Month: March 2011

Summer Festivals

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sliding down the BIG slide

In June our little town has a festival, as do most little towns.  It’s a time to bring the kiddos out for some fun and adventure; a time to sit on the bandstand and talk to people we haven’t seen in a while, maybe since the last summer’s festival; a time to stuff ourselves with corn dogs, barbecues, cotton candy, funnel cakes, and anything else that strikes our fancy.  And a time to take home that summer taffy.

winning the prize

It’s a time for kids to run around until they’re all hot and sweaty… and cranky.  And ride awesome, fun, scary rides they don’t get but once or twice a year.  It’s a time like no other.

hot and sweaty

I can still remember how much fun it was when I was young to go to the carnival.  It was a lot different then that it is today.  We now have the watered down or G rated version.  Back a lot of moons ago we had the R rated version, and that was only because we weren’t allowed in the stripper tents.

hootchy-kootchy girls

The men (and women?) were the ones who got to choose if they wanted the X rated version.

The carnival today only uses one of the three squares of “mall” in town.  When I was young, two of the squares were jam packed with rides, sideshows, food booths, games, and banked on either end as though competing for business, the stripper tents.  One was on the south end of the parking mall and the other was on the north end of the bandstand mall.  At least that’s the way I remember it, but there may have been only one.  The women, clad in loose robes or other “loose” attire, would come out and walk around on a narrow stage before a crowd of men as the barker enticed the men to spend their money to come inside and see the real deal.  As I recall, some lucky man would be picked to go in free, and soon several men were lining up to go in the tent.  Of course, anybody passing could stop and watch as the women strutted about the stage… it was at the tent door the people were allowed in or culled to stay out.

There were sideshows of questionable nature as well.  A dime would get a child in to see all sorts of weird anomalies, human and animal.  The one I was most curious about was the hermaphrodite.  Of course, there was an age limit on who was allowed in, and I was way too small, but I questioned everybody that went in on what they saw.

I don’t remember when the town quit allowing the stripper tents and the sideshows to come in as part of the carnival.  And I’m not sure if that fact has anything to do with the size of the carnival, at least half of what it once was.  I just know for certain it was a magical and wicked week out of the year.

It Was A Pretty Sunny Day

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“Mom?”  It was a question fraught with  incredulous amazement.

As I turned my head, I could see my daughter out of the corner of my eye, looking at me in the same way her voice sounded, with incredulous amazement.

“I thought that was you.  What are you doing?”

But wait.  Let me start at the beginning.  It was a sunny day, a nice day to go for a walk to the grocery store.  That’s how it all started, with just a typical, sunny day.

makes you wanna DO something

The grocery store was only three or four blocks away, as are most of the stores and businesses in this little no-stoplight town, so I decided to just walk to pick up the two or three items I needed.

Apparently, several other people had thought the same thing as well because I met some on the way to market (I love that phrase) and chatted up a storm.  I have to say I am chatty and love to visit when given the opportunity; that’s what we do in rural areas (or count corn and soy bean rows).

corn rows

So by the time I got to the grocery store, I was in a good mood and feeling even more chatty.

And I wasn’t disappointed either!  After I got my cart and began to mosey down the aisles, I bumped into one here and then another there, chat-chat-chat.  The more I talked, the more items I put in my cart.    As the cashier rang up my purchases, we, of course, said a word or two in passing, and then it was out the door to get in my car.

When it was all said and done, I had at least three well-filled sacks of groceries:  gallon of milk, cans of something or other, heavy stuff.  “Where in the heck is my car?!” I walked around to the side of the building.  “Now, what the heck?” Then it dawned on me:  I walked.  Four blocks to be exact.  Maybe ten.  At this point, the weight of those sacks of groceries was distorting my spacial recollection.

There was nothing to do but hoof it.  So off I went, and actually did pretty good until the last block.  By that time I was all bent over just trying to maintain some sort of grip on those sacks, contemplating just leaving them there to go get the car.  But I could see my house!  I could make it!

That’s when I heard the voice filled with incredulous amazement.  My daughter had driven up the road and saw this little figure carrying all these sacks.  “I thought you were some little girl!” Not said in a nice way to make me feel young, cute, or vibrant.  More incredulously amazed that a grown woman with children old enough to drive a car would be contorting on the public way, grappling  sacks of food stuffs.

