A Pair of Pack Mules

I was asked recently what led me to start blogging.

Good question...with several answers.

One...SweetT told me to...and I always do as I'm told.

Two...God told me to...and I always listen when He speaks.  He knew I was going to need all the support I could get in the coming months and He was right...as always.  Let me say right now...thank you all for the all the love that came our way during the months leading up to and following Bella's arrival.  I've said it before, but it bears repeating...I felt the prayers like a warm hug every minute of every day.  Thank you also for all the sweet birthday wishes for our little girl!  Y'all are the best!

Third...I wanted to create me...my identity.

All my life I've been known by many names.

The girls...Kerri and Debbie...

Joey and Jenn's mom...

Danny and Debbie...the list went on...

and always there was an and included with my name.

I wanted a stand-alone identity for business purposes...mine and mine alone.

When I wrote my first post, that was my plan.  Talk about the antique business, things I love, and create this whole cool persona of myself for the shows.

That's what I thought I wanted, but one cannot be married for nigh on 40 years and keep a single person outlook.  It just isn't possible...although I keep threatening to let him try single for a while...especially when we're loading that trailer at night!

Cat Daddy infiltrated my blog just as he infiltrated my heart all those years ago.  We are a matched set of mules linked in the harness of life...complete with brass conchos.  We may balk and let out a bray from time to time, but we also pull the load quicker together than apart.  Just call us Jack and Jenny!

(Like scorpions, we travel as a pair.  If you see one...hang on.  The other one is just around the corner looking at something shiny!)

We finish each other's sentences, meals, and jokes.  If one stumbles...the other is there to pick up the slack.  By pulling in tandem rather than in opposite directions...we don't kill ourselves...or each other.  Do we always get along...heck no!  Only with patience and a lot of practice getting into those collars, have we managed to never lose a load...or deliberately kick hurt one another.

At times, our pace can be off.  We've been known to throw a hissy shoe, get a bit spavined from overwork, and be a burr under each other's saddle...but when that happens...we forget about being stubborn, cuss discuss what's wrong...fix it...and get on with the job at hand. 

Simple truth...try as I might to be just Debbie...I never will be.

These are the simple truths I've come to appreciate over the course of time.

I will always have an and in front my name.

Without each other, we are painfully hobbled.

I will happily always be the other half of this Cat dog and pony show known as Trash AND Cat Daddy...but at least for now...I get top billing!

There is one thing I managed to accomplish by blogging that I aimed for. I have met some of the nicest folks on the planet. I've also been fortunate to meet and shake howdy with a lot of y'all at my second home at Zapp Hall.

I sure hope to add to that list in about two weeks!

In the meantime...I gotta get back to work now y'all.  Cat Daddy has finished up his feed bag...and this bed and ship's galley rack ain't gonna load themselves!

When you get to the Greatest Show on Dirt...just ask for Trash and Cat Daddy.  Folks a'know who you're lookin' for and if'n they don't...just listen for the sound of braying laughter.

~Second star to the right...straight on till morning~Peter Pan

The Meaning of Bella...God's Promise

March 12, 2012

Dear Diary,

As I sit here tonight, I can't believe it's been three years since that day Dr. Matthews told Jenn and Roby he was going to have to deliver their baby by C-section. Jenn's Preeclamsia was causing her liver enzymes to escalate, her blood pressure was sky-rocketing despite the meds, and a crash cart had been ordered.  Try as she might, it couldn't be delayed any longer.  A baby was coming at 23 weeks and 4 days.

With steady, calm hands Dr. Matthews quickly lifted the baby from Jenn and gently placed her on a stainless steel tray...all 10" and 15 ounces of Bella...our teeny. tiny micro-premmie.  Roby could only stare in wonder.

Now began Jenn's walk through fire armed only with prayer and a faith in God's perfect plan...her shields against the doubts and fears that could arise in the weeks and months to come.

Looking back Diary...I'm still amazed by God and His power to heal...to hold...and to awe.

In His perfect timing, had she been one week earlier, Bella wouldn't have been viable...four days earlier and she wouldn't have received steroids for her lung development.  That one week and four days increased her chance of survival from 10% to 53%.  God, breathing into her and over her, changed it to 100%...glory!

