Welcome to Boggy Gully Farm

I followed my friends to find out what super hero I am...get me with my big stick...be afraid, be very afraid...then go to M104 (look at my blog role) and see who you are...I'll try to put the link in when I figure out what I'm doing wrong!!!
Now, back to my real life...

Yesterday we went looking for garden fertilizers not common to most. We needed Aluminum Sulfate for the blueberries most desperately. Our house sits in the middle of what was once a cow pasture and the soil doesn't hover around 7+ alkalinity, it hangs onto 7+ with a death grip...well, death for acid loving plants, anyway! We heaped in the cotton seed meal and mulched 2 inches deep with pine straw, but still it keeps creeping back up past the 7 mark. We watch a show produced here that is called "Making It Grow". It is presented by Clemson University (all dirt roads lead to Clemson) as an educational show for gardeners. Rowland and Amanda do a great job of answering any query you might have about any plant you might have. Then there's Webby Debby who runs the live link online chat during the show and for awhile after. (The older shows can also be seen weekly on RFD a new network we have discovered.) But I digress. We learned from Rowland that the best and quickest soil acidifier (and longer lasting) is Aluminum Sulfate. So we headed off to Hartsville yesterday to try to locate a few bags. I called the Mayor's office in Hartsville to ask which nursery they might have nearby where we could check if no one else had it.

The Mayor's secretary was so nice. She gave me the name of the Boggy Gully Farms. Boggy Gully Farms...the name just rolls off the tongue and is such an inviting mind picture. I knew I would be visiting there whether they had any of Mac's magic elixir for the blueberries or not. I just had to see this place. I called and spoke to Shirley Best, the owner, who told me that they didn't really carry fertilizers. I asked if she had any pomegranate bushes and nearly fell over when she said yes. We've been looking for replacements for ours for ages! I told her we would be seeing her sometime late morning, and she gave me directions to her door.

Okay, it was a great trip. We went to Ace Hardware where we found the Aluminum Sulfate, then to Lowe's for Spragnum Moss...had to go by WalMart for the weekly cat food fix, then off we went to Boggy Gully. It was 11:55 in the morning when we arrived. Shirley immediately began apologizing for the "mess" the place was in. What mess? It was a shrub and tree farm. There was no mess. There was heaven. I was hooked. We walked amongst the many plants she had for sale and my eyes lighted on the double bloom knockout roses. The picture showed a deep red. I asked how much for the roses and she told me ten dollars. I pulled two out of the crowd and Mac took them to the truck. He had already picked out three pomegranate bushes and know she was showing us the Paulownia Trees she had for sale. They are more commonly known as the Empress Tree and are extremely fast growing. Shirley explained that they grew ten feet per season. Okay, I was impressed. I was impressed with the tree, the nursery, and Shirley's knowledge. We talked about the lovely pond that is a part of the nursery grounds, and her Koi. You all know by now how wild I am about Koi. She always worries that the Cranes or the Otters are going to get them, but so far, so good.

Okay, I've yapped enough about this delightful place that I am going to becoming a frequent visitor to (unless Shirley gets tired of the sight of me and bans me). I'm going to give you her website address so you can see for yourself! To visit Shirley and Mike's place just go to http://www.boggygullygardens.com/ and you won't be disappointed. Check out the Paulownia trees. Amazing!

The Morgue Drawer

A group of us girls got together last night, leaving husbands and lovers to fend for themselves where it came to scavenging for food, drink and entertainment. Waitress not included. It's been a while since we were all together swapping war stories from the line of duty. It felt good to be in the company of women. I'm sure men can appreciate this, it's not much different from their poker nights, only we have no cards or chips, we expend no money only laughter. We try to keep things light for the fun of it and occasionally dark for the fun of it.

We were doing hamburgers and GS was doing her world famous slaw. I was amazed because she was actually making it in front of us so we could all steal the recipe if we were so inclined. I was. I did. I will. I told them about a house that had burned nearly to the ground on my way out to her house. It struck me as suspicious...but that's the cop blood, you see. Everything is suspicious. So GS told me that there had been a few suspicious fires in town, and that I could be right about the house. Everyone was moving around the kitchen, breaking up lettuce, slicing tomatoes, GS was now making chili so those of us so inclined could have a Carolina Classic hamburger...chili and slaw with a healthy slice of Vidalia onion. Turns out we were all so inclined. She cut the potatoes to fry, and looking around at our bounty, said "Wendy's doesn't have anything on us, girls!" Asking me if I wanted a soda, she directed me to her fridge. "I put some diet cokes in the freezer."

I walked over to the fridge, pulled the freezer drawer out and grabbed a coke. I heard one of the girls say, "did you intend to put a morgue drawer in your kitchen or was it a happy accident?" Every one broke out laughing as GS shook her head and told us it had not even occurred to her until it was set in place. After that several of us begged her to tell us the story of the night she got pinned in the Morgue.

The Morgue in the old hospital was more like a walk in closet with four odd looking drawers inset into the wall. It was old, having been an afterthought years ago when the hospital was first built. The only other people (other than the resident dead) that entered on any kind of frequent basis were the Medical Examiners and family members there to identify a loved one, or view a loved one who had passed in the hospital. One of the drawers, the bottom drawer on the left had long been in need of repair, but administration had done nothing about the repairs in the six months since the request had been made. There was now a trick to pull the "Resident of the drawer" out into the light for viewing. In the room was a tall metal trash can, you had to open the door out, pull out the drawer and quickly kick the trash can under the drawer to support it and keep the body on the tray of the drawer from tumbling onto the floor. The ME's had become so used to doing this that it was just second nature, open door, pull drawer, kick can, support tray. See? Easily done.

