Interview With The Tooth Fairy

It's National Tooth Fairy Day, and as a tribute, I recently interviewed the Tooth Fairy.

I was lucky enough to catch him/her before sunrise just as the Cuspid Cafe was opening its doors. Frequented by late night fairies who flutter in for a quick bite, the tiny pixies were consuming large amounts of fresh milk and magic-dusted danish before clocking out for the day.

I respectfully held the interview within the outdoor garden area, as several local fairies agreed to answer questions concerning their line of work. I towered over them, but yet they seemed as ease as they reclined upon dandelion leaves and rose petals.

Note: Contrary to popular belief, there is not just one Tooth Fairy. Because there are many tooth fairies in order to service the vast area of the Earth, I simply let them speak as a whole.

*******

Q: I was very surprised when I first saw your attire. I was under the impression that you all wore little pink tutu's and carried star-topped wands.

A: (Laughter) " Well, you did happen to catch us on casual Friday! But, yeah- it's a tradition that we've tried to carry on. However, the male species have gradually turned to tights and boxers to avoid any unnecessary stereotyping. You know how cruel some humans can be. We've gotten a bad rap for years."

Q: How did this whole tooth fairy idea originate?


A: " History isn't exact, but our ancestors claim to have started this business in ancient times. Children who lost their teeth placed them under the pillow to keep witches from acquiring them. Because you know- back then- any body parts such as teeth, fingernails and hair could be used to conjure up curses against you.


Q: About how many teeth do you collect in a good night's work?


A: "If we're lucky, we'll get twenty- maybe thirty. You have to realize there is a lot of down time involved. We have to wait till the child is actually asleep before we can start riffling around under their pillows. Sometimes it will be after midnight before we can enter the room."


Q: What's the going rate nowadays for a good baby tooth?


A: "We are all seasoned fairies here, and we can remember when a dime or a quarter would satisfy a toothless child. But, with inflation and the selfish greed of some youngsters, the average price paid for a single tooth is almost three dollars today.
In fact, some of the new fairies are leaving Visa cards."


Q: I've always wondered what you do with the teeth that you collect. Is there really any value to those molars and incisors?


A: "You may not realize it, but this entire Tooth Fairy Village is composed of teeth. We've perfected a type of glazing- similar to adobe- that covers and protects the teeth from the elements. But yet it makes for a strong base for our homes and factories. Even the streets are paved with millions of little teeth."

Q: Has there ever been a client that you refuse to visit?

A: (Nervous laughter.) "Of course! Vampires are the very worst! They never sleep! And dragging those giant baby fangs off in our little felt pouches is a pain in the *** ! Plus, those vampire parents expect us to leave ten or twenty dollars per tooth just because they're larger. We earn our keep, for sure. You take your life in your own hands when doing business with those blood suckers."

Q: What is the worst situation you've encountered while collecting teeth?

A discussion ensues. ("Herb- you could probably answer that one.")

A: "Even though we are working with baby teeth here, there is still the occasional tooth that has gone bad. Those renegade teeth lay there under the pillow with machine guns, ready to ambush us. We simply hate collecting bad teeth. In fact, I refuse to do it anymore. See this scar?"

Q: What seems to be the future of Tooth Fairies? Do you have any type of job security?

A: "Every single day fifty-five tooth fairies are forced into retirement, sixteen die from job related injuries, twelve go off to be garden gnomes, and two join the Fairy Godmothers Union. We are gradually becoming an endangered species. Kids just don't care anymore. They just don't believe in us."

Q: It's been a pleasure speaking with you today. In closing- what is the best advice you can give children concerning their teeth?

A: "Our national motto is: Be true to your teeth or they'll be false to you. That pretty much says it all."

As a gesture of kindness, a few of the tooth fairies dusted my brow with magic dust and presented me with a vampire fang on a golden chain. The Tooth Fairies were one of the most interesting legends I have ever had the privilege to interview.

Honestly-this is the tooth, the whole tooth,and nothing but the tooth.

Keep flossing! And have a great Tooth Fairy Day!

Blog Block: We All Get It. Today is My Day.

