One of Those Things in Life I Wish I Could do Over...

   Every now and then I get caught up in something I know nothing about.  I often fly by the seat of my pants and if an idea sounds good to me, I am off and running looking for a new adventure. This is the story of how I entered Lisa in a beauty contest at the age of six without knowing one single thing about beauty pageants for children or anyone else for that matter.

   I was having my morning coffee with one of my best friends Janice.  She was all excited about this event that would happen in Union City in a few weeks. It was a children's beauty pageant. The winner would receive an award and move on to the next beauty pageant in Memphis, Tennessee.  It would go from there to another pageant until someone won $10,000. She said, "Let's enter our girls!!  It will be fun and it doesn't cost much money...just an entry fee.  We can get them pretty sundresses, fancy sandals, fix their hair and apply a little make up.  It will be just like playing dress up!!" We asked the girls what they wanted to do and of course they were excited and couldn't wait to put on make up.

    I called Mama to tell her the news and she was not excited at all.  Mama and Mamamae were at my home in Tenn. in about an hour. First Mama explained I had never been to a beauty contest for kids and I really didn't know what I was getting into.  I told my family all that I knew about the contest and that Lisa was excited and wanted to do it. I can hear Mama now saying,  "It costs a small fortune to be in beauty pageants.  There is a lot of competition and mother's get furious with judges, the audience and the little girls. Most of the time the little girls do not have fun. Don't make Lisa do this." I remember telling Mama that this time it was just for fun. Lisa's beautiful and it will be like playing dressing up.  She won't care if she wins or not she is six.  We know she is beautiful. Let her have the experience.  She will feel like a princess.  

   Reluctantly, Mama and Mamamae dropped the subject but "the look" remained through out their visit. 

   The next day, Lisa and I go to K Mart and buy her a pretty sundress, a pair of sandals that had a wedge heel, ribbons for her hair and a little stand out slip to make her dress fuller.  She looked like a little doll.  We ordered her a wrist corsage of red carnations and she was ready for Saturday night  and the contest.  Throughout the week she practiced walking in her shoes, turning around, and smiling. She did fine.

   Mama, Mamamae, Janice and her family, Lisa, Tami and I drove to the high school at the same time. As soon as we turned into the parking lot I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. It was packed. My silent introvert jumped up and down in my throat and said, "Oh Hell no !! You are not going in there!!!  Are you crazy???  Look at all those rich people...dummy!!"  I literally thought I would pass out...but I didn't and we made it inside the school.  There were forty million little girls dressed in forty million dollar dresses or should I say gowns. Even though the dresses they wore were short...they were created in the image of gowns.  I looked at Mama and she knew how I felt.  She hugged me and said, "Lisa is beautiful, she fits right in."  God bless her, if she had said "I told you so!!"  I would have busted out crying. However, Mama would never say anything like that.

  I looked for Lisa and she was playing with some little girls and having a good time.  She was enjoying the pretty dresses and acting like a little princess.  She did much better than her mother who really wanted to puke...anywhere would have been fine. Her mother also wanted a drink of water and a Xanax.  Neither of which she got.

  They called the little girls backstage. Lined them up and the first round began.  One child was just as pretty as the next. I was glad I wasn't a judge. Lisa made it through that round and was smiling from ear to ear.  She even waved to us from the stage.  The second round went fine and she was still in the competition. However, others had been cut and there were some mad Mama's in the audience.  I have been to wrestling matches where the language was better.  Lisa was taken out in the third round.  She came back to where we were sitting. I really don't think she was supposed to but she did and I was glad.  She whispered in my ear,"Can we go home? I want a bowl of cereal."  That was the last thing I was expecting to hear. So I told Mama what was going on and we left.

   The ride to our home was quiet. We played the radio and I complemented her on what a wonderful job she did. I told her I had made pictures to show Tommy when he got home. She smiled and that was all.  After we got in the house and changed clothes, I fixed the cereal.  Lisa was still quiet. Finally I asked her if she wanted anything else and she said the oddest thing.  "Mama do you have the crown I wore when I was Valentine Queen?"  I did and I even knew where it was--miracles of miracles. She put the crown on and finished her cereal. We began to laugh and talk once again. Soon she was sleepy.  She put her p.j.'s on and climbed in bed. I gave her a good night kiss and noticed  she was sleeping with her crown on. For the millionth time, in her short life, she stole my heart all over again. 