So this one night when GS was the ME on call, she had to go down to the Morgue to do the paper work on a body that had just gone down from upstairs. The family would want to "view" her, she knew, and she needed to get all the paperwork in the system. For some reason, the "Residents" were always put in feet first, rather than head first which made it difficult to read the toe tags. You had to pull the body completely out to read the information. GS said she groaned when she saw which drawer her patient was in. She expected the worse. She got it.

"I opened the door, " she told us, "and realized that the body within was well over three hundred pounds. At first the tray refused to move. I had one leg cocked to kick the trash can under the tray when it rolled out, but the tray still refused to move. Instead of looking to see what might be holding it, I just gave a hard jerk on it and suddenly it began to move. It picked up momentum and before I could kick the can under it to support it, it came off the track and pinned me to the back Morgue wall. I couldn't lift it. I couldn't move it. I began to wail hoping someone would hear me. After a bit, I gave that up and decided to save my voice for when I might hear someone coming down in the elevator. I figured that someone would miss me eventually, or the family would be escorted down to view the body and that I wouldn't be here long. I was in there for an hour before I heard the slightest sound other than my own breathing. I began to yell, "hello!!! hello!!!" at the top of my lungs.

The young ME was now thankful for the sweater that she had pulled on before going down to the glorified closet. It was cold in here. Of course, it needed to be cold, but she was afraid she was going to freeze to death before anyone came to her rescue. It was the elevator she heard that sounded like an angel skidding to a stop. She heard a voice singing a gospel song and so she began to shout, "in here, help me please!" She saw the young man in the huge mirror that hung on the morgue wall and showed the outside hallway. He stopped, took an earbud from his ipod out of his ear and stopped. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open in shock as though he had awakened and found himself in the midst of a horror movie. The ME, whose voice was now raw and wispy from shouting for over an hour, again called out, "Hello!!" She could hear the young man clearing his throat. He too seemed to have lost his voice. He turned all around trying to locate the voice. He began to stammer back, "hello, where are you?" He turned into the Morgue and seeing her there against the wall, ran over to try to help her. It took three men and a jack to free her from her chilly prison, but they finally managed to get the tray back on the tracks and into the drawer. "You know it was about a month before I felt warm again. And it was the impetus for building a new morgue. And high time, too!"

And so that's the story of the Morgue Drawer...line of duty stories? I have a million of them.

The Effects of Hibernation on the Human Psyche

I really need to apologize to all my friends. I've been away for two weeks and I don't really know how to explain to you where I've been. The only way to say it is I've been in hibernation. I'm not sure how it happens, just that it happens around the time the Groundhogs start making their way into the news. Something happens to me. I know that it is seasonal, but it's not depression. I'm so very rarely depressed that I'm sure there's something abnormal in that, as well. I feel the need to burrow down into blankets and sleep. It's something I try to fight, but in the end, I just give into it and let the bear in me take over. I can feel the deep chill of winter and the only cure is a warm quilt and plenty of sleep. It's as though my energy is sapped and I can barely put one foot in front of the other. I've walked in here and looked at the computer and my mind just locks down. I want to sit down at the keyboard and write my heart out but my heart is not in it. But it's nearly over. I know that the hibernation period is about to break and I will be so glad when it's behind me. It's something I've dealt with for years. No one has an explanation, no doctor knows the cause. But I left my burrow today and looked out over the landscape. I didn't see my shadow, so I know it won't be long before I'll be happy to be among the living again. And visiting my friends will be first on the agenda.

She's All That

Our son and DIL recently bought their first house and spent most of Christmas moving in. This will be the fifth move for them since they got married, and the third move for Arianna, their daughter. While Arianna was simply thrilled to be moving out of the apartment and into a house with a yard and a room bigger than a breadbox, it wasn't without its turmoil. First there was the clearing out. She had to go through her things and learn to discard things that while important to her heart, were definitely outgrown. There was one box for the attic, another box for the Goodwill, and a box for just plain trash. It was explained that if it only has three wheels, it has to go. If it is missing any major part (like a battery cover...duct tape does not count as a cover) it has to go. If it has an odd odor because it's been left out in the rain one time to many, it has to go. Anna said it seemed everytime the "got to go " box got full, it would mysteriously lose about half its contents when her back was turned. Before it was over Arianna was banished to Aunt Debra's so that the job of seek and discard could go on unabated.

So, the move was accomplished by the time school had closed for the Christmas break and Arianna had said goodby to all her school friends. She would be starting a new school in her new neighborhood when the break was over. The good thing was her cousin Zach would be in her school, though not in her same grade. The bad thing was this was her third "new school" and she told me she was going to miss her friends. I reassured her that she would be making new friends, and that now she would have friends that she could carry with her through adulthood. I knew what she meant, having been "the new girl" so many times myself. And of course her daddy knew the feeling...military kids learn to adjust much earlier than regular kids. (And here you were thinking all kids were regular.) Being the "new kid in school" can be a daunting experience. You go in a stranger amongst kids who have gone thru school together since nursery school, cliques have already been formed and it's hard to break into the inner circle. I knew what Arianna was about to go through, but I knew too that she's a self confidant little girl who could work through the difficulties.

