I have "observed" recently that when we have the babes on the week-end, I spend most of the time in the kitchen.....with them. Adalai and I have spent countless Saturdays cooking, baking and crafting and now my precious little boy is right in the mix of things with us. How precious it is to watch them get so excited about making something with Gamma. Wilek will grab a chair and scoot it right up to the counter before I can turn around. He loves eggs. Still trying to teach him how to crack one, yes, at the age of 18 months. Seriously!!!!!

Adalai is a master with a hand mixer and can measure ingredients like a champ. Well, I have to show her which mark to go to, but she can do it.

Memories. That's what keeps go ing through my mind. Someday, when I am dead and gone, they will, hopefully, remember those Saturdays at my counter whipping up something. They also might learn something.

When I was a little girl, we lived way out in the country. Well, not really that far, but it seemed that way to me. We raised our own vegetable, meat, and my mom made my clothes. We never spent the night away from home except occasionally we would get to spend the night with a cousin. (As I got older, if my dad had known some of the things we did he would not have let me go there either.:), just saying.) Anyway, I was not really sheltered, but my dad was very, very protective and very practical. My parents felt that dance, and brownies, and music lessons were a lot less important for a country girl than 4-H club. Oh, don't get me wrong, I did love the 4-H club: I pledge my head to clearer thinking, my heart to greater loyalty, my hands to larger service and my health to better living, for my club, my community, my country, and my world. I learned a lot in 4-H. I guess the most important things I learned were cooking, sewing and gardening. Three things I love to this day. Put me in the kitchen, at my sewing machine or in my yard and I'm a happy person. Did those girls who took dance and were Brownies feel the same about their experiences? Hmmmmm. Food for thought. Maybe my parents knew a little bit after all.

Anyway, I hope Adalai and Wilek will treasure these things as much as I do. Dance and Brownies and music are all very important and I have been a part of all of these in one way or another. Weekly dance classes for my girls for years, I WAS a Brownie leader, and both my girls have musical talents. But as for me, I'm glad I was in 4-H and thank you, Mrs. Greene, for everything you did to help me. I can still make a mean vanilla pudding from scratch. Oh, I won a blue ribbon at a competition for that....Just saying...

WOW...Apparently, I haven't observed anything since November. Well, maybe I have and just didn't write it down. I love writing/blogging. Even if nobody reads what I write, it is a great way to express thoughts, feelings and ideas about, well, any and everything on your mind. It's kinda like poetry. When I teach poetry to my 8th grades, I always start off explaining that poety is nothing more than somebody's thoughts, feelings and ideas about something. So, everybody can write because verybody has thoughts feelings and ideas about somethingl

Let's take my 81 year old dad for example. I know, without a doubt, that he has thoughts feelings and ideas about lots of things. I ask him things everyday. And he always has an answer. Sometimes very useful and other times, well, let's just say I look at him and wonder where that came from. He is 81, you know. 81!!! Can you imagine living 81 years? Thats a long time in one sense and not very long at all in another sense. If you put a penny a year in a jar you would only have 81 cents. Hmmm. Thought provoking.

I have been walking. ALOT. Everyday that I can. I'm hooked. I feel so much better when I walk and I sure do sleep good. Oh, and I am losing some weight. I have to get serious next week. I want to lose 10 pounds....fast. Anyway, on these walks, which I usually go on by myself, I have lots of time to think. Lately I have been thinking about my life and changes and goals and desires. With the new year, I know most people make resolutions. I didn't really make any this year. But I do have things I want to do. I want to grow more in my faith. I want to walk closer to my loving God. I want to love and serve others more. I want to spend more time outside. I want to camp more. I want to be creative. These are some of my goals. Nothing to drastic or unattainable.

But mostly what I have been thinking about lately is what I have. How did I get chosen to be so blessed? I'm not that great. Well, I'm pretty great, but no better than anybody else? I mean why do I have a nice home, healthy family, plenty, if not too much, food. Nice clothes. A car. A good job. I look around me all the time and just praise God for his goodness. But sometimes I feel a little guilty. I see people struggle. Kids at school. People I know. Older people who are lonely. People who just seem lost in this big ole world.

So, my biggest goal for this year is to reach out more. Serve more. Love more. Be more than I have been. I am so blessed. Thank you, God.

Thanks Giving...Drying up the tears and cooking a turkey

I've been kinda sad the last few weeks. As a matter of fact, a little tearful this a.m. If this blog was paper and ink, it would possibly be tear splattered. I guess it's good to cry sometimes. It reminds me that I am just a lowly human in a vast universe that does not revolve around me. I CAN NOT BE IN CONTROL OF ALL THINGS. There, I said it. Now, if I can just remember it...