This wasn't a coinicidence...this was the power of God....and in His perfect timing, Bella grew stronger and bigger in the many days to come, proving the experts wrong...the statisitics wrong...and the existence of angels right. 

To stand and watch the miracle of creation encased in a tiny glass castle...to feel His awesome power fill the NICU...to watch the nurses and doctors stand with amazed faces as Bella grew and flourished...I left the NICU every day humbled.  All the negativity and statistics fell by the wayside when face to face with a mighty God who held this tiny baby in His loving hands.

Diary, we couldn't contain our joy when that day came in August to take her home.  To have witnessed my own baby become a mother was a gift.  To see her become such a wonderful mother...a privilege.  Jenn never lost hope, holding fast to her God for the strength to face whatever trials and complications Bella might face once she was released.

And yet...as in Bella's beginning...God was in control.

Bella continued to thrive, staying on oxygen for several more months, receiving therapy to aid her in developmental skills, but with no major health problems.  Diary...I have to repeat those last four words and pinch myself...no.major.health.problems!

Praise God! 

By the time Bella reached her first birthday, the oxygen tank was no longer needed.

Diary...she was a little behind on walking and talking, but if it meant carrying her for the rest of her life...we were all prepared to do it.  Whatever God called for us to do...we were ready.

But again...in His perfect plan for Bella...He carried her...and us.

Her first birthday was a major milestone for this child of God.  If the therapists wanted her to start taking a few steps...she did.  Could she learn simple words like Mama and Dada?  No problem.  Solid food in addition to her special formula for weight gain...bring it on.  She didn't just flourish...she blossomed.

God holding her in His hands as she held our hearts in hers.  Whatever was asked of her...He helped her to not just attain it, but surpass her medical caregivers' expectations...time and time again.

Oh my goodness Diary.  Two was remarkable!  To watch as she began toddling around, making a mess as she went.  Reveling in the pure joy of her everyday routine.  Thankful for every little step, every little word, every little kiss.

To watch as her personality began forming and her sense of understanding growing.  To see her soak up the world around her like a sponge, her eyes taking in everything down to the tiniest detail.  To watch her eyes go back and forth when my hair wasn't in braids or I wasn't wearing my glasses.  Seeing her mind formulate an answer to her questioning eyes and then watching as she figured out what was different.  To be able to share in the delight on her face when she solved her own problems.  The simple things that somehow get lost in the shuffle of life were suddenly more important than anything.

Perhaps Diary, we paid closer attention because she is a gift...her life, a precious gift from God...not to be taken lightly.  But Diary...isn't that true of all children?  Through her, I have a different outlook on everything in my life.  I watch her, Graycie, and Brandon differently.  I try not to miss anything...down to the minutia of what happened in school during lunch.

Dearest Diary...through the weeks leading up to her birth and the months she was in the hospital,  this precious baby...this blog baby as she became known...touched so many people.  Strangers at the beginning...now friends forever because of her and their hope and prayers for her.  A uniting of people that can't be explained except by the knowledge, this was part of His plan for all of us. She snuggled into their hearts just as she snuggled into ours and forever bound us across the miles and oceans by the love and prayers so generously shared.   

So I sit here tonight, transfixed Diary, smiling and crying while looking at images of Bella.  Lost in thought and forgetting to breathe from time to time.  Photos that capture my heart, make me weak in the knees, and thankful for His mercy.  I don't know the whys.  It isn't for me to know.  I do know that through His grace and by the blood of His precious son...I have been forgiven and I am saved.  I also know that I am charged to witness to the gift of eternal life that is ours through Jesus Christ.  Miracles do exist...and not just in the Bible.  Bella is my witness of His miracles.  He is the Great I am and I will forever with humble adoration...praise His name.  It is because of her, my prayer tonight and always, is for all to know the peace that comes from letting go and letting Him take control of our lives.

I can't write anymore Diary.  The tears are blinding me, but don't worry...they're tears of joy.  I probably should close this now and get ready for bed and my prayers.

You know me though Diary.  When it comes to how wonderful God is...I never want to stop talking.  Rest assured...my prayers will be about praising the magnificence of my Lord and His faithfulness before saying goodnight to this beautiful day.