Arianna called us Friday night. She was at her Aunt Debra's and said she was feeling lonely for her Grandpa (no, my feelings were not hurt) and wanted to talk to him. I asked her why she was at Aunt Debra's and she told me that her Mom and Dad were having Date Night. I had to laugh...Mac and I have Date Night every Friday, too. So I put Mac on and he chatted with her for a bit and then he put me back on with her. I asked how school was going and she told me fine. She began to tell me about this "mean girl" in her class. She said this girl wouldn't talk to her, openly snubbed her and had told her that she (Arianna) thought she was "all that". I began to laugh and told Arianna, "well, you are all that, so what seems to be her problem?" She asked me what I meant, and I told her that in case she didn't know it she was smart as all get out, pretty as doll and had a great personality to boot. "You're all that! And apparently she knows it, and she's jealous of it. So, don't worry about what she has to say, you just keep on being you. Don't change just because someone says something about you that's unfair. Next time tell her, yeah, I am all that. Smile and walk away. " It may not make her a pile of friends, but it'll nip peer pressure in the bud if she learns that lesson early.

Good Sister's Journey into Light

Last week has worn me out. I haven't posted as often as I should but you'll forgive me when you know that I've been being the supportive shoulder for Good Sister. It's been a long week, and though she can't see how much better she is, I can. I've been on the phone with her mostly and these days there is more talking going on than crying. Mac and I spent Friday evening with her, Mac setting up her computer, me consoling and soothing. She allowed me to disparage the man who broke her heart without one interruption. "He's a dog, " I told her...then looking at her lovely pair of dogs, I apologized to them. "So sorry, guys...no, he's not a dog...a dog is too Godlike to hurt you this way...he's a heel. He's a lowdown sorry heel and remember this! TIME WOUNDS ALL HEELS!" I got a tiny smile out of her, and Butch licked my hand.

So now here she is, ready to admit that maybe he was less than he seemed, a good actor nothing more, nothing less. But she's still not sleeping well, her mind is still drawn to who she thought he was, not who he really is. I'm hoping that since she has made the leap from man to heel that the next step will be Prince to frog. When she can stop seeing him as her Prince Charming, the warts will show and I believe that will be the beginning of the end for her attachment to him. When she first started dating again after her divorce, she would supply me with name, description (sometimes phone photo) and tag number so that should anything happen, I'd have all I needed to help find her. You may think that is a bit extreme, but in today's world, it's not as much as I'd want for when my Granddaughter is old enough to date. Full background checks will be more my speed. With this one, all I had was the cell phone photo he wasn't aware she took. Well, that and his name and the hotel he was staying in while in town. All that information and still she wasn't safe. What's a friend to do?

You know, heartbreak hurts worse when you're a woman of a certain age. An empty home is lonelier than a cell. You work hard all day then go home to no one to talk to, no one to share your day with. It can get to be a cold existence. I was so happy for her that she had found Mr Right. How could he (and we) have been so wrong? But I'm an optimist. Knowing what a beautiful woman she is, inside and out, I have no doubt that if she wants him, the right man is out there, just waiting to find her. I can't wait till the day comes, that she can go out on her porch and yell at the top of her lungs, "NEXT!" Because the next man is out there...and you've got to kiss a lot of frogs to find a prince.

Portrait of Words Entry 5 A Poem...The Flowers

The Flowers

How I thank you for the tribute that you have laid upon my grave site
how I wonder what my life would have been if I had lived
the full measure of a man that God Himself had surely promised
had not war cut me down denying me that simple gift

How I thank you for the honor of your military bearing
of a coffin filled with promises that will never be attained
Soldier Brothers sharply turned out, buglers sounding smartly
family looking stunned their faces show the strain

How I thank you for remembering all the fallen, all the heroes
including me when looking back at the bitter past
just remember what was promised when we left this earth unwilling
let this generation of young soldiers be the last




Portrait of Words, as presented by Jeff, at A Word In Edgewise is in its fifth installment. I'd like to thank Dr. John for the use of the photographs for this months offering. We hope that you will all join us and entertain us with your work. If you'll go to his website, Jeff has all the rules laid out on his sidebar. Enjoy.

How Do you heal a Broken Heart?

I've had a very unsettling few days. You've heard me talk (frequently) about Evil Sister and her comical yet enlightening ways. I've spoken less often of my other dear friend, Good Sister. She is fifteen years younger than I am, is a professional woman with some pretty heavy responsibilities. I don't know that I could do all that she does and keep a sane thought in my head. I have known her since we moved to this county in 1988. Twenty one years and she doesn't seem to have changed much, if at all. She managed to work full time, rear a child, remarry and put herself through college. See, she is amazing. But that is not why I love her so. I love her for her kind and generous heart. She would drop what she's doing to help anyone. Not just those she knows and loves, but anyone. If she hears of a person in distress or need, she takes it upon herself to find the answer to their problem.

We met through our work. My family and hers were well known to each other. She had formerly been married to kin of ours, and I laughingly called her my "cousin-in-law" before we called each other "sister". We have stood by each other through tragedy and triumph, through life and death situations, through laughter and tears. When Mac had his heart attack, she got up from a warm bed and joined us at the hospital. So, you can see how I can't possibly turn my back on her, can't you?

She went through a particularly bad divorce five years ago. The break down of the marriage had begun long before that, but she held on, hoping against hope that the man she had loved would somehow see that he had changed, that he was no longer the stalwart slayer of dragons that he had always seemed to be. He refused to see that his damsel was in distress until it was to late to save the remnants of a marriage gone wrong. So it was all gone, up in dragons breath, burned to ashes, bitter as gall.