My precious baby girl has moved. She is now in Sumter, S.C. I miss her. I want her here. Well, not exactly in my house but somewhere closer than Sumter. They say Sumter is a beautiful place. I don't think I have ever been there. I am planning to visit sometime soon. If Catherine reads this, her fist response will be, "Oh my Gosh, Mother". But those of you who are mothers understand my feelings. My own mother who, by the way, is the smartest woman in the whole wide world, keeps reminding me that kids move away all the time. Hmmm, wonder how she would have felt if I had moved to Sumter when I was 22. Oh, I really deep down don't blame her for wanting to move. Something new and exciting. I just miss her.

She isn't coming for Thanksgiving. I guess it really bothers me because I just think family should be together. She has her reasons and says she is coming the next week-end. But what about Thanksgiving? Oh well. I've heard several people mention that so and so wasn't coming for Thanksgiving. I guess this younger generation just doesn't feel like my generation does about tradition. I don't think they feel the same about a lot of things. And I have a long list but that's another blog.

I had all this on my mind yesterday afternoon when I had to go by and pick up something from a lady who's daughter was killed within this last year. A daughter the same age as my Liz. I felt so selfish just talking to her. Her daughter isn't coming home for Thanksgiving or the next week-end or Christmas or her birthday or Easter or.....ever. It really slapped me in the face. Of course I didn't mention this about my tiny, tiny disappointment, but I thought to myself, 'how foolish you are, Donna Logan. Get over it.' The whole time my friend was talking, I could see tears and pain and a deep sadness. Now, I do understand what it is like to lose a child but I think and know that every situation is so different. And hers is definitely tragic. Her pain is so much deeper than the sadness I feel. Mine doesn't even compare. Mine is insignificant.

God has seen fit to keep my precious children here on this earth. Not in my backyard but on this earth. So, I am thankful. I am thankful that they both have great heads on their shoulders. I am thankful that they both are trying so hard to live their lives to their greatest potential. I am so thankful that they see big things to reach for. I am so thankful that they both know that God is and will guide them through this journey.

So, I'm giving thanks. And in my thanks giving, I am amazed. Amazed at all I do have to be thankful for. Not just this week, but in every moment of every day. So, I'm drying up the tears and cooking a turkey....Happy Thanksgiving!!!!!!!!

"Death of the Mighty Oak" produced by: Mother Nature

I am up at 1:00a.m. blogging because I am having a little trouble falling asleep tonight. It is because of the picture in my eyes that my mind cannot yet grasp. (That or the fact that Lane is snoring so loud, or the iced tea I had at my 9:00 dinner, or the fact that after age 50 we sometimes just can't fall asleep.)


I am not afraid of thunderstorms. Never have been. I love to sit on the back porch and enjoy them. For example, that storm we had some time ago with all the big hail??? I was running around in the yard gathering it up to freeze. Now, I don't usually go out in the yard in the middle of thunderstorms but I usually just wait them out with some bit of respect. Wind bothers me a little. But thunder and lightening are just loud and annoying if the power goes out. Today was no different. I had returned home around 3:30 with Adalai and we were in the den. She watching "Omizoomi" and eating m&ms and me reading. We were just waiting around on time for me to be at Catherine's salon, Avenue 427 Salon, 704-739-6955..Walk-Ins welcome, (just saying) at 5:00 for my appointment. At about the time for us to leave, I began to notice it was getting darker outside, there was some distant thunder and the wind was picking up. By the time she had her shoes on and m&ms removed from her chin, it was getting darker, windier,and the thunder louder. I began to hesitate, 'should I go or should I stay' and just wait it out. I sure as heck did not want to miss my appointment so we headed on out just before the rain set in. I was to the end of my street when the bottom dropped out. I started to turn around and come back home 5 times but kept forging onward to my appointment (I was desperate people).

We had to sit in my car about 10 minutes before we could get out at the salon. I pass Lane on his way home and about 20 minutes later he calls my phone, "Hey, what are you doing?" Me, "Umm, Lane, I'm getting my hair done. You just saw me in the chair." Lane, "How much longer are you going to be?" Me, (in my sweetest possible tone) "as long as it takes." Lane, "Well, I just thought you might want to come home and see blah,blah, blah..." Me, "What?" Lane, "I blah, might blah blah tree blah blah down." Me, "What are you saying, what about the tree?" Anyway, he finally got it out, "I thought you might want to come home and see the trees that fell." Me, "Trees??? What trees? Our trees? What did they hit?" Lane, "My mighty oak and everything in it's path." Me as I hang up the phone, "Catherine, get this color out of my hair, I have to go home. Oh wait, no, let it finish processing. I don't want it to be orange or purple."

