Friday, August 31, 2007
I couldn't let this day pass without a tribute to "my" princess. Today. So many years ago. In case you want to re-read my birthday tribute to her, it's here. You know, ten years have passed in a heart beat for us. Frozen in time, locked in our minds and hearts as a young, beautiful woman, Diana will forever be one of my very favorite women. Although some of these photos show the car, I still liked the way they moved through her life, her reign, and the waves and waves, the oceans of floral tributes there ten years ago. Thankfully, Diana's goodness and her charm and spirit aren't sad. She is always there to cheer us on with that slight tilt of the head, those dark-lashed eyes, that invitation to keep trying, keep the faith, and do the kindest things you can imagine.
End of the Garden soup. Here's the recipe: sauteed onion (1) and sauteed celery ribs(3) in olive oil until tender, two large cans crushed tomatoes, one can mushrooms, sliced carrots (3), chunked potatoes (4-5 medium), 1-2 T. thyme dried or more if fresh, 2 T. chicken or beef soup base (I used chicken-- it's a lot like boullion if that's what you have), 1 pound crumbled mild breakfast sausage (well-drained), 1 can mixed vegetables, 1/4 c. sugar, 2 c. water, and salt & pepper to taste (I didn't use any this time because the soup base is pretty salty). Simmer in crockpot or a large stockpot for at least one hour. (gets better as you re-heat it).
My little mother has an old, old soup pot that was my grandmother's. It even has a bail to hang over an open fire pit. Just the ticket for her to carry from the fridge to the stove with her walker. I'm amazed at my mom's resourcefulness and determination with that thing. She's used one for about five years now due to osteoporosis. Up until now she's always been cheerful and happy just to be herself and doing for us. Yep. That, my friends, is exactly why I let her do the dishes tonight!
Take care all. Have a good Labor Day weekend. 26 years ago I had a REAL Labor Day weekend. My son was born!!!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
This is a little poem I found on a home made celluloid frame hanging on my dad's mother's wall. Ma, we called her. We had it read at Daddy's service. She lived it to the core, and so did my dad, and so do I try to.... (but failing often). I made labels with this poem and this photo on them for the backs of the thank you's I've written. Do you know it was nearly 200 hand written notes for thank you's? I wanted to say something personal to everyone. I don't want to be done with this task, but I nearly am. I don't really want to be EVER finished with doing things for my dad, you know? I hope each of us has a pleasant journey with pleasant travelers today! Take care.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Most of these little girls are from my son. I notice he goes for the cute, kinda sexy fairies. That's okay. I love them all.
And on the end, my wreath with my tattered wand lying in the heart of the circle. I'm sure people wonder at this old, cardboard thing, stapled, frayed, more than old.... feeble perhaps, but.... there's a story behind it, for my heart and my mom and dad's.This is a magical wand. I owned it from the days of grade school, the only remnant of a fairy dime store costume I wore at Halloween for possibly my fourth grade year. The mask, the blue stencil star apron--- gone to the burn barrel, but NOT MY WAND!!!! I was fierce about that, I recall. This wand was my pass to what I wished to imagine. I slept with it, flitted about the house and yard and creekbed with it, read with it as a bookmark, crushing the handle flat between the pages of my Gene Stratton Porter books. It was occassionally abandoned in the cluttery darkness of my toybox (thus the tatters increased.) I noticed the sparkling foil curling around the star, so I hauled out my mom's trusty stapler and fixed it up. Finally, just like Jackie Paper and his magic Puff, I decided I was too smart, too old, too "with it" for this old thing. I think much of life had lost its magic as my heart turned to stupid boys and the lack thereof in my life. Anyway, I decided to toss it into the kitchen trash. Out went my sweet daddy to burn it, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the empty trashbin. What had I done? You don't know how many other little wands I've purchased through the years. Some for little cousins and neices, others for myself, always lamenting my REAL one burned so long ago. About five Halloweens ago, my daddy and mom picked me up to go have supper in the car at Sonic. I was sitting there in the back seat of their Buick munching on those heavenly onion rings when my dad turned to Mom and said, "Did you tell her about her Star Stick?" My what? They laughed and said he had found it in the garage, tucked behind a stack of things, long ago salvaged by a dad who didn't want his little girl to be THAT grown up. He said he remembered shaking his head at my "sacrifice" of my personal treasure and saving it until I'd grown up a bit. It had to be thirty years, but I was sooo thrilled to take this back and tuck it in my fairy collection. I should have known it would be my dad to save the magic for me. He always has, and he always will.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Even though I have lived here for thirty years, the cabinets are just blah inside. No lacy border a la Tracey on Notes from a Cottage Industry. No faux finish inside... just blah. But the goblet cabinet is neat and tidy... More shots tomorrow of my plates, my what nots... Who knows? I might just keep things this way this time . Hey, a girl dreams what she wants.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Wow... I just found this wonderful post on an old page of a blog from Rose Cottage by the Sea.