Tomorrow is National Fairy Tale Day, so I've decided to tell you a fairy tale in celebration of this holiday. Years ago, one of my childrens favorite books was Grimm's Fairy Tales. I used to read them a story from it almost every night. The book gradually became torn and floppy and worn out with love,- but they still remember the tales of kings and queens and a world of fantasy.
***********
Once upon a time a time there was a beautiful young lady whose hair was the color of lemons. So yellow was it, that the dark haired women of her village were jealous and vindictive toward her and wished upon her a thousand evil curses.
However, men loved her bright hair and how it shone in the sunlight- not to mention her sweet red lips and the hourglass figure that she unsuccessfully hid beneath her plain sackcloth dress.

This yellow haired angel was named Honey and she made a meager living as a cook at the castle of King Vinegar. He was a handsome man, but prone to fits of bitterness and he had gone many years without filling the throne of his Queen. Alas, he had many lovers, but it had not pleased him to take any as his wife.
Miss Honey had prepared her best cobbler one summer day and was left to serve it in the King's dining room. The head servant had been injured in a hunt for quail and there was no one else available to wait upon the King.
Honey wore her best apron and her hair tied into a modest bonnet as she entered the dining hall. The pie smelled delicious- and the aroma wafted throughout the entire castle like a sweet incense.

Honey bowed and lowered her head as she placed the pie upon the King's china plate, barely whispering, "For you, My Lord".
King Vinegar closed his eyes and inhaled the cobbler, his mouth watering at the sight of the thick berries and flaky crust that lay before him. He ate with a passion and then looked up at Honey.
About that time, a golden curl fell from beneath her bonnet, exposing her breathtaking yellow hair.
"Oh, what loveliness has visited me on this finest of days", the King said, "Not only has your cooking satiated my hunger, but your beauty has quenched my bitter soul. I must have you as my wife... My Queen."

So that's how Honey and Vinegar came to be in this faraway land. Queen Honey's dresses became silk and brocade and she was adorned with rubies and emeralds and gems from a distant shore. The moody King became happy and content and it was reflected in his treatment of the village.
It just goes to show that a beautiful woman who can cook - can change the future of an entire town- and the sour disposition of a hardhearted man.
And that opposites do attract- even in fairy tales.

*******
I left out the parts about the evil witch, the poison toads, the ugly troll and the disappearing staircase, but I'll save that for another time.

Sleep tight...

Goodwill Wednesday: Turtles and Naked Men

 Well, if you are a frequent reader of my blog, you will recognize the title today. I went to my daughter's house yesterday just so that I could post pictures. Her internet service likes me. 
This is last weeks Goodwill Wednesday, but I hope you enjoy it. 
It's got pictures and everything...

 ************************************
I've always had a fascination with old things. Junk mostly. Stuffy antiques that cost a million bucks aren't for me. But the cast offs, the salvage, the unusual and the kooky usually turn my head. And I try to give them a new home.

This week I decided I would paint a piece of plywood to look old. So I made a sign.

I started by painting it a multitude of colors. I didn't like where it was going, but I kept putting on more layers and finally gave up. Then I painted the words and gave it a good sanding and roughing up. I still need to finish the edges and hit it a few times with a good hammer, but once I have hooks on the back, it will look pretty good in a rustic setting.

****************
Back in the fall while I was helping my husband track a deer, I came upon an empty turtle shell next to the creek. The poor little guy had rotted completely away and all that was left was his home. I put it in my coat pocket, carried it back to the house, and gave it a thorough scrubbing.
Then I played!

****************
My daughter and her boyfriend have started an eBay hobby and have been buying box lots at the local auction house for 50 cents to $5. Recently she let me rummage through the cast offs that even they didn't want.

I LOVE these lamps. The photo doesn't show the beautiful icy blue color, but they are awesome. I'm looking for some white square lampshades that clip on- and they'll look great on my nightstands. Yay for free stuff!

While digging through another box, I stumbled upon this:

A naked man!
In this photo he looks about 50 feet tall, but he's about 18" high and not really bronze, but just chalk ware with metallic finish.
What's funny is that I could bring an elephant in the house or a brand new coffee table or paint the ceiling purple -and it would take my husband days and days to notice. But as soon as he walked into the room that day, he said, "Where'd you get the naked man?"
(Actually, he is wearing a fig leaf, which absolves me of all pornography charges.) !!!

************
My only true Goodwill purchase this week was this 50 cent basket.

Comparable to Ballard Designs baskets which sell for around $30.

 I'm going to hang it above my desk for papers and bills- when I get around to it!

***********
Have a good Goodwill Wednesday- and keep your eyes peeled for treasure!

Tuesday Tidbits

I'm not in a very cheery mood today, but I decided to post anyway.

