When your evil mind takes hold and limit me to such confinememts .... you get what you get!!!! Saturday Centus in 62 words .... meany!!!!! Let me loose!!!!!!!!!
All my life fighting kinky curly hair. Yes, yes ..... those with straight want curly and well .... Humidity is the culprit. You can actually feel "it" moving up your neck and then "Frizzzzzzaaaaa"!! Every product known to man had been tried. NOW there is you and and sleek managable hair. NO FRIZ!! I unabashedly love love love you dear dear dear John Frieda!!!
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Garden of Discovery
It had been a laborious 7 years realizing the garden before her, bringing a smile. Enjoying her morning tea on the secreted bench against the stone wall, she allowed a memory to surface. He had been a "grass" man. Well trimmed and mowed green lawns without obstructions were his goal. However, January 22, 2000, the day before their 35th wedding anniversary that had all changed without warning.
Pull the covers over her head and hide .... how can this be .... cannot tolerate being in this bed, this room .... he had layed next to her .... touched her .... loved her .... held her .... kissed her .... whispered with her. All of this NEVER to happen again. The touch of his hand on hers or the arm casually thrown across and drawing her close in the middle of the night. Paint, rearrange the furniture, then she could return to that bed. Perhaps, sleeping in the middle of the king size bed would work. Everyone said "give it time" ... time to what ... not hurt .... her heart not to squeeze.
When she'd always been someones daughter, next a wife, then a mother, that person she was intending to be was left far behind as she became all the pieces required to achieve the present goals and other's needs: mate, housekeeper, cook, laundress, chauffeur, accountant, judge, friend, doctor, receptionist, secretary, event planner, controller of all things .... and on and on and on. The sudden realization that without notification she have, essentially, been fired. O.K., not fired but what? NO more need for breakfast or anything.
So, now what? The first few years are numbingly painful. No one feels comfortable with what to say or not, for fear of upsetting her. What "they" don't realize is skirting the subject makes her want to go home. The inevitable finally happens .... many ole "friends"/acquaintances [couples] drop her from the invitation list. A few are persistant ... we are going to the concert, no is not an acceptable answer.Then there was the cruise,; when everything about her said NO, she heard herself saying yes.
Just about the time she thinks the worse has happened, lightening strikes .... literally. Well, of course, why not. What was that about control .... we have NONE!!!! So, there it is, plain as the nose on your face, take a tac, any tac ....DO SOMETHING! Repairs complete, just need to address the porch and the yard.
He said it so casually it almost was lost in the conversation .... "that will be $10,000 for the stone porch and walk"."Well, I'll get back to you." Was he out of his mind?. At that moment, she made a conscious decision. Grass - Garden - Grass - Garden ..... oh, and I can create the stone work with "my boulders". Work began in earnest in 2003. The hidden artist began to creep into the conscious with a vision. Today, look at this ..... the only thing lacking are birdhouses for the garden friends. Funny, she is creating one of a kind nesting at the pottery studio.
So, the bench against the stone wall for morning tea .... in the garden..... with the birds, squirrels, and fish ... you bet fish .... she put in a small 70 gallon pond for Magellan and Galileo. Still finding, trying on. traveling, catering, writing, fishing. OH, AND, the newest .... adopting a toss away puppy .... haven't told Finnegan [10 year old green eyed, grey tabby cat]. Her life had been based on deep, abiding, accepting love..... somethings never change. However, the artist has crept into every aspect of her life .... she was going to be an artist!!!! It only took 11 years ... one would think she was slow ..... well, it did take 7 years to create the garden.
Pull the covers over her head and hide .... how can this be .... cannot tolerate being in this bed, this room .... he had layed next to her .... touched her .... loved her .... held her .... kissed her .... whispered with her. All of this NEVER to happen again. The touch of his hand on hers or the arm casually thrown across and drawing her close in the middle of the night. Paint, rearrange the furniture, then she could return to that bed. Perhaps, sleeping in the middle of the king size bed would work. Everyone said "give it time" ... time to what ... not hurt .... her heart not to squeeze.
When she'd always been someones daughter, next a wife, then a mother, that person she was intending to be was left far behind as she became all the pieces required to achieve the present goals and other's needs: mate, housekeeper, cook, laundress, chauffeur, accountant, judge, friend, doctor, receptionist, secretary, event planner, controller of all things .... and on and on and on. The sudden realization that without notification she have, essentially, been fired. O.K., not fired but what? NO more need for breakfast or anything.