Early in November she met a man. She has been out on a couple of dates, always protesting that she is to old to be "dating" these days. I have encouraged her to have more in her life than her work. She needed fun in her life so much, and she's not a person who is ashamed to say she needs the company of a man, but it has to be a special man. This man she met while at a high level meeting, seemed to be the man. Although they only saw each other several times a month, (his business taking him far away, as far as Asia, as close as Spain...before getting back into the Charlotte area) she fell in love so quickly, so passionately you would have thought she was in her teens. She smiled and laughed all the time, looked forward to his return to the States each time. They stayed in constant touch via e-mail and cell phone. He was to return to the Charlotte area (which isn't where he actually lives) today. We went out to dinner with her on Friday and she was so excited that there seemed to be a light shining beneath her skin.

I've been on the phone with her for three days. Saturday she was a bit upset because she hadn't heard from him, but I calmed her down, talked to her...then Sunday she received a phone call from him. She called me, and she was crying so hard that I could barely make out what she was saying. I was pulling on coat and shoes, telling Mac I had to get to her. He could hear the panic in my voice and asked who it was he needed to kill. I burst into tears at that, so thankful that my dragon slayer was alive and well. I was telling her I was on the way and she begged me to just stay on the phone with her, that she'd be okay. We stayed on the phone for two hours. She cried. I listened. Then of course, I had to go to her.

How do you heal a broken heart? I know that somewhere someone has the answer, I wish you'd tell me what to do. I can't stand seeing her like this, and I can't desert her. I need the words that will make everything, if not okay, then marginally better. I'll be calling her in awhile, checking on her, making sure she is eating, giving her an emotional hug since we're now snowed in and I can't get to her to give her a real one. At least not today. In the mean time, my heart aches for her. I feel powerless to help. All I can do is be here for her as she has so often been there for me. It seems like so little.

On kissing Cats

It never ceases to amaze me that Mindy is so beloved by the feline world. She's such a sweet dog, one who had been abused, discarded, just thrown away. She was such a sweet puppy, but hungry, mangy and starved for love. So, we fed her, treated her, and gave her affection in copious amounts. The other dogs, Shelties Ripley and Duffy took to her with no problem. We never had any serious doubts about them, but we worried that the cats, Pye and Ariel, would find her too rambunctious to put up with for long. They mainly ignored her for the first few weeks. Whichever room she would locate them in they would vacate immediately. Then she had her operation, the stroke which blinded her and it was like the cats suddenly had an overwhelming need to shower her with affection. Where ever Mindy went, they would follow, sometimes "herding" her where they thought she needed to be rather than where she wanted to be.
When we were living at the old house, she only had the back yard, which was fenced in. The outside cats never went into it, probably because Ripley, the little female Sheltie, would have no part of them. She tolerated the indoor cats because she had no choice. She drew the line at socializing with the outdoor group. When we moved here, there was much more room to roam in, there was no fence and there were lots of cats..a couple of ours,but most we had no clue as to ownership. They just adopted us and thanked us for providing food. Imagine our surprise when we first noticed that these cats would all gather around, following along with her, running ahead, playing with her. Herding her. We were amazed.
Well, we have two little guys, (Sonny and Cher) Russian Blues for whom we are looking for homes. They have been raised inside and are just wild about Mindy. Cher will sit in Mac's lap and as soon as Mindy approaches, she wraps her little paws around her face as if to say "good morning". Mac says their day doesn't start until they've annoyed the dog. I say the dog's day hasn't started until she's kissed a cat.

A VIsit with a Country Doctor

Wow, it's already the ninth of January. One week down and three to go and we'll be butting heads with what passes for real winter around here. Today Mac and I had our appointments with our family Doc, Dr. Moyd. I love him. He listens, and more importantly, he hears what you have to say. He saw Mac first and then came an told me everything. Seems Mac's in pretty good shape. This is good news to one who loves him, news that I was gratified to get. Dr. Moyd is going through my file and letting me ramble on about what I've been doing that's good for me and of course we had a short discussion about the evils of Rum Cake. Ahem. Then we got deep into discussion about how RA (Rheumatoid Arthritis) is affecting both our lives. After telling him that the Rheumatologist made the horrendous suggestion that we do surgery on my ankle and go in for the chemo drip for the condition, he asked me in a whisper, "and what have you decided?"
"I decided to spit in his eye and run like hell, " I whispered back.

He smiled at first, then broke out into a raucous laugh. Holding out the arthritic hands that had been through surgery with no help at all from the pain of it, he said, "wish I had had your courage." I knew that he had had the surgery a couple of years back and had even then questioned the wisdom of it. But we continued this visit the way we always do.
Him..."Want the flu shot?"

Me..."no."
Him. "Don't blame you, how about a colonoscopy, want me to set that up?"
Me. "Has hell frozen over yet? You'll be sure and keep me posted on that event, okay?"
Him. "Okay, that's no to the colonoscopy. Now, we have this new thing we'll be using very soon, a camera pill. You swallow, it takes pretty pictures, it goes byby. When we get that set up, how's about we give it a try?" He smiled at me with encouragement.
Me. "You go first. Then I'll see. I haven't recovered from the last one I had. Granted it was done in the dark ages...(the dark ages, hahahahaha) but that was enough for me. For now. When the MRI does the whole works, I'm in."