~I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.~Psalms 139:14

Thank you Lord for all your gifts, for the friends who now share my life, and for this precious little girl you have blessed us with.

Your humble servant,

Debbie

Dancin'...& Fiddlin'...With The One Who Brung Me!

Oh mylanta y'all!

As SweetT pointed out just this morning, we've got...gulp...3 weeks to finish getting ready for the Greatest Show on Dirt!

Like that ain't bad enough...time changes this Sunday and I'm gonna lose an hour.

What the hay?  Don't they realize I don't have an hour to spare, much less give back?  I need every single, stinkin' second I can scrounge up before March 30th!

(Personally...I think they should just choose one and leave it at that, but heck...they can't even leave the date for switching alone so why would I expect 'em to make it easy!)

So-o-o...not only is that hour stolen lost, but my friendly neighborhood weatherman is calling for rain all weekend.  People, people, people...what are y'all trying to do to this chubby lady?  Doncha know I'm dancin' as fast as I can?

What's a girl to do you ask?  Why she gets out the ol' Big Chief tablet, her trusty Berol Handhugger and she makes lists, prioritizing everything from what's trailer ready to what's suitcase worthy!

First order of the day...see to it the Man is duded up and decked out!

See that arm sticking out?  Yeppers...that belongs to the one and only Cat Daddy!

For those of y'all who are new readers, I think I need to stop here and explain a few cat facts about my very own Cat in the hat starting with this is no normal, flesh and blood mortal.  Oh no y'all.  He is the stuff legends are made of 'round Zapp Hall...and especially at T's blog party!  Don't believe me?  Ask her!

You mark my words unbelievers.  When the photos start filtering in from the show...I promise you up and down...Cat Daddy is gonna be front and center in more than just a few of 'em with some beautiful woman...or two...or three...draped all over him and lookin' all like the cat who ate the canary!

Some blame me for the madness he generates when he struts his stuff, but I ask you...

did I make him the strong, silent type of man women go crazy for?

No-o-o...I don't think so!

Did I infuse him with enough sex appeal for an army?

No-o-o...ain't a hypodermic big enough for that!

Tell me...did I teach him how to walk the stray cat strut?

No-o-o!  That walk comes from riding the rodeo circuit oh so many years ago.

Am I responsible for perpetuating the myth?

Ummm...yeah...sorta kinda...

but y'all are just as much to blame for his inflated ego big head rep as me!

You don't hear me squealing "Cat Daddy" when him and that dolly llama stroll into view...do y'all?

No ladies...that would be y'all and all the crazy Zappers we play with at the show!

Who knew when I was exaggerating embellishing polishing his image just a smidge, that I would actually get so close to the truth.  He is a quiet man.  He does have a certain je ne sais quoi about him...and he does strut.  Law...how he does strut.

  Those are absolutes.

Is he drop-dead-Johnny-Depp gorgeous?

Only to me...and himself...and maybe my sweet little Georgia Honey Baked.

Is he the king of the jungle?

No...more like lord of the flies!

Will I have him hosed down and spiffed up for y'all come show time?

You betcha!

The line'll start at the back of the show for hugs...but I am open to bribery for preferential placement.

And just so ya know...management will not be held responsible for any eye scratching that may occur while waiting for the chance to pose next to the MAN!

   

When You Say Nothing At All

I was doing a little catch-up reading and it seems I missed a party last week.  Man-alive...I hate when that happens.  I even had a hat I coulda worn!   Laura did a post for the party (wise words to read when you get the urge for some intelligent conversation instead of my ramblings.  Psst... L.B., punch E3 on the playlist...that one's for you and your favorite dance partner...just 'cause I love you so.) and I thought I'd crash it...just for the heck of it.  After all y'all...my middle name is Party.  The topic at hand...What do you want your blog to be when it grows up.

Even though I've been blogging for nigh on 4 years, I don't think my blog is anywhere near being all growed up.  Law...just the opposite.  I'm thinking I'm it's regressing into a second childhood!  I also don't consider myself an expert on giving anyone advice on how to grow a blog.  I just roll along in my own little world and really try not to concentrate on numbers.  Hair I can grow.  Blog...not so much!