So, now what? The first few years are numbingly painful. No one feels comfortable with what to say or not, for fear of upsetting her. What "they" don't realize is skirting the subject makes her want to go home. The inevitable finally happens .... many ole "friends"/acquaintances [couples] drop her from the invitation list. A few are persistant ... we are going to the concert, no is not an acceptable answer.Then there was the cruise,; when everything about her said NO, she heard herself saying yes.
Just about the time she thinks the worse has happened, lightening strikes .... literally. Well, of course, why not. What was that about control .... we have NONE!!!! So, there it is, plain as the nose on your face, take a tac, any tac ....DO SOMETHING! Repairs complete, just need to address the porch and the yard.
He said it so casually it almost was lost in the conversation .... "that will be $10,000 for the stone porch and walk"."Well, I'll get back to you." Was he out of his mind?. At that moment, she made a conscious decision. Grass - Garden - Grass - Garden ..... oh, and I can create the stone work with "my boulders". Work began in earnest in 2003. The hidden artist began to creep into the conscious with a vision. Today, look at this ..... the only thing lacking are birdhouses for the garden friends. Funny, she is creating one of a kind nesting at the pottery studio.
So, the bench against the stone wall for morning tea .... in the garden..... with the birds, squirrels, and fish ... you bet fish .... she put in a small 70 gallon pond for Magellan and Galileo. Still finding, trying on. traveling, catering, writing, fishing. OH, AND, the newest .... adopting a toss away puppy .... haven't told Finnegan [10 year old green eyed, grey tabby cat]. Her life had been based on deep, abiding, accepting love..... somethings never change. However, the artist has crept into every aspect of her life .... she was going to be an artist!!!! It only took 11 years ... one would think she was slow ..... well, it did take 7 years to create the garden.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Stone Circles - Part II
Dear Jenny and Saturday Centus contributors,
Please forgive my affrontery; I just wanted to see where this would go. Still have a few problems with comments. Ames .... Holy Cow, Wow!!! and several others. Jeff, guess I could just pick up the phone .... thank you for this one. And so, my contribution ..... #26, I think.
Lowering himself to the ground, sat cross legged in front of her in the sweltering afternoon. From his trickle soaked shirt, he drew something from the pocket extending an open hand. Finnegan, looking for another ear scratch, nuzzled his fingers. Little Sister, fully awake now, puzzled over the object. "Remember the stories we read about the people long, long ago in Europe when there were Mammoths and Cave Bears?" "Ayla?" "Right, well, what do you see?" Pulling the cat up into her lap, they all stared as she turned it over in her hand, "It looks kinda like a horse scratched within the stone. Oh, Father, where did you find this?"
Please forgive my affrontery; I just wanted to see where this would go. Still have a few problems with comments. Ames .... Holy Cow, Wow!!! and several others. Jeff, guess I could just pick up the phone .... thank you for this one. And so, my contribution ..... #26, I think.
Lowering himself to the ground, sat cross legged in front of her in the sweltering afternoon. From his trickle soaked shirt, he drew something from the pocket extending an open hand. Finnegan, looking for another ear scratch, nuzzled his fingers. Little Sister, fully awake now, puzzled over the object. "Remember the stories we read about the people long, long ago in Europe when there were Mammoths and Cave Bears?" "Ayla?" "Right, well, what do you see?" Pulling the cat up into her lap, they all stared as she turned it over in her hand, "It looks kinda like a horse scratched within the stone. Oh, Father, where did you find this?"
Thursday, June 16, 2011
The Water Lily War
Magellan and Galileo reside in a 70 gallon fresh water world plunked is a terrace just about a foot above the garden floor. A visitor inquired "Is that a Spring feeding the pond?" What a complement .... roots and log with water spilling down contrived to look natural .... what a complement!! Of course, the fish don't know it isn't a natural pond in a meadow or the woods.There they are hiding, darting here and there, lazily wandering about nosing the surface; and for whatever reason, feel the need to toss out onto the garden floor whatever water lily they are given to decorate their space. This phenomenon occurs every time the plant is submerged. Whether alone or together, the roots are gnawed to a nub, then vigorously ejected unceremoniously.
