which came first the .......

My husband's older brother has just been diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer, and he receives treatment of one sort or another almost daily. It is amazing how quickly this disease invaded his body, since the opinions of the Drs. are that three months ago, if there were tests to be done, no cancer would have been evident.



He and his important significant gal built a home out in Sullivan, Ohio in a portion of Ohio's Amish country. They have 5 acres, a barn, ranch style home, and lots of country surrounding them.



Well, a couple of years ago, they decided that chickens would make a wonderful addition to their "Lazy Possum Ranch". He always refers to the property as "the ranch" so a real "Ranch" name is appropriate I guess. Anyway, I have never seen said chickens, and I can go a long long time without seeing them in the future. Chickens are God's creatures, not mine!



A call from him on Saturday gave us the opportunity to give a hand. He had taken her to work, his other vehicle being snowed in, drove the car. They live back off the road, and he mistakenly thought he could pull into his driveway farther than was reasonable for a sane person, so ultimately he got good and stuck!



His specialty is good looking, charming, funny, fun at a party, but not driving or apparently, parking! He did not ask for any help, he just stated facts, and said he would "dig himself out". Tim took it from there. His ill and weakened brother was most definitely, not "digging himself out!"



Long story short, Tim got him out with the help of laying large chains down behind the wheels, and his brother was able drive in reverse with the help of the chains on the snow. Good trick if you ever get stuck and have 14' chains in your trunk!



Tim came home and presented me with his payment for service. Two dozen brown eggs in plain gray cardboard egg boxes. The boxes were labeled with black magic marker as follows:



From the Lazy Possum Ranch, Really good, Try them sunny side up, *Fresh* Pops Eggs-----Sullivan, Ohio

Sunday's pancakes and eggs were never more special.......Really, Really *Fresh*!!!

Red and yellow, blue and green.........

In mid 1984 we moved into a brand new mobile home in our area. Our son was 13, and our daughter 10. It was a difficult adjustment for all of us leaving the farm, but we were determined to keep our family together.

A neighboring home housed a family with two young girls, one of whom was the same age as our daughter. Our children had grown up in the country and went to a small rural school, so going to a "big city" school was a real adjustment for both of them. Classes were large and consisted of kids from all over the city.

Sarah was prone to having friends come over on weekends and this particular youngster happened to be a young African American boy. He visited with us on several occasions, and was always great to be around. There were girls and boys who were her friends, and so we got to know a group of kids from her school.

One day, I answered a knock at our door, and was surprised to see Mrs. Nottingham (she passed last year, God rest her soul) the mother of the two neighbor girls. "Can I come in?" she asked.

"Of course, come in please". She did not make pleasant chitchat, she got right to the point of her visit. "Did you know that your daughter has a black "boy" friend?" .....there was a long laborious pause before I spoke.

"No I didn't, did you?"

End of story.

Red and yellow, blue and green, purple and orange too.....all make up the colors of a beautiful rainbow!

In honor of Women's History......

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER - by Erma Bombeck (written after she found out she was dying from cancer).

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day. I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage. I would have talked less and listened more. I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded. I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth. I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband. I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed. I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains. I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life. I

would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime. Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle. When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, 'Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.' There would have been more 'I love you's' More 'I'm sorry's.' But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute, look at it and really see it . . live it and never give it back.

STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!!

Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what. Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.

I need to remind myself that this is what life's blessings bring to me!

Yes, one person can make a difference.....

My most favorite comment to people who say, "but we are just a small, grassroots group, we can't make a difference". I say to them "you obviously don't remember Rosa Parks!"



On December 1, 1955, seamstress Rosa Parks changed America forever when she was arrested for refusing to yield her seat to a white patron on a Montgomery, Alabama city bus. Mrs. Parks was found guilty of disorderly conduct and that lead directly to the famous Montgomery Bus Boycott.


However, Mrs. Parks was not the "quiet seamstress" as the media has often portrayed her. In 1943 she became a member of the Montgomery chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), and she served as its secretary until 1956. After the Bus Boycott, Mrs. Parks lost her job and, with her husband and mother, relocated to Detroit in 1957. In 1965 she joined the staff of U.S. Representative John Conyers of Michigan and worked until her retirement in 1988. In 1999 she was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal of Honor, the highest honour a civilian can receive in the United States. Mrs. Parks passed away October 24, 2005, at the age of 92.