Him. "In for the MRI," he noted in my file. Then he sat back and asked me questions and glancing down saw that I had skipped my stress test last year. "You know Grainger is going to want a word with you, " he said, one eyebrow cocked.
"I know, I know...I can't remember what happened last April that I missed it, but it was them, they called to reschedule and I couldn't find my date book and I promised to call them back and you know how that always works out." I had the good grace to look sheepish.
"Well, still and all, lets not do that again, okay? Now, let me have a listen to those lungs." He leaned in and listened front and back and sat back and looked at me with a smile, saying "if you hadn't told me how many years you smoked, I would never believe you'd ever taken a puff. Those are some clear clean lung sounds. Heartbeat is nice and slow. All in all you haven't messed yourself up to much this year."

"I owe it all to you, Doc...you're my guiding inspiration." Then he began to write out my prescriptions. He wrote the first one, dissected the paper into fourths, wrote three more, took another sheet from the pad and wrote yet another one. "Okay, now I'm going to let you change to Byetta for the diabetes, we'll see how this works and back in six weeks. I'm changing your blood pressure meds, because while your heart sounds great I'm not happy with that pressure. We're gonna get it down. So, that's potassium and nexium...oh and I want you to stay on the altace. Now." He sat back, looking at me expectantly.

"If I'm in such great shape, Doc, can you please tell me why I need American Tourister to help me carry my medicine ?"
Dismissing me, my little Country Doc said, " them's the breaks. " Writing out a lot of gibberish on a Lab Request sheet, he gave me a stern look. " Now go give Vampira her blood payment." I haven't rolled my eyes lately. At his final remark, I think I may have sprained my eye muscles.
Now, this is an edit here! I want you all to know that while Dr. Moyd is so very special and listens so intently, he is also pretty darned good with that pen when he's writing out referrals to other doctors. It appears I have a date with a camera man on February 20th. How did I lose control of my free will?

Self Control and the lack there of

It's amazing how long it has taken me to overcome my own stupidity. It makes me wonder how many others out there have the same problems with their self control. You know, I smoked for years...I began in high school, ate many a pack of sinsin (remember that little red pack of what tasted like soap spiced with licorice?) to hide the smell of tobacco from my parents, and never openly smoked in front of my mother. Now, my mother smoked, too. I often wished she would switch from menthol to regular when I was pilfering them from her. That should have been my first clue to addiction...I smoked hers in a pinch, although I hated them. The commercials told me how sophisticated and sexy I appeared to be, that cigarette dangling between finger tips, head thrown back to expel the smoke from my lungs. I remember practicing that pose in the mirror after the first time I gagged on the effect. Lighter puffs, not as deep an inhale...and practice makes perfect. I'm not sure who I hoped to impress those first couple of years...smoking in the girl's room with my peers seems so stupid now.

It's easy to quit smoking. I did it a thousand times. I'd throw away a pack in the morning, then dig through the garbage to get it back. Maybe if I had kept a full length mirror behind the garbage can so I could see how ridiculous I looked sifting through trash to get to that elusive pack of smokes I could have quit much sooner. I did finally quit. I quit for good in December of 2002, after suffering a heart attack and having bypass surgery. What brought me to the hospital was that I could not breathe. I could not catch even a whiff of oxygen and my oxy level was 82...I'm told if it had been 80 I would have been intubated. One of my dearest friends in the world, an RN, told me that had I been in HER ER, I would have been. I'm thankful that I was saved that indignity. I am nothing if I can not speak. And I hear it is most difficult to speak with that hose down your throat. A few days after that I found myself on the surgeon's table. Seems I had a heart attack (my second in as many days) during my stress test. Then it was down to the Cath Lab. Then to Providence Hospital for the surgery. I've not smoked a cigarette, nor allowed one to be smoked inside my home since Christmas , 2002.

Dr. Moyd, my Primary Care Physician, who could pass for Dr. House's brother, though not nearly as cynical, commented on the fact that I had smoked for a number of years. He asked if I had found it easy to quit. I told him that the last time I quit it was remarkably easy. "How so?" he asked. I laughed at that..."all the nagging from family and friends over a long period of time, lets say 20 years, had nothing to do with it. I just want you to know that. But lying on a surgical table with your chest cracked open is a damned fine incentive."

To all my friends on shore...

I really have to say thank you to all my pals who have been concerned about me and to tell you that I'm alive and kicking out here, but I did something really stupid...I allowed my blood sugar to climb without check on Christmas Eve and it's taken me this long to feel like sitting at the computer and trying to explain myself. When I say it was stupid, it really was...I needed my butt kicked and kicked it was. And let me tell you today, that small piece of rum cake that threw me wayyyyy over the top, was not worth it. Not one tiny sliver of it was worth what I put myself through! So, I'm back...and I'm about to go visit my friends and catch up and I'm not making a New Year's resolution here, they are made to be broken, I'm making myself a promise...I shall watch over my health with abandon! I will partake of fewer carbs and more proteins...MUCH fewer! I shall take Christmas Eve into my heart and eat sugar free Jello from now on...no more rum cake. Shame, that.

I want to thank you all for being concerned, you are truly my friends and I will be back with a genuine post soon!~

Five will get you Twenty

Five will Get you Twenty



How quickly the days slipped away. The decision to take a working vacation this early had not come easily. His wife had insisted. She harped on about how hard he had worked over the years and insisted that an early trip was an excellent idea. "You take Humphries with you, I can always contact him if anything comes up that needs your attention. You just have to take a break. Or a break is going to take you! And the funds need to be replenished. You may as well enjoy yourself as you take care of that piece of business." She was adamant that the "vacation" started soon. He almost became suspicious about her persistence but knew that she loved him, in fact adored him. She insisted that he go along with Humphries that she would occupy her time with the hobbies she had taken up. "In fact, I'll enjoy it more since I won't have you underfoot and demanding my attention." She smiled at him lovingly and he shrugged. "Okay, I'll get Humphries to make all the arrangements."