In the beginning, there was concern that night creatures [Raccoons, Opossums or whatever] were attempting to raid their home. As there has been no loss of life, apparently the two captives have decided to clean house no matter how persistent the decorator. Sitting back watching, they skim the surface for mosquito larvae making bubbles then with a flip of the tail sounding to the bottom to circle the up ended log. From time to time, a toad comes for a visit. However, the birds are the true entertainment. The water catches in the cupped out hollows as it runs down the log to drop into the pond below. These hollows allow the birds to fling water about as they bath daily. Hopping up and back down the run they sip as though looking for the right taste. Funny how time seems to rest itself in the garden's life not wanting to intrude but wishing to linger. Squirrels and chipmunks scurry to refresh themselves before digging for last years buried walnut or scavenge the cast seeds from under the feeders. Butterflies visiting the pond certainly give "themselves" a thrill with thoughts of a snack. Instead, they settle on the wet log to revitalize.
This little ecosystem definitely has a life and mind of it's own; but, the ideas of water lilies blooming in the shallow corner creeps into the overall plan. Wonder if "they" have forgotten. Wonder if it might be different this time. Wonder if ....... soon, really soon .... White Water Lilies ... now that would be nice. Ah ha, the challenge begins again.
In the beginning, there was concern that night creatures [Raccoons, Opossums or whatever] were attempting to raid their home. As there has been no loss of life, apparently the two captives have decided to clean house no matter how persistent the decorator. Sitting back watching, they skim the surface for mosquito larvae making bubbles then with a flip of the tail sounding to the bottom to circle the up ended log. From time to time, a toad comes for a visit. However, the birds are the true entertainment. The water catches in the cupped out hollows as it runs down the log to drop into the pond below. These hollows allow the birds to fling water about as they bath daily. Hopping up and back down the run they sip as though looking for the right taste. Funny how time seems to rest itself in the garden's life not wanting to intrude but wishing to linger. Squirrels and chipmunks scurry to refresh themselves before digging for last years buried walnut or scavenge the cast seeds from under the feeders. Butterflies visiting the pond certainly give "themselves" a thrill with thoughts of a snack. Instead, they settle on the wet log to revitalize.
This little ecosystem definitely has a life and mind of it's own; but, the ideas of water lilies blooming in the shallow corner creeps into the overall plan. Wonder if "they" have forgotten. Wonder if it might be different this time. Wonder if ....... soon, really soon .... White Water Lilies ... now that would be nice. Ah ha, the challenge begins again.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Stone Circles
They're called Rifle Pits, others insist they'd been built by the Cherokee, even De Soto was suspect. Stones stacked in circles. Oddly, only four circles and none found elsewhere. Why would Rebel Soldiers build here when the Union Troops were further east. And, there were plenty of boulders to hid and shoot from behind. Then there are the breastwork, walls coming from and going to .... nowhere.
Cool stones penetrated the thin cotton blouse. Leaning back, watched the sunlight leave a mottled patterns across the litter of dried leaves. The smells of summer are sweet. Finnegan, the green eyed gray tabby, patted at a black beetle waiting for the attempted escape. Harmonious insect humming filled the woods. How easy to drift 100 years before today and be lost in the remembering. They curled up together, the girl and the cat, lazy eyes slidding shut.
Dreams of painted warriors, soldiers in blue, others grey danced through the shifting fog. The afternoon slipped aimlessly away. A crunching sound in the leaves roused them. Scratching the cat's ear he said, "Scoot over sister girl for your tired father." Stretching she asked,"Did you find out when?""Oh, sweetie, the wall was built long ago. But, LOOK what I found!"
Cool stones penetrated the thin cotton blouse. Leaning back, watched the sunlight leave a mottled patterns across the litter of dried leaves. The smells of summer are sweet. Finnegan, the green eyed gray tabby, patted at a black beetle waiting for the attempted escape. Harmonious insect humming filled the woods. How easy to drift 100 years before today and be lost in the remembering. They curled up together, the girl and the cat, lazy eyes slidding shut.
Dreams of painted warriors, soldiers in blue, others grey danced through the shifting fog. The afternoon slipped aimlessly away. A crunching sound in the leaves roused them. Scratching the cat's ear he said, "Scoot over sister girl for your tired father." Stretching she asked,"Did you find out when?""Oh, sweetie, the wall was built long ago. But, LOOK what I found!"