Since I don't have a clue as to when or if I my blog will ever grow up, but because I dearly love the sound of my own voice, I thought (Yes y'all.  I have been known to think before I speak on occasion.) I might have a thought or two to spare share for those who are just starting out.  Let's call it a do as I say, not as I do pep talk...'cause goodness knows I do everything one isn't supposed to do when it comes to blogging...starting and ending with being too windy!

Trust your instincts.  If what you're writing appeals to you...chances are very good it'll appeal to others who share your aesthetics.  Start simple...find your voice tucked safely away in your heart...and don't fret if you don't get a lot of comments.  Like the proverbial ballfield...if you write it...they will come.  Maybe not in a string of car headlights a mile long...maybe not overnight...but they will come.  Trust me.  The sound of an honest voice can travel at...well...the speed of sound.  The best part?  The readers who hear you and respond will be kindred spirits...reward enough.

(Glance in a mirror right now and you'll know who I'm talking about!) 

Remember when starting out...you set the pace.  What you start out doing, can and will be expected in future posts.  Not that a leopard can't change her spots.  She can...just not easily...and not without more than just a little fur flying.  If you're funny...aim for the back row.  If you're contemplative...keep on contemplating.  Whatever your choice of post topic...treat it with respect.  Work at it...hone it...polish it until it...and you...shine like new money.  Expect to work at it and give it all you've got...even if it's just for a personal journal.  Why shouldn't you give yourself the very best.  After all...aren't you the best friend you got?

Saying all that...remember this one thing.  Rules were meant to be broken.  Never paint yourself into a corner.  By that I mean it never hurts to step out of your comfort zone from time to time and shake things up just a bit.  I delight in seeing this on other blogs and your readers will too.  Everyone gets a kick outta the unexpected.

It also means time schedules are for trains, planes and buses.  Don't allow yourself...or others...to guilt you into thinking you have to post on a certain day at a certain time and in a certain manner.  It helps...but it ain't gonna ruin anyone's day if your post isn't up at a predetermined day and hour.  If it does...heaven help 'em...'cause they need a life...and yours isn't up for grabs.

If you are planning on responding to all comments by e-mail...expect a certain amount of frustration.  Not all comments come complete with an e-mail address.  Do you have the time necessary to track 'em down and once you start getting beaucoup comments, will you have the time to respond to each and every one?

BTW...in case you were wondering...cut and paste e-mails aren't the same in my book.  For me...it's all about keeping it real...keeping it personal...and that's why I don't always respond with an e-mail.  Not because I don't appreciate each and every comment, but because time isn't always my friend so I choose to respond with a comment instead.

That's how I roll, but again...you set your own pace.  These are things you'll have to decide work best for you.  I do promise you up and down to respect your choices...pinky swear. 

Speaking of comments...you want 'em?  Give 'em!  Don't be afraid to go visiting and leave a little handprint behind to let it be known you were there.  I don't know of a soul who doesn't love comments.  Don't worry about sounding goofy or being intimidated.  Even the mighty need the affirmation that comes from comments.  Type a kind word or two...hit publish...and ta-da...you might make a new friend.  It's.just.that.easy...except for that new &*#@ captcha thingy Blogger has come up with!

Really it boils down to a few simple things.  Speak your mind.  Be sincere.  Make your readers feel welcome, comfortable, and at home.  Then friend o'mine...voila...you're on your way.

Simply put?

Don't sweat the small stuff!

(Cross pillow and Home Sweet Home pillow Carolyn Westbrook Home designs)

   

 

Puttin' My Best Foot Forward And Dancin' the Cotton Eyed Joe

Y'all asked and since I always aim to please, I'm gonna attempt to translate the term  "grocery store feet" in somewhat...ahem...genteel terms.  I'm thinking a lot of y'all don't run around barefoot much...leastways not as much as me.

Down here in the South...

or maybe just in Texas...

or maybe just in my neck o'the woods...

or maybe just at the Casita de Trash...

come warm weather...shoes are optional.