It was the climate difference that he always noticed most. The air was dry and warm. Warm, it was downright hot. He had immediately broken out what his wife called his "Hawaiian Look" wardrobe. The shorts did little to conceal his knobby knees and the shirt was just a canvas pulled taut over his belly. Before he had left home, he had gone to his bureau drawer and removed the flashy chip with the empty space where the name of the casino it chose to play at would go. He held it in his hand and casually flipped it skyward with the confidant air of a winner. Humphries, his diminutive traveling companion and bank keeper was dressed impeccably in a tailored pinstripe suit and highly polished Italian made shoes. He wrinkled his nose in the general direction of his boss. His boss looked at the expression on his face and said, "tacky is as tacky does, Humphries. Now be a good sport and stop casting aspersions on my outerwear." He picked up his golf hat, motioned for Humphries to take the briefcase lying on the end of the bed and they were off.

After they had arrived in Vegas, Nick and Humpries took some time to explore the various offerings of Vegas. Nick held the lucky chip in his hand and as they drove down Vegas Blvd, waited to see which would be the hotel of choice. The tingle began as they approached the Bellagio Casino and Hotel. "This is the one," Nick told Humphries. Humphries leaned forward and got the driver's attention. "We'll stop at the Bellagio, driver," he said.

"Yes, sir!" the driver answered, whipping into the hotel drive and pulling up to the front of the hotel. Like magic the Bellmen appeared out of nowhere and began to load Nick and Humphries bags onto the luggage trolley. "Follow me sirs, right this way," were tossed out as Nick paid the cabby, giving him a healthy tip in addition to the fare. "THANK YOU, SIR!" he called out to Nick's retreating back. "Nice Gentleman," he murmured, "nice Gentleman." He waved as he drove away to collect another fare.

Nick and Humphries approached the desk, deep in discussion. Humphries was still on about Nick's clothing, but Nick quickly pointed out that the shirt was silk the shorts linen and offered to let his young employee guess what it had cost. "The earth, I'm sure sir," smirked Humphries, " but it's not the cost, it's the appearance." Removing the expensive pair of sunglasses he had needed to block the burning rays of the sun from his eyes, Nick brushed him off as they arrived at check in. The clerk behind the desk was all smiles and very polite as he asked for the name the registration would be under. Nick still held on tight to his one chip, a smile teasing his lips.

"Snow, Nick Snow," he smiled to the clerk. The clerk glanced up and down the list of expected visitors on the computer screen. Looking up over the rim of his reading glasses, he spoke softly. "I'm sorry sir, I don't see your name registered here." The chip grew warm in Nick's hand. "Check again, son...it's there, " Nick replied. The clerk, eyes running down the list saw it immediately.

"I don't know how I missed it the first time, Sir. I do beg your pardon Mr. Snow. And I see you've been with us before, I'm terribly sorry for any inconvenience." He began to ring the bell sharply, to get a bellman to take the luggage and guests to Nick's suite. Nick waved away any mention that he was upset and he and Humphries approached the elevator with the bellman.

The two bedroom suite was luxurious, no doubt. Not that Nick would be spending much time inside it. He intended to lie down and take a nap, call his wife Gloria and let her know that he had arrived and then grab a shower. He would dress for dinner and the nights play at the roulette wheel. He sat down on the side of the satin topped bed and took out his cell phone. It burbled twice and suddenly his beloved Gloria was on the line. "Hello Darling, " she trilled. "I see you arrived all in one piece. No problem with the flight?"
"No, Sweets, no problem at all. We have the conveyance parked and everything in hand. We'll be going down to dinner shortly and then after that, I'll be at play in the Casino." He took the chip and turned it over and saw the word "Bellagio" emblazoned on the front. He smiled. "Yes, playtime will start soon. I wish you would come with me sometime, they have some excellent shops."
She giggled sweetly. "What need have I of shops?" she said. "You behave and don't be to sharp with Humphries. I don't think he quite approves of your play clothes."
Nick laughed out loud and the room trembled. "I'll knock his socks off tonight, my dear. I've brought my tux." A warm glow enveloped Gloria Snow as she imagined her Nick in his tux...he was a totally different man in that suit. "Good night Darling...I'll be seeing you soon?" Nick, imagining her dressed in her flowing silk nightgown, whispered to her. "Sooner than you may expect my Angel. Keep the candle in the window."


Dinner was superb. Nick enjoyed the tender sweetness of the fillet Mignon, the avocado salad was pure heaven. Humphries had enjoyed Trout Almondine and a green salad and now they were both awaiting a dessert that they had never had. The description read "Try the chocolate raspberry Decadence, a flourless chocolate raspberry cake served on top of two Florentine cookies and filled with raspberry mousse. The dome-shaped cake is rich and fudgy, while the lattice cookies and fluffy raspberry mousse are gentle by comparison." Nick took a good healthy drink of water to cleanse his palate and leaning back in his chair, looked at Humphries. "What, no harsh words about my evening attire, Humphries?" Humphries, himself dressed in a smaller version of Nick's tux, had the good grace to blush. Looking at his employer, dressed in a very classy black tux, the cumberbund a deep rose yellow and the tie the same color, Humphries looked appropriately impressed.
"You look quite dashing, Sir. I'm sure Mrs. Snow would approve." Nick laughed to himself, and the look on his face was blatant, causing Humphries to flush red. "Ahemmm," he said, clearing his throat, "I believe dessert is arriving." Dessert had indeed arrived and lived up to the high praise on the menu. Not the simple fare of milk and cookies he had become accustomed to, it was pure heart attack on a plate. Finishing up, Humphries took care of the bill while Nick excused himself and started towards the Casino and the Roulette Wheel.