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Muscadine Squirrel Hunt
Throwing the door open to the early morning coolness, two startled squirrels leaped back onto the old wild grape vine wrapped among the pine limbs. Little beggars are overly brave and daring. Watching their antics while enjoying Irish Oat and Barry's tea, recalled a warm September afternoon under ancient Muscadine vines during Squirrel Season on Watts Bar Lake.
Well, it was hunting season, you see, and we had to go hunting. Actually, if we weren't fishing it had to be hunting season .... any hunting season would do. So, September was the beginning with Dove and Squirrel. The morning Dove harvest had been cleaned and refrigerated; mid-afternoon seemed to be a good time for Squirrels.
Scrapping back the leaves and settling into the rich black loam, backed against a Cedar tree. This looked good. Two Oaks, laden with acorns, were in front and Muscadine vines interlaced a canopy everywhere. Mother Nature's arbor was full and ripening. The leafy carpet was littered with the very ripe to the over ripe wine colored balls.
Before long the taste testing and entertainment began. Tom, Dick and Harry, for lack of better names, were on their way to regain possession of their treasure trove. One warm sweet juicy ball would only be followed by another and another. The ones that had begun to split open beckoned irresistibly to the three marauders. In short order, Tom fell off the tree he was attempting to climb. Harry, while chasing Dick across a limb, free fell into the leafy carpet. And Dick, not to be outdone, attempted a forward somersault onto a limb landing in a heap against an Oak root. This had been preceded by a lot of cavorting, attempted jumps, swinging from limbs, running into, and generally falling over. All was done with a truly fussing attitude.
Who knew that fruit could ripen to a highly intoxicating fermentation point all on it's own. Well, duh, liquid, sugar, sun ..... Oh, sure you did ..... well, I do too, now. The truth is a fierce pounding behind the eyes caused a brief nap to occur. When one is awakened by someone kicking your boot, the tendency is to recoil in fear while raising your rifle [22, that is]. He was such a smarty, he jumped behind the tree congratulating me for the three fat squirrels. Picking them up by their hind legs must have had the same effect as kicking my boots. Three bodies began to squirm and fuss resulting in their being launched back into the trees. "Holy Cow, what was that?" Choked with laughter, the events were shared AND so were the Muscadines. "Drunk Squirrels?" "REALLY! I swear!"
Well, it was hunting season, you see, and we had to go hunting. Actually, if we weren't fishing it had to be hunting season .... any hunting season would do. So, September was the beginning with Dove and Squirrel. The morning Dove harvest had been cleaned and refrigerated; mid-afternoon seemed to be a good time for Squirrels.
Scrapping back the leaves and settling into the rich black loam, backed against a Cedar tree. This looked good. Two Oaks, laden with acorns, were in front and Muscadine vines interlaced a canopy everywhere. Mother Nature's arbor was full and ripening. The leafy carpet was littered with the very ripe to the over ripe wine colored balls.
Before long the taste testing and entertainment began. Tom, Dick and Harry, for lack of better names, were on their way to regain possession of their treasure trove. One warm sweet juicy ball would only be followed by another and another. The ones that had begun to split open beckoned irresistibly to the three marauders. In short order, Tom fell off the tree he was attempting to climb. Harry, while chasing Dick across a limb, free fell into the leafy carpet. And Dick, not to be outdone, attempted a forward somersault onto a limb landing in a heap against an Oak root. This had been preceded by a lot of cavorting, attempted jumps, swinging from limbs, running into, and generally falling over. All was done with a truly fussing attitude.
Who knew that fruit could ripen to a highly intoxicating fermentation point all on it's own. Well, duh, liquid, sugar, sun ..... Oh, sure you did ..... well, I do too, now. The truth is a fierce pounding behind the eyes caused a brief nap to occur. When one is awakened by someone kicking your boot, the tendency is to recoil in fear while raising your rifle [22, that is]. He was such a smarty, he jumped behind the tree congratulating me for the three fat squirrels. Picking them up by their hind legs must have had the same effect as kicking my boots. Three bodies began to squirm and fuss resulting in their being launched back into the trees. "Holy Cow, what was that?" Choked with laughter, the events were shared AND so were the Muscadines. "Drunk Squirrels?" "REALLY! I swear!"
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The End ...YEA!!!!