When it comes to staying shod, I've been a hillbilly as long as I can remember.  (Love shoes...just don't want to wear 'em!)  Mother couldn't keep a pair on me to save her life...and law how she tried.  The bottoms of my feet in the summertime resembled shoe leather.  Hot asphalt, pebbles, mud...nothing slowed me down...'cept maybe the occasional Coke lid.

By the time I hit my teen years, it was all about peace, macrame, and going barefoot.  Goodness...threw on some frayed bell bottoms and I fit right in without trying!

Fast forward to my adult years and I gave new meaning to barefoot and pregnant!  If I was at home...my shoes were in the closet.  If I put on shoes, the melonheads and dog knew we were going somewhere...and not just to the mailbox.

As I've gotten older, I've caved to conventionalism and only go paddlin' around barefoot here at mi casa.  My days of roaming outside without shoes are behind me now and sadly no more of "this little piggie went to market",

BUT...

let me tell y'all...not everyone has the same hangups as me!

(Contrary to popular belief...I do care what kind of impression I leave behind...even on total strangers!)

On any given day, I'm willing to bet a dollar to a donut, you can go to just about any grocer's in town and more'n likely as not...there's gonna to be at least one person walking around like Fred Flintstone...or Yeti.

Picture if you will, feet blackened by dirt so deeply embedded, no amount of

Lava can erase it.

Heels calloused to the point, matches can be lit off 'em.

Toenails with vestiges of jungle red nail polish clinging to 'em like tiny life boats.

Feet...when strolled in for a pedicure...makes a manicurist run for the mouse sander...and rubber gloves.

That my friends...in a nutshell...is grocery store feet. 

Speaking of nutshells...Squirrel alert!

I've recently read on the Pinterest Help page about an option you can place on your photos/blog if you don't want your images pinned.  Some of y'all expressed concern over this, so if this is a choice you'd like to have, just go to their Help page and they provide a code.  Those Pinterest guys...they think of everything!

I ain't gonna lie to y'all.  My feet look pretty doggone raggedy...even with the addition of the proper accessories...and by accessories, I mean granny beads and a junker's tan.  Fact is, by the time we come home from the Mother Ship I will have pretty much cornered the market on dirt, dust, grime...and not just on my feet!

(BTW...the greatest show on dirt now has a new web page and blog.  Can you say Yee to the Haw?)

I hope this cleared things up for y'all.  Sometimes I forget not everyone is as messy or dirty as me!  I also tend to forget Trash-ese is a language not everyone is familiar with.

(Hmmm...wonder if I need to write a dictionary or at least a tourist guide for visiting here?)

In closing...I would like to add just one more little bit of info.  Grocery store feet should never be confused with Yellow Box feet.  Y'all...that is a whole 'nother post!

And Bingo Was Her Name-O!

Psst...were you looking for me?

Bet you thought I had run off with the circus...or the mailman!

Sad to say...no such luck.  I've been busier than a rented mule...and I'm twice as tired.

Stop the madness...I wanta get off!  I'm dizzy enough without bouncing around in circles like a bingo ball in a church basement!

Y'all know this a crazy time for us.  We're four...you read right...four weeks out from blasting off for the Greatest Show On Dirt.

Hark...I think I hear the Mother Ship calling my name as I type.

Coming Mother!

I'm busy hunting, cleaning, pricing and packing.  Cat Daddy is rolling the Dolly Mama around to beat the band and slo-o-o-wly that trailer is filling up.

Where the heck did I put those tags?  Hey...who stole my magic marker?  Has anybody got an extra trailer stretcher they're not using?

Like Punxsutawney Phil, it may be 4-6 weeks before I get to stick my head out again, but I'm gonna try and keep y'all up-to-date on our progress.

Law...what I wouldn't give for an extra set of hands right about now!

In the meantime, I'm taking advantage of these crazy, mild temperatures we're having.  Y'all know here in Texas, that can change in a heartbeat.

Ahhh...70 degrees, flip-flops, braids, and grocery store feet...perfect working conditions!

If you don't hear from me in the next week or so...don't fret.  Just send pimiento cheese, a loaf of light bread...and a big bar of Lava!

