Women FULL of education

We are in an age when media puts into our heads the idea that only
skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my
kids, a good dinner with a man who cooked it, and lunch with my
friends. With time we gain weight because we accumulate so much
information and wisdom in our heads that when there is no more room it
distributes out to the rest of our bodies. So we aren’t heavy, we are
enormously cultured, educated and happy. Beginning today, when I look at
my butt in the mirror I will think, Good god, look how smart I am!

I just wish I were holding Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, but Hey, we were in the Deep South, and I was gaining insight about the Low Country.
OK, so I wish I had been reading Beach Music.

We rented this SUV at Durham Raleigh and we made our little nest back here, using the folded down middle seat for our foot stool and ate chocolate until we came to a graveyard or something else as interesting.
I have much more to tell about this adventure.

Huge Fearless Dog Attacks Goat

Bizarre puppy harassing an animal that would love to butt her into next week.

She has no fear.

She has no sense.













































































































I'm pretty sure she operates from the stem. Somewhat like a teenage boy.

Bloggy Question

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of those who have made it so I do not have to write that squiggly word every time I leave a comment.

I did it with no adverse effects.
It was simple.

Now, I'd like to know if there is anyone who has had any difficulty with mean or just plain crazy people leaving crap in your comment section, because I haven't experienced any of that.

I noticed that there are a few people who have the squiggly word AND blogger owner approval. Should I be worried about something that I am naively unaware of?

Outdoor Wednesday

Go visit Susan for more outdoor Wednesday posts.




It's still growing after 15 days of 100+ temperatures.

My sister gave me the "Flowers and Song" rock, and I didn't even have to whine and beg for it!

Country Music

A comment from Blogger Pam reminded me that I wrote this last year for our newspaper.

The Picture is of my sister and You Know Who.


I watched the Country Music Award Show Sunday night. I always look forward to the CMA’s because I listen to country music and the show is always entertaining. At one time, to my knowledge, there were only two categories of music that gave out awards during long glitzy award shows. They were Country and Rock and Roll.
Rock and Roll meant the kind of music my daddy hated, (He called it African music. I drove him crazy one summer playing Be Bop-a-Lula over and over.) Country meant twangy, yee-haw songs about making moonshine and having chickens in the yard. I never listened to it when I was young.
However, now it seems that Country has become rock and roll. When did this happen?
They just put the word “ain’t,” in the song, place a cowboy hat on someone in the band, and call the violin a fiddle. Abracadabra, we’ve gone country!

If you don’t believe me check out some of the hair-dos on the performers. There was a Mohawk on a guy in Miranda Lambert’s band! Buck Owens must be spinning in his grave. Also check out a band called “Big and Rich.” I rest my case. (Didn’t they have a superfluous dancing midget in their band at one time?)

I’m not even sure the genre called rock and roll still exists. If it does, it is now divided into sub categories, such as head-banging heavy metal, pop, rap, and alternative. It makes no difference what the words say because they are often indistinguishable.
On the other hand, country music’s words matter.

Oh, do they matter!

I think the songwriters come up with a clever phrase and then write a song around it.
I can just see it now. A bunch of good old boys are sitting around drinking beer and a pretty girl walks by and one of the boys says, “Woo-ee! I’d sure like to check her for ticks!” Then one of them whips out his Scholastic Rhyming Book and looks up all the words that rhyme with ticks and a song is born.

What I can’t really figure out is what sort of woman would fall for this particular type of sweet talk?
Never the less, I feel certain that there is not a country song that has ever been written without beer being involved.

Buckets of beer.

How else could someone think up lines such as;
“She’s got a drinking problem and it’s me.”
And
“I sobered up and I got to thinking, you ain’t much fun since I quit drinking.”

One award night a few years ago, I tuned in a bit late, but just in time to hear someone singing the last line of a song,
“I met God’s will on Saturday night. He was dressed as a bag of leaves.”

What?

I decided I had better listen for some more entertaining lines. Here are some that I heard;
“He put the bottle to his head and pulled the trigger.”
“When I said ‘I Do,’ I did, but I don’t any more.”
“When she sees a deer she sees Bambi, and I see antlers on the wall.”
If I was Jesus, I’d walk on water just to mess with your head. (The song is just full of things this guy would do if he were Jesus.)
“I broke your heart in our double wide paradise.”
“It ain’t cheatin’ if you don’t get caught.”
“I’m gonna hire a wino to decorate our home.”
“Call it what you want to. I call it quits.”

A country song will now and then make me laugh out loud.
Take that one about a guy who is an overweight nerd with asthma, who still lives with his mama, with a My Space page that says he’s a tall, handsome, studly lady-killer.