The chip was so hot it nearly burned Nick's hand. He place the chip on 20 red and stood back as the Croupier valued the chip at 1000 dollars. He watched in fascination as the ball went one way and the wheel the other. It began to slow and the ball landed in 10 black then hopped out, jumped around trying to find a stopping point and landed on 20 red. "Well done, Sir ," said the Croupier and he pushed a pile of chips in front of Nick. "Let it ride," said Nick softly.

As the earned chips piled up in front of him, Humphries would remove half the stacks and take them to the window to be cashed in. He had all the paper work he needed in the briefcase. In several hours, the play went on and the eyes in the sky were trying to figure out how the well dressed gentleman at the Roulette table was cheating. Nick had managed to amass over a half million dollars. He had attracted a crowd and people were muttering amongst themselves and wondering why the Man in Charge hadn't shut the table down. Finally, at one Million dollars, he did just that. Mr. Big wanted his people to talk to this wizard of the Roulette Wheel but when they turned to talk to him, they discovered that Nick Snow was no where to be found.

Nick tucked the now cooling chip into his breast pocket and then tucked the silk kerchief back in the pocket. Humphries had gone up to the room and packed their bags. He stood at the waiting taxi, door open and nodded to Nick as he stooped to get in the back seat. "All taken care of Mr. Snow, " Humphries smiled.
"Excellent, Humphries, excellent." He gave the cabby an address out near the airport and they were off. "How much did we make, Humphries?" Nick asked.
Well over a million, Sir. We're well in the black and there should be no problems with supply this year or the next. We've done well, and the orders are in and they only await our return."

The cabby pulled into an alleyway, let the two gentlemen out and was pleased with the hefty tip he had received. He tried hard not to stare at the little gentleman's ears. They had a Mr. Spock look, sharply pointed. Funny, he didn't remember them being that way when they had entered the cab. "Thank you sirs, this tip will come in handy, this time of year. I was wondering what I was going to do about my kids. Christmas seems to get tighter every year."
Nick cocked his head and smiled warmly at the driver. "Don't you worry, John. Their wishes will be taken into account. I can promise you that." For some reason John the cabby didn't wonder how the handsome older Gentleman had known his name. He thought he already knew. He turned back to the wheel and as he drove off heard the bells of a sleigh. And smiled.

And it all began with a party line

When my grandmother became one of the first people in the western half of the county to have telephone service, it was absolutely nothing like our phone service of today. On your phone line would be at least five other patrons. If one of the other patrons was on the line, you of course were out of luck. No making calls till the line was clear. It was also an excellent way to gather news and "gossip" from around the area. They didn't hear it on the grape vine...they heard it on the party line. I remember once when my older sister wanted to make a call and our cousin Mary was on the phone at her house talking to her boyfriend. Holly kept picking up the phone to see if it was clear and the "click" it made when the receiver was lifted alerted Mary to the fact that someone else was on the line. This of course meant that she was reluctant to let go the line. There was a bit of small talk going on and the boyfriend was asking "where do you want to go tonight?" (Like there was a wealth of entertainment back in the late fifties...a movie theater and a skating rink.) "I don't know, where do you want to go?" Mary would ask back. After about three minutes of this back and forth, Holly says (disguising her voice a little...a very little) "you're going to hell if you don't get off this phone." I believe there was hell to pay after that little incident, too.

It was an important thing to have a phone in your home. You were really something if someone asked for your phone number and you actually had one to give. I remember when Mac and I married in 1968 how wonderful I felt when the phone company allowed as how we could have a phone...and there would be no party line. It would be our very own phone and we'd have our very own number that was totally different from my neighbors, not just off 1 or2 or 3 or 4...indicating party line service. I made sure to mail my family our phone number so that I didn't run up a high long distance charge on the bill. Being newly married, we were very careful about things like that. One night the phone rang and I answered it "McBride residence" as I always did. Mac sat across from me, watching the news. From the other end of the phone came the most vile language and vulgar suggestions that I held the phone by two fingers since it was the source of the filth. As I handed the phone across to Mac, I said "it's for you." He listened for half a tick and then he stated so coldly that I could hear the ice crackling in his voice. "If you ever call this number again you'll be sorry." As far as I know, he never did.

The next time we were home, I was telling my mother about my phone call and she laughed. She had worked for Ma Bell as a telephone operator when we lived in Washington DC when I was a baby. She told me about all the calls that she had heard (of course they didn't listen in!) and some of the perfectly wonderful responses that I might want to keep in mind, since Mac was away from home so much. I listened.

When we were stationed in Norfolk, Virginia I received a call one night. The young fellow on the other end was saying some pretty vile things. "Hold on a minute, sonny and let me get a cup of coffee and a cigarette." Click. It's no fun harassing a willing victim. I received a call from a phone molester when we lived in England and he had quite a repertoire of stuff to share with me. He got annoyed though when I kept saying things like "knickers? What are knickers?" And then turned to Bubbles (Violet Loxley Green) my neighbor and said, "he's asking about knickers, what's he talking about?" She looked at me and smiled and said, "hang up, darling it's only a tiny pervert who is definitely not going to be getting any jollies at this end of the line."