Don't worry, I'm not so depressed that I would do something stupid like ingest one of those whale-size cream horns that tastes indescribably incredible.

Maybe...

No. Today I'm just gonna wallow in it.
Like a big 'ol pig whose name is not Wilbur.

First off- my internet-provider-serviceman paid me a visit yesterday (finally!), and he gave me disturbing news. He said our huge, mature- (probably 150 year old)- pine tree has grown. (Suddenly?) and is blocking our wireless signal. Really?  I have serious doubts about this situation. But he advised that we add a ten foot length of pipe to our old TV antenna and mount the internet box up there.

Ok. Right. I can just see my husband climbing up that antenna- its metal skeleton bending like a warm Twizzler- or his face lighting up like Ben Franklin's as he grabs the hot wires for support.
Or worse- I would probably get nominated to shimmy up that tower like a blind, schizophrenic snail.
I'm afraid of heights. I can't even ride Ferris wheels without upchucking enormous amounts of corn dogs and cotton candy.

Realistically, I do have internet service. I can blog, check my bank account, send email and surf Google. But I can't post photos or videos.
What's a blog without pictures? Well, it's like a banana split without the banana. It's like Sonny without Cher. It's like life without chocolate.
Or coffee.

I apologize.
I'm hoping we'll find an unemployed giraffe or a stupid neighborhood kid to  get that pole mounted ASAP. Until then, my blog will be naked.
And I'll be feasting on pastries as big as my fists because I'm stressed about it.

That's just how I roll.

**********
So, today I'll just leave you with a poem that I wrote on a gum wrapper while waiting for my husband at the hunting store one day.
Please try to enjoy it without the photograph.

(I am hoping I can post last weeks Goodwill Wednesday tomorrow (with photos!)- because I'm going to town to steal some internet juice.

And maybe get a cream horn...

Or two.
***********

Lately,

I am like an old bird.

My song is softer,

my wings grow weaker-

and I no longer find the need

to build a new nest.

Shiny objects used to catch my eye.

But rusty keys and tattered cloth

are my keepsakes now.

Things rich with character-

history-

thin like silk from having been loved.

I look at the blue sky

and know there are places

I'll never see.

It's too late for such a journey.

Yet, sometimes I soar to the edge of the horizon

just to glance back at my little home.

I know that's where I belong-

in that warm tangled nest

that smells like memories.

****
So, you all have a great day!
Even though I can't...

Shower Me With Love

I had the chance to attend my nephew and his wife's baby shower this weekend and was amazed at all the adorable gifts and useful items that they received. There were so many gifts that it took almost two hours to open them all. That little man will be the best dressed baby on the block!

So...of course, I couldn't just sit back and stuff my face with delicious cupcakes and sweet punch. I naturally started wondering about things...
Like...Why is it called a "shower" ?

Research tells me that baby showers and bridal showers are so called because the mother or bride-to-be are "showered " with gifts. That's a pretty dull boring simple explanation.

I found one resource that I like better. Wikipedia says:  "it may derive from the custom in Victorian times for the presents to be put inside a parasol, which when opened would "shower" the bride-to-be with gifts.

That's a nice visual, but it would take a mighty giant parasol to hold today's loot.
I suppose back in Victorian times they didn't stuff it with microwaves and irons and toasters. It was probably filled with dainty lilac sachets, delicate doilies, historic novels, cookbooks and teacups.

Then, I stretched my thinking one notch further....
Let's say there were 70 people at the shower. If each guest spent an average of $20 per gift, then there would be approximately $1400 worth of presents.

And- all for this little baby that will bust his fat little toes out of those sleepers before he's had a chance to wear them. Or spit up on those adorable blue blankets and poop in those soft tiny pants- without a bit of remorse.

So...I've come up with the idea of forming MidAge showers.
It's a party for middle-aged women to celebrate not only the fact that they've survived this long, but to refresh and invigorate their wardrobes and lifestyles. It will have all the festiveness and celebration of a birthday party- without the reminder of turning older.

Guests could certainly use their imagination. Gifts could include everything from bath towels to jewelry, shoes and hats, to cameras and lingerie.

Now, some of you may argue that $1400 worth of merchandise won't buy as much for an adult, but it's $1400 that you can keep off your credit card. And if you don't like the color or style or size- just go cash it in for a gift card to Red Lobster.