                                           

   

      

   

'Pay It Forward' Put Into Action...

  When I walked to the mailbox today I received a surprise package from Trinidad and Tobago. My long time friend, Nalini Mohammed sent me a 'Pay It Forward' present for my new granddaughter.  I was beyond delighted and very thankful.  

   Several months ago Nalini asked ten or fifteen people on Facebook, from around the world, if we wanted to help make someone's day a little brighter. We agreed and were anxious to begin.  Our mission is to send a surprise package to a friend somewhere in the world, or if possible to do something nice for someone in person.  Something to make their day better and make peace for a minute tangible. " Pay It Forward" is a wonderful idea.  We can all use some mental sunshine on any given day. The idea keeps going as each person passes on their offer of friendship.

  My surprise was a perfect selection for me.  It is a book, about the size of a letter. On the front of the book where an address would be says:

    Inside the book are envelope like letters with a theme at the top of the page for the subject to be written about.  At the bottom of the page  is  the date it was written and the date it is to be opened. Here are some of the subjects to be written about. 

 1. It may surprise you to learn that I was young...
2. One positive change in the world have witnessed is...
3. When your parents were young...
4. The best advice anyone ever gave me...
5.  I am curious to see how you...
6.  What I want you to know about me...
 7.  My wishes for you...

    There are other quotes just as thought provoking and ideas I want to share with Rowan. She is three months old and has so much to learn.  I am also ordering two more for Logan and Jacy.  I have so much love and lessons I learned the hard way. I would like to share with all my children and grandchildren.

    Thank you again Nalini for giving me a perfect gift and making my day delightful. I have my friend and a gift in mind to send to her. I hope she will like her, 'Pay it Forward', as much as I did receiving mine.  I am going to do this more often because receiving and giving me make me feel wonderful. I know a lot of people who could use a smile, a laugh or an Ahhhh that is just what I needed today. Much love to all...for starters.

The Return Trip Home from Reno...

     Melodi took us to the airport in Reno about 4 a.m. Monday.  Our flight took off at 5:30. Our first stop was Las Vegas. There we would change planes and head for St. Louis. Sounds simple and it should have worked out that way but flying for us is always an adventure at best... so is crossing the street.

    Our flight was on time.  The terminal where we landed seemed to be clear across Nevada. We had one hour to find our terminal, check in and get on board to leave.  We walked it with time to spare.  After we found our destination, we decided to play Poker on the slots machines.  I like to play Poker but I am not all that great on slots. There are too many distractions, bells and whistles for me to concentrate. . .or so I thought.  We only gamble when we are in Vegas or Tunica, Mississippi. It is all in fun. Tommy didn't want to play but he watched me, giving me all sorts of suggestions.  We were having a good time. The guy next to us won $650 on the penny slots.  So guess what we played!!  I would win a little and loose a little.  Time got away from us. We were sitting about sixty feet or so from our gate, except our backs were to the area. It was loud in the gigantic room, and our minds were on the slots.  We didn't hear the first page for us to line up and board.  We also did not hear it the second time.  Finally, Tommy hears something and says we have to go because we are being paged. I never did hear the page.  Well, I had one dollar left so I hit it and lost.  Then I was ready to go...more or less.

   We walked to the gate as fast as we could.  The man who worked the counter was smiling. We apologized and he informed us there were two people later than us who had not checked in yet.  Tommy gave the man his boarding pass and all eyes turned to me as I began to dump my purse searching for my pass. I knew I had it so I wasn't worried until the gentleman told Tommy, "You can go on and board. I am not sure she is going anywhere."  AND then he laughed. I found my pass and we get on the plane.  Only middle seats were empty --- Tommy and I split up.  He sat between two young thin men.  Me ?? I got the first row with the smallest seats in the  world. We had lots of leg room but you would need to be a size 8 to even remotely fit in them. I thought the first row of  seats always looked bigger. They probably are but our steward said these were the original 'trial' seats they put in when they gave more leg room. Then he smiled and said, "I am really sorry." I was sitting between a mother and daughter who were three times my size, and I am a long way from a size 8.  The mother was elderly and sick.  She threw up twice in a bag before we started our flight.  Her daughter offered to trade seats with me. I was very thankful because the coffee in my stomach was beginning to churn every time she threw up.  Her daughter was a nurse and took good care of her mom. The steward never offered to ask her to leave the plane. I was glad because she slept the rest of the way and seemed to feel better once we landed. Sometimes things work out for the best.

    We landed in St. Louis, retrieved our luggage and heard about a bomb threat at Mercy Hospital.  Part of 270 was closed.  We were taking 70 west so that was no problem for us but we were worried about the people at the hospital. All protocol was taken and it turned out to be nothing.  A man came to the hospital for a mental   
evaluation and had packed golf balls wrapped in something--probably tin foil-- and a non hazardous object that resembled a cell phone.  I am glad the man on duty was alert and took proper precautions and called the bomb squad.  No one was hurt. I imagine the man in for the mental health check up, lost his balls and string phone and now has a room with a view somewhere safe.

    Soon we were in our car and headed home. About forty five minutes out of St. Louis heading west, traffic came to a standstill. We crept along like a long, tired earthworm at times. Most of the time we sat, waiting and wondering who was in a horrible situation. Emergency vehicles had to drive on the shoulder and take outer roads to reach the accident. When we finally drove past it,  what we saw was horrible. Little children were involved in the accident and I have no more information.  It looked bad and I will leave it at that.   

   On a brighter note, we had a wonderful stay with Melodi, Lacey and Rowan. Our trip home was eventful and a tad more sane than some trips we have flown.  Considering we were flying at 34,000 feet and flying at 450 miles an hour, it was a good flight.  As far as I am concerned, that is a good thing and beats traveling by covered wagon all to pieces. However, I must admit, I would love to travel once the Oregon Trail with a wagon train.  It is on my Bucket List...it just can not be in summer...someone would shoot me half way through the trip.

                                  

Visiting Reno...

  Tommy and I visited Melodi, Lacey and Rowan this past weekend in Reno.  It is such a treat to be 67 and a new grandmother.  I thought those days were long gone.  Jacy our oldest granddaughter is 14 and Logan our grandson is 12. We have been with them for most of their lives. Watching them grow up has been one of life's great adventure.  They are amazing, funny, super smart and are blessed from the top of their heads to the bottom of their toes.   All they have to do is say "Hi, Nonnie" and I am grateful all over again for life and for them. 

   It is the same with my daughters.  They were first my babies, then my little girls.  Truthfully, part of me has kept them in my mind and heart as little girls and that is fine with me.   However, I enjoy the women they have become.  Without a doubt they are the funniest, most creative women I know. There are times when I think we could take our show on the road.  At this time in my life,  they are my best friends.  Tommy and I adore them and their spouses.  Laughter is good for the mind, heart and soul. We laugh a lot when we all get together. It is a cleansing time and a renewal from all the crap going on in the world.

   And then came Rowan.  She is a new spark in our lives. There is something magical about babies. And Rowan is about as magical as they come. When I whisper in her ear, I call her 'Bean'. The first time I saw her ultrasound she looked like a little bean. I remember thinking, "There is my little Bean and I love him or her."

   When Lacey or Melodi walk into a room, Rowan lights up.  When Tommy and Rowan interact, she coos and laughs and kicks her little feet. She adores his voice. I do too.  Now Ro  likes me and talks to me but I think my glasses are debatable with her. I take them off and she is happy.  Me, on the other hand, can not see up close so my new love is a bit of a blur.  It is a trade off  in that department. 

                                   

     

   

   

   

      

Life is good...very, very good in my                                               corner of the world.   

To be continued...we had to return home and what a trip it was!!     
                                   

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time...

   I decided last winter, when the thermometer outside read 6 degrees, I wanted to redo my back yard. I thought about it all winter.  I did not want to build a gazebo or anything drastic or expensive. Nor did I want anything that needed Tommy or me to spend hours on a wobbly ladder, hanging on for dear life with one hand while cussing like a sailor at misunderstood directions. We have already done all of this when we built my art room.  I wanted a place to set our  swings, enjoy a fire pit, and cook out.  Most of all I wanted a place to enjoy rain showers, sunsets, family, friends and good music. A place to share beer, coffee and good ole Southern Ice tea.  I wanted a place to read and a place for old stories and new memories; a place filled with night sounds and lightening bugs. 

  Tommy was delighted that I would finally use all the 'pallets' that find their way to our home.  I love those things.  I can create all sorts of ideas from Pintrest; in a worse case scenario they make great kindling for our wood stove.