One night after we had gone to bed, the phone rang. Our house in England only had one line and it was downstairs in the entry way. I figured that people didn't talk as much on the phone as we did in the states since there was no line in the lounge (den or living room for my American audience). So anyway, the phone rang, I got up and went downstairs and answered it. A gentleman on the other end of the line asked if Janice were there. I had to tell him that I knew of no Janice and that he had probably misdialed. He agreed he probably had and then asked what part of the States I was from and we ended up talking about absolutely nothing for forty five minutes. After I rang off, I slipped back into bed and Mac asked sleepily, "who was it?"
I mumbled, just as sleepily, "oh, it was a wrong number."

So now here we are and everyone has a cell phone. Except me. I don't have one, don't want one...can't see a need for one. I heard on the news night before last that parents are in an uproar because their kids are taking pictures of themselves in their underwear and less WITH THEIR TELEPHONES and sending them to their friends, male and female. And male and female are doing this. So, the parents want to know what can be done. WHAT CAN BE DONE? For crying out loud, take the phone away from the child, you blithering idiot. Who pays the bills in that household? Who's rearing who? I see parents who are afraid of their own children and it's a frightening situation. Makes me long for the party line.

GrayC, the Christmas Cat

Do you have any friends that are as close to you as sisters, that would do anything for you (and vice versa) and not even question why? I count myself so very blessed in that I have two such sisters. One is Evil Sister (Jacqui) and the other is Good Sister (Maureen). Today we will be introducing Evil Sister's cat, GrayC to you. GrayC could only belong to Evil Sister, being an Evil Cat. Evil Sister has no need of a watch dog as long as GrayC is around. This cat actually snarls. And growls. And I believe she may bite. My first introduction to the rotound Miss G was after Evil Sister and hubby moved here from New Jersey. (I like to say it was because their daughter had moved here, but it was really because she couldn't stand being away from her "sister".) I had been warned about Miss G's bad habits. I was ill prepared for the actuality that is GrayC. She had been, as I understand it, an orphaned little kitten that had to be bottle fed (such as our Hound). I know first hand how spoiled a human raised kitten can become...yes, GrayC is spoiled.

So when I first clapped eyes on her all I could say was, "my GOD that cat is fat!" I know now that Miss G and I shall never have an "aunt/niece" relationship because I stumbled in on the wrong foot from the beginning. You never tell an Up and Coming young debutante that she is on the, shall we say husky side , of petite. Jacqui says she can't figure out why GrayC is so er...plump. She only eats regular cat food. And apricots...and marshmallows...she loves those little yellow chicks. No, really. Apricots. And marshmallows. Yellow chicks.

Her "daddy" bought her a Christmas suit the other day. Seems he wanted her to be able to get into the spirit. As luck would have it, she could barely get into the suit. Jaq was telling me about how the velcro closures would barely make it around her girth and GrayC has no idea how to "suck it in" if it isn't a marshmallow. I told her she could add a piece of velcro to the closures and make a gusset, as it were. And then I fell into hysterical laughter at the thought of a gusset in the cat suit. Now, you'd think that the mention of a cat suit on a cat would set me off, but no. Nothing odd in dressing your sweetums in human attire. Is there?

So, they finally managed to stuff...I mean clothe Miss G in her Santa suit. They sent me a picture. Actually they sent two.


This is Miss G doing her Jim Carey impersonation of the Grinch. And meanwhile here at home, I can't get mine out of the Christmas tree.

This link will explain why I call her Evil Sister. http://sandimcbride.blogspot.com/2007/10/happy-halloween.html

Gonna rope a deer

By now you all know that I am a bunny hugging, tree sitting, arm the animals type of person. I lay curses on deer hunters that use dogs and put that charm on so strong that long after deer season is over, the dogs are still shivering and refusing to leave their boxes. Their owners are having nightmares that mean they have to lay down in the afternoon and take a nap. I received this letter from a friend today and being that I love to share good news, I decided that I just had to share it with all my friends.

Roping A Deer - - - - - ( Names have been removed to protect the Stupid! )

Dear Family
I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it.

The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that, since they congregate at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog tie it and transport it home.

I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope.

The cattle, having seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it.

After about 20 minutes, my deer showed up (actually 3 of them) I picked out a likely looking one,then stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me.

I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation.

I took a step towards it...it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope and then received an education.

The first thing that I learned is that, while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope.

That deer EXPLODED.

The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and with some dignity.

A deer-- no chance.

That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I had originally imagined.

The only up side is that they do not have as much stamina as many other animals.

A brief 10 minutes later, it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head. At that point, I had lost my taste for corn-fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of that rope.

I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between me and that deer. At that moment, I hated the thing, and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual.

Despite the gash in my head and the several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in, so I didn't want the deer to have to suffer a slow death, so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand...kind of like a squeeze chute.

I got it to back in there and I started moving up so I could get my rope back.

Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody, so I was very surprised when I reached up there to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist.

Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head --almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts.

The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective. It seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds.

I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now), tricked it.

While I kept it busy tearing the tendons out of my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose. That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day.

Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, and their hooves are surprisingly sharp. I learned a long time ago that, when an animal -- like a horse --strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape.

This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously, such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond, I devised a different strategy. I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run.

The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and 3 times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.

Now, when a deer paws at you and knocks you down, it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head.

I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away.

So now I know that when people go deer hunting they bring a rifle with a scope to sort of even the odds.
Y'all be good now, ya hear?

PS
I had planned on going duck hunting for Christmas but I'm still blind in my right eye and my trigger finger appears to be missing.



Now you know why I hate hunting...it's that part of the family that I try to avoid at all costs...