Or that one about all the wonderful things alcohol can do including helping white people dance better.

I like the song about the girl committing several felonies involving a knife and a baseball bat and a guy’s fancy truck. Too bad there isn’t a final verse about what it’s like being a sweet young thing locked up in a jail cell with a big old gal named Bertha Faye Jones.
But just when you think country lyrics are classifiable along comes a song that says,

“I read you once in a Faulkner novel,
Met you once in a Williams play.”

Practically Shakespeare!

Before

I am participating in Metamorphosis Monday so go see more at Between Naps on the Porch




This was the main bathroom.

The shower was a little dinky plastic thing.

Very depressing




We gutted it and
started all over.








Hub and brother in love had
already painted
the walls a cream color.


They were white
like the bathroom above.





The fireplace,
although interesting,
took up too much space.

It had to go.

White carpet?
The previous owners
didn't let their dog inside.
Ever.

White carpet had to go.


The little dog was Lolita.
She went to play on
the great beach
in the sky last
January.

The particle board shelves
-had to go.

Note the raised area within the bay window.
Couldn't make it go so we had to raise the rest of the floor up to the height of it.
Previous owner dealt with this problem by cutting the back legs off of their sofa and stuck it in the bay.

Then

Now

We widened the entry and that improved the whole room.
This is supposed to be the living room but we use it as the dining room.
A dining room is important to me, because we seldom
(read never)entertain family and friends without a feast.

The door will look much better when I paint it red,
don't you think?
I already have the paint.
I'm just waiting for a day that I can
leave the door open and work
without being too hot.

The main bathroom
looks much better, Yes?

We had our contractor make the shower
with the same tiles that are all
over the entire house.

The shower is big enough that
it doesn't need a door.

The towels are my lovely "Dry Clean Only" purchase.
I didn't notice it till we got them home.
I don't let anyone use them because of that,
which is pretty stupid, if you ask me,
but I do it anyway.
"Don't use those!!
They are just for decoration!!"
(Eye roll)


We replaced the fireplace with this
Cozy Stove.
This small stove puts out so much heat that
sometimes I have to open the door to cool the house down.
Then facing the other way in the same room,
this is what we replaced the particle board shelves with.

This is where we watch TV and movies.

The dining room, kitchen TV room and what was once the designated dining room (I use it as my garden room and it is a great room to sit in and read) are all actually one huge room sort of divided by a partition that houses my fridge and service counter.
(coffee, toaster, micro, liquor cabinet, etc)




It is a work in progress but it's looking better.

Macho Men v Girly Men

Last week our governator was blasting the legislature for not doing what he wanted them to do. The last time this happened, he called them “Girly Men,” which I thought was extremely funny.

Remembering this made me think of the two main types of men, macho men and girly men;

Or as I like to refer to them;

Mule-Headed, Semi-Evolved, Knuckle Draggers (MM)
and
Men Not Afraid To Get in Touch With Their Feminine Side. (GM)

GM have a sock drawer, an underwear drawer, and a shirt drawer, etc.
MM’s dresser drawers all look the same.

MM play football or other contact sports.
GM play tennis.

GM can locate items within a room.
MM walk to the door of the room and yell, “It’s not here!”

MM drive muddy trucks with huge tires.
GM drive Lexus Hybrids.

GM aren’t afraid to ask if their shirt “goes” with their pants OK.
Furthermore they CARE if they clash.
MM think “Getting dressed up” is wearing a t-shirt without anything rude printed on it.

GM ask their wives to drive on a trip, and are even able to sleep while she is driving, knowing that she is capable.
MM drive themselves to the hospital when they are, literally, in the throes of heart failure.

GM aren’t afraid to cry when they play the Star Spangled Banner at Olympic Medal Ceremonies
MM make fun of those who do.

MM drink their coffee black.
GM aren’t embarrassed to order a latte or a mocha cappuccino.

GM can smoothly order the beef bourguignon and farfalle with the yogurt drizzle and couscous on the side, please.
MM just eat meat and potatoes, and say things like “Just knock the horns off of it, Sweetie.” And “I don’t eat bait.” When someone suggests sushi.

GM own pasta makers and latte machines.
MM own motorcycles.

GM collect baseball cards.
MM collect baseball caps.

GM watch the History and Discovery Channels.
MM watch reruns of “Law and Order” and “Cops.”

GM want to be Anderson Cooper.
MM want to be Rambo.

MM shop at Home Depot, IF they really must.
GM shop at Restoration Hardware.

GM cut recipes from the newspaper that look good.
MM don’t cut shit from any newspaper.

GM call their shampoo and hair gel, “Products.”
MM never think of shampoo unless they reach their hand out for it and it isn’t there.