Stand up for what you believe....she did!

The riding lesson.....

Many years ago, when I was in my thirties, I was so involved in horses that it was almost scary. I seemed to eat, sleep, live and breathe horses, including the ones that I owned at home and the horses that I had with a trainer.


Long story short, my days were filled with activity revolving around my two children, my husband, my mini-horse farm and my grocery store. Not enough hours in the day to get everything done, so sometimes, when I fell into bed at night the process was unceremonial to say the least.

Strip off my clothes, let them lay beside the bed and fall into bed exhausted. Said day in time was no different than any other. Get up, get the kids up, dressed, fed and off to school, pull on some clothes, go to the barn and feed the horses, come in feed the dogs, pick up the breakfast dishes and head over to the trainer's barn.


I was going to ride a horse that day and take a lesson on my own horse who was currently in training for the show ring. If I ever was going to ride this particular mount in the show ring, I needed many hours of riding her. The trainer, although an adequate horseperson, was no genius in the art of equitation (little did I know then that my training dollars were blown up his nose, but that is another story). Anyway, I was riding along, posting the trot (see "english equitation, saddleseat" on google) concentrating to beat the band. Trying to stay with the horses' gait and not fall off into the tanbark, when the trainer stopped me. "Whoa" said he. "Why" said I. "You're losing something"!

"What"????? Losing something indeed. A mild description of the "new look" that I was sporting.
As I looked down on either side of my body, my eyes followed the leg of my jeans on the left side. Lo and behold, a pair of black underpants were peeking out of the cuff of my jean leg, dangling dangerously off the toe of my boot! Yikes!

Next time I jump out of bed and pull my clothes on, (the ones that I let lay at the bedside from the night before) I must look to see if my underwear is still in the leg of my jeans!

How can I top an act like that!

The Christmas socks

I just finished putting away a basket full of clean and folded clothes.

What better to do today with the temp hovering in the sub zero area than to catch up on the laundry that was still in the very depths of the laundry room hamper.

Anyway, I had to smile and fondle the pair of Christmas socks that I put away into Tim's sock drawer.

I remember when I purchased this particular pair of socks. It was just before Christmas 1970. Yes, 38 years ago! I purchased them and carefully wrapped them and wrote out a gift tag that said: "Merry Christmas Daddy, Christmas #1" It was our son Nathan's first Christmas and I wanted Daddy to open a present from his new little boy, Nathan was born on October 13, 1970.

(that is how I remember the year that I purchased the socks)

This year was the 38th time that they had come out of the sock drawer, spent Christmas Day on Tim's feet, and then laundered, dried, folded and put away again for the next Christmas to come.

Ah!...what a sweet memory!

So, if you happen to see my husband on Christmas Day, 2009, say hello to the socks!

One a day keeps the statue away.....

Twice this month someone has mentioned that they are not able to understand the fact that people are "depressed". The word depressed is not to be confused with the word "depression". At least in my case it is not.

I suffer from chronic depression. Some of my friends are aware of it, and some of my family also. Only the people who suffer from this disease (yes it is a disease) can comprehend it's manifestations. My brain is short on seratonin, a chemical. (No it is not short a brick or two as some of you assume) Without a pill a day (many people are on more than one dose a day) I am not able to get out of bed and after I have been off the pill for a few days, I suffer what I call the "Salt syndrome" You know, in the Bible the tale is told of Lot's wife who disobeyed the command to not look back, and she was turned into a pillar of salt. Well, it happens to me. I lock up like a statue. I couldn't move quickly if my life depended on it. I know what I am supposed to do, I know what the correct thing to do is, I know how important it is to do, but I just can't do anything. I turn to salt.

I am a happy person. I am a positive person, I am a deep person, I am a caring person, I am a compassionate person, but I am not a normal person, in the general sense of the word.

If I had a visual handicap, people would cut me some slack. I am not being flip about this, but I do feel sometimes like I have a handicap. I can't change it, I can't control it, I can't wish it away,

I can't "heal thyself" as my husband thinks I should be able to do.

He doesn't understand, and I have given up trying to help him understand. Even my physician gave up trying to make him understand. So, I live with it, I live with it, and I live a full productive life and I have value and I have a great time going through life.

"One a Day" vitamins are not the only thing keeping me going forward!