Simple. Easy. And very, very practical.

You are cordially invited to the middle age celebration of the life of Rae. 

A MidAge shower will be held the third Saturday in May, 2011

with a 10 a.m. brunch.

Forget stuffing a parasol- just bring a truck.

The guest of honor is registered at Macy's, Nordstroms,

Best Buy, Bloomingdale's and the Cheesecake Factory.

Or she will accept PayPal, cash, and gift cards from finer retail department stores.

Well, I think it could catch on- don't you?

Hope

I hold tightly to my winter dreams-
For just beyond the hill is Spring.
And where once the sky let darkness in,
the smiling sun shall shine again.
Where once I lived in deep despair-
New hope will spring eternal there.


Spring is a promise made to come true.
It comes for me.
It comes for you.


I hold tightly to my memories
That once traveled on an April breeze-
And soon the sky portrays the moon,
reminiscent of some lost perfume.
Where once no joy or grass would grow-
Now laughing hearts will overflow.
I hear Spring beyond the distant hill.
Spring shall come. 


It must. 


It will.


I hold tightly to the days to come-
As they greet me warmly, one by one.
The flowers soon, with petals fair
Sing fragrant songs into the air-
Where once was snow and cold and rain- 
Spring comes to chase away such pain.

My troubled heart will soon be still-

Because Spring will fade away the chill.


So, hold tightly to your winter dreams-
For just beyond the hill is Spring
It taps upon my window sill-
It's coming soon. 


It must. 


It will. 

Embracing My Sybil

Early mornings are good for thinking soft, quiet thoughts.


Or for venting.


And you guessed it- today I'm venting...
Here's how my brain is working this morning:


In my opinion, there are about four distinct kinds of people. 
1. Cookies and Milk people
2. Beer and Hot Wings people
3. Lemons and Pickles people
4. Spam and Whiskey people

To some, these titles may be self-explanatory, but here's a quick review in case you are clueless:

Cookies and Milk people are soft spoken, slow to anger, sweet without being sappy, and they avoid confrontation at all costs. They are naturally positive, usually smiling, and get along with just about all of the other types.


Beer and Hot Wings people are fun-loving, self-confident party goers who love to have fun, take risks and push the envelope. They are sometimes loud and obnoxious, but have a good soul. They prefer to surround themselves with friends, but are also comfortable sitting at home alone watching Nascar.

Lemons and Pickles people are never satisfied, always in a bad mood, hold grudges, find it difficult to smile, and they blame the world for their problems. They find joy in complaining, discussing their health, selfishness, and finding fault in others.


Spam and Whiskey people are sometimes known as white trash. They are both lazy and sloppy. They are content with their big screen TV and old four wheeler. They love makeup, cheap cigarettes, drama, and trailer fights. They indulge in leopard prints, camouflage and they adore bumper stickers.


So...
Maybe I'm being presumptuous, but I've always thought of myself as a Cookies and Milk kind of gal.


Until today...
Today I'm a Pickle-Spammy-Hotwing ball of I-hate-the-world kind of person!

Let me explain:
First of all, dear readers, I did not abandon you yesterday. I was up bright and early writing my Goodwill Wednesday post. I had several projects to share with you.
But guess what? My Lemony-Pickle kind of internet service sucks! I wasn't able to upload any pictures at all! And what would Goodwill Wednesday be without photos?
Especially when the title of the post was: Goodwill Wednesday: Turtles and Naked Men.
Now- when you have something like that to share, people naturally want pictures to go along with the story. Especially women with their mind in the gutter like mine who are curious about the naked man.
But- the knarly Spam/Whiskey/Beer people at my local internet office can't pull themselves away from their tetchy-induced comas for a moment to come out and track down the  problem.
So- (insert a photo of the Hulk right here)- I am slightly leaning toward the alternate personalities today!


Another thing:
Trash day is Tuesday. Why do I always have an overflowing bag of trash by Wednesday night?? It's almost as if the Trash Fairy came in the middle of the night and stuffed the thirty gallon bag with crap just to annoy and confuse me. Great job, Trash Fairy! It never fails! You are gooooood.