GM will wear pink if it looks good on them.
MM (See above item concerning getting dressed up).

GM can enjoy movies about relationships containing clever repartee.
MM will only go to movies if there will be some stuff blown up, a car chase, numerous grizzly deaths, and at least one semi naked lady.

GM like to talk in intimate closeness with their wives after lovemaking.
MM think they are being polite if they don’t make any noises involving escaping body gas.

GM enjoy sleeping on 600 thread count sheets.
MM have been known to sleep on the bare mattress, and not notice,

GM have miniature schnauzers.
MM have pit bulls.

You get the idea.
If this annoys any of you MM’s, you will need to know that I have moved out of the area.

I am working for the governator.

A Brave and Good Book

I know the person who wrote this book. It is about her and her fight with depression after being mothered by an emotionally abusive bear. (You know, Run 'em up a tree and and they'll come down when they get hungry enough.)

I actually couldn't put it down. I wondered if I found it so intriguing because I know Jill or because I spent 9 of my most formative years in the town she was writing about.
But when all was said and done, I realized it was intriguing because it was an interesting and truthful autobiography. Step on a Crack by Jill Byrne.
(Oh my God. It is so damn hard for me to write the title of a book without underlining it! Language Mechanics 101)

Buy it.
Read it.
Go on. Do it!
Now.
You can thank me later.

Who Says We Aint Got No Class in Redding!

I took this girl shopping.
One of the the things we found was this cute little tunic length top at a boutique down town owned by, and called, "Kimberly Nicole,"
a sweet little thing!
It has four tiers of self ruffles,
and some well-placed lace,
and spaghetti straps. It looks quite adorable with skinny jeans.

There was a time when I would have worn it as a dress.

Oh, yes I would have.

Hussy. Remember?



Here are a few more shots of some items she carries.

Too cute for me!


I must stick to the Women's Department
(read old fat broads)
at Macey's.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

The Tacky Adventures of Mostly Sane People

Or "How I Learned That I Could Call Myself an Artist"

We have good friends named Judy and Glenn. We have known them for thirty-five years, so I guess you’d say we have things in common. We like to go on what we call Tacky Adventures. We take turns planning them.

In 1996, during winter break, we went to Brentwood, CA and took each other’s pictures in front of Nicole Simpson’s house, and another one under the street sign that said “Bundy Drive.” Then we went to the Mezzaluna Restaurant and took more pictures. After that, we searched out O.J.’s house on Rockingham Ave. There was still a stream of cars going by just for a look, and some paparazzi were staked out there still waiting for a new shot for the enquiring people, of course we stopped and took each other’s picture. We jumped back into the car just before his body guards ran us off! My sister, Barbie accompanied us on this adventure. She wore fake nose glasses. We named this Tacky Adventure the Bloody Glove Escapade.

Another year we went to the Hollywood Hills and got one of those cheesy maps of the stars homes and went around taking our photo in front of various star’s houses. We got a tennis ball out of Eddie Murphy’s gutter. We saw Neil Diamond drive by in one of his vintage cars. He slowed down to see what we might be up to, standing there in front of Lucille Ball’s house. We said “Hi, Neil” and waved to him and he drove off.
Humpf.
We chased Tom Snyder for a while, but didn’t really want to get arrested. So we backed off. Judy and I ran in Neiman’s to get a lipstick, and the guys waited out on the sidewalk. They said Ann Margaret came by and actually talked to them for a minute. We didn’t believe them, but they are sticking to their story, still, to this day. We had lunch at Wolfgang Pucks.

We went to Sunset Strip to the Fredrick’s of Hollywood Museum and took pictures of Marilyn Monroe’s bra, on another occasion. We also got a shot of Dennis Quaid’s underwear that he wore in The Big Easy. When we had exhausted all of the opportunities to be obnoxious in there, we went on up and down the Strip, trying on wild clothes and wigs and other items for men who wish to wear dresses, since they cater to them on that street.