About 30 minutes later I arrive home and am totally stunned as I pull up to my house but it is not until I see Lane and my neighbors that I realize how bad this must be. Lane has this look about him. Not scared, not mad, but...something. Kinda pale and kinda......sad. I get out of my car and walk around to the back of my house and am not prepared for what I see. Trees, trees, trees......All down. I counted 7 but there may be more. And, at the center of all this devastation is "The Mighty Oak".

The Mighty Oak, who just an hour or so earlier had stood at the side of my back yard tall, and beautiful and regal now lay across my yard on top of others. It had fallen and crushed everything in it's path just like Lane said. Thank God nothing hit my house but some leaves and a few small branches and nothing hit my dog's residence. And thank God Adalai and I had left. Thank you God for being in control here and protecting us.

I can't imagine the mess and destruction under these fallen trees. My yard, that I love and work so hard in. My flowers that I care for and love and nourish. My tree with the knot hole that I planted flowers in and enjoyed seeing everyday. My frog planter. My mushroom. My azaleas Mr. Scoggins (who died just yesterday) chose just for my garden near the creek. My laurels that bloomed so beautifully this year. My ajuga my mom helped me plant. My sweet williams that were just that, sweet. My bird bath that Adalai and I enjoyed filling. My tacky pink flamingo planter that I got in Beaufort. The bird feeders Lane kept full for all the finches and cardinals and doves. The hummingbird vine and inpatients. What is to become of all this??? Who knows....Who cares.... It can all be replaced.

Kenny Bumgardner and his crew are coming tomorrow to begin the job of cleaning up. They are going to try to at least get everything on this side of the creek so the grass doesn't die.

I guess my greatest observation here is that we are all safe. My house is safe and my pets are safe. But The Mighty Oak is no more..RIP, our friend........

friends

Biscuits, Beef and Berries

Several months ago I wrote about growing up in the country. Today's experiences had me relive those days.

My mom invited me to breakfast this morning. Catherine was to come to my house early so I could help her clean up her nasty, filthy, stincky truck, so we decided to go to breakfast first then come home and clean the truck. She arrived at my house at 6:30 (we were not due at mom's until 8:00) by using the hidden key and jumping in the middle of my bed. She could have been shot. Note to Catherine...'I do not do 6:30a.m. in the summer time.'

Biscuits....My mom makes the best biscuits in the whole wide world. I have always said that God put her on earth to make biscuits. Oh and the gravy. YUMMO!!!!!And then there are the fresh eggs. You cannot beat eggs fresh from the chicken. There is just something so different about them. I really feel sorry for people who don't get to experience a breakfast like this on occasion. Thank you God for the little things I take for granted.

My nephew, Noah, joined us for breakfast. He had been invited for another reason. Yesterday's terrible thunder storm had caused a death on the farm. One of dad's cows was struck by lightning. We actually think the lightning hit the fence and somehow hit the cow. Now, if you have never seen a cow that has been struck by lightning, you are missing out. For some reason, the carcass will immediately swell and become extremely stiff and his eyes will be wide opened. (Catherine had the privilege of closing them.) Said cow was down near the creek which left no way to get him closer to the barn, so dad, Catherine and Noah headed to the creek, shovels and picks in hand, to dig a grave and bury the poor cow. It took them 3 hours. The ground at mom and dad's is solid rock so I am sure the digging was not easy. Oh, mom and I opted to stay at the house and offer moral support from afar. We are not much into dead animals and maggots. Dad, being almost 81, took his little portable stool for resting. Now don't get me wrong, my dad can hang with the best of 'em. He can out do me at anything. Just ask him....Anyway, if it had not been for Catherine and Noah, I am sure mom and I would have been right there with the digging. A great BIG thank you to Catherine and Noah. I mean really BIG, even bigger than that. As BIG as BIG can get.

