmates. 

And anybody who ever knew Mrs. Chandler knew she made the best  popcorn balls for Halloween!!  I am thankful I had the opportunity to begin my education with Mrs. Chandler as my first teacher.  Thank you, Mrs. Chandler, for setting the wheels in motion for so many children to pursue their goals no matter how many bumps are in the road. 

The Great Parakeet Rescue

It was with great excitement the day Mama brought home two parakeets complete with a cage and all the bird stuff her parakeets would need while living in our kitchen.  She even covered the cage at night with a cup towel and told her birdies to "go nite-nite".  Might I add that birds in a cage are not considered pets.

On one of our bored days while Mama was working in town and Daddy was tending to the ranch, we decided the parakeets needed to be exercised.  We closed off the kitchen and den and opened the cage door.  The two birds needed a little coaxing to leave their secure domain.  And out they flew!  Around and around the kitchen and den.  Oh, what the heck, we opened the dining room door and let them explore that room, too. 

Kids never think things through when acting out what a great idea they have come up with.  How are we going to clean off the bird poo on Mama's curtains?  Better yet, how are we going to catch those little birds and put them back in their cage?  We caught one parakeet by throwing a cup towel over it while it was perched on a curtain rod.  We cornered the blue one in the dining room and what happened next was like the scene in "A Christmas Story" when Ralphie was helping the Old Man change the tire. 

Mama had two built-in corner cabinets in the dining room.  There was a small space between the wall and the back of the cabinets.  You see where this is going.  Yep, that blue bird of happiness went right down that crevice of one of the cabinets with no way of getting out and no way of us getting him out.  It so happened Mama and Daddy got home about the same time and we knew we were busted. 

Daddy had to cut a hole in the back, bottom of the cabinet.  We held our breath as Mama called and whistled for her little birdie to come to the hole.  Sure enough, the parakeet poked its head out of the hole and hopped right out.  With a  sigh of relief, we watched as Mama returned her bird to its cage. 

Mama has pictures of the Great Parakeet Rescue which always make me smile. We never let any of Mama's indoor birds loose again.  Now if they accidentally got out while being fed...well that is a whole different story.  :)

Hello, 2014!

And so we begin a new year!  Wipe the slate clean of 2013 and embrace the opportunity to make 2014 the best year yet! 

Some of us will make resolutions and some will not.  I fall in the "will not" category.  Don't get me wrong.  I believe in setting goals.  I prefer small victories each day like getting to make the bed before I go to work.  That requires getting Sam out of bed first which isn't always an easy task. 

Kudos to those of you who will make resolutions and work hard to meet your own expectations of said resolutions.  Stop smoking!  Lose weight!  Eat better!  Exercise more!  I applaud each of you for setting your mind on doing something that makes you feel good about yourself.  And that's what it is all about; doing something that makes YOU feel better.  Surround yourself with people who will support and encourage your resolutions.  Flush out the negative people in your life.  The best advice I ever got was from my husband: "Only you can make yourself happy."  And so I pass the advice to you.  Focus on making yourself happy each and every day!

My goal today is.....well, I haven't set a goal for today. I might read a book with Daisy Duke curled up in my lap.  I might catch a movie on TV.  I might cook breakfast.  I might experiment with my new camera when the sun comes out.  The opportunities are endless for me at the end of the dirt road.  Happy New Year from the Jetton Slave Ranch!  :)