Another memorable Tacky Adventure was a summer night when we went to be “Tree People” for a Neil Diamond concert at the Greek Theater. We had been to his concerts there before, but we paid for them and went in and sat down like normal people. He always talked to the Tree People and a huge roar would come from the trees that surrounded the amphitheater. We decided that sounded like an adventure so the next year we didn’t buy tickets. We drove up to the Greek, parked in the grass outside and headed into the trees. We climbed what seemed like a mountain and trudged through heavy underbrush and thick forests of trees. When we came out on the other side, it was another parking area. We could have walked around the forest. A well, it prepared us for what was ahead.
We met hippies who hitchhiked around the US, doing things like this. I was offered some dope, which I declined. I did take a drink out of a stranger’s wine jug that was passed around a circle. We climbed fences and trees and we would get caught and escorted back across the fence, only to return after the guards went on. We yelled whenever Neil talked to us Tree People, and just basically had a wild crazy night. We danced in the forest and met some interesting people. I tore my jeans, and got separated from my party and was lost, and I mean Lost in the forest for about an hour! Judy had a guard standing on her leg at one point. She finally couldn’t take the pain anymore and said, “Excuse me, If you’ll get off of my leg, I promise I’ll go back over the fence and stay.” He did. She didn’t.
On the way out of the parking stack Judy yelled out the window over and over, “Don’t blame me! I voted for McGovern!”(for some reason) When we finally made it to Hollywood and Vine, Glenn jumped out of the car, (an uninsured, red, Ford Fairlane Convertible) and stopped traffic so we could make a left turn against the red light. It is amazing that I have never been in jail.
The next day, our twenty-something bodies were battered and bruised, but I, personally thought it was worth it. I still do!

Although we have been on many Tacky Adventures, some of them are, well, we should just forget about some of them. One more comes to mind today.

We went to Los Angeles one rainy December day to explore the Museum of Contemporary Art. Now, I don’t recall this actually starting out to be a Tacky Adventure, but alas, it ended up to being one.
First, let me say that I fear no art. I understand all that art is.
I’ve been around the block, Kid! But this new MOCA building held some unusual stuff. The first thing I saw was an old weathered 4X4 piece of wood, standing on end, five-ish feet tall, with a bunch of old rusty nails hammered into the top of it. It had a serious looking card encased in plastic attached to it bearing the title of the piece, and the artist’s name.
The piece was called, (I swear!) “Old Piece Of Wood With 100 Nails In It.” I looked around to see if there was any evidence of a joke. Candid Camera? I was smiling, but trying not to break the somberness with one of my unlady-like guffaws. I moved on to a huge canvas on a wall. It was solid red. It too had a card attached to it giving the artist and the title. This one was called, “Canvas Painted Solid Red.” Yes. It certainly is. I looked around. No one was laughing. What is going on?

There was an old ironing board cover on the floor near-by, and I went over to check it out. It was one of the ART selections! It had three holes in it, and was scorched from use. I couldn’t wait to see what this art was called. “Old Fireproof Material With Holes The Size Of My Waist And Arms.” I began to giggle softly, my hand over my mouth. I looked around again. They had stern looking men dressed in tuxedos GUARDING this stuff! As if! I went to find Judy, all the while getting more hysterical at the stern looks I was getting from the guards. “You have GOT to come see this ironing board thing, and did you see the old wood thing?” The guard looked at me again, this time as if I were some Uncouth, Cretin Redneck.
What I found out, was those first three things were different from the others in that they were called what they were. The rest of the art seemed to be named by opening a book and randomly pointing to words on two or three different pages. For example, a chair with a robe on it might be called, “Meadow Metamorphosis.” There was even a room that was painted stark white, floor, walls, ceiling, All white. It was someone’s art project. I think it was called Battlefield Glory, or something like that.
Honestly, I haven’t had so much fun in ages! It’s the funniest show in town!
When I got home I took off my pants keeping the socks still stuck in them and hung them from a lamp. I called it, Gully Dancer In Palindrome. I took a photo of it and sent it to Judy. I was finally an artist.

The Grand Grandchildren

A rare snuggly moment.

It's My Birthday. I Made It To Another One.

You really didn't think I'd leave her behind did you?

She had her own little life jacket.







I have pictures of their mama doing this very thing.





Uncle Rob, too.



As we drove away we played the T-Pain/ Andy Samberg, "I'm on a Boat!"

I know. Bad Example.













Who is taller? "Jack! Stop standing on your toes!"

Rachel is a little peanut! But she is 5 years older.














I have this thing about taking feet photos.
Fetish?

I feel sure there will be more photos of this event.

Sacramento and the second Weekend Antique Faire

Fetching the grand children from the airport.

A visit to the Antique Faire under the freeway in Sacramento.
Lots of goodies.


The puppies were reluctant to stay home alone.


The best sign ever!
We had a woody when I was a kid.



Miss feather boa.


I had a good visit with my sisters.

Now we are off to the Boat!

A Store Worth A Three Hour Drive

I am getting ready to go to Sacramento to visit my sisters and my mama. All three live within close proximity of one another.

We always go to Pottery World, which is a warehouse sized area full of irresistible items for the home and garden.

This is a small sample of their goodies.

On Monday, I will collect my grandchildren and bring them back to the EIEIO Ranchita.

Then on Tuesday morning we shall hop on a rented houseboat and cruise about Lake Shasta for the rest of the week.
I may take a photo or two to put here on my Blog.
As if.