Also:
How come when it gets warmer and sunny outside, it also gets muddy? I was anxious to pick up limbs and sticks from the yard yesterday because it got 70 degrees here (Whoop-whoop!!) But, after picking up the first two sticks, I was wearing ten pound mud boots and sporting a wind-induced mullet!
And, besides- after the sticks were picked up- what was I going to do? Too early for gardening and mowing. What was I supposed to do? Sit at the picnic table and pretend my wet pant legs, soiled socks, giant mud soles and the yackyity-yippy dogs from next door didn't bother me? Yeah, right...


More venting....
Why can my husband and I sit for hours straight watching TV and not speak a word, but the minute I go in the other room to fold laundry or fill the dishwasher, he prepares some kind of speech directed to me that sounds like hair choking the tub drain. 
I can't HEAR you!! Got it?
_____________


If I was a Catholic, I guess I'd be at confession this morning. (In my mud boots.)
Because I want to let you all in on a little secret. Diets cause me to lie. Yes, I said lie- as in: to tell untruths; to be dishonest.
I went into the smoke shop yesterday to buy my husband his nasty-habitual-macho tobacco- and right there on the counter were fresh creme horns the size of my upper arm. Well, maybe not that big- but take my word for it- they were gigantically huge.

First, I thought to myself that I shouldn't spend the money on such yumminess. (A mere 98 cents plus tax.) Then, the whole diet memory kicked in and I told myself that never in one million and fourteen years- would that humongous flaky roll of calorie-laden happiness EVER be part of a diet.
But- then that Cookies and Milk kind of gal morphed into Lemon-Pickle territory. I said to myself- "Self- how can you spend eight dollars on unhealthy, unnecessary tobacco products for your husband, but deny yourself the 98 cent (plus tax) cream horn that has your name engraved in the mound of overflowing fluff?
So- guess what? They put that tasty baby in a neat, white sack and I drove it home like a winning lottery ticket.
But then this is where the lying part came in. 
I had just barely finished licking the creamy tips of my sweetened fingers and washing my eyebrows and forehead of tell-tale signs of flaky bakery crust- and dusting my black sweater free of powdered sugar residue- when my husband came home.
"Hi, Honey", I said smiling- still feeling that lump of sugar-love in my belly.
He looked at me kind of funny and said- "Are we still doing this diet thing?"
What???? Had my head blown up like a carbohydrate blimp? Had he noticed the forth roll of love handles under my sweat pants? Had I carelessly left a glittering of candy-fluff at the corner of my mouth?
"Well, of course we are, Dear." I assured him with a smile...

There's a good chance I'm going to Hell, isn't there?
______________________________


So- today you get another version of me. A blog without pictures. A negative rendition of Cookies and Milk that have crumbled and gone sour.
I guess I'll just curl up with my naked man ( that you can't even see because my freakin' internet is being all crazy) -and call it a day...

Victory is Mine

Every year when the skies grow dark and the air gets bitter cold, I wonder to myself if I can survive another winter. 

I sometimes think that the chill will saturate my bones like a malignancy- that the wind will bite at my face till I'm no longer human- 
and that the darkness will smother my heart till it can no longer feel joy.

I've always felt at odds with winter. 
As though it is an enemy- bound and determined to destroy me- to weaken me to the point of unconditional surrender. 
A brute and an evil that tests my fortitude and faith.

But I gaze out the window this morning and see the sun rising in a pool of lilacs and pinks-
its promise spreading across the hazy sky like a veil of mercy. And I smile- crack this membrane of winter 
and breathe in a hint of days to come.

 I pull open the blinds- wince at the sight of sharp, icy layers still floating on the pond- of snow heaped at the base of the pine trees- like a pile of white shirts that winter left behind.

But beyond, I see grass- brown and comatose, but tingling at its roots with new life. I see birds- soft and fat- bursting with the need to sing- to fill the trees with the music of spring- to fly through warm breezes and touch the blueness of the endless sky.

I imagine green spreading over the yard like emerald honey- like a gentle coat of flowers and clover. 
I close my eyes and feel the sun touching my face with an invisible hand and lifting me up from this winter bunker into the freshness of new days.


Soon daffodils will push their way out of frozen earth and stretch around the porch in tiny yellow dresses and the buds of trees will rip from their pods and dance with the honeysuckle.

Winter retreats. Spring grows stronger. 

I've survived.

Love Just Is.

(This is a Valentine's Day post from 2009. But it still rings true today... )

I want to go back.

I want to remember the story of my life.
Of how I met this man who has shared my days-
Of these children I bore and
how they have amazed and delighted me.
Of the places and people and time
that shaped my present.