It is really a beautiful blog with many ideas, dreams, and sweet stories. Plus the sweetest, saddest little music plays while you view it. I saw that poem, thought of a project for upcoming school, of course, but decided to start by doing it myself. I loved the results of my own, so I called my mother and filled out a little questionnaire over the phone. I loved hers and had to smile at the way our answers were so similar. She raised me a good deal as she was raised herself. Now, for the kicker. I plan to ask my son. There, I fear, the continuity will not carry through because I know some things were sadly different. We shall see. Well, I did the "mad libs" type of questions for my son, and it was kind of cute, a little bit whimsical, and just a teensy bit cynical. We've been through quite a bit in his lifetime, so I was glad to see some fun and good memories coming out of his heart and mind. (Whew! in other words!......)
I plan to ask some friends, my dad, and maybe keep a little scrapbook of these poems. I can't wait for the decision I'll make on which students to "grace" with this idea. I'd love to see any you make for yourselves if you want to try it and email me the results.
Template for asking the right questions: Here. I added a bit and just tinkered with it until I was happy with what I answered and the way it read on the page.
I am from line-dried cotton sheets, from Double Cola and Nutmeg Windmill cookies.
I am from the Midwestern farm home, scrubbed, loved, and filled with the smell of roast beef and Gramma’s yeast rolls.
I am from the tomato vine, zinnia, and rabbit‘s nest.
The green-tasseled corn, hollyhock, and maple tree hollow.
I am from stockings hung by the fire, cooking for comfort, from Norma and Gerald, Gramma and Paw-paw, Grandad and Ma.
I am from the urge to decorate and the desire for security.
From “Get to bed before the midnight train comes.” and “Pretty is as pretty does.”
I am from a one room church with pink and blue stained glass windows, macaroni art projects, and
Kool-aid blessed, Bible School afternoons.
I am a collector of china, memories, and moonbeams.
I'm from Missouri and Indiana sod,
snicker doodle cookies,
and angel food cake laced with strawberries.
I am from the day when Mom told her mother she had to have a red, dotted dress with ruffles, the times my dad drove a tractor through knee-deep mud to carry mail, and the long ago nights when my gramma lay shivering in an Indiana bed
listening to the panther’s scream.
I am from photographs stored in deep cedar drawers
filled with albums, clippings, and lace.
I am from cedar chests laden with old coins, graduation tassels and layered with hand sewn quilts.
and from Nintendo.
I am from the house with blue carpet, my room strewn with toys,
I am from the grass to be mown, the hyacinth in the spring, and the praying mantis; from the pine trees with paper cones, the red geraniums, and Koga, my big, black cat.
I am from arguments on holidays,
Granny and Paw-paw’s and staying all night on Christmas Eve.
from Mom and Dad, Granny and Paw-paw.
I am from the habit of never hearing my Paw-paw say, “I don’t know,”
From “Children are meant to be seen and not heard” from Dad,
have a problem“ from Granny.
I am from listening to KLTE religious radio
I'm from the same farm for three generations,
from Midwestern roots and German tradition.
I am from Broccoli Salad,
From the story of “Goog Reilly, the Indiana State Police Trooper,“
even though his father knew he would.
I am from photos and scrapbooks probably strewn about the house, hidden in the attic, and on the list to find tomorrow.
I am the chubby little boy who felt oblivious most of the time, but happy nevertheless.
I am so thrilled to find this little clip. I have loved Jimmy Stewart all my life with all my heart. This is one of the most important quotes I have ever heard in my life, delivered with the style only Jimmy could have. The good lord knows I need to tatoo this one on my heart and on my soul now that I'm starting back to school in less than two weeks. I so agree with this... and you may quote me! Have a wonderful weekend.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
High School Questionnaire: