Wednesday, December 15, 2010

The New Neighbors on Lake Barto

We have new neighbors!

Two pairs of ducks have been here for almost a week. They dive and seem to play "duck-duck-goose" and frolic all over the pond! We weren't sure what they were and when Byron spied them on Saturday morning- he called me to the window to see and we peered at them through the binoculars. I told him if I had really good lens on my camera I could capture an image and we could better figure it out!

Don't you just KNOW that man went right out and bought me a lens? No! Seriously! He did! Well, he rode with me to Little Rock and approved the whole purchase! What's that commercial? Ahhh... he went to Jared. Wrong. He went to Bedfords Camera which is about as close to heaven and Bedford Falls in "It's a Wonderful Life"... but, I digress.

Anyway.... the next day I didn't see them until the light was too poor to get a good shot. The next day I was busy and forgot to watch. Then... today... I got an opportunity. It was still too cold to try and take the camera and lens outside without it frosting over- but enough of a shot to clearly identify the birds!!

They are Hooded Mergansers. I think from this site they must be the Saw-billed variety. (2nd image)

One opinion was that they might be Dive Dappers- but according to first page Google search the dive-dappers are Pied-billed Grebes (image 3) and the male isn't nearly as flamboyant a bird.

What do YOU think?

The Wildest Christmas Stocking Story Ever (or why we don't invite Louise to parties any more)


This essay was submitted to the Louisville Sentinel contest in 1999 to find out who had the wildest Christmas dinner. It won first prize. *(See disclaimer at end of article)* I rerun this in my blog because it's requested by someone every year about this time.... so I give to you.... Louise.


As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!" "Who would buy that?" Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour. Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for 'Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours, long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours. The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more.

We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner. My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll." "Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut. "Where are her clothes?" Granny continued. "Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying to steer her into the dining room. But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?" Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying,"Hang on Granny! Hang on!" My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, " Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she was Jay's friend.

A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.

It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.

Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination and found the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot amber to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health. Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies. I think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.

*DISCLAIMER* The piece was actually written by humorist Jeff Foxworthy and appears in one of his books from 1996. As for whether it's a true story or not, Foxworthy says on the opening page of his web site of his material: "There's my life story (only 50% of it lies)."

Wednesday, December 01, 2010

Despite Conventional Stereotypes: Middle-aged Overweight Cheerleaders Are Good for Morale!


Besides immersing ourselves in Scripture- the second best activity and role as a Christian is: Cheerleading.

Not the typical (or cliche) definition of a cheerleader.

Now, the idea of me being a cheerleader is rather outlandish! I'm a former band-geek! I'm an artist! Not to mention age & weight realities. But, the longer I serve- it's the most accurate description of my job.

As a little girl- I was the eldest sister. Elder siblings have the unique responsibility of encouraging younger siblings to talk and walk and "get with the program" of being a member of the family unit. Because the second child in our family was just three years behind me- she didn't necessarily want to follow my lead or heed my warnings (like the time she tried to burn the house down!) and it was clear my leadership skills needed honing. By the time #3 arrived (#2 referred to her as "that new kid") I was eight-years old and better equipped to fulfill that leadership role; and, as she was most biddable, I found it easier to encourage her into performing her task of little sister. When #4 kid arrived- I was eleven and it was just easier to put him on my hip and hoist him around into whatever activity we were trying to accomplish- be it bedevil our poor Mama or follow the herd or concoct mischief and blame it on #2 *sly wink*. Yes! Senior membership can be taken advantage of at even young ages!!

My point is- I grew up in a leadership position comprised of many facets: cook (I was really good at "burning my dookies"!); bottle-washer; ruffle-smoother; picker-upper (of both kids and toys); band-aid applier; teacher; chief-gopher; and children's concierge.

Because that's all the experience I had to rely upon- that's the way I filled my role as a wife and a mother. Now I find myself not only a caregiver to my 101-year old Grandmother but as a Mom to a Marine Recruit.

Writing encouraging letters to my own "Kid" in hopes of keeping his spirits up is a job I love! Finding the time to sit still long enough and compose coherent thoughts is a bit of a trial since I "think a lot" and can barely get it all from the cerebellum through the fingers and into the keyboard before it's lost. Because I like to journal- I'm gonna try to blog these thoughts and just send them to him rather than trying to figure out what I wrote to him the last time and quit repeating myself of smallish news from home.

Trying to keep the spirits of an ailing Grandmother up as she is continually isolated because of loss of mobility and hearing is a challenge. Thankfully-- Skype was invented and the role of cheerleading is shared with #3 and her toddler daughter. When the nursing staff walked in this morning and realized that this very hip G-Grandmother was watching her great-granddaughter play and "read" hundreds of miles away; they appreciated the value of cheerleaders both near and far.

I now define the term "cheerleader" in a more robust connotation. Building morale and encouraging one another to full potential (be it better health or achieving mental & physical disciplines) is the goal.


Ready? Ok! Give me--
  • an "E" for encouraging,
  • an "S" for spirit,
  • a "P" for prayer,
  • an "R" for rally,
  • an "I" for inspire,
  • and a "T" for try, try, try again!

Saturday, November 20, 2010

The Cats Speak!



Yes... they really do. Speak I mean. Only some of us can understand their speech... so I can't be positive that this is exactly the correct translation- but, it's near enough that Jess will understand their sentiment. Miss'n my kid. I know he's missing all of us here at Saginaw.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Yoddle-lay-hee-here kitty, kitty!

All has been quiet since the heifers got over the loss of their babies being separated and moved to the smaller pastures. The young heifers don’t need to be near Mr Leonardo until Miz Robin says so.. anyways... the large herd is now over here on us and because there are so many of them I don’t try to hand-feed all of them over the fence. I don’t even mess with the donkeys, Maude & Mary, cuz it just doesn’t seem fair.

So- they don’t typically “call to me” to get my attention nor do I take much notice of their presence.


But- today! All of a sudden the biggest part of the 60+herd had just walked across the dike and were beginning to fan out around the corner of the fence when all of a sudden they began to bugle! All of them in a great chorus and as if a conductor had dropped the stick and given them their cue!! I ran out on the deck to see what could be the matter - when I noticed Hylfi-cat gambooling in front of them!! Yup!! They were talking to Hylfi!! They weren’t afraid of her nor were they disturbed by her- it was as if they were “cheering her” along as she chased shadow phantoms! Too funny!


This photo was actually from a few days before with the smaller herd! If these girls weren't in the herd of this morning's story..... what is it about this corner and this cat that causes them to pause in their daily routine and give attention? I dunno... but, it's something!!


Monday, February 15, 2010

Stump your friends... amaze your family!


{introduces} for my brainiac friends:

Random Question for the Day or (RQftD)

:a scavenger hunt game to be played by referencing your innate knowledge and/or Google.

This exercise is just for fun... see if you can figure out a specific location I'm referencing by the clues given Monday-Friday labeled RQotD.

This brainchild to "Stump your friends and amaze your family with delightful lore." came to me as I was waking up this morning. Now we all know the real reason the husband has decided to wake up out of town most mornings! I'd always heard that males enjoyed women of mystery... apparently I offer wayyyyy to much. Shhhh... don't tell him I figured him out and that he took that job just so he didn't have to listen to me rattle every morning!

Anyway... look forward to seeing more RQotD and try to figure out where I'm leading you!

Todays: RQotD : Explain the significance of turbidites in Southwest Arkansas (SWArk) and specifically in Clark County.

Expect answers and revealing tidbits of information on my facebook status throughout the week.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Unstylish Decision Turns Into Medical Emergency

or... happy 35th Anniversary to My Kidney!


Recently I polled my FB friends to see if any of them had ever made a fashion faux pas, or had a wardrobe malfunction. Several responded and of the incidents that people are most likely to admit are the ones of mismatched color in their earrings or shoes. And, while there are a few instances of hiked up skirt tails- none of these acquaintances have experienced a wardrobe malfunction on the order of Janet Jackson’s debacle (with the exceptions of missing bikini bottoms!-JA!).


I must confess to having experienced both of these; and while mine wasn’t as shocking or as public as a Super Bowl performance, it has had lifelong consequence.


A really serious error in style judgment


The definition for faux pas literally translates from the original French to “false step”. I can claim this title in both the French and the urban English inferences.


Recollect the 70’s. Styles were largely defined by the hippie culture and celebrity haute couture. Think white vinyl go-go boots, hip huggers, short-shorts to name a few. Many will remember bell bottoms jeans- my first poor choice began with a pair of white elephant-bell pants made of brushed corduroy. I had paired them with a white leather belt with rainbow colored beads that had foot-long fringe in place of a buckle. I was convinced that I would look so cute in this outfit that I would receive a candy-gram from a secret admirer on the following day. I was looking sleek! Oh, the decisions a female will rue!


For the era, there really wasn’t anything unstylish about the outfit. Heck! Elvis wears this style and he was the King! I'd seen Elvis that previous year!! Do you know what the real problem was? Elephant bells are difficult to walk in. They will literally wrap around your ankles. Combine that with the fine weave of corduroy that is more akin to velvet and not only is one liable to trip over the excess of fabric- but, the nature of the fabric to grab hold of itself like a magnet.


Fashion faux pas turns into wardrobe malfunction....


Picture if you will: a not-so-svelte, awkward, pre-teenaged girl, prone to clumsy balance and you have a recipe for a major misstep. In band period, I was given the duty of handing out the music to a new piece of music we were practicing for a sight-reading contest all the while trying my best to weave my way through the assembled musicians, music stands all the while not bumping their instruments or tripping over their assorted personal items. While returning to my seat as I neared the band director, Eddie Goodwin, standing upon his podium- those blasted bell-bottoms started swinging back and forth and my legs got tangled up and down I went. I’m pretty good at catching myself, but in this instance- I caught the edge of the raised dais with my torso.


Most people fall down and get right back up. I’ve never been “most people” and I couldn’t get up. It was bad enough that the it happened in front of the whole Jr High band and they had laughed. But, I had fallen on my left front and my body went immediately into shock. Not the mortification kind that comes from a.) the shame that accompanies such an event or b.) that nightmare of being in front of a large audience with nothing but your undies... but, the medical kind. Something traumatic had happened and my only real memories are of Mr Goodwin calling the school nurse and then my Mom (understand my Dad was the Sr High band-director and was away at TMEA) and by the time they realized I would need an ambulance- Mom decided to get me into her car and over the to the hospital since it would be quicker.


To make a long story and hospital stay really short- I had hit with such force that my kidney was throwing so many blood clots so hard and so fast that they didn’t even think it was safe for me be medevaced to a Houston hospital. That was the last day I had two functioning kidneys. Thirty two years later- I received an explanation as to why.


February 13 marks my 35th anniversary with my one and only good kidney keeping me all pumped and filtrated. Take good care of yours!


To be continued....









Saturday, February 06, 2010

Practice Makes Perfect?

Illustrator practice. Writing with creative edges. Kinda fun. Kinda mundane.




Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Define: Hipster

or.... slang is subjective and always evolving...

While reading through my friend's statuses this morning on F.B (the best way of staying abreast of current events!) I ran across the phrase "elitist hipster attitude" in reference to an online journalism class.

It got me to wondering... just what IS a hipster? I know the vernacular and what it used to mean, but what does it mean to today's students. First- I looked it up in the dictionary.

Somehow... I don't think these definitions are adequate for the term as it was implied.
if in doubt--- ask Mom.
She works crosswords all day and is usually informed on pop-culture and current events. She defines hipster much the same. So... I posted an informal poll on my Facebook wall.
I got few responses from: "A kool kat" to "style of underwear- cut between bikini and brief that sits on one's hips". Or-"a person dressed in hip hugger jeans with their hair pulled back in a long braid who walks around saying: "Far Out", "Groovy", "That's Funky" and instead of waving, they just give you the Peace sign!".
Still... not the intention that I'm sensing the instructor is aiming for.
Hmm.... time to check in on the Urban Dictionary website. If you don't know about this site, it is built on the premise that anyone with a keyboard can enter a definition and readers agree or disagree with interpretations. Leaving it wide open for use of the "f"-word and insight into the world of the generations that have no boundaries- this site creates slang for slang's sake and more.
Yikes! There are 160 different interpretations with tens of thousands of "thumb up or thumb down" viewpoints! According to the 2nd most well received and thus "generally accepted" definition describes a hipster as:
a subculture of men and women typically in their 20's and 30's that value independent thinking, counter-culture, progressive politics, an appreciation of art and indie-rock, creativity, intelligence, and witty banter. Hipsters reject the culturally-ignorant attitudes of mainstream consumers, and are often be seen wearing vintage and thrift store inspired fashions, tight-fitting jeans, old-school sneakers, and sometimes thick rimmed glasses. Both hipster men and women sport similar androgynous hair styles that include combinations of messy shag cuts and asymmetric side-swept bangs. Such styles are often associated with the work of creative stylists at urban salons, and are usually too "edgy" for the culturally-sheltered mainstream consumer. The "effortless cool" urban bohemian look of a hipster is exemplified in Urban Outfitters and American Apparel ads which cater towards the hipster demographic. Despite misconceptions based on their aesthetic tastes, hipsters tend to be well educated and often have liberal arts degrees, or degrees in maths and sciences, which also require certain creative analytical thinking abilities. Consequently many hipsters tend to have jobs in the music, art, and fashion industries. It is a myth that most hipsters are unemployed and live off of their parent's trust funds.
put on your hip waders, there's more....
Because of the rise of various online photo-blog and social networking sites, insights into urban hipster culture is reaching sheltered suburban audiences at an exponential rate. Cultural "norms" have been deconstructed by hipster culture as a whole. Hipsterism is often dismissed as just an image thing by some, but the culture as a whole is effecting changes in society, leading to feelings of insecurity and resentment in people who are no longer a part of the cultural ruling class. For example, a lot of anti-hipster sentiment evidently comes from culturally-clueless suburban frat boy types who feel that the more sensitive, intelligent, and culturally aware hipster ideal threatens their insecure sense of masculinity. Anti-hipster sentiment often comes from people who simply can't keep up with social change and are envious of those who can.
You were good enough to hang with me on that long diatribe- now you deserve a reward. Yes.. it really is "Hip To Be Square!" by Huey Lewis & the News! The record label won't allow embedding the video- so hit the link!