The summer I met my husband
was especially hot and humid-
the days uneventful -
and the only proof that I actually lived them
was my tattered journal that I wrote in every day-
A notebook that had swollen
into a summer of words.

My sister Linda had a VW Beetle
and we would hop in on Friday night,
grab some beer at the drive-through-
and zoom into the lights of town.

Her best friends had a house that
soon became the "party house".
There we'd play our favorite record albums
like: Slade, Three Dog Night,
Roberta Flack, BTO, and others...

It was about the time that
the "hippie movement" began to decline,
but there remained an easy going attitude.
I drank a beer or two back then,
and some party-goers would get high-
but I never did.
(That is a fact, not a fill-in-the-blank.)

Most times a hot breeze would
blow through the open windows
and we sweat our way through
beer and pot and loud music that summer
like a slow motion dream.

(At least that how it
seems to me now.)

What is so mysterious about Fate
is that it's unpredictable.
A person can be going through life-
content and carefree-
when Fate suddenly intervenes
and changes the entire course of events.

Fate was waiting for me that summer...
It walked right in the door of the party house.

He was tan and lean.
Wearing button tab jeans, Earth shoes,
and a fuzzy pony tail.
Your average kind of guy back then.

But suddenly he smiled-
and every written course 
and map of my life-
and fear of the future, dissolved.

Fate had other plans.

I can't begin to say how much
that I still love this man.
We've been across mountains of struggles,
fields of heaven,
(and even stuck our heads in
the door of Hell a time or two),
but our hearts have never faltered.

We are kindred spirits.

I want his head to always be
on the pillow next to mine-
whether it be a fuzzy pony tail
or a thin glaze of gray.

I want his smile to continue
lighting up my life-
his touch to forever cause electricity-
his sweet, enduring love
to follow me till times end.

Love is never how you dream it.
Love is never how you plan it.
Love just is.

Happy Valentines Day.

The Color Purple and Other Thoughts

There were vague moments of restlessness last night. Times when my covers were hogged by my husband, my feet pinned in by my dog, and a rush of the Sahara Desert was Nature's cruel idea of a joke.

But it's times like these that my mind is in its free range state. No holds barred. Raw and uncensored. (Though my mind naturally stays away from the gutter -because, well, that's just me.)

But after the dream I had about carrying around some four year old girl as we visited the slums that were right behind my house (and I didn't even know it )-and we sat in a cafe and ate pork rinds and chocolate milk... yeah- right after that- I got to thinking about other things....

Take for instance: All the primary colors are used as emotional descriptions.
When you're sad, you are BLUE.

When you are scared, you are YELLOW.    
When's you're angry, you are RED with rage.
And with envy, you are GREEN.

So, I decided that we need a color for when we're hungry.
"I sure am PURPLE this morning!' Or "My belly sure is PURPLE!"

Do you think it will catch on?

************

I've spent the last few days trying to work on some art projects. What is it about a fresh canvas that just stops me dead in my tracks and then I go blank? I have so many great ideas in my mind's eye, but when it comes down to the moment of creation, I'm suddenly blind.

Although I've only made a mess, I do have black paint under my fingernails which is  unattractive, to say the least. But then I sorta look at it like having callouses from hard work. My nails are proof that I actually tried to do something.

I'm a little disappointed in myself, though. For the past three years, I've exhibited some art in the local museum's art competition, but I don't have any new things to enter this year.
I try to make excuses that I was at the cabin all summer, but what have I been doing the past few months? Time sure gets away.... (Especially when you're napping!)

***************
Valentine's Day is coming up on Monday and it reminds me of all those years in grade school when we exchanged valentines with our school mates. At first we decorated white lunch sacks with crude red hearts, and in later years, advanced to covering cereal boxes with pink construction paper and silver glitter.
I remember getting the cards ready the night before- taking hours to decide which ones my best friends were going to get- and how I could give the cutest boy in the class a really good one that didn't sound like I was ready to jump his bones. I avoided those with "Love" and "Be Mine" or anything with googly eyes.

In return, I loved getting those expensive cards with a sucker attached. We could never afford to buy them.
I snubbed the neat cards with fancy handwriting. You could always tell those sissy kids who had their moms address the cards for them. That was a huge cop out. Of course, I had a three letter name which made it easy and quick to sign the back, but it sure was tiresome to go through the list and address the envelopes- and make sure you hadn't missed anybody.
Do they still exchange Valentine's in school?