   The project was about to begin and would only take a minimal amount of time. We purchased a 12 x 12 foot canopy at Westlakes.  It was up in a matter of thirty minutes. Tommy bought me an red umbrella table for my birthday. I loaded up on flowers and gathered all my 'outside' furniture and began to create an outdoor room. I loved it!  We spent some good times out there.  Over the course of a few weeks, we made a wall out of pallets. That was easy but still harder than I thought it would be. Tommy's left arm is not 100% and it caused him pain...a lot of pain. I wanted him to quit but he refused. I love that man! Sometimes he drives me nuts but I can't imagine life without him. After saying all of this and meaning every word; I also have to throw in the fact that he gives the worst directions in the world!! He knows what he wants done and how to do it but I'll be damn if he can make me understand it!! The fence was created with minimal damage to feelings or egos.  AND no one was mentally pushed off a ladder--as far as I know.  Unlike the building of the sunroom when we were exhausted, hotter than hot we mentally threw each other through every window  and sliding door possible. . . well, in my mind, I did. However he threw the hammer first.

   All my hard work and bright ideas looked pretty and were very comfortable.  It lasted about a month.  The Spring rains began, stopped,  returned and finally moved in, refusing to let up. A night of high winds and my outside patio looked like this.

      I knew it was a temporary structure but I sure thought it would last longer than a month.  Once again it is cleaned up and usable without the canopy. I have plenty of shade in the late afternoon.  However I really did like the canopy. Either later this summer or next spring I am having a metal one installed. Tommy and Vicky will only pick out the color, location and add the pretty touches.  This will be a first for us.

     Here are a few shots of the rest of our yard. 

                         

                                                   

                                        
                                                                 front yard

   The wet spot to the left of the boat, which is filled with hostas and daylilies, I would like to place a small koi pond there.  Tommy doesn't want it because of snakes and Sabella would probably eat the fish.  Hmmmm still thinking this one over. He is probably right.

   

                                   Part of the back yard and pond---The pond, now that is another story.

Remembering Mama on Her Birthday...The Ladies in the Painting...

   This beautiful lady to the left is my mother, Betty Poe Humphreys. If memory serves me right, I think this photo was made after I was born. Mama would have been about 22 or 23. I called her "Betty Lou" when I could get away with teasing her.  I used it at times when she did something funny, or scared the snot out of me driving. She was the most descent, kind person I have ever known. I will miss her forever.

   We lived with her parents, Harry and Fayetta Poe, for the first eleven years of my life.  It was a wonderful childhood. I was one loved little girl.

   Mama had a million stories and I absorbed each story she told. They made a lasting impression on me. I wish I could remember  all of them now, however I don't. The ones I do, I cherish.  One of my favorite stories is about the Christmas Uncle Gene, her brother, and Mama bought Mamamae one of the most beautiful paintings Mama had ever seen. The painting was centered around another era in life.   

                                          

                                                     Mama was working at the Dime Store in Clinton. She was about 16 when she saw this painting in a local furniture store. She had to have it for Mamamae. It would be the fanciest thing Mamamae owned at that time.  Uncle Gene, who would have been about 14, worked odd jobs.  Together they saved their money to buy this painting for Mamamae's Christmas present. It was almost Christmas Eve and the painting wasn't paid for yet. Uncle Gene took a wagon and picked up scrap metal and junk to sell. He made enough that day to finish paying for the gift.  Every time Mama told me this story her eyes misted over with words left unsaid.
 
    I can remember looking at the painting and making up stories about the ladies and what they were doing. In my mind, it was always at the beginning of the Civil War. The friends were having an afternoon tea. The lady playing the piano and the young woman playing the harp were sisters in my imagination. The young woman sitting in the chair would soon be their sister in law. They would be married before he joined the Confederate army. I was usually the lady in the chair. Sometimes, but not often I would be the lady playing the piano. For some reason I never wanted to be the young woman playing the harp...and neither did Darla, Uncle Gene and Aunt Donna's daughter. If I were allowed to pick a sister Darla would be it. We would take turns being the ladies in the painting. The poor girl playing the harp was on her own in our imaginary world.
 
   That painting has moved with us sixteen times. It has been displayed in numerous states. Unfortunately, once it was stored under our bed.  At that time my home was decorated with American Indian décor and the ladies did not fit in anywhere. I always felt guilty about that...but I did love that native look.
 