While they were completing their little deed, mom and I picked blackberries, picked green tomatoes and peppers (for today's chow-chow project), and then we washed Catherine's truck.
We were just finishing up the truck when our little soldiers came out of the woods. Catherine first with a huge smile and dirt from ear to ear. She was scratching her bug bitten legs and collapsed on the ground. Next came Noah, expressionless as he headed straight to the house. We soon discovered that while hoisting the cow into the grave, Noah had somehow managed to get a few maggots on his leg. This kinda grossed him out and he headed straight to the shower. His new name?????Maggot Boy. Love that kid. Last came my dad. He has a chair tied to the picnic table and that is where he landed. He was soaking wet. My dad wears a white undershirt and a longsleeved button up shirt 365 days a year. Always has...Always will. Oh, the chair tied to the table thing? He has lost more than one chair to wind so he solved that problem.

One of Catherine's friends commented on facebook that this was one of the most Hillbilly things he had ever heard of. Maybe...Maybe it is "hillbilly" to bury a cow. But what else is there to do? There is a book we read each year in my class titled "Weasel". One of the quotes from the book I always remember is " the difference between civilized men and savages is that civilized men bury there dead". My dad is a very civilized man. He has always taken care of his animals. Even in death. So, if being in the country burying a cow, picking wild blackberries, eating the best biscuits in the world makes you a Hillbilly, then just call me Ellie Mae.

Lactase, Sand, and Grace

Well, we've been at the beach. Isn't God amazing??? His beauty, in all His creations, never ceases to amaze me. Just think, he created every tiny granule of sand spread across the shore. Amazing....


My week of "summer vacation" didn't start off very well. All I care to say is S.I.C.K. I mean deathly ill. Knocking at death's door, sick. I mean I even went to the emergency room. I only stayed 3.5 minutes, but I did go. When I got there, I decided that I could not sit there another minute so we came home with a promise to my family, that I would go to the doctor the following morning if I was not miraculously cured. I wasn't, but I did feel well enough for our trip. My dear, precious pharmacist suggested I take an OTC items to alleviate my discomfort and, if I was not likely to eat yogurt (and let me assure you I WAS NOT) , Lactase. I have now decided that Lactase is a miracle cure for any stomach issue. Try it the next time your tummy is not acting appropriately.


I LIKE the beach. I did not say LOVE. I like the sand, the shells, the wind, the waves, the birds the trees, the noise. But I do not love any of these things for too long. I like to sit on the beach late in the evening when the crowd thins. I like to be able to stare at the ocean and watch the waves roll in and out. I like to watch the shells come on shore and toss and turn like they're trying to decide if they want to stay or not. I like to watch people with their dogs. I sat there one such evening and just marveled at the beauty and the mystery of the ocean. I'm sure anyone who has been to the beach has done the same thing but it never loses it's ability to humble me. It is so big and it reminds me that I am so very small. God must be very proud of his creation. I was thinking about this and I began to think that He must be very proud of all His creations. Even those not as big as the ocean. The tiny grain of sand, the beautiful birds diving for their dinner, the shells in their many sizes and forms, the weird jellyfish thing that washed on shore in front of me, the grass waving to me from the shore, the weed from the sea that wrapped around my toe and scared me to death. Then I looked on the beach near my chair and noticed my family that had joined my solitude. They, too, must give God joy. My precious granddaughter who was making a road in the sand with her hands, my baby boy who couldn't seem to eat enough sand, my daughters in all their beauty, my son-in-law who loves his family, my husband and his playful spirit (who happens to turn 56 today). God must be proud of these creations.

On my way down to the beach this particular afternoon, I grabbed a book off the shelf. I had started this same book 2 or 3 times in the past. But this time, it hooked me. I think it was a God thing. Oh, it's not really a best seller or anything but it is a christian fiction novel someone had given me some time ago and I just threw it in the Hornet. It was all I could find at the time. I started reading it again and it was amazing. As a matter of fact, I told Liz to take it but changed my mind and told her I needed to read it again and she could have it later. The main character in the book had a similar experience to the one I mentioned above about God's love in what He created. Ironic...... My fictional friend, just like me, began wondering about God and His creations. He did not make any mistakes. I know that. So, is He proud of tiny little ole me???? If He is proud of all things, He must be, or at least, He wants me to make Him proud. Do I? That was my question. "Do I make God proud?" My answer, "No, not always." I know I have disappointed Him. I know there have been times when I screwed up. But I also know that He is still on my side. I think and believe that when I do screw up, He is ready and willing to forgive me, if I am sincere and ask. Thank you God for this grace.

My prayer there sitting on the beach was that God guide me because I DO want Him to be proud of me.

Thank you God for creating all the beauty of the world for me to enjoy and thank you for creating me....I want you to be as proud of me as you are of that beautiful vast sea.