***************

Last night I made stuffed peppers for supper. They were actually very yummy.
I cut the tops off the peppers and cleaned out the seeds. Then I placed the peppers in a casserole dish with a little water and baked them (with their tops)  till they were soft.

Then I tried something new. I browned a small onion and cooked it with a half pound of hamburger. Seasoned with other stuff. Then I made a bowl of oatmeal in the microwave. I added it to the hamburger mixture, stirred well, and added a 3-cheese spaghetti sauce. The oatmeal gave it a smooth texture and took the place of rice.

I then stuffed the softened peppers,smothered them with pepper jack cheese and put their tops back on -and baked till bubbly. (After the tops are soft, the stem will pop right out).

It was a good hearty meal for a cold day!

***************

Doesn't that make you feel kinda PURPLE?

Gotta go! Breakfast is calling!

Goodwill Wednesday: Fifty Cent Find

Ugly. 50 cents.

But I took it home.

Didn't I say 50 cents?

Cleaned off hardware

Painted several coats/colors

Created crackle with Elmer's Glue under paint

Sanded it a bit/ Reattach hardware

Add keys

All done!

Journey of Time

There will be days
ahead of me-
That now I do not hear
or see.
But, yet, their journey
leads them far
Across the fields-
And beneath each star-
Down back roads
that fade to brown
Through silent snow
and greening ground.

The days will come
in perfect grace
and settle slyly
about my face
and seep into my
flesh and bone
with rhythm firm
and steadfast tone.
Until my reflection
soon will tell
that time has come
and made me pale-
has rusted me
and hung around
to place me softly
in the ground.

 But until then
I must learn to dance-
to dream-to fly-
to take a chance
to befriend time
on it's journey here-
to not taste regret
or engage fear.
For these days are mine
that come across
the emerald fields
and hills of frost
And I alone decide just how
I'll greet those days
that linger now.

 I'll hold on tight
and celebrate
what time carries
in his pack of Fate
And nevermore
will I take for granted
this awesome world
on which I'm planted.

Thank you, Lord
for earth and sky
for wind and rain
and birds that fly.
For eyes that see
and hands that feel
for hearts that love
and joy that's real-
For days ahead I do not see-
but, yet, they come
to strengthen me.

Inquiring Minds Want To Know!

Everyone that's familiar with my blog knows that my most loyal commenter is my sister Linda. Sometimes her little comment is a hundred times funnier and more witty than my whole blog post. And she makes me laugh.

When there are days when I just cannot bring myself to write a single thing, I always think about Linda and how she might be expecting a new post to start the day.

I don't know if you've all noticed lately, but she's missing. And people all over the world- including me- are asking the same question:

SisterLinda is about 5' 4, blond hair, blue eyes and a cross between Maxine and Walter. If you see her, tell her I miss her!

Spunky Old Broads- Unite!!!

**(Outrageous, unattractive photos: courtesy of  our Sister Weekends! Thanks girls!)**

"Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years.  We grow old by deserting our ideals.  Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. " ~Samuel Ullman

The fatter years

 I couldn't let too many days of February slip by without announcing that this is Spunky Old Broads Month!  Described online as a month long celebration for all women over 50 who are interested in living a regret-free life.

If you are still a young, vibrant, still-gives-a -crap- what -you- look- like- when- you- get -the mail kind of gal, then you can skip this blog altogether today. Or read it and weep...

Wanna live a regret-free life? Continue on to discover frightening coming events in your life- and lessons from the professionals.

"The years teach much which the days never knew."  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have no idea what we were doing here

I've been a Spunky Old Broad for almost five years. (Calendar wise.) But inside I think I've only recently taken hold of the spunky spirit within me and gained some type of control of this sucky aging process. Here's what I've learned:

Lesson One: 
Don't sweat it.
If you can still tie your shoes and wipe your butt, you're doing great! What you have to realize is that most of us still feel nineteen at heart. We still like rock music, cute clothes, good sex and deep dish pepperoni pizza.
Life doesn't stop at fifty. (Unless you die.)

Lesson Two:

You don't have to be a mean Spunky Old Broad.
Don't park your cart in the middle of the aisle at WalMart.
Don't be rude to the kid at the grocery store that short changed you two pennies.
Don't bark, curse, kick, screech or grunt in public.
Be polite. Smile.
Anger will not make you younger, richer, or more powerful. It just makes you look like a mean old lady that everyone wants to avoid... Or kill.