   Now my home is decorated with photographs of people I love and places I have been.  Mama's three ladies are back with a new picture frame. I still have the old one. Someday they will all be reunited.
 
   It is a good day in my part of the world. Happy Birthday Mama...you were the best.
  



                                              

A New Kind of Art Show...

 
   Tommy and I spend more than our share of time at the VA.  It has been such a blessing in our lives and on one occasion literally saved Tommy's life.
 
  Each time we enter the revolving doors, something new is going on. The hospital is in perpetual expansion and repair both inside and outside.

  When we were there this week, the hospital was hosting  the "2016 Fine Arts, Applied Arts and Crafts Competition".  Beautiful pieces of artwork were arranged on tables waiting to be judged. 

 Brochures explained the qualifications to enter the contest. A written letter of no more than 225 words would describe "the physical and/or mental challenges the Veteran overcame in order to accomplish the creation of his art.

   The Veteran must have experienced combat duty during World War ll, Korean War, Vietnam, Gulf War, or current combat operations.  The artwork must relate to the Veteran's personal experience in the war or conflict."

    I spent most of my time in the lobby looking at the artwork, reading  the notes that accompanied the different forms of art while listening to a flute played by a courageous lady who served in the Navy. Next to rain on a tin roof, the sounds of the ocean touching the shore, and soft whispers of a baby, I think her music was the most soothing sound I have heard in a long time.

     
  On other tables were paintings in watercolor and pastel. Some of the paintings  had an oriental focus or memory of Southeast Asia. It took a long time to study the artwork. They held unwritten stories in colors of war.

The ship to the left is a miniature creation of the USS Missouri. Never in a hundred years would I be able to hold my hand steady enough to accomplish putting  this together.

I walked around the tables three times.  Each trip I found my way back to one special piece of art.  It was a homemade scrapbook. Each page painted in shades of red, rust, brown, dark brown and black.  Once again the colors of war to me. In my mind, the creator was stationed either in Vietnam or Southeast Asia. A few pages make me think of the Middle East.  I believe the artist is a woman. I do not think for a minute the war is ever far from her mind.

  I would have paid a hundred dollars for the book however, I doubt if it was for sale. The book is a collage created with scraps of words, pictures, and square holes connecting one page to the next with  quotes and heart felt emotion.  At times the pages resemble a ruined home in the Middle East. It is someone's memories someone's stories. Perhaps the stories are hard to remember yet impossible to forget. It would be a hard place for the mind of anyone to live for any length of time.  Joy held court in another book but had no place in this one.

  I took photos of the book and I intended to post them, however I changed my mind. It is not my book to share. I feel it is alright to describe the cover of the book from my perspective.  It was made from cardboard that had been painted black multiple times. Written in slightly hard  to read words was the title of the book, "Ghosts of the Shadow of War".  Something gold is painted on the left side and runs halfway up and over the top of the book cover.  At times it looks like a dragon, other times a snake with a spider web near the top of the book.
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  Written in the midst of the golden dragon looking figure are the words, "The Not So Enchanted World". In the midst of all this was drawn a black knight and a small blond girl...both riding a lighter shade of black horse.

  I don't know what it really means. I have many ideas but I doubt if any are right. To me it seems the young woman went to war to help people in need, perhaps as a nurse. There is one photo of three young women running away from a helicopter. The camera captured the panic look on their faces. They are all wearing dusty green fatigues and black boots.  Perhaps the young woman was full of life and promise then something happened; she saw war up close and personal. War and fighting appeared to rip a hole in her soul. Seeing that at such a young age, changed how she saw the world, perhaps forever.  

  War is never normal unless you were born in a war zone.  Even then there is no normal anything. It is more of a wait and see what happens next kind of life. After war, perhaps a normal life would feel uneasy, fragile and war would be the 'normal' nightmare.  Awkward. Scary.  Peace would be a reprieve but hard to get used to. I  think some veterans would  be looking into an empty space...uneasy, perhaps reliving the same scenes over and over in there minds at odd times of the day or night.  I hope I am wrong. 

  To most Americans I have talked to who have been to war, it is hard to come back and live a normal life soon after seeing war up close and personal. It takes awhile to adjust to peace. People change. I think it would take a long time to remember 'normal'. It might have to be redefined again.