Oh, Saturday Centus .... for some reason am unable to leave a comment to most of you. It isn't that I'm disinterested or unimpressed, it has to be computer imps. So please accept my apology. And counting several times to stay within our confines ..... my 27 word offering
It was a start stop, off on, love hate affair for years. Now decide! No problem! I choose Fiber Optics. Goodbye COMCAST .... that's THE END of that.
It was a start stop, off on, love hate affair for years. Now decide! No problem! I choose Fiber Optics. Goodbye COMCAST .... that's THE END of that.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Alphabet
She was a Southern girl several generations deep, with an appreciation for old silver and "good" china. They weren't wealthy; Daddy had always said,"we're comfortable" ..... and that distinction was cavernous in the 1950's. All the same, her family was able to afford a "good" formal education through college. Mother made certain she appreciated the "finer things in life":oh, you know, linen, lace, kid gloves, how to sit, drink a proper cup of tea, polite conversation ..... social etiquette. The warm months were dotted with Teas and the cold months were occasional dances.
She married the man she passionately loved; not the one preferred by Daddy. Chestnut braids flying as she whirled to face Daddy,"I'll marry for love or not at all." She could be willful and stubborn, if pushed. That passion produced four sons: Adam, Bradley, Conner, Douglas. Abegail and Colin enjoyed life together with their sons resulting in a tight supportive family. Then that cold Friday the Highway Patrol Officers arrived about 4 in the afternoon to heartbreaking news. A young man on a motorcycle had swirved to miss a dog and the on coming car. Attempting to avoid the cyclist, Colin ran off the road, lost control, hitting a tree at 55 miles an hour. After 35 years of magic, her life would never be the same.
How does one fill the emptness .... need to make money, but how .... we're told pride goeth before a fall .... well, there's always cooking .... she was a good cook .... actually, she was a really good creative cook but no professional training. "Oh, Lord, help", was her constant and silent prayer.
Lunch with a close friend was a turning point. She wanted to host a big party to introduce some new neighbors. "Abegail, would you do the food? I'd pay!" "Are you serious, I've never done that before." Lexie countered "Of course you have. Think of all the parties you and Colin have given. It's only about 100; that would be a snap for you .... oh, please, please PLEASE!" And there it was, her future. First there were quiet dinners, a few artist and wedding receptions using her sons to serve. Then she had to hire help .... more help to serve and help to cook having outgrown her kitchen at home. The 2 boys became managers in the front and back of the house, and 2 in cooking schools. She opened a bistro stlye restaurant in an upscale neighborhood using linen tablecloths and napkins, "good" china and "old" silver. Come and join the group for high tea or a grand dinner, it's called Alphabet.......... oh, you know, for the boys.
She married the man she passionately loved; not the one preferred by Daddy. Chestnut braids flying as she whirled to face Daddy,"I'll marry for love or not at all." She could be willful and stubborn, if pushed. That passion produced four sons: Adam, Bradley, Conner, Douglas. Abegail and Colin enjoyed life together with their sons resulting in a tight supportive family. Then that cold Friday the Highway Patrol Officers arrived about 4 in the afternoon to heartbreaking news. A young man on a motorcycle had swirved to miss a dog and the on coming car. Attempting to avoid the cyclist, Colin ran off the road, lost control, hitting a tree at 55 miles an hour. After 35 years of magic, her life would never be the same.
How does one fill the emptness .... need to make money, but how .... we're told pride goeth before a fall .... well, there's always cooking .... she was a good cook .... actually, she was a really good creative cook but no professional training. "Oh, Lord, help", was her constant and silent prayer.
Lunch with a close friend was a turning point. She wanted to host a big party to introduce some new neighbors. "Abegail, would you do the food? I'd pay!" "Are you serious, I've never done that before." Lexie countered "Of course you have. Think of all the parties you and Colin have given. It's only about 100; that would be a snap for you .... oh, please, please PLEASE!" And there it was, her future. First there were quiet dinners, a few artist and wedding receptions using her sons to serve. Then she had to hire help .... more help to serve and help to cook having outgrown her kitchen at home. The 2 boys became managers in the front and back of the house, and 2 in cooking schools. She opened a bistro stlye restaurant in an upscale neighborhood using linen tablecloths and napkins, "good" china and "old" silver. Come and join the group for high tea or a grand dinner, it's called Alphabet.......... oh, you know, for the boys.
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