Lesson Three:
Dress according to your attitude - not your age.
Spunky old broads avoid elastic-waist stretchy jeans, granny pants, hair nets, rain bonnets,
ugly hats and orthopedic shoes.
Spunky old broads always wear a good-fitting bra, a hint of makeup, have their hair styled attractively, and continue to wear their dentures when leaving the confines of home.
There is nothing that shouts "OLD" quicker than a toothless, witchy-haired woman with boobs that are tucked into the elastic-waist of her stretchy jeans....(with an inch of granny pants showing).

Lesson Four:
Manage your bodily noises and urges. Listen to your body and silence it as necessary.
Refrain from farting, burping, creaking, shuffling, and polka dancing.
Don't attempt cartwheels, break dancing, high jumping or one-legged pirouettes.
Don't flirt with young boys, envy young women, or baby-talk to your imaginary pet.
Sit straight, don't drool. Avoid snorting, gurgling, snoring and gasping for breath.
But don't fool yourself. Always take the elevator.

Lesson Five:
Find your spunk.
Be who you are and not what your friends and family expect you to be. Personality and individualism shouldn't diminish with age- it should ripen.
If you want to ride a roller coaster, paint a wall purple, take a dance class, enroll in college or color that gray hair- just do it! Life is too short to wait-and-see.
Adopt a positive attitude, a charming smile, a friendly voice, and a loving ambiance.
Be you. Be your favorite age-and then don't look back.
(That being said- never embarrass yourself with mini-skirts, overflowing cleavage, pigtails, stilettos, or membership to a nude beach.)

Disco party 09

To all you Spunky Old Broads- let us celebrate! 

It's our month! It's our life! It's our world!

Wrestle it to the ground and give it a belly kiss...

Goodwill Wednesday: (On Thursday!) A Hopeful Heart

Well, we got really lucky yesterday and the worst of the storm settled north of here. But, we do have icy conditions and some scattered sleet. My husband is home today and I cooked a hot, hearty breakfast for us and ...we're just going to spend the day relaxing.
Sounds good to me!

NOTE: This was written yesterday, but I didn't have internet because of the ice. So- you're getting Goodwill Wednesday on Thursday this week! 
***************************

I am always scouring the Goodwill store for things I can put on my porch. It's a rather boring porch. Small, no railing...no personality- other than what I can wrangle up. You might be surprised how cute a pot of artificial flowers looks when gathered in a vase there- or a outdated wreath given a sassy new look.

I almost always refuse to shell out lots of money for decorations. Especially when they're going out to withstand the elements and sometimes destroyed by inclement weather.
So, for Valentine's Day a few years ago, I found some red Christmas garland at my Goodwill and came home and made this:

It's just a wire coat hanger that I shaped into a heart and wrapped with the garland. I didn't have any small wire to attach it, so I used some plastic-coated red paper clips that I straightened out to secure the garland.

 

The pillows here are just some old throw pillows that had lost their luster. You could even buy some at Goodwill- I've seen plenty available. I would never lay my head on one of them, but to cover with fabric as chair cushions- I don't see why not.
In fact, I don't actually cover them. I just safety pin some fabric on. This way I can change them out with the seasons. (No one really sees the back anyway- and if they don't like it- they can get off my porch! :)
This particular red fabric was a table runner I found on clearance a few years ago at KMart. It's Christmas-y. but works well for Valentine's Day, too. Which is why I cut it in half, pinned it to my pillows, and wrapped it with a green ribbon. (For Christmas, I had ornaments tied to the ribbon.)


I bought the pink bag with feather trim at WalMart after February 14th one year. (Just a dollar). I've got it stuffed now with a heavy vase (in case of wind) and lots of pink, white and red cheap flowers. And dollar store bling!
Actually the rocking chairs were a bargain I got when I worked at a retail gift shop. They put them in their "porch sale" for $50 total. I immediately said "SOLD!". (But I rarely sit there. They aren't very comfortable.)
Valentines Day will be here and gone in a few weeks and I'm already on the lookout for something different for my porch. Too early for Easter, I suppose...But- I guess I'll never know what's out there until I make a Goodwill run!

Won't you join me?

***********************************
Here's what it looks like at my house on this Groundhog Day 2011: