tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38898312571970624442024-03-13T17:47:25.792-05:00Talking Trashtrash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.comBlogger566125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-59903164293224437332017-08-28T18:04:00.001-05:002017-08-28T20:38:32.814-05:00The Flood Gates of Tears<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>By now, I know y'all are all aware of what is happening in my beloved state of Texas and while we are safe here in Dallas, the same cannot be said for the southeastern part.</b></div>
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<b>The devastation is real folks. The photographs and videos you are seeing haven't been photo-shopped for dramatic purposes. Except for one or two, like the shark swimming beside the Houston highway, they are real and it is just that bad and it's not just Houston and the surrounding areas that are being impacted. This storm is reaching up into Central Texas and also the area I call home twice a year, Warrenton. These small towns are taking a beating as well.</b></div>
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<b>What is also real is the people who are reaching out to help. Not just locally or from nearby towns, for they are just as deluged as Houston, but from points near and far. The local police and fire departments working 12 hour shifts and catching what little rest when they can. In the neighborhoods hit by tornadoes, neighbors helping other neighbors cover roofs, windows and clear debris. Donations of time, food, provisions, money pouring in as the water rises. Strangers bringing boats to rescue strangers trapped in homes, cars and roads. Businesses sending meals to feed the rescuers and workers. State after state sending able bodied people to help. Americans taking care of one another. This is </b><b> </b><b>the hope I cling to.</b></div>
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<b>As I watch the images of the damage followed by the ones of folks living the Golden Rule, I'm overcome with emotion. I cry at the sights of the devastation and I cry at the outpouring of love that is deeper than the waters.</b></div>
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<b>But then I find myself feeling anger at those who ask "why did they not get out?" and other hateful remarks. </b></div>
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<b>If they want to know why, I'll be glad to tell them.</b></div>
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<b>There are many who didn't have the means to evacuate and if they did, where would they go. And once they started, how far would they need to go. I can't imagine having to make those kind of decisions or wondering how far my money would get me. </b></div>
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<b>Texans who have lived on the Gulf Coast their whole lives have ridden out many hurricanes. And they did this one, but short of having a crystal ball to consult, how could anyone have predicted what is transpiring now. Try wrapping your head around a rain prediction of 30" then add another 10-20" more to it. It's unfathomable.</b></div>
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<b>Katrina taught us a valuable lesson. Do y'all remember the images of people trapped on the highways? I do and with a city as large as Houston, it would have been worse. I talked to a friend who had driven in from Houston on Thursday before the storm made landfall and he told me it took 7 and a half hours to make it to Dallas. Folks, under normal circumstances that's a 3 1/2 hour drive!</b></div>
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<b>Again, without a psychic, who could have predicted that once the storm came in that it would hover in one place? If you saw the early prediction for the storm, the weather map looked like Spaghetti Night Special at Denny's! Until Harvey hit the coast the forecasters just didn't know.</b></div>
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<b>But Texans are tough. We have to be to live here. We don't get pleasant showers, but instead drought or flood. Twisters, electrical storms, thunderstorms, hurricanes, hot as hell one moment and a blue northern blows in and drops the temp 20 degrees. This is our weather. And if you were to ask a true Texan if they would live anywhere else, you'd get a firm no. We bend with the wind, but it can't and won't break us.</b></div>
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<b>And if you look at the photos, you'll see we don't run from a storm. We run head-straight right into it 'cause we know when it passes there will be a rainbow waiting for us.</b></div>
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<b>So to all those who don't have a helping hand to offer, but just want to point fingers, put your hands back in your pockets if that's the best you have to offer. 'Cause quite frankly we're busy down here taking care of one another and just don't have the time or inclination to mess with fools.</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Photo credit Lisa Love Harris and God's mercy)</td></tr>
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trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-85733360032947040542016-12-12T08:01:00.000-06:002016-12-12T07:12:56.005-06:00Sunday School<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>I would like to welcome everyone for attending this session of <em>Upon My Word.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I love words and it's a good thing I do since I've had to eat more than my share a time or two served with a side of crow.</strong></div>
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<strong>I love the sound of them. I love the ring of them. I love the way they can make me laugh or cry...shudder or shy.</strong></div>
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<strong>Sometime the most powerful ones are only 2 or 3 letters long.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>Yes</em>...<i>N</i></strong><strong><em>o</em>.</strong></div>
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<strong>Sometimes the words get in the way.</strong></div>
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<strong>Sometimes they can be words of wisdom.</strong></div>
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<strong>When writing a post, I've made no secret I'm just the typist with Him providing the words and this morning was no different.</strong></div>
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<strong>I awoke with a single word repeating in my head. When that happens, I know it's time to sit, type and talk.</strong><br />
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<strong>Shall we begin?</strong><br />
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<strong>Today's word is <em>blessing.</em></strong><br />
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bless·ing</h2>
<sup></sup><span id="hotword"> </span><span class="pronset"><span audio="http://static.sfdict.com/dictstatic/dictionary/audio/luna/B04/B0410800.mp3" class="speaker" default="http://dictionary.reference.com/audio.html/lunaWAV/B04/B0410800" jquery1343689144403="165"><noscript></noscript></span> <span class="show_ipapr" style="display: none;"><span class="prondelim">/</span><span class="pron">ˈblɛs<span class="luna-thinspace"></span>ɪŋ</span><span class="prondelim">/</span> </span><span class="show_spellpr" style="display: inline;"><span class="prondelim">[</span><span class="pron"><span class="boldface">bles</span>-ing</span><span class="prondelim">]</span></span></span> <span class="pg"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">noun</span> </span></span></div>
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<span class="dnindex"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">1.</span> </span></span><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">the</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">act</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">words</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">of</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">person</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">who</span> </span>blesses<span id="hotword">. </span></div>
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<span class="dnindex"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">2.</span> </span></span><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">special</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">favor,</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">mercy,</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">benefit</span></span><span class="ital-inline"><span id="hotword">. </span></span></div>
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<span class="dnindex"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">3.</span> </span></span><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">favor</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">gift</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">bestowed</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">by</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">God</span></span><span id="hotword">. </span></div>
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<span class="dnindex"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">4.</span> </span></span><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword">the</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">invoking</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">of</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">God's</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">favor</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">upon</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">person.</span></span><span class="ital-inline"><span id="hotword"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="dnindex"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword">5.</span> </span></span><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword">praise;</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">devotion;</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">worship</span></span><span class="ital-inline"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>Get all that? Good.</strong></span></span></div>
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>Let's look at this definition a little closer...shall we?</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong><em>1. the act or words of a person who blesses.</em></strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>Sometimes when we look at the blessings in our lives, <strike>we</strike> I fail to see the small ones. The ones that sneak up on us, tucked sweetly in a pair of loving eyes and. The pat on the back, the small words of encouragement, all freely given from a generous heart with nothing expected in return except feeling the joy they brought to someone else and the sound of shared laughter.</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>Lessons to be learned?</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>To work at being someone who blesses others and never being so proud as to find ourselves cheating anyone out of the opportunity to be such a blessing. To reach the point of recognizing all the little blessings that come our way and realizing sometimes just a simple thank you really is<em> </em>enough.</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong><em>2. a special favor, mercy or benefit.</em></strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>Blessings aren't always as obvious as a wrapped present. Sometimes they are layered in white cotton, tied with heart strings. Oft-times they climb out of <a href="http://junkology.wordpress.com/">clowns' cars</a> with a burst of imagination, all technicolor and <a href="http://redneckchic.blogspot.com/">candy apple red</a>.</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>They unfailingly do things for others...not because they're asked to or because it's expected, but because they want to...need to...have to. It's in their genetic make-up cases.</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>Lessons to be learned?</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>To acknowledge and accept that sometimes a little help is needed. Realizing we all...from time to time...need a leg up, a helping hand, or a caring shoulder to lean on and remembering sometimes just a simple thank you <em>is </em>enough.</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong><em>3. favor or gift bestowed by God.</em></strong></span></span></div>
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong><em>4. the invoking of God's favor on a person.</em></strong></span></span></div>
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong><em>5. praise, devotion, worship.</em></strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>All the blessings in our lives, both big and small, flow from one source. He provides the people in our lives who make us feel brave when we're scared, beautiful when we're not, and loved when we're at our most unlovable. He sends them quietly...and sometimes raucously...into our worlds to remind us we're never truly alone. These seemingly small blessings come with a word, a deed, a gesture to help us along in the day-to-day business of trying to get it right. They're our business advocates, our cheerleader squad, the ones who want us to succeed and who don't even expect a thank you, but blush when offered one.</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>Lessons to be learned?</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>These guardian angels without wings sent by God are the daily reminders of His presence. To miss them is akin to missing Him. He deserves all the praise, devotion and worship for these blessings...and most importantly...a thank you God is<em> always </em>enough.</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>I'd like to add one more thing.</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>I may not always make sense, but given the opportunity...and the words...I may make a lot of non-sense. And bless my soul, I promise up and down to always have the good sense to praise and thank God for each and every one of you.</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>From my big ol' Texas heart,</strong></span></span></div>
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>God's <em>blessings </em>on all y'all.</strong></span></span><br />
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<span class="ital-inline"><span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><strong>Class dismissed.</strong></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-89257584136611537972016-12-11T07:06:00.001-06:002016-12-11T07:13:40.813-06:00Bonfires of My Vanities<div align="center">
<strong>Recently, while raking and bagging leaves, it suddenly occurred to me why a season is deserving of two names---autumn and fall. For every one leaf I raked, 5 would fall and sadly I paid the price of all that bending over!</strong></div>
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<strong>My muscles told me that I too had entered a new season in my life. I no longer could <em>spring</em> back when I toted that barge and lifted that bale. My insides might say I was still in the summer of my life, but my outsides screamed ouch! And while I'm still a long way from being in the winter of my discontent, I am no longer a spring chicken and have to admit I am an Autumn in more ways than just my color wheel.</strong></div>
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<strong>I have morphed into a leaf on a tree. I know it when I look in the mirror and see a woman who's hair is fading and skin has lost it's dewy suppleness. Even my feet have wrinkles and the girls'---Mary Kate and Ashley---no longer stand at attention like good soldiers, but fall to the floor upon my standing upright!</strong></div>
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<strong>Where just a few years ago, my signature seasoning was a tiny bit salty and a whole lot peppery, nowadays I'm more sagey and thyme-y.</strong></div>
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<strong>Which brings me to today. With my aching back and screaming joints from going up and down a ladder in preparation for Christmas, I have to accept I no longer am middle aged, but am officially Medicare age.</strong></div>
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<strong>(<em>Upon my word, I am also officially shocked to admit it!)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>But with each change in the season of life, comes changes in perspective and goals. Things that once mattered a great deal to me, no longer hold my attention. Besides, let's face facts. Staying focused was never one of my strong suits. Can you say "squirrel"?</strong></div>
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<strong>I can't speak for Cat Daddy, but for starters one change I'm making is semi-retiring from the business of junk. And personally, I don't think there's a better time to do it than now.</strong></div>
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<strong>Why you ask?</strong></div>
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<strong>Simply put---the business isn't anything like it was 5 years ago.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(And if you find yourself wondering what's changed---just ask and I'll elaborate on another post!)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>One change I've already made is Facebook time. I no longer hang out there much. Like me, it too has aged, but unlike me, not in a good way. Where before it was a place to reconnect with people as well as share good things., now it's morphed into something unrecognizable and down right ugly, filled with political diatribes, self-promotion and more than an unhealthy dose of self love. And quite frankly, I don't feel like I am welcomed unless I'm willing to accept the unacceptable.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(Note to self: Remember---not everyone using FB is guilty of the above mentioned evils, but trying to separate the wheat from the chaff is wearing thin. In other words, there still are good people on there, but getting to them takes a whole lotta scrolling!)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I have ventured into Instagram (</strong> <a href="https://www.instagram.com/york.deb/">https://www.instagram.com/york.deb/</a>), <strong>but as to how long I'll be there is anybody's guess. I will admit it is fast, but it can be a little bit confusing and I don't work well with confusing! We'll see how long it takes this old dog to learn a few new tricks before giving up!</strong></div>
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<strong>Another change I'm making is this blog. Before I would ramble on and on about upcoming shows, cool finds and the like. Now instead I'll be talking about whatever God throws into my stream of consciousness. Should you choose to hang around and listen to my answers to life questions, it will be a little like peeking into my psyche!</strong></div>
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<strong>I truly feel He has led me back to where I started.</strong><br />
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<strong>As 2016 slides into 2017, I am rekindling my love affair with words and together I hope we can make some beautiful---or at least loud---music together!</strong></div>
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trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-88165749489498641292016-01-20T13:49:00.000-06:002016-01-20T13:49:30.011-06:00<div align="center">
<strong>When I was a little girl, I had the prettiest little pink bike complete with a basket, horn...and training wheels. I was such a little scaredy-cat, I was quite content with those extra two wheels, but they drove my daddy nuts. He was determined I would learn to ride without them and I was just as <strike>stubborn</strike> determined I wouldn't!</strong></div>
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<strong>Daddy knew I couldn't just coast along, relying on them to keep me balanced. Not on the bike...not in life. So-o-o...one day, out came his tool box and off came those wheels.</strong></div>
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<strong>I begged, whined, cried, pouted, threw a hissy and used just about every trick in my tool box of emotions to stop him, but for once, he was firm. His mind was made up and no amount of wheedling on my part was going to change it.</strong></div>
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<strong>At first, I wouldn't get on, but somehow he convinced me to. (Might have been the look of exasperation he was wearing that had something to do with it.) As I climbed aboard, he gently told me not to be scared. He'd be holding onto the back and he wouldn't let go until I felt confident.</strong></div>
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<strong>I still remember vividly, pedaling as hard as my little legs could while looking back over my shoulder and yelling at him "don't let go Daddy." and him laughing back "I won't."</strong></div>
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<strong>After looking back about a gazillion times and always seeing his smiling face (albeit red from exertion), I started to get the hang of it and with that came a feeling of exhilaration. Without those two little wheels, I could go faster and believe you me, I liked it. I loved the feel of the breeze on my face and knowing that with Daddy's help, I was getting my first real taste of freedom. So much so, that after a bit, I forgot to look behind me, so busy was I looking at the world in front of me. Imagine my surprise, when after rounding a corner of our block, I glanced back to see my daddy running to keep up, both hands clasped together over his head in a sign of triumph.</strong></div>
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<strong>Of course y'all know what happened next. I crashed and burned and still have a tiny scar on my knee to prove it.</strong></div>
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<strong>As Daddy knelt down to check me over, I didn't start crying. I was too busy fussing at him for letting go. Man alive, I was one mad kid! Picking me and that bike up, he told me he would never have let go if I hadn't been ready to do it on my own. Falling was necessary to learn. </strong></div>
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<strong>Looking back, I know he wasn't just talking about riding a bike, but about my future. A man of little words, he was preparing me for the bumps and bruises life hands out. But in his own quirky way, he was also letting me know he would always be there to pick me up when I fell.</strong></div>
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<strong>When Daddy went to Heaven I was angry with him. Once again, he had let go when I wasn't ready for him to, but God had called him home and he had to let go. Even now I still feel the bittersweet tears welling up, but not because I'm angry. No. It's because even after 27 years, I still don't want to let go of him.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>I've wrote this for four dear friends who have recently lost their dads. While I know the grief</em> <em>and heartache losing a father brings, I can't begin to imagine what they're personally feeling. Everyone is different and everyone grieves in their own way and in their own time. It doesn't matter if the lost one is young or old, it cuts to the bone. We feel cheated as the grief overwhelms, numbs the mind, and slashes our hearts into a million pieces. Pieces that one starts to believe can never be put back together. Even if our dads could live to be as old as Methuselah, it still wouldn't be enough time with them. We want an eternity with them.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>And that is where hope and faith rebuilds what is broken.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>God never lets us go...not as long as we believe in Him.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em> He is there to comfort where man can't.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>He holds us when our own legs can't.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>He catches and picks us up when we fall.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>He gives us His word time and time again through prayer and in the Bible to never forsake us. Even when the world and events say different.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>His ways are perfect even when we don't understand or fight to accept it.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>He promises us eternity.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>And in that eternity, just on the other side of the mountain, when the day comes I too must let go, I pray that Daddy will be waiting for me, his hands raised in triumph, laughing and yelling "You did it kiddo! I knew you could!"</em></strong></div>
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<strong><a href="http://whitespraypaint.blogspot.com/">Laura</a>, <a href="http://hollishootsandhollers.blogspot.com/">Holli</a>, Patsy and Richard...right now the pain is unbearable, the tears unstoppable. Having been where y'all are now, I feel helpless for there are no words of comfort I can offer other than the ones God gave me for this post.</strong></div>
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<strong>What I can and do offer is my prayer for y'all to feel God's love through this. This is what I pray for with all my heart.</strong></div>
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<strong>I also want you each to know when God gave me these words, He also reminded me that not all the really important people make front page news. Your fathers were important. Not just because they were good fathers, but because each one of them was a unique, fine gentleman. The work and their good works...important. Their mark on the world...indelible. Mighty big men with mighty big shoes to fill. Humble men who never thought those shoes too big for a little girl to dance on or for stepping out to help another. Those footprints will never be erased. Little by little, you'll feel the pieces of your heart gathering into them, healing the ragged edges.</strong></div>
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<strong>And when that day comes, you'll realize (as did I) it wasn't you he let go of. He just needed both hands to reach for his savior.</strong> </div>
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<strong>I know they were as proud of you as you are of them and I know this without ever having met them. I simply look at y'all and I know.</strong></div>
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<strong>I know.</strong></div>
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<strong>From my heart to yours.</strong></div>
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trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-75351379426683311752016-01-13T06:37:00.000-06:002016-01-13T06:40:56.388-06:00Hello<div align="center">
<strong>It's me.</strong><br />
<strong>2016.</strong><br />
<strong>I've been waiting for you.</strong></div>
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<strong>I know my older sister was a little rough on you. She thought you needed a little toughening up and I see it worked. You look a little beat up, but all in all...not bad, not bad at all.</strong></div>
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<strong>Now, I'd love to promise you that I won't be quite so hard, but you and I both know, I can't be trusted. I won't make promises I possibly can't keep. What I can promise is that I'll be different with my own twists and turns.</strong></div>
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<strong>You'll get a new sunrise each morning. It may appear to be a sunrise you've seen before, but it isn't. Not unless you choose to gaze at it with yesterday's eyes. </strong></div>
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<strong>Daily, without fail, I will give you 24 hours and you, without fail, will foolishly try to stuff some of those minutes into your back pocket for tomorrow. But it won't work. Time is fragile and after sitting on it for too long, it will crumble into tiny pieces. So tiny in fact, that when you reach into your pocket, all you will find is dust.</strong></div>
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<strong>And do I really need to remind you the 24 hours you are given are yours, but not yours? There are obligations to be met, mundane tasks to perform, doctors' appointments to keep, the daily annoyances that is life. What you see are distractions preventing you from doing what you really want to be doing, but in reality are the nuts and bolts of every day living. And sandwiched in between is being.</strong></div>
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<strong>And that's the questions you have to ask yourself. What is being and what do you really want to do?</strong></div>
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<strong>I'm going to let you mull that over for a while, but judging by your showing up here today, I think you already have part of your answer. And for that, my friend, I'm going to give you one extra day this year.</strong></div>
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<strong>Use it wisely and I'll meet you here (if God permits) tomorrow with a fresh 24.</strong></div>
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<strong>Sincerely,</strong></div>
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<strong>2016</strong></div>
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trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-90177486955126848942015-05-23T15:04:00.002-05:002015-05-23T16:17:11.824-05:00Praise the Child and She Will Flourish<div style="text-align: left;">
<strong><em>~Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the parents the pride of the children.~ Pro. 17:6</em></strong></div>
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Dear Graycie,</div>
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I'm pretty sure you thought today would never get here...the day you become a teenager. For us that love you, we selfishly wanted you to stay a baby forever, but that just wasn't possible...no matter how hard we tried.</div>
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You stand beautifully...all 5'8" of you. One foot poised toward young womanhood and the other firmly planted in your childhood. Staring at you, I feel the breath leave my body as the tears roll down my cheeks.</div>
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For me darling, I treasure our little "talks" and since this is your 13th birthday, I thought I'd put a one-way "talk" down on paper. (I'm hoping this way I can stay focused and hopefully won't go all squirrel on you!)</div>
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Being a girl...and in this day and age, a teenage girl...is never easy. Not to be a drag, but you're going to encounter haters in other girls, clueless boys that are all big talk and as much as I hate it, at least one broken heart. If I could, I'd wrap you in saran wrap and hide you in the closet to protect you, but I've been told that's against the law. Instead I'm going to give you a little advice to help you along the way. This isn't a lecture, but for the sake of argument, let's call it the 10 Commandments for teenagers. Or at least until your 16 which more than likely will require a whole 'nother list!</div>
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1. You are given 365 days each year. Sounds like a lot doesn't it baby girl, but believe you me, they go fast. Always start your day off with a prayer of thanksgiving. When you think about it, every day is a birthday. Every day when you wake up, you will be given a fresh 24 hours to correct mistakes, make friends, give away a smile, and live to the fullest. Do it. Treat each day as if it were a lemon. Even when it starts out a bit sour and tart, sprinkle it with sugar and make it...and your words...sweet. Did you know a lemon has natural cleaning properties. Use it to cleanse yourself of anything that went wrong the day before. Don't dwell on yesterday or tomorrow. Take a deep breath of lemony goodness that today holds and at the end of the day don't toss out the peeling. Let it simmer and as you drift off to sleep, dream of the sweet smell of lemon cake.</div>
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2. Always keep your clothes on in public. Now I know right about now, those fabulous eyebrows of yours are raised as you exclaim "Nana!", but let me explain. I know you're not, nor will ever be, Lady Godiva or even Lady GaGa, but I've seen how girls dress this day. It's as if they never gave a second thought of how it looks. I've also seen how ads sell these ideas to girls of all ages. TV, movies, Internet, your friends...they all make it seem perfectly acceptable, but it's not. You want to fit in. I did. Your mom did. Your dad did. But when we say times are different, they really are. A bikini was pretty daring back in my day, but no one blinks an eye at two band aids and a piece of string. Don't let yourself fall into that trap. Confusing much? Then think for a moment how confusing it is for those clueless boys I mentioned earlier. Just keep asking yourself as you're getting ready to go out, what's the message you want to send out. Remind yourself to never dress to the point some boy tries to read that message in Braille.</div>
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3. Use all your willpower to fight the urge to skip steps or take shortcuts to get to 16 faster. Trust me.</div>
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You don't want to miss anything that is going to come your way in the next few years. Just like you should never look back over your shoulder at yesterday, don't chase tomorrow. Concentrate on today. There are going to be dances, new friends to meet, first kisses, lessons to learn...all part of preparing you to face the world as an adult. Trying to skip these steps is almost like cheating and by doing it, you'll be cheating yourself out of memories...wonderful memories. Remember, growing up is like Christmas. Half the fun is the anticipation and if you peek, you only set yourself up for disappointment.</div>
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4. Resist tampering with God's perfection...you. I'm not saying you can't enhance your natural beauty. Law no! Goodness knows I love makeup and feel naked without it. But don't alter it so much that you don't even recognize yourself in the mirror. God knew what He was doing when He created you. Why on this green earth, do you think you could possibly improve on His work?</div>
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5. Try not to be a follower. This is going to be a hard one. Again, I know about wanting to fit in, but each of us were born to be standouts. The trick is finding the confidence to do that. Your friends will tell you how talented you are, your teachers how smart, your parents and family how unique, but you see, it's like this little one. You have to believe it and in yourself. Do you think all these people are fools and don't know what they're talking about? Would you say that to their face? Why then think it? Just as no one else has your fingerprints, you yourself are just that unique. Picture yourself as a snowflake. No two are alike, but each are beautiful. Floating down from Heaven, no one snowflake more beautiful than the other...just different.</div>
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6. Be kind. You are going to meet different people, each with their own insecurities and doubts. Be kind to them. Kindness heals. Sadly, you're also going to meet mean girls. Be kind...even if it kills you because generally there is pain behind cruelty and if you feel anything, let it be pity for their own unhappiness that they must attack your joy. Besides, it's true...you can kill someone with kindness...or at least their unkind words. If you are truly a kind person (and not just faking it to be popular), no one will ever believe ugly rumors about you. Why should they if you've sincerely always tried to help others regardless of which group they run with at school or how much money their daddy makes or who has the nicest clothes. Being kind is going to be a piece of cake for you though. Your heart makes it so.</div>
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7. Never choose anything you wouldn't want God or your parents to know about. Honey, in case you didn't know it, God already does, and chances are extremely good it's just a matter of time before your parents will. The truth always comes out...especially in a small town!</div>
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8. Following that thought, never think for one moment you can't talk to your mom and dad about anything and everything. It's okay to talk to your friends, but don't expect them to have the answers. They're too young to know anything from anywhere. But when your mom and dad decided to become parents, they knew the rules and what a big responsibility they were taking on. They knew God was entrusting them with the most precious of gifts...a child....and they took that to heart. Just as God listens to us when we pray, so do your parents. If you're unhappy tell them. If you have questions...no matter how embarrassing for you or them...ask. If you've done something wrong...confess. Will they yell and possibly cry? You better believe it, but they will also help you, give you direction, and never stop loving you. If you think it's hard for you, put yourself for a moment in their shoes. All the things you want for yourself, they want to give you. And when it's out of their control to give them to you, they cry. Safe, happy and healthy...that's what they want for you. Trust them. I promise you up and down...they'll never abandon you. They love you too much.</div>
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9. Honor thy father and mother. When from time to time they have to say no, never get so angry with them you say the words "I hate you!". Even when you think you do, why would you want to hurt the two people in the world who love you more than themselves? God tell us no when it's wrong for us and they are following Him. They have a responsibility to protect you in the best way they know how. When they say no, it's because they are doing just that. Not as punishment, but to keep you safe. Remember, they were once 13 too and with age comes wisdom. Doesn't mean you can't pout...you are only 13 after all. It means respect them. They've earned it...if for no other reason than for not yanking a pouty 13 year old bald headed!</div>
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10. Always put God first and seek Him daily. In all your decisions and choices, from the smallest to the biggest, seek His counsel first. There is a plan in place for your life...His plan. Follow where He leads you and listen for His voice daily. But if at a point in the journey, you happen take a wrong turn., don't give up. Not on your dreams...and never in yourself. He never will. Trust in Him only and you'll safely find your way.</div>
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Graycie, you are an amazing young woman, even at such a tender age. You probably knew all this without me telling you and I hope you don't think I'm an old fogey for writing it, but it's because I love you so much I had to. I hope that's okay.</div>
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Love forever,</div>
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Nana</div>
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P.S. I think I should add a couple of more to the list...if that's ok with you.</div>
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11. Have fun as only a 13 year old can and have a wonderful birthday each and every day! </div>
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12. Life is beautiful and so are you! Always remember that. Tell it to yourself daily and thank God for it every morning and every night.</div>
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<strong><em>~For I know the plans I have for you" declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."~Jer. 29</em></strong></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-79960094363495134202015-05-18T22:34:00.000-05:002015-05-18T22:49:31.997-05:00Twists in the Road<div align="center">
<strong>If you've visited here before you know I'm pretty transparent. I believe in truth in advertising...warts and all. And believe you me, the past weeks have shown me to be pretty warty. But the past 3 months I've been hesitant about sharing something very personal. So much so in fact, I've avoided most social media. I'm not sure why, but I think it was because I was afraid of doubt creeping into my thoughts while waiting for test results to come back. And we all know how much Satan loves to work on us when he senses even the tiniest doubt.</strong></div>
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<strong>I don't know any other way to say this than to just say it.</strong></div>
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<strong>Cat Daddy has renal cell carcinoma and will be having his right kidney removed in June.</strong></div>
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<strong>To look at him, you'd never guess anything is wrong. In a way, it's very surreal. </strong></div>
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<strong>This all began with a routine yearly exam.</strong></div>
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<strong>(<em>Do y'all remember me saying in my last post about our plans and God's plan for us? Stay with me here and you'll see His plan for Danny unfold.)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Our original plan for Antique Week was a space inside Zapp Hall for me and him down in Round Top at The Show. Silly us!</strong></div>
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<strong>We had gone down a week ahead of time to drop off a small load at the storeroom when we got a phone call from the doctor's office. His chest X-ray had revealed shadows on his lung and the doctor wanted a second, more detailed X-ray performed. He also said that if he still couldn't tell what was going on, he wanted a CT scan done.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(Keep in mind, this doctor called on a Saturday...a Sat.Ur.Day! Step one.)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Not knowing how soon they could get these ordered and as we continued on down to Warrenton, we decided we needed to be close together during the show. If he had to go back to Dallas for tests, we both knew our Zapp family would be there for us. And they were. Between Cheryl squeezing him in at the last minute, right in front of the hall, Brande and Kevin being so understanding of our having to cancel at the last minute, and those few who knew the situation being so helpful, we were blessed.</strong></div>
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<strong>(<em>And when we had one of our top 5 shows ever, we knew we had made the right decision and were working within His will. Step two.)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>The second X-ray came back inconclusive as well and the imaging department was able to squeeze him in for the scan shortly after we returned home from the show.</strong></div>
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<strong>Then began the merry-go-round between doctor visits and imaging departments.</strong></div>
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<strong>The good news was his lungs were fine. Just scarring from a previous surgery, but the scan had caught a little of his thyroid gland and the upper part of his kidney. Both showed abnormalities. Nodules in the thyroid and a possible cyst in the kidney. Dr. Gomez then ordered a sonogram to be done on his kidney to determine what was going on. He felt the thyroid could wait, but the kidney needed to be addressed PDQ.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(Most kidney cysts and tumors go undetected and are only found either after symptoms appear (of which he had none) or during a CT scan for something else. Step 3)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>The sonogram revealed a mass roughly the size of a baseball. At this point, his doctor scheduled him an appointment with a urologist. Dr. Shuford, the urologist, couldn't be sure if the mass was benign or malignant and ordered another CT scan to make a definitive diagnosis. He did explain what the best and worst case scenarios could be, but considering the size of it, we kind of knew what to expect.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(The mass was 10 cm, his kidney 12. While this sounds scary big, if the tumor had been just a little smaller, it probably would not have shown on the initial CT scan and gone undetected until symptoms appeared. Step 4)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>This past Wednesday we went in to get the results. Yes it was renal cell, but thankfully, it had not spread into the lymph nodes. It was fully contained in the kidney and Dr. Shuford was confident once the kidney was removed, there would be no need for chemo or radiation.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(I keep repeating the same thing over and over to our friends and family. Not the diagnosis we wanted, but definitely the prognosis we prayed for. Step 5)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>When we asked what sort of time-table/urgency we were looking at, he reassured us it didn't have to be done immediately then asked what we had in mind. Please don't think us crazy, but we had really wanted to take a short vacation to Tennessee. Of course that was before all this and we were prepared to do as the doctor ordered. He assured us waiting a few weeks wasn't going to change anything, but he wouldn't want us putting it off for six months! And then said "Go!"</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(I don't know if that's the direction we'll head or not. God's been steering our course since the get-go and we'll continue to go with His perfect plan for us. Step 6)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I know this is a long post...even for me...but I also know we wouldn't be where we are now without God's grace. He has surrounded us with the most loving and positive people. They have covered Danny with their love and prayers. I can't help but believe that one of the ways God speaks to us is through the folks He plants in our lives...both friends and family. Their gentle touch and hugs, His. Their words of encouragement and hope, His. Their compassion...all gifts from Him that they freely share. I cannot thank them enough for their unshakable loyalty to us by their quietly respecting our privacy while keeping us in their prayers. I thank God Almighty for each of them every single day. Knowing they are there, only a phone call away, gives me a peace that cannot be measured nor bought.</strong></div>
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<strong>In all things, God will be and should be glorified. That is why I'm writing this post. From the start of this adventure back in March until now, God has had His hands on Danny. We aren't promised a perfect existence. We lost that with the first bite of the forbidden fruit. But what we are promised is He will never forsake us. I am most beholden and I will praise Him and His mighty name...I AM...with every breath I take.</strong></div>
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trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-36235884975464784572015-04-15T07:19:00.001-05:002015-04-15T07:46:27.119-05:00Greener Pastures-Chapter I<div align="center">
<strong>I've been trying to figure out a way to tell y'all about the spring show concisely, but it appears concisely is just not in my skill set, much less in my vocabulary. Instead, I decided to break it down into several posts beginning with the beginning.</strong></div>
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<strong>As always, we had made a plan and as always, God had another. Suffice it to say, His was the better. In fact, it was so perfect, it is now our permanent plan...that is until He chooses to change it!</strong></div>
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<strong>I'm still inside <a href="https://www.facebook.com/zapphall">Zapp Hall,</a> but now Cat Daddy is located right outside the front doors of the Hall. He's an outdoorsy fellow and I'm a roof over my head kinda girly. You could call us the Lisa and Oliver of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/zapphall">Zapp Hall Antique Show</a>. Shoot fire y'all, I even sold a concrete Arnold!</strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(<strong><em>~Big D is where I rather stay. I get allergic smelling hay.~ Not really y'all. This is my ideal of born in a barn! No shovel required!)</em></strong></span></div>
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<strong>As I said, there are many things to talk about, but first I want to share with y'all just one of the many blessings I received while in Fantasy Land...aka Antique Week.</strong></div>
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<strong>Every show, there is a special bloggers' luncheon held at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/royerscafe">Royer's Round Top Cafe</a>. This spring it was the Social + Network Luncheon hosted by The <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thevintageroundtop">Vintage Round Top</a> and Round Top Register and sponsored by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thevintageroundtop">The Vintage Round Top</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/RoundTopRegister?fref=nf">Round Top Register</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/OriginalRoundTopAntiquesFair?fref=ts&ref=br_tf">the Original Round Top Antiques Fair</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/marburgerfarmantiqueshow?fref=ts&ref=br_tf">Marburger Farm</a> and our own <a href="http://www.zapphall.com/">Zapp Hall</a>.</strong><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>The famous Royer's Shrimp BLT or as I like to call it..."How to say I love you with your mouth full"!</em></td></tr>
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<strong>Cheryl, our lovely Ringmistress at the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/zapphall">Greatest Show on Dirt</a>, had graciously invited me to attend and I was richly blessed for it.</strong></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Proof positive I was there!</em></td></tr>
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<strong>Courtney Barton of <a href="http://melaandroam.bigcartel.com/">Mela&Roam</a> was the featured speaker and oh mylanta!</strong></div>
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<strong><em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Mela is a sanskrit word meaning a gathering or fair. As junkers, we all know what roam means. Put the two together as Courtney did and it's almost the perfect definition for Antique Week!)</span></em> </strong></div>
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<strong>I've always loved handmade textiles, but I now have a new appreciation of those from far away exotic lands! Absolutely the most luxurious designs and artistry!</strong><br />
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<strong>Lunch was lovely, company beautiful, conversation sparkling and laughter abundant. We all received a fabulous tote filled to the handles with treats from each of the sponsors and speaking of treats...we all left with a parting gift of a homemade Ding Dong courtesy of <a href="http://www.bakeshoppeandcafe.com/pages/FamousDingDong.htm">The Bake Shop</a>pe.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>I'd show you a photo, but mine just poof, disappeared, all in a matter of seconds! Can you say chocolate rush?</em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Paige and Smoot have done an outstanding job of creating an atmosphere of inviting serenity in this haven of quiet white. After that lunch AND Ding Dong, I had to fight the urge to keep from planting myself on the abundance of comfy surrounding me!</span></em><br />
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<strong>Afterwards, we were invited to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thevintageroundtop">the Vintage Round Top</a> for Wi-Fi networking, mimosas and a tour of the inn.</strong></div>
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<strong></strong> <strong>I returned to reality with a full belly and a heart full of gratefulness. </strong></div>
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<strong>What a way to spend a Monday...right?</strong></div>
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<strong>Better yet.</strong></div>
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<strong>What a way to spend a life!</strong></div>
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<strong><em>Next up...</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>Chapter II</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>The First Annual Zapp-Chat</em></strong></div>
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trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-92065342151220342062015-02-06T14:25:00.000-06:002015-02-06T14:25:56.496-06:00Yoga for the Brain<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>The other day I got to thinking about when way back in 1979, I was fortunate enough to go to work for the post office as a part time clerk. And when I say "fortunate", I mean blessed. The salary and hours afforded me a luxury few working mothers have. I went in at 6 am and was off by 1 pm. While I wasn't able to see my kids off to school, I was home before them, got to be a home room mother, never missed a school program, was a PTA officer, and best of all, I was given precious time with them when they were small.</strong></div>
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<strong>One of our station managers during that time was a cute as the dickens woman named Linda. Linda worked right along with us and twice as hard to see that all went smoothly. She was also a great people person. When an irate customer came to the front window we had a method for trying to help calm them down. First the full time clerk would try, then if they were still ranting, I was next to try. I'm the original peacemaker and hate confrontation of any nature, but when even I couldn't soothe the savage beast, then it was Linda's turn.</strong></div>
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<strong>I can still see her, coming around the corner, walking up to the counter, smiling pleasantly and looking straight into their eyes, very calmly asking "What will it take to make you happy?"</strong></div>
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<strong>For whatever reason, that one question would shut down their anger and allow her to talk them off the ledge. Oh, they'd sputter for a bit, but when she'd repeat the question, you could actually see the wheels turning. Try as they might, they really couldn't pinpoint why they were unhappy with their service...unless of course their paycheck had been delivered three streets over on more than one occasion!</strong></div>
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<strong>But the point is, most customers left our PO satisfied and happy. Satisfied because they believed they had won the battle and happy because all they wanted in the first place was to vent, to be heard and know they mattered.</strong></div>
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<strong>As I sat in the bathtub ('cause y'all know that's where I do my best thinking and listening), the thought popped into my head, "what if no one is really happy."? I see all the negativity on FB, the slurs, tacky comments, braggadocio, and wonder if they know what happy is.</strong></div>
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<strong>Is it like those customers at the Post Office? Do they have the need to pick and win fights, if for no other reason, to demonstrate their superiority. Or could it be frustration and a feeling of inadequacy brought on because everyone else seems to have it all and to have it altogether?</strong></div>
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<strong>Is it that the Internet has a way of unleashing our evil twins, allowing us to say things we would never think, much less do, in the real world?</strong></div>
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<strong>(<em>For the record, I'm not pointing any fingers here. If I'm going to be honest, I find myself resembling Kermit on more than one occasion.)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I asked myself this question last night, so now, in my best Linda voice, I ask you the same one.</strong></div>
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<strong>What will it take to make you happy?</strong></div>
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<strong>And before you answer, dig deep. Go beyond happy for the moment or the day and contemplate having it for a lifetime.</strong></div>
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<strong>Children bring happiness and it's an incomparable joy, but with them can come unbelievable heartache. Too many times, we build our world around them to the point they are our only happiness. And when the time comes for them to leave the nest in search of their own happiness, we are at a loss as to what to do with the rest of our lives. </strong></div>
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<strong>Outward beauty is only temporary...unless you're Dorian Gray. All the makeup, plastic surgery, etc. can't change our insides. We can plump it, pump it, suck it, augment it, but until the day comes when sunshine can be injected into our veins or a mirror to reflect our true heart, all the Botox in the world won't bring lasting happiness.</strong></div>
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<strong>I hate to keep using cliches, but it's true...fame <em>is</em> fleeting...sometimes going as fast as it came. And depending on the type of fame, with a heavy price tag beginning with a lack of privacy and ending with a "he/she used to be..." </strong></div>
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<strong>Money can't buy happiness. It can only buy things for temporary gratification and things don't last. It can bring peace of mind, but only for the physical needs like food and shelter. It can't protect us from life's dings nor provide nourishment for the soul.</strong> <strong>And no matter how much money we have, it can't buy us one more day than our creator gives us.</strong></div>
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<strong>Expecting life to move smoothly with no hiccups along the way is impossible. We gave up the chance for a perfect existence with that first bite of the forbidden fruit.</strong></div>
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<strong>So, I'll ask you once more.</strong></div>
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<strong>What will it take to make you happy?</strong> </div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-85016534242744034212015-01-04T09:05:00.000-06:002015-01-04T09:08:14.585-06:00With a Side of Grace<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>I recently heard the term <em>gospel bird </em>and was instantly taken to another time with the memories those two words conjured up.</strong></div>
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<strong>Fried chicken and Sunday dinner.</strong></div>
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<strong>Being from the South, I heard supper and dinner used interchangeably for the noon day meal. In fact, I've heard arguments over which is correct! Growing up, Mother referred to mealtimes as breakfast, lunch and dinner...except on the Lord's Day and that was always dinner. Didn't matter if we ate after church or in the evening, it was always Sunday dinner...period!</strong></div>
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<strong>A special meal, made even more special by what was served. Pot roast, cooked all morning, so tender a fork was all that was needed for digging in. Coconut cream pie with meringue high as the sky and lightly browned. Freshly snapped string beans, floating in a rich pot liquor, spiked with bacon drippings. New potatoes awash in peppered cream gravy. And cake...lovely, decadent cake. Sometimes a Hershey bar chocolate drizzled with ganache and sometimes a rich pound cake, but always made from scratch...never from a box. It's a wonder I didn't weigh two hundred and plenty by the time I was a teen. Second helpings weren't only expected, but encouraged!</strong></div>
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<strong>You would have thought my mother and grandmother were feeding Coxey's army the amount of food they fixed, but they knew there would always be at the very least, one extra pair of shoes under their table when the dinner bell was rung. Sometimes the preacher and his family, sometimes a friend brought home from church, but always enough for everyone. No one ever left that dinner table hungry...not if those two had anything to say about it!</strong></div>
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<strong>Chicken and dumplings, chicken and dressing, all hard to beat, but my most favorite Sunday dinner had to be when my grandmother fried chicken. To this day, I've yet to meet the person...man or woman...who could fry up a chicken like my grandmother. She always cut up her fresh fryer and used a perfectly seasoned iron skillet to fry it up in. Slowly and painstakingly, she let it turn brown before turning, but only after it was the right shade of brown would she lower the flame and cover it with a heavy, vented lid. How she got that bird so perfect is a mystery to us all. Never burnt, all the beautiful, perfectly browned, crispy crust in place, tender, moist, but never greasy. The special piece, the pulley bone? That she set aside for Mother, her only child and no one dared reach for it. Only after Mother was licking her fingers, were we given it to pull apart and make a wish.</strong><br />
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<strong>What I would give for that bone. I promise y'all up and down, my one wish would to be sitting at the table with all of them just once more.</strong><br />
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<strong>Nothing was wasted including the drippings. Law, armed with a can of Pet Milk, she turned those little flakes of fried goodness into another brown masterpiece. Brown gravy, liquid gold, call it what you want. All I knew was as she slowly stirred until the gravy took on a glossy sheen, the waiting seemed like eternity. Just waiting for my turn to take a hold of that big old serving spoon and start ladling it over fluffy, buttery, creamed potatoes whipped together with again...you guessed it...Pet Milk seemed like forever. It was an art and sadly, a secret recipe she took with her to the better world a'waiting.</strong></div>
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<strong>Gospel bird?</strong></div>
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<strong>Indeed!</strong></div>
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<strong>Marie's fried chicken was a religious experience commencing with prayers of thankfulness, a chorus of hallelujahs and ending with heartfelt amens.</strong><br />
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<strong>I feel certain she arrived at Heaven's gate with the perfume of fried chicken clinging to her like a robe of silk. And if God, in His infinite wisdom, sees fit to have it on the menu for Sunday Dinner?</strong><br />
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<strong>For me, that will be heaven indeed.</strong><br />
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<strong>~<em>Then Jesus declared, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never grow hungry and whoever believes in me will never go thirsty.~John 6:35</em></strong></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-83572347176653322572015-01-02T10:06:00.002-06:002017-01-04T07:19:38.636-06:00The Year of the Sheep<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>~My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.~John 10-27</em></strong><br />
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<strong>How many times do we hear the phrase "Where did the time go?"</strong></div>
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<strong>I say it...you say it...shoot fire, we all say it, but honestly, I have never felt time fly as much as I did this past year. Seems like I had just put a <em>fresh out of the package</em> 2014 blotter on my desk like yesterday. But as I rip off December, I see a lonely brown piece of cardboard as the only remainder of 2014 and I know another year has slipped away.</strong></div>
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<strong>And boy oh boy, what a year it was!</strong></div>
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<strong>2014 was a year of change and challenges.</strong></div>
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<strong>Cat Daddy retiring. Brandon graduating and starting college. Graycie moving to Middle School and Bella starting Kindergarten. My best friend Sherry being diagnosed with breast cancer. Losing some very dear friends. All important. All tests of my faith, strength and sanity. Adjusting, stretching, learning things happen when least expected. Coming to understand red letter days aren't always big events, but are often times composed of small victories. But mainly learning a calendar is just to remind me what day of the week it is, not what rules my life and remembering to always use a pencil with a good eraser when making plans.</strong></div>
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<strong>I'm not going to start the new year off with my Top Ten Posts of 2014. That would be an exercise in futility and y'all know how I feel about any form of exercising! With only 13 posts under my belt for the entire year, it would be silly of me to list 10. Besides, the 3 left out might feel slighted and gang up on me!</strong></div>
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<strong>For the record...don't expect a list of New Year's resolutions either.</strong></div>
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<strong>I make 'em...I break 'em and end up feeling guilty as all get out. Why on this green earth would I be foolish enough to set myself up for failure? Why indeedy when I can just as easily set myself up for success by reaching for goals I have the ability to complete.</strong></div>
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<strong>Why resolve to lose 20+ pounds when I know, short of having my lips sewn together, that's never going to happen...at least not while there's a cookie left in the world. Instead, I'm going to give away 20+ items gathering dust in my closet to those who need them more than me...starting with those size 10 jeans that would never see the light of day otherwise!</strong></div>
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<strong>I could resolve to once and for all organize my pantry...and I really could. It's not rocket science for corn's sake, but with C.D. around 24/7, I ask you any guesses on just how long before it would be one hot mess again? Why set the stage for an argument over which shelf the jar of butter beans should be on when that's a fight that...well...isn't worth a hill of beans. Instead, I'll use that energy to fix a pot of butter beans for supper, making us both happy as pigs in sunshine.</strong></div>
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<strong>Oh I could say...with the best intentions I might add...I'm going to set aside 30 minutes a day for exercise. But y'all do the math. 30 minutes exercise + 1 hungry and chubby lady = Pie. And I don't mean the trig one! I might manage for one, maybe two days, but in the end feel guilty for the 363 and a quarter days I didn't. Pi is an irrational number which leads to the conclusion it's irrational for me to think I'm going to do anything other than go 'round in circles fussing at myself for having the will power of a gnat.</strong></div>
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<strong>Rather than setting aside time for something I don't like, doesn't it make better sense to spend those 30 minutes doing something I enjoy...like stepping outside for starters? Hearing the birds, smelling the rain, breathing in the fresh air...this I think would do my body more good than sweatin' to the oldies.</strong></div>
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<strong>And speaking of outside!</strong></div>
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<strong>I could promise y'all up and down to be more faithful about blogging on a regular basis, but I won't and can't lie. Simply put, until He gives me the words, I won't be doing posts on random ramblings. I can't. Words are too important to be thrown about willy nilly...leastwises they are to me. So until the right words come, rather than having my face stuck to this screen, I think I'll throw on some suncreen instead, step outside and feel the sun on my face.</strong></div>
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<strong>The only challenge I've given myself for 2015? To stop just pinning recipes to <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/catillac/">Pinterest</a> boards and actually try fixing one a week. With over 400 recipes pinned, (assuming I don't add any new ones...as if!) according to my calculations, that oughta keep me busy for the next 8+ years!</strong></div>
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<strong>I guess what I'm trying to say is this. Rather than be burdened down with what I should be doing or what others are doing, I'm planning on spending 2015 being happy, grateful and blessed whenever and whatever the situation is because nothing is random. Not the good, not the bad. All serve a purpose, His. And while I don't pretend to have the answers as to the why, I know in His time all will be revealed if I listen closely and seek Him daily.</strong></div>
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<strong>In the meantime, I will be happy to have been given this man by my side, children a phone call away and beautiful grandchildren...all who love me. Because God has chosen them for me, I have riches untold.</strong></div>
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<strong>Grateful to God for Sherry's friendship, her triumph over cancer and for allowing me to be with her as she's needed me.</strong></div>
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<strong>And blessed?</strong></div>
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<strong>It would take one mighty big abacus for me to be able to count my blessings...beginning with each of you.</strong></div>
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<strong> </strong><strong>As I roll into 2015, I know I'm greatly blessed and highly favored and for that, I'm most beholden.</strong></div>
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<strong>Most!</strong></div>
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<strong>I also know my strengths, talents, shortcomings and weaknesses. But I also know the power to use the first two to overcome the last two is within me and that's what I'm planning on doing in 2015...all the while praying for His guidance in every step I take.</strong></div>
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<strong>So not to toot my own horn y'all, but I lift my glass to 2015 and to me being me in all my chubby glory...no apologies.</strong></div>
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<strong>Or as the great Popeye was fond of saying...</strong></div>
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<strong><em>~I y'am what I y'am and that's all that I y'am!~</em></strong><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Gifted to me by the amazing Lisa of <span id="goog_590739413"></span><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/">Tarnished and Tattered fame<span id="goog_590739414"></span></a>. What a lovely way to be seen through someone else's eyes!)</span> </div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Toot Toot!</span></strong> </div>
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trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-42017682771420849852014-10-25T20:21:00.000-05:002014-10-25T20:28:24.383-05:00Talking Trash Unplugged<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>I readily admit I'm a dinosaur...a throw back to pen and pencil sets, boxes of party invitations and simple white thank you notes.</strong></div>
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<strong>I come from a place long ago and far away where the web was something we cleaned out from under the beds.</strong></div>
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<strong>A cell phone was where you made your one call...usually to a lawyer.</strong><br />
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<strong>A twitter was me at 15, all worked up and waiting for the cute guy in the back of the class to call. </strong></div>
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<strong>A text was written words, found within the contents of a book...which btw was something held in one hand leaving the other hand free for turning the pages to read...licking the index finger optional.</strong></div>
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<strong>I didn't do research with an ISP, but with the DDC...Dewey Decimal System.</strong></div>
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<strong>And back in the day, our social media consisted of Friday announcements...including next week's lunch menu...coming out of a scratchy, school loudspeaker, the daily Courier Gazette newspaper and the back of the Sunday church bulletin. Any information missed by these three were covered by the network. Not the network we use today, but the working network of Small Town America mothers who collectively, could ferret out and deliver more information than Yahoo ever could...on its best day!</strong></div>
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<strong>It's not that I grew up during the Dark Ages. No sirreebob. I had, after all, seen the movie <em>Desk Set</em> for corn's sake!</strong></div>
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<strong>I knew computers were these huge behemoths that required data entry cards. Back in the day, key punch operators were in great demand, but sadly have gone the way of the dodo bird and the guy with the cocked hat who greeted you with "Fill 'er up ma'am?" and "Check under the hood?" Heralded as the time saver to beat all times savers, computers have wreaked havoc since.</strong></div>
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<strong>What they didn't say at the time was eventually time saved meant less employees needed. Now these tellers, cashiers, etc. spend their free time twiddling their thumbs standing in an unemployment line or asking "Super size it?"</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(Listen up all you teachers out there. With the increased handing out of pc's instead of textbooks in schools...you could be next to join the ranks of the obsolete if we're not careful!)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I don't know about y'all, but I like talking to a real person, not an AI. And please, don't even get me started on Siri! That chick is supposed to understand several languages, one being English, but I'm guessing Twanglish wasn't included in her programming nor is it in her wheelhouse! Fact is, we're not even on speaking terms until she drops her high falutin' attitude!</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(But I squirrel-gress.)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>What I'm getting at is that with...ahem...progress, comes change and not always for the best.</strong></div>
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<strong>Gone are passing notes between classes and family discussions around the supper table</strong><strong>.</strong></div>
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<strong> Why bother when a text can be sent during class and as far as catching up with one another as a family? That now takes place at opposite ends of a couch or a house.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(If evolution is for real, I for one shudder to think of the coming generations of goose necked kiddos that will be a direct result of their ancestors staring at their laps 24/7! I know that area below the equator is the center of a teenage boy's world, but really. As grown ups, can we not got out to dinner or a movie without constantly checking our phones?)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Gone are typing and shorthand classes. Once prized skills, now replaced by cyber shorthand with garbled messages containing nothing but letters like lol, brb, and omg. Which begs the question...WTH?</strong></div>
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<strong>Gone is learning to tell time on an actual clock...with hands...and with it, knowing that 20 'til 7 and 6:40 are the same cotton picking thing.</strong><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sIKYKymRTzk/VEw8M08vsAI/AAAAAAAAIfQ/_ythhMTwEiE/s1600/100_3985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sIKYKymRTzk/VEw8M08vsAI/AAAAAAAAIfQ/_ythhMTwEiE/s1600/100_3985.jpg" height="375" width="400" /></a></div>
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<strong></strong><br />
<strong>And lest I forget, heaven help us if the power ever fails. No one...and I do mean no one...below the age of 39 knows how to make change without a screen to tell them. And I cringe when they count it back to me! Oy vey!</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong><em>(Sometimes...just for gits and shiggles you understand...I like to confuse the heck out of them. If My total is say $9.01, I'll hand 'em a twenty and a dime. They usually manage in time to figure out how to punch it in, but in the meantime, I'm enjoying the heck out it. As I watch the dazed look in their eyes, I think to myself..."That'll learn ya, dern ya!")</em></strong></div>
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<strong>What's sad is that as the computers get smaller, so do our lives.</strong></div>
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<strong></strong> </div>
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<strong>The art of conversation is disappearing right along with the sharing of feelings only to be replaced by hastily sent emoticons. </strong></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zw95cFFJpmo/VEvIoUViFOI/AAAAAAAAIeY/pyT_Ozqdv00/s1600/sad%2Bface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zw95cFFJpmo/VEvIoUViFOI/AAAAAAAAIeY/pyT_Ozqdv00/s1600/sad%2Bface.jpg" /></a></div>
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<em>(Farewell interaction face to face. You've been replaced by Internet chatrooms and Facebook!)</em></div>
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But for me, a lover of words, one of the saddest things progress has wrought is the demise of the written word...down to the threat of removing cursive writing being taught in school.</div>
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I can't conceive a world where beautiful handwriting isn't considered a gift, a talent...an art form.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ocWrhBzU2kc/VEvPu_hKzJI/AAAAAAAAIeo/8W6l1eqaUbQ/s1600/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ocWrhBzU2kc/VEvPu_hKzJI/AAAAAAAAIeo/8W6l1eqaUbQ/s1600/IMG.jpg" height="277" width="400" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">(If I can't get to Paris, at least I have a beautiful friend who remembers me. Thank you </span><a href="http://lillyslace.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Cindy</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"> for the card...although I still don't know why you couldn't have hid me in your carryon!)</span></em> </div>
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To think that some will never experience the thrill of opening up an archaic mailbox to pull out a card or letter with their name hand written on it. To never know the joy of checking the postmark for some distant, exotic land or just from the next town over is inconceivable to me.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rFDl1uOI73M/VEvP_vDjCSI/AAAAAAAAIe4/17Tao7r9yDI/s1600/IMG_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rFDl1uOI73M/VEvP_vDjCSI/AAAAAAAAIe4/17Tao7r9yDI/s1600/IMG_0001.jpg" height="288" width="400" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">( I had hoped for a souvenir named Jacques, but a card is almost as good! And being thought of even better than Jacques!)</span></em></div>
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How sad to miss the excitement of unfolding the pages and reading words written in a handwriting, that much like a fingerprint, is unique only to the author. To never have memories tucked inside an envelope, as it and its contents are placed in a box for safe keeping to share with future generations. Gentle mementos, tucked safely away to be reread over and over to our heart's content. Rereading and remembering as if it was just yesterday. And knowing it was sent, not just with a stamp, but with love.</div>
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How can we cheat future generations out of such a treasure?</div>
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There's only way I know of and that's to go back. Now I know they say going backwards is a mistake, but I have to disagree. There are times when it is best. Times, for example, like dancing the Texas two step or walking out of a room buck nekkid. I happen to believe this is one of those times when doing it the old-fashioned way is actually progress in reverse.</div>
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I say it's high time we pull our heads out of our <strike>butts</strike> laps, start taking the time to remember how to visit out loud, say we love you without it only being on FB or in a text, and most of all, learn to love the sound of our own voices.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ekHWgBXo8sE/VEw8IB2lgGI/AAAAAAAAIfI/EJ2DDrEv0Fs/s1600/100_3989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ekHWgBXo8sE/VEw8IB2lgGI/AAAAAAAAIfI/EJ2DDrEv0Fs/s1600/100_3989.jpg" height="346" width="640" /></a></div>
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I'm willing to give it a go and I'm thinking this ought to be a piece of cake.</div>
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'Cause y'all know me...</div>
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I already got the last one down pat!</div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-19645938373885475162014-10-22T10:19:00.001-05:002014-10-22T10:19:55.374-05:00Pot Calling the Kettle Verdigris<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>I wrote a post yesterday and besides being really long, it was...if I say so myself...really clever. For instance, I had wrote...and I quote... <em>the last three great inventions I personally had witnessed were pantyhose, push up bras and air conditioning</em>, but y'all will never get to read the rest of it.</strong></div>
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<strong>Why you ask?</strong></div>
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<strong>Because I shelved it.</strong></div>
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<strong>Again you ask, why?</strong></div>
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<strong>Because it was about the pros and cons of Facebook.</strong></div>
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<strong>Man alive, I was on fire, ranting and raving about the pits and perils of FB'ing with way more cons than pros.</strong><br />
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<strong>It was a pip!</strong></div>
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<strong>But as I was proofing it, would you believe it...my spellcheck quit working. Now I'm not one to turn in homework half done so I stepped away to let my computer...and me...cool down.</strong></div>
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<strong>After a while, I sat back down and reread what I wrote and guess what?</strong></div>
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<strong>I made myself angry!</strong></div>
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<strong>How dare I take it upon myself to tell people what they should or should not do when it comes to Facebook. How dare I take it upon myself to be Her Supreme High Horse...a self-appointed judge, censor and all around know-it-all?</strong></div>
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<strong>If I had hit <em>publish, </em>y'all I would have been just as guilty as those people on Facebook I was criticizing for thinking they knew best.</strong></div>
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<strong>Simply put...I'm nobody's boss and I don't own an answer bag. A <a href="https://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/redneckchic/photos/a.338617815658.197787.212979230658/10152725181400659/?type=1&theater">red.neck Chic</a> bag...yes, but a bag with all the answers to life's questions...no.</strong><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c4DGqMZaqKw/VEfF-JZ7u7I/AAAAAAAAId8/6vGxDd6JwkE/s1600/robelyn2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c4DGqMZaqKw/VEfF-JZ7u7I/AAAAAAAAId8/6vGxDd6JwkE/s1600/robelyn2.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<strong>If I truly was the Grand Poobah of knowledge, trust me, I wouldn't be sitting in a tiny house still in my pajamas nor would I be schlepping junk around for a living and shopping at <a href="http://tjmaxx.tjx.com/store/index.jsp">TJ Maxx</a>.</strong></div>
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<strong>Instead, I'd be traveling the countryside on a lecture tour, dressed to the nines, wearing a tasselled fez and getting paid a butt-load of money for sharing my wisdom on how to succeed at life!</strong></div>
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<strong>So no, I'm not going to throw anyone under the bus. Y'all have the right to publish, share and say anything you want...fact checked or not (but oh how I wish...). I am not the FB police and there is no gold badge pinned to my pushup bra'd bosom to say otherwise.</strong></div>
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<strong>From now on, if I happen to be on FB and read or see something I don't necessarily agree with or like, I'll just discreetly scroll by it. No where is there a law written saying I have to do differently. For me, it's just that simple.</strong></div>
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<strong>BTW...did you happen to notice I said <em>if</em>?</strong></div>
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<strong>I ask because it's an important <em>if.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">SQUIRREL ALERT!!!</span></em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>You might want to get comfortable or take a potty break right about now 'cause I'm fixing to talk the ears off a billy goat!</em></strong><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t6rxj7xwZYw/VEfC8Z-OiRI/AAAAAAAAIdk/S_j88qUVI3A/s1600/shack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t6rxj7xwZYw/VEfC8Z-OiRI/AAAAAAAAIdk/S_j88qUVI3A/s1600/shack.jpg" height="406" width="640" /></a></div>
<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Don't ask me where I found this. It was so long ago I don't remember, but if you know the source, please let me know!)</span></em> </div>
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<strong><em></em></strong> </div>
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<strong>When I signed on to Facebook I had hoped to reconnect with old friends and make new ones...and I have. I've even been blessed to be reunited with family I hadn't talked to in years. What I hadn't planned on was the green eyed monster becoming a frequent guest as well, but I'm only human...and a girl human at that. And let's face it ladies...we are our own worst enemy when it comes to feelings of inadequacy.</strong><br />
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<strong><em>(By the by...do all these words make my butt look big?)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>A daily bombardment of perfect families, perfect homes, perfect lives...not to mention perfect makeup...well how on God's green earth was I supposed to measure up?</strong></div>
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<strong>Sometimes I'd see photos of projects and all the "likes" and comments that would pour in and I'd think whoa Nelly. Didn't I see that idea somewhere else like a hundred years ago and yet, they have the audacity to take full credit for it? Really? Is that the way to get noticed...by stealing someone's ideas? But as the old saying goes...not my circus, not my monkeys...which I will readily admit to stealing from an old Polish proverb.</strong></div>
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<strong>(<em>Have I ever mentioned I can't remember your name seconds after meeting you, but I can remember who did or said what first forever? It's a glitch in the ol' brain waves y'all and a curse!)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Reading success story after success story on shows and knowing the shows we were doing weren't nearly so profitable left me thinking I was doing something wrong.</strong></div>
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<strong>Don't get me wrong. I was happy for those who were achieving their goals, but truth be told, I was jealous as <strike>hell</strike> well. I found myself questioning myself...and the answers I came up with weren't flattering.</strong></div>
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<strong>But then I had an epiphany.</strong></div>
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<strong>What if, contrary to popular belief, it <em>doesn't</em> have to be true to be on the Internet.</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong>One word...wow!</strong></div>
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<strong>Now I'm not about to start calling anyone a liar. Law no! Remember, I'm not the Grand Poobah, but rather a chubby lady who tries to see the whole picture and not just the photo shopped one.</strong></div>
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<strong>We all want to put our best face forward and to that end, we all tend to spin things just a smidge...including me twirling her tassel! Well...maybe some spinning more than just a smidge and by more, I mean creating a whole new identity in Bizarro World.</strong></div>
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<strong>So maybe, just maybe, all these perfect people aren't so perfect after all.</strong></div>
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<strong>And maybe, just maybe, they think anything less than perfect is not worthy to share.</strong></div>
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<strong>What if maybe, just maybe, they're not trying to convince me, but themselves life has to be one big ol' perfect and pretty photo.</strong></div>
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<strong>But the thing is that even with this realization, I still find myself going Kermit from time to time. So I've come to this conclusion.</strong></div>
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<strong>I'm a flat tire in dire need of changing and the first thing I need to do is remove the rusty lugnuts keeping me from rolling forward.</strong><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dvuCalOCzvA/VEfE7qQ83GI/AAAAAAAAIdw/D8c8VeTlcsA/s1600/55ee29bbc9d8850d31e75fee9b7dc16b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dvuCalOCzvA/VEfE7qQ83GI/AAAAAAAAIdw/D8c8VeTlcsA/s1600/55ee29bbc9d8850d31e75fee9b7dc16b.jpg" height="400" width="268" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(I'm going in!)</span> </div>
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<strong>Henceforth, (I know...very GB sounding isn't it?)...ahem...henceforth, the everyday comings and goings (you know...the boring stuff) of Debbie and Danny will be the only things I'll be posting on my personal page. I'll still be sharing my brain farts as they come and go, but anything related to antiques, markets, Cat Daddy appearances and the continuing misadventures of the Ups...Floozied and Hurriet of <em>As The Wheel Turns </em>fame...will now be posted on my business page, <span id="goog_1181201720"></span><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/">Talking Trash<span id="goog_1181201721"></span></a>.</strong></div>
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<strong>Henceforth, if you send me a friend request, unless I know one of the following, I'll probably redirect you to my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/talkingtrashwithdeb?ref=hl">business</a> page.</strong></div>
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<strong></strong> </div>
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<strong>1. Your significant other's name.</strong></div>
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<strong>2. At least one of your kid's names.</strong></div>
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<strong>3. Your dog/pet's name.</strong><br />
<strong>4. We actually have met at some point in time.</strong><br />
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<strong>(<em>Of course, #4 will require you to remind me...for as Jenn says "I'll meet you today...and I'll meet you tomorrow!")</em></strong></div>
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<strong>If we are blessed to meet in real time, hit it off and if you don't mind looking at photos of me and mine puttering through life...gravy stains and all...then you can bet your boots you will be my friend forever and not just on Facebook!</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong>Jealousy and fear are stagnating. I refuse to be a prisoner of either and I think it's time to use my get out of jail free card.</strong><br />
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<strong>It's a start.</strong><br />
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<strong>Besides...I never did look good in green.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-58928474726909514142014-10-15T14:36:00.003-05:002014-10-15T15:04:37.743-05:00Cloudy With a Chance of Silver Linings<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>For those of you who don't do shows...especially outdoor venues...I'd like to offer the following comparison.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iOL_cxbhCMw/VD65RbLlt6I/AAAAAAAAIcI/_rfbWrLpdH4/s1600/zapp%2Bfall%2B20142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iOL_cxbhCMw/VD65RbLlt6I/AAAAAAAAIcI/_rfbWrLpdH4/s1600/zapp%2Bfall%2B20142.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Getting things just where I want 'em!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span> <strong>Preparing and doing an outdoor show...especially a long one...is much like having a 10 lb. baby.</strong><br />
<strong>The body doesn't snap back as fast as one would like it to.</strong></div>
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<strong>There's a lot of pain...not to mention yelling...involved before it's over...especially in the lower back.</strong></div>
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<strong>And it takes at least 6 weeks to fully recover.</strong></div>
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<strong>And like child birth, one is not ready to do another until the memory of the labor pains fades.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P_tkgjDw_OY/VD685FTJDmI/AAAAAAAAIdE/U0EnW8xMviM/s1600/zapp%2Bfall%2B2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P_tkgjDw_OY/VD685FTJDmI/AAAAAAAAIdE/U0EnW8xMviM/s1600/zapp%2Bfall%2B2014.jpg" height="640" width="492" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(If it's a blurry photo, y'all know I took it!)</span></div>
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<strong>This show was no exception and </strong><strong>I came home feeling as if I had just delivered quadruplets!</strong></div>
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(<span style="font-size: x-small;">I look like one hot mess straight out of the delivery room!)</span></div>
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<strong>To say it was hot would be an understatement. Y'all, it was hotter than Egypt and respite only came after a torrential thunderstorm the last Thursday of the show. Hey...at least it was cool the last three days of the show and just in time for load out.</strong></div>
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<strong>The crowd was there, but honestly I have no idea who these people were. I have never in all my born days spent so much time wiping rings off the furniture where people had set their beer bottles or glasses of ice tea. I got to wishing I had packed coasters to hand out! Not that they would have probably used them mind you. Fact is, they'd probably have asked for salt and tried to eat 'em! </strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Photo courtesy of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601">Give Me Props</a>)</span></div>
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<strong>To add insult to injury, they also felt like load testing every chair in the joint. At one point I considered charging a quarter per butt. I think I could have doubled our money, but Cat Daddy nixed my idea. His brain fart was to go to the Dollar General and buy up all the packages of tube socks which I nixed. I figured they'd only want to buy one pair at a time...or worse...one sock!</strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Photo courtesy of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601">Give Me Props)</a></span></div>
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<strong>Then there were the secret shoppers and by secret I mean they had no intention of buying anything. They were looky-loos, there to secretly photograph ideas for copying with nary a never mind to think to ask permission. Just pull that ol' phone out and start snapping. I even caught a certain "no photographs please" celebrity (whose name I won't mention) blatantly taking photos of a license plate display we had worked our tail ends off putting together. It got so bad, I finally started taking photos of them taking photos of our handiwork. You should of seen the looks that got!</strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Oh yes I did)</span></div>
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<strong></strong> <strong>If it sounds like I'm on a tear, heaven help me, but yes I am.</strong></div>
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<strong>Y'all know me...right? I'm the original Pollyanna, but this show tested even my patience. I'm proud to announce no one went home missing the tops of their heads or half their behinds. How was I able to keep my temper in check you ask?</strong></div>
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<strong>Because as hard as this show is to do and in spite of the trials and tribulations, </strong></div>
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<strong><em>(Did I mention I'm thinking of changing my name to Job?)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>it was a success.</strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Photo courtesy of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601">Give Me Props</a>)</span></div>
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<strong>Success can be measured in many different ways. For me, a successful show is measured by the people who have touched me and I them. Success is having perfect (and I mean perfect in every way) come up and introduce themselves with the feeling as if they've known you forever. There isn't enough money in the world to buy that feeling. In fact, it can't be bought or sold...it's too priceless.</strong><br />
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<strong>For every four "tire kickers" who came by, there was that one who knew what they wanted and were a delight to work and visit with.</strong></div>
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<strong>For every water ring I wiped off, there was twice as many tears of joy wiped off at seeing my birds of a feather I only get to see twice a year.</strong></div>
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<strong>For that one guy who thought our needlepoint chair was there just for him to sit on while checking football scores, there was that one happy shopper who bought the whole set to take home to her family.</strong></div>
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<strong>Yes it was hot, but when in Texas isn't it? Heck, everyone who's ever been to Texas knows we only have three seasons...summer, football and Christmas! As far as rain goes, it's either a drought or a flood...no in between. And goodness only knows, that part of Texas will take any moisture from the sky...be it buckets or dribbles...down to the last drop God sends.</strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Photo courtesy of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601">Give Me Props</a>)</span></div>
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<strong>As far as sales go, I have to admit we're kinda spoilt. I always set two money goals in anticipation of what we can reasonably expect to do...a minimum and because I'm a glass half full type of gal...the maximum. We're used to doing about half our sales opening weekend and that didn't happen this show. It took the full length---9 days---to reach our minimum goal, but reach it we did. (It may not be polite to discuss money, but actually we were about halfway between the two...which ain't half bad!) I'm sharing this with y'all because it's one of the main reasons we go. No where else can we move that much merchandise at a fair price quickly. Forget what Country Living said. Zapp Hall is not the field for bargains, but that's a whole 'nother post (along with the copycats with their surreptitious photo bombing) and I'll be addressing both in the near future...grrr!</strong></div>
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<strong>The second reason we put up with the heat, rude people, fire ants, scorpions, snakes, and anything else thrown at us, is the glorious sideshow of people who inhabit that field with us for nine days.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t8lkd4iF5u0/VD65qx-1keI/AAAAAAAAIcw/4kqZhFXR2og/s1600/zapp%2Bfall%2B20148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t8lkd4iF5u0/VD65qx-1keI/AAAAAAAAIcw/4kqZhFXR2og/s1600/zapp%2Bfall%2B20148.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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(<span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo courtesy of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601">Give Me Props</a>)</span></div>
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<strong>This motley crew I share dirt all up and down Hwy. 237 with are like no others on the planet. They're vagabonds thirsting for adventures, bold, brazen, more than a little throwed off and good...good hearted, good natured, good for a laugh, and most importantly, good friends.</strong></div>
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<strong>They make me laugh, cry and remind me constantly of how blessed I am to be able to do what we do surrounded by love and laughter.</strong></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(My pot o'gold filled to the brim with wonderful memories and friends found at the end of the rainbow!)</span></div>
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<strong>In six months, when the aches have become distant memories, you better believe I'll be ready to go again. For again, just as in childbirth, what I bring home...and not just in my pockets...makes every pain in the butt well worth it.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-12841076164436872612014-08-28T16:49:00.000-05:002014-08-28T16:56:55.324-05:00Antiques 101---The Misadventures of Floozie and Hurriet<div align="center">
<strong>When I set out to write this series of helpful hints, I had a clear vision of what I wanted to share, but all that went out the window as soon as I realized I'd probably be preaching to the choir.</strong></div>
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<strong>C'mon.</strong></div>
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<strong>Y'all have heard the same advice over and over. I knew to help you, I'd have to be honest...brutally so...and I didn't know if I could do that.</strong></div>
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<strong>Not that I have a problem with being honest. As I've talked about before, the most important thing I want folks to take away from our booth is a honest deal. We've staked, as well as built, our reputations on honesty. We've never purposely hidden defects in anything we sell to a buyer. If it's been repaired...we say so. If we're not sure of the provenance of a piece...ditto. We've lost sales because of it, but we've also gained loyal buyers for the exact same reason.</strong></div>
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<strong>We can buy replacement merchandise all day long, but at the end of that, or any day...our reputation cannot be replaced. We won't short sell our word just to make a sale.</strong></div>
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<strong>So class get out your #2 pencil and as my mother used to say...this is gonna hurt me a lot more than you.</strong></div>
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<strong>I can't tell you what to buy, but I can advise you as to how.</strong></div>
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<strong>You are first going to have to decide what you want to sell and how much you're willing to invest in the beginning. Only you know your start-up budget, but be prepared to keep good records. I didn't at first and there's no telling how much of our own money we poured in before I started keeping track.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>SQUIRREL ALERT!</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>If anyone ever writes a book called Bookkeeping for Dummies...I'd be the first in line to buy it. Even after all these years, I am still the messiest record keeper on the planet!</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Now that you've got an amount in your head that you feel comfortable with, let's move on to the next order of business...and no, I don't mean buying. While I know it's the best part of the business, you're not ready yet. Just so you don't go all antsy with me, I'll tell you now. That's a future topic. Okay?</strong></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bUth5YZi3A4/U_-YtKWIbOI/AAAAAAAAIXU/uN_XM5IX-oc/s1600/z8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bUth5YZi3A4/U_-YtKWIbOI/AAAAAAAAIXU/uN_XM5IX-oc/s1600/z8.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<strong>Before you start buying, you have to decide what you want to sell. Sounds easy...right? I'm here to tell you it's not.</strong></div>
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<strong>Some will say to buy what you love and that's good advice, but I would say buy what you know.</strong></div>
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<strong>And if you don't know anything...start learning!</strong></div>
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<strong>Get out and visit shows, malls, anywhere there is selling going on. See what catches your eye.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BJFRMKKHSk8/U_-Y7yvBKsI/AAAAAAAAIXs/9OrhNhO9dz8/s1600/z7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BJFRMKKHSk8/U_-Y7yvBKsI/AAAAAAAAIXs/9OrhNhO9dz8/s1600/z7.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<strong>If you find yourself spending a lot of time drooling over the palest of pales or hanging out in the tent full of repurposed items, you may have found your niche.</strong></div>
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<strong>If you can't get enough of the painted furniture or glassware curls your toes, by all means, take note.</strong></div>
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<strong>Look, see, touch, feel...learn!</strong></div>
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<strong>Also, pay attention to what is selling...and the area in which it is selling. What sells in Texas, might not in Timbuctoo.</strong></div>
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<strong>Let me add one other thing. Although small, there is a distinction between <em>junk, vintage, </em>and <em>antiques. </em>Deciding which you want to sell will be part of your homework.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yg2DbHozk_c/U_-Ywh5WgPI/AAAAAAAAIXc/6TT6bTPY1Wg/s1600/z2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yg2DbHozk_c/U_-Ywh5WgPI/AAAAAAAAIXc/6TT6bTPY1Wg/s1600/z2.jpg" height="640" width="612" /></a></div>
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<strong><em>ANOTHER STINKIN' SQUIRREL ALERT!</em></strong> </div>
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<strong><em>Don't tell anyone I said this, but for the record...it's all used merchandise no matter what the age. And with that in mind, remember crap wasn't made just yesterday and not always in a foreign country. (Where do you think the word shoddy comes from. Google it and learn.) It's been made for hundreds of years and with that comes the possibility if it was crap a hundred years ago...it's still crap. All things don't necessarily improve with age. Heck, even some wine will turn to vinegar.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Point is, if junk is your thing, be prepared to buy the best junk you can afford. Same goes for vintage and antique. My advice is to try and buy as unique as possible. You want your merchandise to stand out in the sea of sameness from time to time, you'll find yourself surrounded by.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8JUrs0UCj3s/U_-YoOAieZI/AAAAAAAAIXM/meKA353eBMc/s1600/z3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8JUrs0UCj3s/U_-YoOAieZI/AAAAAAAAIXM/meKA353eBMc/s1600/z3.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<strong>One thing I like to do is buy and sell in piles. Some call it bundling...others bulk. I like the word piles. Law...y'all ought to see the looks I get when I say I have piles!</strong></div>
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<strong>One sad little milk glass bud vase, sitting on a table, all on its lonesome, will often get overlooked. BUT...10 different little milk glass vases, each with a flower tucked in them? How can anybody miss...much less resist...those I ask you? It's a service as well as a marketing technique that hasn't failed me yet. I've resisted the temptation to sell just the one and instead waited and spent the time gathering an <em>instant </em>collection with a <em>wow</em> factor. Yes, half the fun of collecting is in the hunt, but some people don't have the time to chase down enough vases for an upcoming wedding, shower or special event. Photographers have bought my piles to use as props for styling shoots. (<em>I can't wait to see my wedding cake macrame' hangings gussied up in an upcoming wedding and the toppers styled in yet another wedding...both in October!)</em></strong></div>
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<strong> Simply put, I've done the leg work and saved them a ton in aggravation, tires and fuel. I call that a win/win for all involved.</strong></div>
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<strong>(<em>FYI...A. Being unique in your offerings is the first step in branding. But we'll get to that later! B. Most of these items featured have already sold. I rest my case!)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Feel free to mix the three if it floats your boat. I personally prefer a dark eclectic look. Actually, mixing things up is a good beginning for more than one reason. It appeals to a broader range of customers and it keeps you from getting trapped in the cookie cutter vortex. Plus, the mixing of trends is extremely popular right now in decorating. And lastly, it will give you the chance to find what works and sells for you before you invest too much money and time in dust catchers.</strong></div>
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<strong>Speaking of trends, I feel myself trending off subject. Hopefully, I've given you some information you can study on and filled at least one page on your Big Chief tablet.</strong></div>
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<strong>Until the next time when we'll be discussing trends...</strong></div>
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<strong>Class dismissed.</strong></div>
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trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-90371829180338635612014-08-21T09:58:00.002-05:002014-08-21T10:03:14.916-05:00Antiques 101<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>First order of business...</strong></div>
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<strong>I'm not going to apologize for not blogging since Hector was a pup...nor will I offer any explanations as to the whys of my extended AWOL. Life happens. Especially when one suddenly has an ol' tom (<em>Translation: a retired Cat Daddy)</em> hanging around the back door caterwauling to beat the band. New rules have to come into play before I get to play.</strong></div>
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<strong>One thing I have been up to my armpits in alligators is preparing for <em><a href="http://zapphall.com/">The Greatest Show on Dirt</a>. </em>Y'all have heard me <strike>pi$$ and moan</strike> <strike>prattle on</strike> talk about how much goes into doing a show of this size <em>ad nauseam</em>, so I'm not even gonna start to bore you with a repeat performance of my own brand of caterwauling. What I will say is Oh Mylanta!</strong></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EfrXlGdSQ_Y/U_Xu8mSz1II/AAAAAAAAITk/cxMP13VQmLs/s1600/14188_10154502128945014_3304639239299734403_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EfrXlGdSQ_Y/U_Xu8mSz1II/AAAAAAAAITk/cxMP13VQmLs/s1600/14188_10154502128945014_3304639239299734403_n.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<em>(Inside Zapp Hall Spring 2014, poster courtesy of </em><a href="http://zapphall.com/"><em>Zapp Hall Antique Show</em></a><em>)</em></div>
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<strong>What we're bringing to Antique Week is probably the most unique load we've ever had and probably the most expensive load we've ever had to pay for. For the record...I'm not bragging...law no! Putting aside our pride and vanity of the mantra <em>go big or go home</em>, we gave up our big tent and chose to downsize our space by moving inside Zapp Hall. I truly believe this was acccording to God's plan and because we listened and obeyed, He has led us to things we would never have found left to our own devices. By downsizing our space, He allowed us to upsize our merchandise. We've ate a lot of beans and taters to pay for putting this inventory together, but for the first time in a long time, I can honestly say...I cannot wait to get there and see it all together.</strong></div>
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<strong>Which brings us to the topic of day.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_7PQogJMJeo/U_Xwe2o4g1I/AAAAAAAAITw/IsuomDxuBCQ/s1600/zapp%2B2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_7PQogJMJeo/U_Xwe2o4g1I/AAAAAAAAITw/IsuomDxuBCQ/s1600/zapp%2B2013.jpg" height="420" width="640" /></a></div>
(<em>Zapp Hall Spring 2014, photo courtesy of </em><a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601"><em>Give Me Props</em></a><em>)</em><br />
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<strong>"How to keep it fresh when it's going stale."</strong></div>
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<strong>The man and I ventured into the antique business in the late 80's, which doesn't sound all that long until you calculate the years...25+. During this time, we've seen a lot of comings and goings in the business. We've seen the sales of cookie jars and lunch boxes pay for college educations, Beanie Babies bought, sold and traded in a frenzy to match the NYSE and Fire-King Jade-ite soar through the roof, simply because Martha said <em>"It's a good thing".</em></strong></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pDFjdzzZVJk/U_XyG2guTII/AAAAAAAAIUU/pHQDcbgG6so/s1600/zapp6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pDFjdzzZVJk/U_XyG2guTII/AAAAAAAAIUU/pHQDcbgG6so/s1600/zapp6.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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(<em>Photo courtesy of </em><a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601"><em>Give Me Props)</em></a></div>
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<strong>With an abundance of reference books like Kovell's, anyone...with enough time, patience and willingness...could learn to recognize and price antique glassware, furniture, primitives, etc. </strong></div>
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<strong>For the first 15-20 years or so, we watched as shoppes opened left and right. Antique malls were booming. Shows like the Red Barn, Zapp Hall and others had waiting lists of folks just itching to get in.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sC9kEEL_A6Q/U_Xx_iX0m4I/AAAAAAAAIUM/RkIX6kXHMsk/s1600/zapp2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sC9kEEL_A6Q/U_Xx_iX0m4I/AAAAAAAAIUM/RkIX6kXHMsk/s1600/zapp2.jpg" height="422" width="640" /></a></div>
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<strong>(<em>Photo courtesy of </em><a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601"><em>Give Me Props</em></a><em>)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I have to admit, it was a heady time. Never knowing what long forgotten treasure the next garage sale or auction held kept us on the prowl. There was an abundance of merchandise just ripe for the picking and always at a great price because those who weren't in the business couldn't have cared less if Aunt Hortense's worn friendship quilt was going to keep me in groceries for a month. To them it was just used and worn out old stuff. But then along came PBS with Antiques Roadshow and suddenly, everybody was an expert and their <strike>crap</strike> complete set of Dallas Cowboys glasses was worth at least a gazillion dollars...maybe more!</strong></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RFRc6naXpRw/U_XxyXyTPII/AAAAAAAAIT8/006XjlvCK4k/s1600/zapp%2Bbicycle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RFRc6naXpRw/U_XxyXyTPII/AAAAAAAAIT8/006XjlvCK4k/s1600/zapp%2Bbicycle.jpg" height="640" width="422" /></a></div>
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(<em>Photo courtesy of </em><a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601"><em>Give Me Props</em></a><em>. Jennifer will be at Zapp Hall for opening weekend Sept. 26-28th only. If anyone is interested in having her photograph their space, please contact Jenn on her Face Book page to schedule an appointment.)</em></div>
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<strong>That one show...and the copycats that followed...changed the rules forever. It also required us, as curators of the old, to change as well...which albeit convoluted...is the point of this post.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XhhYQvM-nBs/U_Xywx9BAcI/AAAAAAAAIUc/OspK8knFdBs/s1600/zapp8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XhhYQvM-nBs/U_Xywx9BAcI/AAAAAAAAIUc/OspK8knFdBs/s1600/zapp8.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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(<em>Photo courtesy of </em><a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601"><em>you know who</em></a><em>!)</em></div>
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<strong>For those of y'all who are new to the business or are thinking about diving in, I was thinking maybe I could share what I've gleaned from my years of being a Ye Olde Keeper of the Krap and perhaps help you avoid some of the moats I fell into over the years.</strong></div>
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<strong>What say ye?</strong></div>
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<strong>Yay or Nay?</strong></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M7rY9AJEmuk/U_Xx4DUAnjI/AAAAAAAAIUE/htuFt7vqx2M/s1600/zapp9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M7rY9AJEmuk/U_Xx4DUAnjI/AAAAAAAAIUE/htuFt7vqx2M/s1600/zapp9.jpg" height="640" width="422" /></a></div>
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(<em>Photo courtesy of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601">Give Me Props</a>. All styling done by moi!)</em></div>
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<strong>I must warn you, I am quite the gasbag and when I get really wound up...well you know! And if you find yourself trapped in my seemingly endless <strike>tail</strike> tale wind? Well then...don't say I didn't warn you.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(Feel free to pin any of my images. All I ask in return is please be sure and give credit to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601">Give Me Props</a> as photographer. Thanks so much!)</em></strong></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-40884967364494194072014-05-13T10:08:00.001-05:002014-05-13T10:25:20.170-05:00Got a minute?<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>I have a birthday coming up and with each passing year, I find my self getting stingier and stingier with my time.</strong></div>
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<strong>Y'all know how it is.</strong></div>
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<strong>It really has nothing to do with age, but more with perspective.</strong></div>
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<strong>When I was young, I believed myself invincible with nothing but time to blow through. Now time blows through me.</strong></div>
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<strong>The thing is, I really don't have any less time now than I did in my twenties. It was running through my fingers like sand through an hourglass at the same pace it is now. The difference is at 20, 30, heck even 40, I didn't have the sense God gave a goose to realize I'm only promised a certain number of days, each containing the same 24 hours. I was in too big of a hurry to realize regardless of my age, it's the same amount...no more...no less. What I know now that I didn't know then is I have to focus on today and stop fretting tomorrow. This day, today, is what I've been given. Today is my promise and tomorrow is only a possibility. It's all in God's perfect timing...not mine.</strong></div>
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<strong>Are y'all picking up what I'm laying down?</strong></div>
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<strong>A girl of 23 never stops to think it could be over in a heartbeat...but it could.</strong></div>
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<strong>A woman of 63 knows a heartbeat is God's promise for just that day.</strong></div>
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<strong>A day is a gift, the best kind of gift, and one of incredible value. It arrives with an invisible eraser, allowing us to change what we don't like and keep what we do. And no matter how hard we try, it can't be hoarded. Try as I might, I can't squirrel it away in a safe deposit box and pull it out for rainy days. Once it's gone...it's gone. It has to be emptied of all contents by the "<em>best used by</em>" date before it expires at midnight. As much I would like to, it can't be frozen like last night's chicken. No returns, no exchanges.</strong></div>
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<strong>It's mine to use as I see fit. It can be frittered away or it can be judiciously guarded. It can and will be used to take care of business, but happily, it can be used for play. The important thing is to use every single tick of the little hand, giving it a sound wringing at the end of the day to get the last drop.</strong></div>
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<strong>It can be shared or given away, but never borrowed nor stolen. Sharing our time with those we love or even those in need only increases its value, but giving it away can oftentimes cut it short. Time is too valuable to throw away, much less give away. It needs to be spent on something or someone worthy of it. And if it's our business time being asked for, we need to remember it can't be replaced and charge accordingly...even if it's friends and family. Sadly, even bills have to be paid in a timely manner. Hard as it may be, we have to regard our time as the precious commodity it is.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>Squirrel Alert!</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>I hope y'all are still reading along. I know I can be a bit of a gasbag and your time is valuable, but I really do have a caboose to this train of thought.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I have a confession to make. I hate a calendar. It serves as a reminder of how few days there are in a year. When I see penciled in events, I cringe simply because as I get older, I'm jealous of my time. I want to spend it doing things that make me happy and not going to the dentist or other equally mundane things. But that's the sad part of time. So much of it has to be spent taking care of our lives, we are left with so little time for actually living. So I decided this year, I would not be a slave to a calendar. I'll start each day taking care of what needs to be taken care of and spend the rest of the day in pursuit of what makes me happy with my Cat Daddy topping the to-do list! </strong></div>
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<strong><em>(Insert wink and a smirk here!)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I simply refuse to let a calendar on my desk dictate my time.</strong></div>
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<strong>This past Sunday was Mother's Day. I told my children I didn't need Hallmark to tell me they loved me or because the calendar said so in red. I told them to stay home with their families. All I asked for was a quick phone call simply because I love the sound of their voices as much as I love (maybe more) my own. I wanted Jenn to get to enjoy breakfast in bed served by her children. I wanted Joey to smother Misty with love as he looked at Graycie. They deserve to be pampered if for no other reasons, the gifts of the Bella Baby and Grayzilla...my legacy. The last thing I wanted was for them to feel guilty or worry about hurting my feelings.</strong></div>
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<strong>I'm not selfless and sure hope I'm not giving that impression. My motives were less dramatic, but a result of my days as a young mother. I was expected by my own mother (God love her, but Helen Marie could be a pill at times!) to drag myself out of bed and take her out for breakfast on Mother's Day...and no was never an option. Mother being Mother, she would not hold still for excuses...short of labor pains. But even then she'd ask how far apart the pains were to see if there was time for a quick trip to the Champagne breakfast brunch served at the hospital. I never had the luxury of being waited on hand and foot for a day and I believe every mother of a young child deserves it. Not to mention the joy it brings to the kids to spoil their moms...and make a mess while making a memory! Why would I want to cheat those kiddos out of a blessing? I love them and their parents too much for that.</strong></div>
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<strong>See it's like this. I know they love me. I see it in their faces and I feel it in their touch all year long. They honor me in the way they are raising their children. They give to me constantly in the smallest and biggest of ways...and not just on that one day a year. I ask you now...isn't that how it's supposed to be?</strong></div>
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<strong>Their lives are just as busy as mine so we share time together whenever and wherever we can. Time should never, ever, <em>ever</em> come with a guilt trip attached. I'm just that vain y'all. I want my kids to spend time with me because they want to and not because some FTD florist or Russel Stover's commercial says they have to.</strong></div>
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<strong>Remember earlier how I said time can't be squirrelled away in a safe deposit box? It can't, but the memories we make while spending time wisely can. They will last a lifetime and I pray be handed down to generations to come.</strong><br />
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<strong>I seem to spend a lot of my time talking about time, but y'all know I'm just the typist. I write what He tells me to write and if it seems repetitous, I've got me a hunch. He wants to make one thing perfectly clear. He's the owner of our time clock and we shouldn't make the mistake of thinking otherwise. </strong></div>
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<strong>Now...I don't know about y'all, but at the end of her day (in the far, far future), this old gal doesn't want to be caught with any time left on her hands. I fully well expect to cram as much as I can into every single minute of every single day, and as I exit left, laugh myself silly all the way to the memory bank.</strong></div>
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<strong>And that my friends, will be time well spent.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-38074844099603712372014-04-09T12:14:00.001-05:002014-04-09T12:14:49.449-05:00Time In a Geritol Bottle<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>Funny how time can change your whole perspective. Too little is frustrating...too much, confusing. But sometimes, in the words of Baby Bear, it's <em>just </em>right!</strong></div>
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<strong>As y'all all know, in the past I'm almost always by myself for the better part of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/zapphall">Greatest Show on Dirt</a>. Not that Cat Daddy didn't want to be there...he did. It was just his pesky job always got in the way, but this time he was able to stay for the whole time. Retirement, along with other changes, does bring certain advantages in the form of ticks on the clock.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XnGgVphnZ6o/U0VxpCDBoKI/AAAAAAAAIRY/agKBgvf0q2U/s1600/zapp6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XnGgVphnZ6o/U0VxpCDBoKI/AAAAAAAAIRY/agKBgvf0q2U/s1600/zapp6.jpg" height="640" width="422" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(All photos...except for the crappy ones...are by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Give-Me-Props/224153477651601">Give Me Props.)</a></span></div>
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<strong>Antique Week...or should I say weeks since we were there for 15 glorious days...was crammed jammed with excitement. Frivolity, food, and fortune met us at every corner. Not ones to waste time, we celebrated and savored every moment.</strong></div>
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<strong>Frivolity in that I don't think I've ever laughed so much for such an extended period of time...sometimes so much so I forgot to breathe. I truly believe I have the most comical friends on the planet.</strong></div>
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<strong> Food 'cause I ate so many different things I can now speak two new languages besides Twanglish...<em>Mouthful-ian </em>and <em>More-ese! </em>Happy that I can now say pie in many different flavors <em>AND </em>am justified to add multilingual to my resume!</strong></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VYdMkj_kF9o/U0VxV0dvZ7I/AAAAAAAAIRI/tQGNPlVl40w/s1600/zapp2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VYdMkj_kF9o/U0VxV0dvZ7I/AAAAAAAAIRI/tQGNPlVl40w/s1600/zapp2.jpg" height="422" width="640" /></a></div>
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<strong>And last but not least...fortune. I don't mean the kind you bring home in a bank bag...although the show was a success. More like the fortune in memories you bring home in your heart at an exchange rate no Fortune 500 could ever hope to match.</strong></div>
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<strong>There's much to share with y'all about the show. There was a whirlwind of activity from the moment my feet touched down until the last tub was loaded back on the trailer. So much so in fact, I'm going to have to break it down into several posts. Expect quite a few to come out of this keyboard over the next couple of weeks. At my age, I can't wait too long or I forget what I want to say and the he saids/she saids. I like to think it's a wise woman who keeps her facts straight to avoid any unfortunate incarcerations in the future!</strong></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AoR8aKcy-0c/U0VySSt-vVI/AAAAAAAAIRw/6QWo4cuF_CA/s1600/zapp13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AoR8aKcy-0c/U0VySSt-vVI/AAAAAAAAIRw/6QWo4cuF_CA/s1600/zapp13.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
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<strong>For the time being though...this chubby lady has a man <strike>whining</strike> <strike>crying</strike> <strike>pleading</strike> inquiring about clean underwear. Think it's about time to introduce him to the washer and dryer.</strong></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1aoDHpdM5BY/U0VyCpLWG4I/AAAAAAAAIRg/4INj7WzGCRQ/s1600/zapp12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1aoDHpdM5BY/U0VyCpLWG4I/AAAAAAAAIRg/4INj7WzGCRQ/s1600/zapp12.jpg" height="400" width="336" /></a></div>
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<strong>And for the record...I also speak <em>Man-ese </em>fluently!</strong></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-63237664186080415012014-03-19T13:57:00.000-05:002014-03-19T13:57:04.723-05:00Promissory Note<div style="text-align: center;">
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<strong>Here it is y'all...just like I pinky sweared!</strong><br />
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<strong>Now would I go and lie to my little honeys?</strong><br />
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<strong>XOXO</strong></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-53461858703649020942014-03-17T13:39:00.001-05:002014-03-18T15:13:57.583-05:00Put Out To Pasture<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>It's official y'all.</strong></div>
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<strong>All the paperwork has been completed, signed on the dotted line, mailed and the first pension check has been deposited into our bank account.</strong></div>
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<strong>Now the way I got it figured and according to the United States government (and since they think they know it all), that translates to we are now retired!</strong></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TQ_xptOWFBw/Uyc9_SqfSpI/AAAAAAAAIPs/93T-lMR-H-U/s1600/103_3442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TQ_xptOWFBw/Uyc9_SqfSpI/AAAAAAAAIPs/93T-lMR-H-U/s1600/103_3442.jpg" height="446" width="640" /></a></div>
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<strong>Webster defines the word <em>retired</em> something like this:</strong></div>
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<strong>1. Having finished one's active working life.</strong></div>
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<strong>2. Secluded from society, private, quiet.</strong></div>
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<strong>3. To go away or apart, to a place of privacy.</strong></div>
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<strong>Huh?</strong></div>
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<strong>Beg pardon, but when exactly does the work finish? We're working harder now than ever before and I don't see no finish line in my horizon any time soon. Truth being self is a tough boss with little time off and as far as privacy goes...are you kidding me? Besides...when have y'all ever known me to be quiet?</strong></div>
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<strong>There is little about us that y'all don't know except the dramas of life we all experience at one time or 'tother...and unexpected retirement. Those subjects I do tend to keep to myself, but only because my mama told me never hang my dirty laundry out on the front porch. God also told me to let sleeping dogs <em>lie</em> and He would handle things for us...and He has. Anytime one gets their first retirement check before the actual confirmation letter shows up proves who really knows it all and is in control. Once again, let the record show...God is more powerful than even the government.</strong></div>
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<strong>But enough about that. Let's talk about work...whatcha say?</strong></div>
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<strong>The <a href="http://zapphall.com/">Greatest Show on Dirt</a> is just around the corner...and I mean just that. It's less than a week before we'll be heading down with the trailer to Zapp Hall. Our show starts March 28th, but we get there early to unload and set up.</strong></div>
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<strong>In the meantime, we're working like the matched set of mules we are to get things wrapped up here at the Casita de Trash. Cat Daddy is cramming that trailer full of all the things we have been squirreling away to take to the Mother Ship for the spring show.</strong></div>
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<strong>And speaking of the spring show...Oh Mylanta!</strong></div>
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<strong>There are big doings popping up this time around.</strong></div>
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<strong>The show is always fun, but this one promises all sorts of surprises, special guests, and running amuck, with a dash of mischief and mayhem thrown in for good measure. For starters, I am shaking like a chihuahua to be first in line for this...</strong></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Nsfj_hvTyMo/UycX751Pc9I/AAAAAAAAIPc/pHZJRoBIGFU/s1600/where+women.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Nsfj_hvTyMo/UycX751Pc9I/AAAAAAAAIPc/pHZJRoBIGFU/s1600/where+women.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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<strong><a href="https://www.facebook.com/jopackham?fref=ts&ref=br_tf#!/wherewomencook">Jo Packham</a>, creator of Where Women Create, Cook, Create Business...aw shoot fire, do it all and then some...is going to be inside <a href="http://zapphall.com/">Zapp Hall</a> March 29th, from 2-4pm for a special signing of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jopackham?fref=ts&ref=br_tf#!/wherewomencook">Where Women Cook</a>. As you may or may not know, our own sweet Head Zapper, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/zapphall">Cheryl Lehane</a>, was featured in <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/WhereWomenCreateBusiness">Where Women Create Business</a> not too long ago. Jo is quite the powerhouse in our world and to be selected to appear/shoot the photos in between the pages of her <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/jopackham/">magazines</a>/books is something to be mighty proud of and rightly so. It's the equivalent of an "atta girl" for working one's fanny off.</strong></div>
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<strong>With Jo will be an amazing line-up of creative, beautiful women who also are known for working their buns off.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>(Get it...Where Women Cook...buns? I crack myself up sometimes!)</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I don't have the full list of who all will be there signing magazines, but I do know on hand will be Celeste Shaw of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Chaps-Diner-and-Bakery/131383610232713">Chaps Diner and Bakery</a>, Holly Kuhn of Old Glory, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/peacockparkdesign">Gina Galvin</a> of Peacock Park and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/FleaMarketStylemag">Ki Nassauer</a> of <a href="http://fleamarketstylemag.blogspot.com/">Flea Market Style</a> Magazine among the featured guests. I promise y'all up and down, I'll be adding to the who's who list as I get the info...pinky swear!</strong></div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/jopackham?fref=ts&ref=br_tf#!/wherewomencook" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="https://www.facebook.com/jopackham?fref=ts&ref=br_tf#!/wherewomencook" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jozthdy7ndw/UycX4SzkFsI/AAAAAAAAIPU/K0_1DXq2ggs/s1600/celeste.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<em>(Celeste's knock-your-socks-off kitchen. Photo courtesy of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jopackham?fref=ts&ref=br_tf#!/wherewomencook">Where Women Cook</a>. Did I tell y'all I am beyond the moon in anticipation of meeting Celeste? No? Well then...consider yourselves done told...'cause I am!) </em></div>
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<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">SQUIRREL ALERT!</span></em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>I have to stop and mention a coupla of things I know y'all are gonna dig, beginning with a shout out to one of my favorite people in the history of ever...<a href="http://peacockparkdesign.blogspot.com/2014/03/where-women-create-business-book-signing.html">Gina Galvin</a>. Gina is starting a new venue at the spring shows with <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/theroundtoprendezvous">The Rendezvous</a>. She and her vendors will be located down the road from Zapp Hall on Hwy. 237. She's promising fun and laughter, along with great shopping, beginning with her hosting <a href="http://gardenantqs.blogspot.com/2014/02/march-antique-events.html">Theresa's</a> blog party the 28th of March at 6pm. Knowing Gina...this ain't no empty promise. I have yet to be around this gorgeous lady without smiling my fool head off!</em></strong></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EwNhwKwuy24/UycWUSvvhlI/AAAAAAAAIPA/20BIPZBl2Lk/s1600/gina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EwNhwKwuy24/UycWUSvvhlI/AAAAAAAAIPA/20BIPZBl2Lk/s1600/gina.jpg" height="400" width="308" /></a></div>
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<strong><em>Now if that isn't enough to get your motor humming...listen up. Holly and her husband, owners of <a href="http://www.oldgloryantiques.blogspot.com/2014/03/old-glory-texas-details.html">Old Glory Antiques</a> in Denver, are going to be opening a new shop in Burton, March 25th. Love, love, triple love her take and talent when it comes to a fresh look for purchasing and using antiques in your homes. </em></strong></div>
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<em>( I should mention I stole...I mean borrowed all the above photos from their FB pages...including this one from Holly's. Y'all know me and taking decent photos is NOT in my wheelhouse so I have to resort to thievery!)</em></div>
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<strong><em>And if that still isn't enough...tighten up those bra straps...there's more!</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>Amie and Jolie, <a href="http://junkgypsyblog.com/">Junk Gypsies</a> extraordinaires, will have two locations to shop this time. They'll be at Zapp as well as their JG World Headquarters. On the 28th, the official ribbon cutting will take place at the JGWHQ's and season two of the Junk Gypsies will be filming.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>One word y'all...whew!</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I don't know about y'all, but I'm all agog with anticipation of this year's spring shows and all the frivolity that is about to commence!</strong></div>
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<strong>My only suggestion to y'all is pack your roller skates. I got me a hunch you're gonna need 'em!</strong></div>
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<strong>As for me...I best get back to enjoying my retirement.</strong></div>
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<strong>Translation?</strong></div>
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<strong>Working like the rented Jenny I am...slightly burnt out but still smokin'!</strong></div>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-68261414360844436302014-02-12T09:55:00.003-06:002014-02-12T14:57:00.534-06:00Undercover Tourist<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>If I've learned anything in 62 years of living, it's that life doesn't come with a road map. You gotta be ready for unexpected potholes and detours along the way. Every day is a journey and if we're wise, we keep souvenirs to remember it by.</strong></div>
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<strong>That's what I've been dealing with the past couple of weeks...chug holes big enough to knock my plans clean out of alignment.</strong><br />
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<strong>Cat Daddy had been planning on retiring the middle of this year (yes...gasp...we are of <em>that </em>age), but out of the blue, the planned date of retirement was changed...oops. As a result, I've been hurriedly preparing all the paperwork needed to start his pension as well as attending to all the details that go along with it. </strong><br />
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<strong>In the middle of this chaos, came the startling revelation I'm an almost, but not quite, senior citizen.</strong><br />
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<strong>When did this happen?</strong><br />
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<strong>More importantly...how did it happen?</strong><br />
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<strong>In reflection came another revelation. I suddenly realized my life could be told by the changing of my underwear.</strong><br />
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<strong>I began life in a diaper and if I'm blessed to live long enough, I'm sure I'll leave this world wearing the same attire.</strong><br />
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<strong>I progressed to training pants and I'm proud to say I passed with flying colors! 'Course, the older I get and with each little sneeze or giggle, I wonder just how well trained I am. From there it was just a hop, skip and jump to ruffles on my tiny tookus!</strong><br />
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<strong><em>SQUIRREL ALERT!</em></strong><br />
<strong><em>I just have to ask why the term "training bra"? Training pants I get, but training bra? Just what the heck are the girls (BTW...I call my girls Mary Kate and Ashley in case y'all were wondering.) in training for...sit, speak, sit up? If it's shake...they'll learn that quick enough on their own. And don't even let me get started on "foundation garments" or we're likely to be here for days! </em></strong><br />
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<strong>By the time I started school, I was ready for my first set of Days of the Week panties. I'm sure a lot of y'all remember those, but do you also remember wearing Saturday on Monday or vicey versey 'cause mom hadn't done the laundry yet?</strong><br />
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<strong><em>SQUIRREL ALERT II!</em></strong><br />
<strong><em>Why do we say "a pair of panties"? Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't we just wear 'em one at a time? Kinda like a pair of pants, you know? One at a time...although with the abundance of cold weather we've been having here at the North Texas Pole, I'm tempted to throw on a couple of more pairs for added warmth.</em></strong><br />
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<strong>I loved those panties...especially Sunday. They began my love affair with underthings. </strong><strong>Nowadays kids are walking billboards, sporting <em>Doc McStuffins </em>or <em>Spiderman </em>on their little tushes. And grown ups aren't any better. We really should get paid for running around with <em>Juicy </em>emblazoned across our rumps!</strong><br />
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<strong>And then came the '60's.</strong><br />
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<strong>Peace, love and goodbye <em>Playtex, </em>hello <em>Vassarette.</em></strong><br />
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<strong>Young women everywhere...you can thank my generation for mini skirts, hip-huggers and hot pants...'cause with 'em came the need for bikini underwear and the invention of pantyhose.</strong><br />
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<strong>Be gone granny panties and garter belts!</strong><br />
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<strong>With the disco years, came the worry of panty lines showing through our tight britches and wrap dresses. Thus began my years of going commando. What can I say? I was a child of the sixties and had no filters...and obviously no shame either!</strong><br />
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<strong>The honeymoon years of my marriage included matching lingerie, but that didn't last long before I entered the maternity years.</strong><br />
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<strong>For both my pregnancies, I paraded around in Cat Daddy's underwear...except when I went to the OB/GYN. He didn't need to know my dirty little secret. My ever expanding belly itched like mad and I didn't own a single pair of cotton undies, so off to C.D.'s underwear drawer and on with his <em>Fruit of the</em> <em>Looms</em>. I'd love to be able to tell y'all I returned those back to his drawer after the kids were born, but sadly I did not. It was a while before ol' Deb could fit back into her <em>Lily</em> <em>of</em> <em>France </em>frilly skivvies,<em> </em>resulting in her fancy underwear consisting of control tops and panty girdles<em>.</em></strong><br />
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<strong>During the child rearing years, I was buying more <em>Underoos</em> and less lace. Sadly, my cotton britches came three to a pack, hanging on a rack at Sears. Temporarily gone were the lovely tables, heaped high and overflowing with silky drawers, trimmed in soft lace. No little satin rosebuds to distinguish the front from the back, only the annoying size tag scratching my hind end. But all that changed in the '80's with the opening of a <em>Victoria's</em> <em>Secret</em> at our local mall. It was as if the clouds opened up and a rainbow of knickers appeared!</strong><br />
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<strong><em>Victoria</em> and I became fast friends for the next umpteen years. When the new catalog arrived in the mail, I felt like that kid back in 1959 and the Sears Christmas catalog was in the mailbox. Cat Daddy and I would go to war over who got to look at it first...although looking back...I now question his interest and/or motives! All I say to that is five minutes ladies...just five minutes!</strong><br />
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<em><strong>SQUIRREL ALERT III</strong></em><br />
<strong><em>One thing you'll never catch me wearing, even if all my undies are dirty, is a thong. I happen to think those things are just plain evil. A thong had to be designed by a man 'cause women have spent the better part of their days trying to keep their drawers from crawling into places said drawers got no place crawling into. Ain't no way this chubby lady is going to buy something designed to hone into...or saw in half...her nether-nether land.</em></strong><br />
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<strong>Well y'all...that brings us to the 21st Century and the next chapter in my life. I don't save my unmentionables for special occasions 'cause let's face it...at my age, getting up in the morning is special enough. I love pretty underwear and will wear it until the day I have to slip on my first pair of <em>Depends</em>. When that day comes, as I know it will, I pray I still have enough wits about me to hot glue a satin rose on 'em. </strong><strong>Otherwise, how will I know which side goes in front...and in life as in intimates...that's an all important detail.</strong><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><strong><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/369/B0978F9306A7FF2946191B0D88FB5F84.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></strong></a></div>
trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-25437186996470260822014-02-02T11:34:00.003-06:002017-02-02T08:25:17.887-06:00Carpe Diem and Deja Vu All Over Again!<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Even though Punxsutawney Phil (not to be confused with Buckeye Chuck) saw his shadow up in Pennsylvania this morning, down here at the North Texas Pole, it is one gloomy day. Wind, rain, gray skies and the possibility of icy conditions are all in the forecast...or so says Evan, my friendly neighborhood weatherman. And just so you know, when it comes to prognostication, he's generally a heap more reliable than some fat rodent sipping on a fountain of youth elixir.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>Being housebound, I suppose I could take this opportunity to write a new blog post. Yes I could and should, but in all honesty, I'd much rather eat the refrigerator. That's the bad thing about cold weather...makes me hungry as a horse. So-o-o, if it pleases you...'cause it sure pleases the heck outta me...and to celebrate the Year of the Horse, I'll be putting on the feed bag while serving y'all up a reheated post from 2012.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>Why you ask?</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>A. It's one of my all time favorites.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>B. Yes...I'm just that lazy.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>And...</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>C. Everything and everybody deserves a new day for second chances and new beginnings.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...6:00 a.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Fall outta bed and make my way into office. Power up the computer a</strong><strong>make coffee.</strong><br />
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<strong>While waiting on said coffee to perk, click on TV to double check if the earth is still spinning and what Evan is predicting weatherwise so I can dress accordingly...socks or bare feet.</strong></div>
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<strong>Stumble back into kitchen to administer the first of 3 cups of coffee, then head on back to the office for just a few minutes of computer time.</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...8:30 a.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Try to get up from office chair, but find my butt and legs have gone numb. Scribble a note to remind me to google this later and find out what might be causing this. I sure hope it ain't the beginning of old age.</strong></div>
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<strong>Hmmm...find myself wondering on how earth I got that second cup of coffee in my hand...and if it is somehow tied to the whole numb-butt phenom.</strong></div>
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<strong>Start household chores by picking up Cat Daddy's dirty socks from where they hit the floor. Smiling to myself at this...just one of his lovely daily reminders of how much he needs me...I throw them at the laundry basket. Score!</strong></div>
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<strong>Fill sink with hot sudsy water to <strike>cram</strike> soak dirty dishes from the night before then it's off to make the bed.</strong></div>
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<strong>Do a multi-task walk-through picking up <a href="mailto:cr@p">crap</a> while straightening at the same time. Place vacuum cleaner in the middle of the room in case I decide the floors need a swipe.</strong></div>
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<strong>Start to kitchen to wash dishes, but remember I need to check e-mails first.</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...10:00 a.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Stiffly, get out of office chair and run some hot water into the sinkful of dirty dishes that somehow got cold.</strong></div>
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<strong>Put on rubber gloves and haz-mat suit to clean bathroom. Clean the three sides of the bathtub that show, wipe off the toothpaste splatters from the faucets (gleam says clean) and disinfect the toilet seat for that oh-so-fresh feeling.</strong></div>
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<strong>Look at vacuum cleaner sitting in the middle of the floor and think to myself...is it <em>really</em> that dirty?</strong></div>
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<strong>Fix a little breakfast of Pop Tarts and sit down at desk to eat while checking out new blog posts. I can't afford to lose any time on trivial activities...like adding another dirty dish to the overflowing sinkful I got on stand-by so I dine on a paper towel.</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...11:30 a.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Struggle outta office chair and limp into kitchen to find drops for watery eyes. Funny...I don't remember Evan mentioning in his morning forecast including a heavy pollen count. Numb butt, loss of memory, watery eyes...must remember to look this up on WebMD.</strong></div>
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<strong>Add <em>more </em>hot water and Dawn to sink, but make the executive decision to go ahead, bite the bullet, and wash them to avoid a monster water bill next month.</strong></div>
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<strong>Look at vacuum cleaner for the third time and have a light bulb moment... floors are clean enough.</strong></div>
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<strong>My tummy is rumbling, reminding me it's almost lunch time...and I'm still in my pajamas.</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...12:15 p.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Nuke a burrito (on a paper towel, natch!) for lunch, grab a coke outta the fridge, and using my time management skills, make a quick stop at the computer to visit Facebook.</strong><br />
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<strong>(Note to self: How did I not notice earlier that cobweb running from corner to corner in my office. Either that was one busy spider or I need to add "failing eyesight" to my list of symptoms to check on!)</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...1:30 p.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Decide to put on street clothes...just in case Cat Daddy comes home early...and give my hair a lick and a promise.</strong></div>
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<strong>House smells a bit stale, but can't find my new fig scented candles to light. Searching for them is eating up my precious time, so instead, throw a load of whites in the laundry, being sure to add fabric softener. Ain't nothing like a little Gain to add a nice clean scent to a home.</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...2:00 p.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Doing all that laundry has me too pooped to pop. Grab a fun-sized Butterfinger and plop down at computer to re-charge for the next round of household chores.</strong></div>
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<strong>While waiting for energy level to return to normal, get busy doing some real work...reorganizing my <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/catillac/">Pinterest</a> boards.</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...3:30 p.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Jump outta my office chair and purt near trip myself. Manage to hobble into kitchen to run some water and Pine Sol into sink, having recently discovered it gives the house that "just cleaned" smell...without actually having to clean it.</strong></div>
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<strong>Clean the glass storm door and hope I don't have any birds crashing into it...again.</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...4:00 p.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Realize I haven't checked my <a href="https://www.instagram.com/york.deb/">Instagram</a> account in the past two hours. Just as I start to salivate over all the beautiful photos, my batlike ears here the sound of a diesel engine forcing me to hit "Save" as Cat Daddy's truck pulls into drive.</strong></div>
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<strong>Hurriedly shut down all tabs, lurch into the kitchen to throw water on my face to resemble beads of sweat, and notice my britches are on inside out.</strong></div>
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<strong>Throw wet towels in dryer and almost hang myself trying to get the last wash cloth outta the washer.</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...4:30 p.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Greet Cat Daddy with a weary, but loving smile from my day's exhausting work, sit and listen to his re-telling of <em>his</em> day...and try not to yawn.</strong></div>
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<strong>Watch jealously as Cat Daddy sits in <em>my </em>chair at the computer to check out auctions and estate sales.</strong></div>
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<strong>Start dinner while discreetly shooting him the stank eye<em>.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Go ahead and put away vacuum cleaner for another day. He never even noticed it sitting there.</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...5:00 p.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Take a much needed sit-a-spell to watch <em>In The Heat Of The Night </em>reruns while supper simmers.</strong></div>
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<strong>Fold semi-dry towels as Mr. Tibbs solves the crime du jour.</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...6:00 p.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Sit down at separate TV trays with Cat Daddy and dine in the romantic flicker of <em>The Big Bang Theory </em>reruns. Laugh together at the same hilarious lines...over and over and over.</strong></div>
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<strong>Make plans with Cat Daddy for the coming weekend to work around the house. Make silent note to self...<em>that'll be the day.</em></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...7:30 p.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Wait patiently as C.D. takes his bath before he heads to bed.</strong></div>
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<strong>Listen for heavy snoring and sneak into office for just a short visit to Facebook.</strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 3, 2012...11:59 p.m.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Check the clock and ponder where the time went, all the while t</strong><strong>hinking...<em>didn't I just do all this yesterday...and the day before...and the day before that?</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Glancing down at the screen, to my surprise, I notice the date on Yahoo shows February 2nd...wha-a-a?</strong></div>
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<strong>Jump to my feet with the realization...</strong></div>
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<strong>I'm trapped in <em>Groundhog Day!</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Help! I've fallen into a time warp and can't get!</strong><strong> </strong></div>
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<strong>Change my date and time stamp if necessary...pull my plug...put me in a DeLorean...whatever it takes! Otherwise y'all...I'm trapped in this loop until further notice.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>Looking back at this old post, I just realized I'm not as lazy as I first thought</em>!</strong><br />
<strong><em>We've sold every item in these photos. Now that's what I call making hay while the sun shines!</em></strong><br />
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<strong><em>~Hold her head up Pa...she's goin' to the barn.~</em></strong><br />
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trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-13520607535598194382014-01-15T10:09:00.000-06:002014-01-15T10:12:21.967-06:00Wednesday's Whine List<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>Everyone has their morning routine and I'm willing to bet a doughnut to a dollar, many of us in the business of junketeering share a similar one.</strong></div>
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<strong>I roll out of bed around 5ish every morning, power up the ol' computer, stumble into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, then proceed to watch the weather while waiting for my eye opener to brew.</strong></div>
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<strong>Once both are eyes are fully functional, I sit down to check the comings and goings of my world, beginning with looking for new blog posts and ending with a check on Pinterest. Somewhere in the middle of all this activity, I'll throw a load of laundry at the washer, fix me a bowl of oatmeal and maybe/maybe not get dressed.</strong></div>
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<strong>What can I say? I'm a simple person by nature and unless there's something spectacular on my horizon...like the upcoming Frederic<a href="http://www.fredericksburgtradedays.com/">ksburg</a><a href="http://www.fredericksburgtradedays.com/"> </a><a href="http://www.fredericksburgtradedays.com/">Trade Days</a> we'll be doing this weekend...I don't veer far from this routine</strong><strong>.</strong></div>
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<strong>I allow myself so much time for these frivolous diversions and can't afford to waste a second. After all, there are only so many hours in a day I can p&*@ off without running the risk of getting <strike>caught </strike>behind doing unnecessary things.</strong></div>
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<strong>I had began to notice Pinterest was throwing photos up for possible additions to my boards. Not a lot mind you, but enough to catch my attention. That is until this morning.</strong></div>
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<strong>Ohmylanta!</strong></div>
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<strong>There they were, at least 30...possibly more, I lost count...<em>Related Pin </em>suggestions on my feed! And if that wasn't bad enough, I was asked to give a <em>thumbs up</em> or <em>down</em> as feedback for each and every one of them. To add insult to injury, the only way to get this clutter off my feed? I had to <em>thumbs down</em> each and every one of them!</strong></div>
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<strong>Grrr!</strong></div>
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<strong>How dare you Pinterest presume to know what I do or do not like based on what I've titled my boards. Just because I have one titled <em><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/catillac/pinkadeliphia/">Pinkadelphia</a> </em>doesn't mean I want to pin a pair of pink Toms. Obviously you don't have a clue or you wouldn't be showing me Crap. Yeah you heard me right. I said Crap with a capital C! For every twenty you <em>suggest </em>to me, I may like one. That's right...ONE!</strong></div>
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<strong>I have no intention of ever digging my own swimming pool or making a quilt out of rubber bands, nor do I think I'll be preparing and freezing enough meals to carry me into the next millennium! Seriously? Like I could even afford to buy that many groceries at one time. Besides...even though you think I do, I'm not sure I like lentils...unless they taste like chicken.</strong></div>
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<strong>Pinterest, my advice to you?</strong></div>
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<strong>Get offa my boards and outta my face!</strong></div>
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<strong>I know what I like and unless you're willing to actually look at what I've pinned instead of making random <em>suggestions, </em>quit wasting my time.</strong></div>
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<strong>Like I said earlier, I've only got so many hours in a day and I don't want to spend them deleting crummy ideas when my time is better spent <strike>stealing </strike>searching out brilliant ones.</strong></div>
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<strong>Pinterest...you of all people should know that...since you obviously think you know it all.</strong><br />
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<strong>If you really want to suggest something to me...make it a cheese to serve with whines.</strong><br />
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<strong>Do and I promise up and down, I'll pin it...<strike>Pinkadelphia</strike> pinky swear. </strong></div>
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trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-38137236779029220992014-01-13T09:56:00.002-06:002014-01-13T10:54:41.613-06:00Do You Know Who You Are? I'm Batman.<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>When I wrote this <a href="http://talkingwhitetrash.blogspot.com/2013/11/conundrum-wrapped-in-enigma.html">post</a> in November, I was struggling with many things...one being me and who I am versus who I want to be.</strong></div>
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<strong>Packing for spelunking into the cavernous recesses of one's psyche can be tough.</strong></div>
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<strong>I had no idea what I might dig up or possibly unearth while sifting through my memory. For those of y'all entertaining the idea of striking out on your own journey, here's a short list of things to throw into your backpack before going down the rabbit hole.</strong></div>
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Don't bother with a flashlight, pack candles instead. Batteries have a tendency to wear out from long periods of use and only throw light at the spot you point them...revealing little except what you would like to see. To excavate properly, you've got to be willing to see the whole cavern and for that you need to take along the truth. It shines like nothing else on earth and lights up the darkest corners. Unless you really <em>want</em> to lug a huge spotlight in your pack, slip in the truth. Believe it or not, it does lighten the load you're carrying, but even then, be prepared to fall into a lot of dark holes. It's part of the adventure. If and when the darkness surrounds you, light a candle and pray. Let the flicker give you hope as you struggle on your way back to the top.</div>
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Same goes for a map. Trust me...I looked before strapping on my boots and found the map for life is written as we live it. Rather than fooling around and wasting time trying to fold your map to look like everyone else...and the frustration that inevitably comes with creating new wrinkles...I highly recommend packing your Bible for guidance. The paths are well laid out, but it's still up to you whether to jig or jag.</div>
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Pack Big Chief tablets and #2 pencils. You're going to be charting a lot of bumpy roads, missteps and detours along the way. Accept you're gonna run into a lot of wrong turns made along the way. The past can't be changed, but it can be rerouted. Just be sure to take along a passel of erasers. You're gonna need them for redirecting your path and for righting mistakes made in the gettin' here from there.</div>
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While this may seem like a crazy thing to pack, throw in a hand mirror...a big one. You won't be using it to check your hair roots, but for checking the root of many of your problems. It isn't always pretty, but for a split second, stare into it, face to face, bruises and all, then stick that mirror back in your knapsack. Lingering too long is fruitless and vain without a willigness to own what is held in the reflection. For me, I know it's there if a reminder is necessary of who I was or where I'd been without turning around or back tracking. There was just too much ground to cover if I wanted to make it out in one<strike> piece</strike> peace. Glancing in my mirror kept me from lingering too long in one place when I needed to move forward.</div>
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Finally, pack a pair of hiking boots and all the stretch pants you own, but don't get too comfortable. You're gonna be stopping a lot to catch your breath and there won't be a lot of easy chairs along the way. 'Course I'd be remiss if I didn't warn you, you may find yourself in the hot seat from time to time. You also need to remember that bats live in caves and with bats comes guano, a heap of it. Be prepared to step in a lot of it, but thankfully, it does wash off. Still... it's gonna get rocky. You''ll need to stay on your toes to keep your footing firm as much as possible when unexpected cracks pop out of nowhere. Know up front, you will stump your toes and get some bumps on the noggin. It's part of the journey, so don't be surprised when you find yourself, like me, falling to your knees...a lot! There will be points in time along the way too low to stand, so tight you can't wiggle your way out and many, many dead ends.</div>
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<strong>I brought back many souvenirs from my trip and I'll be sharing what I unearthed later. In the meantime, I'll leave you with one other important piece of advice.</strong></div>
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<strong>Never undertake a dig this important without a partner. There are gonna be moments when you'll cry out for a lifeline to pull you to safety. The last thing you want to hear as the ground starts crumbling around you, is only the echo of your own voice. Echoes from the past can be like quicksand...pulling you farther down. You are gonna hit spots too treacherous to scale alone and more than one time, you are gonna find yourself needing someone to pick you up when you tumble...be it past, present or future.</strong></div>
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<strong>I highly recommend God as your guide. There is no other to go before you to ease your load and bind the wounds incurred along the way. He has yet to abandon me in the pits of despair nor allow me to wallow in the depths of my self-pity. His strong, loving arms always pulls me to safety. His mighty hands reach down, clasp mine and lead me to higher ground. He is the compass continually pointing me in the direction I need to be heading, be it north, south or points unknown.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>~Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.~Psalm 119:105</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>~He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me to the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.~Psalm 23:3</em></strong></div>
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trash talkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17508579521854913297noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3889831257197062444.post-49164026028219831622013-12-19T10:01:00.003-06:002013-12-21T06:33:38.595-06:00Christmas Newsletter 2013*<div style="text-align: left;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">*Sometimes</span> you gotta read between the lines.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><em>Greetings All!</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>Wow...2013 has flown by and there is so much to tell of our year. I hardly know where to start.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Hidy y'all!</strong></div>
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<strong>Wow--it's almost 2014 and I haven't done one darn thing I thought I would in 2013.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>Henry and I decided 2013 was the year we would start to live a healthier lifestyle beginning with our diet. We found we had so much energy and were able to get a lot more done with just a few simple changes. With my new found energy, I even landed a job working as a consultant for a major firm. Staying current with trends is my passion and I can honestly say, my world is now technicolored!</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Well wouldn't you just know it. Henry got fired--again. That man couldn't hold a job if his hands were covered in Gorilla glue. A beer bottle, yes--a job, no. It was hard enough trying to keep food on the table, what with the price of groceries and all, but now? Guess I'll have to get out and hustle back my old job at Lowe's working in the paint department. But in the meantime--Hello Ramen noodles, my old friend.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>I managed to squeeze in an exciting 8 day, 7 night stay at an exclusive spa. Between my spa visit and the lifestyle change, I lost an amazing 240 pounds. I can honestly say Henry and I are now a new man and woman.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>After being incarcerated for a week in Bellview, just because I was caught trying to smother Henry with his pillow, I finally said enough is enough. I called a lawyer and got the divorce papers filed. I've threatened it for years, but I just got so sick and tired of supporting his dead weight--all 210 pounds of it--that this time I actually followed through! 'Course, I called the lawyer to cancel it after Henry realized I wasn't bluffing and really meant business this time. He is now gainfully employed and even helping some around the house. Sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.</strong><br />
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<strong><em>The children have been quite busy as well.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>My kids are driving me to drink with their antics. Can I help it they inherited the crazy gene from me?</strong></div>
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<strong><em>Henry Jr. and his wife, Trixie have decided to down size while waiting for word upon his promotion/relocation. They have such a knack for balancing time between work and the children.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Henry Jr., Trixie and all the young'uns have moved in on top of me. Seems he quit his job to become a circus clown. That nut didn't fall very far from the tree, but in the meantime I've got kids hanging from the rafters while he attends clown college. Of course that leaves me as the full time, free babysitter while Trixie works double shifts at the Stardust Lounge. At least she's got her act together---and I hear it's a doozie.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>Henriette's graduation will be in the spring with a degree in performing arts. She's worked so hard and we are all so proud of her for following her dreams. After pulling some strings, several opportunities are opening up for her, including the chance to work outside the country in an exotic locale. It will be exciting to see which path she chooses.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Henriette will finally be getting out of school after 8 long years of changing majors. That girl has the attention span of a gnat. So far she's been offered a job backstage in a puppet theater or starring in a movie for a sketchy production company in some remote part of South America. I'm really pushing the puppet gig.</strong><br />
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<strong><em>The grandchildren are a delight and keep me young.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Forget gyms. Chasing a buck nekkid 4 year old down a sidewalk is exercise enough for me.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>The oldest, Henry III, is in 5th grade and made the Principal's List for his science fair project. I see another Einstein in our midst.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I don't have a clue where he got the idea silly putty and hydrogen peroxide would mix (he mumbled something about my Pinterest board) but after his volcano blew up all over the Principal's Santa costume, he is now in detention for the rest of the school year. </strong></div>
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<strong><em>I really must run now. Christmas is next week and there are cookies to bake, gifts to wrap, and cards to mail.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>Oh good gosh. Christmas is next week, the kitchen is filthy, I haven't done any shopping, and I have to mail out this silly newsletter to all my relatives. </strong></div>
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<em><strong>I wish you all the best in the coming new year.</strong></em></div>
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<strong>No I don't. I hope your life is just as chaotic and less than perfect like mine. I'd hate to think I'm all alone in this boat called life.</strong></div>
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<strong><em>We wish you much joy and love this Christmas surrounded by those you love.</em></strong></div>
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<strong>I wish you much joy and love this Christmas surrounded by those you love. </strong><br />
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<strong>And even though I sometimes feel like Custer at Little Big Horn, surrounded by my throwed off family, I wouldn't have it any other way. They are near and dear to me. Just wish they weren't quite so near. Little Henry--you come untie me right this instant. You hear me? Little Henry?</strong></div>
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<strong><em>Christmas hugs,</em></strong></div>
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<strong><em>Mabel</em></strong></div>
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<a href="http://www.commonground-do.com/2013/12/be-inspired-169-home-for-christmas-and.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+blogspot%2FbCGJMl+%28Common+Ground%29">Linking to Debra at Common Ground</a></div>
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