Love Letters To The Lovelorn

June 12, 2011

Dear Miss Spoken,

All my life I've dreamed of only one thing...finding my dream boat and sailing away on the sea of love with him.  Upon reaching the age of consent, I've found myself adrift in a sea of discontent comprised of dinghys, shipwrecks, and barnacled covered bottoms.  In fact, I always end up on the passenger list for the ship of fools.  All of my friends' attempts at hook-ups have landed me nothing but a lot of bottom feeders, a carp or two, and one spawn of Chuckie.

I've exhausted all my al-lures in my tackle box o'tricks and my arms are worn out from paddlin' my canoe up a creek without an oar.  I'm tired of trolling bars in thigh-high waders with nary a bite nor nibble for my efforts.

What advice, if any Miss Spoken, can you give a mere maid to improve her angling skills and help her in harpooning the really big one?  I'm so tired of catch and release and would appreciate any help in insuring the next one won't get away.  I think I'm gonna need a bigger boat-load of information.

Sitting on the dock of the bay anxiously awaiting your answer,

The Lady Of The Lake

June 16, 2011

Dear LOTL,

Miss Spoken gets many, many letters such as yours and the advice is always the same...fish or cut bait!

Obviously you're working with jerk bait and it's time for some changes.  If your idea of a sea of serenity is a houseboat complete with Captain Jack (instead of Captain Crunch) at the helm,  my dear you will have to find your own honey hole-in-the-wall.  Trolling the bar waters is never a good idea...unless you're in the mood for swimming with sharks, hand holding with noodlers, and waiting for the next creepy nightcrawler to slither in.  Chumming the waters...also not a good idea. Why throw all you have to offer right at the get-go.  Leave some things a mystery to be learned in time. You would be better served to test the waters at a bookstore, coffee house, or grocery store.  Any man who can read, relax with a cup o'joe, and knows how to shop is trophy-wall ready.  (FYI...I would recommend checking to see what they are reading, if they snore, and if the shopping basket is full of single-serving, pre-packaged meals.)  Remember all men are like fish out of water when it comes to matters of the heart, but when played out correctly and given enough lines, they've been known to jump in the boat rather than overboard.

Another tip to the wise...do not determine a keeper by it's size.  It's been my personal experience, while you may think you need bigger fish to fry...shrimp is just as tasty as catfish...no bones about it.  Plus...they are guaranteed to lose their heads over you.

When angling for the catch of the day...remember to always keep your bait simple.  Lose the barbed hooks and salty language.  Forget the anchovies and opt for tic tacs instead when trying to set your hook.   Think more bated breath...less baited breath.  If something smells fishy...you don't want it to be you.  Avoid the bends, keep your head above water, and a wise woman always keeps a pair of fishnets handy.  One last piece of advice...more success will come with real rather than artificial bait.  They're smarter than they appear and flashy lures only work for a little while.  After enough time in the water, everything will start to lose it's color and wrinkles will set in, but what's inside never changes. See to it that your inside is ship-shape as well as your outside and I promise smooth sailing.

Now...get off that dock before dry rot sets in, step into a dry martini, and chart your course for dry land.

Good luck my dear...and I hope you reel in a keeper.

Yours truly,

Miss Spoken

February 14, 2012

Dear Miss Spoken,

I swallowed your advice...hook, line, and sinker and buoy boy oh boy...were you ever right. By using your amazing tips, I landed me a whale of a guy and the wedding is just around the bend.  Charlie and I are full to the gills with love...and have you to thank.

Sincerely yours,

The Lady Of The Lake...AKA...Mrs. Soon-to-be C. T. Tuna.

(All of the photos were taken by Melissa of Foto Fabulous with styling by Jenn of Give Me Props. Consider this my shameless plug for my daughter and her talented friend and remember them when thinking about capturing your next memorable event.)

Here is a little Valentine from me to y'all.

Through the fog, her eyes searched frantically as the trees and brush snagged her hemline.   The wind whipped her hair across her eyes, momentarily obscuring her vision, as he stepped out of the shadows and with outstretched hands, softly whispered "Lily?"

Fearing it all a dream, but unwillingly to relinquish this one chance at happiness, Molly...

To be continued.

 Now go give that special someone a kiss.

XOXO...always!