I didn’t care how she said it.  I just hightailed it into that vehicle and went home.

YES!

And the Winner is…

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Bert's basket of good stuff

Yum!  Yum!!  This basket is filled with delicious food from my friend, Alberta:  home-made chicken noodle soup, two turkey sandwich halves, angel food cake with lemon sauce, and a clementine.  She knew I had been sick (forever it seems) and came to see about me and make sure I was still among the living.  I love her!

Bert feeds my cat, Bo, (and any other straggler I may be feeding at the time) when I am gone (or sends hubby to do it).  She comes by in the spring and yanks off all the blooms from the flowers before I can even make the word “Nooooooo!” come out of my mouth (I know it’s for their own good).

Bert and her wonderful hubby

I don’t think I can ever remember a time she didn’t do some little nice something every time she has stopped by my house.  She is a true, good friend, and I can depend on her with my life if I needed to do so.

and I may anyway

So… since I got no response to my potential give-away, (Coming Event: The Give-Away) I am assuming no one is interested in free stuff; free, cool stuff.  Since I know Bert likes free, cool stuff, and since she already participates in person, I think she will win the contest I am starting March 19 and will end March 27.

It will take place those dates because that’s when Rosemary and Maddy can help me pick out something really cool and soon to be really free!

Coming Event: The Give-Away

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the grand prize

One of my favorite blog sites,  Pink Martinis and Pearls , is having a Give-Away.  I have been having such a great time doing all the things she requested (well, actually solving the great computer mystery: how the heck do I do this?) that last night I couldn’t sleep thinking about what I was going to give away!  Lucky you!!

neat apron

goldfsh

You should at least show up on her doorstep and thank her for putting the idea in my head… better wait to see if the “prize” is worth it, I suppose.  Check around and you will see that one blogger has the most beautiful set of lamps, really nice, expensive lamps in her Give-Away.  I capitalize this because it is worthy of capitalization.  It will infuse you with excitement and anticipation and hopefully… more reader participation.

bracelet

My quandary is what to give away and how to execute the give-away game.  (I do so love games.)

you WILL like it

I’ve been asking around at some of the blog sites, looking on line for ideas, and checking out the how-to sites.  I am so excited!!!

Any give-away ideas?

The Sleepover

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Cinderella

The grandgirls and I have been having a sleepover tonight.  We have played and played, just like I remember doing when I was little.

First, they played with all their toys, then we went to Burger King to meet Mawmaw Dar.  They played there until no one was left but the two of them, so we finally came on home.  Next on the play agenda was beauty barler (or something like that) where Kate fixed my hair as well as Ava’s.  That Kate knows how to “tetend.”

We played Cinderella; waltzed to the mini keyboard that has some jive canned music (a little hard to waltz on that one), then at the stroke of midnight, Kate ran off, leaving one high heel.  I usually have to be more than one character, so I was also the servant that came checking to see whose dainty little foot would fit the shoe.  She sticks her little foot out, and wala!  It fits.

What dainty foot will fit in this shoe?

As an added surprise I whisked her up and pretended to gallop on my horse to the castle.  Naturally, we had to do that several times (Ava as well).  Kate would hold on to me with one hand and hold her hat with the other.  She would look around as though talking to someone and coyly say, “I don’t know what he’s doing with me.”  It was just hysterical!

From there it went to Sleeping Beauty with Ava being the dragon.  Little Ava did her part well, coming over every now and then and jumping on Beauty or whacking the prince trying to save Beauty.

Mean stepmother is one of Kate’s favorites, and, of course, she gets to be the mean stepmother first.  She’s only mean to me, though.  Ava is exempt.  Kate will put her mean stepmother face on and tell me to do this and do that, then she turns to Ava and goes so overboard on the nicey-nice just in case Ava may have thought Kate was including her in those mean looks and sassy comments.  Ava gets to go with mean stepmother while I have to sit in the dark bedroom and can’t get up.  She checks back occasionally to see if I’m minding her… sometimes I do. 

I kind of like lying there on the bed in the quiet, nursing my back.

Once Upon a Pony

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Old Bill and me

Once upon a time, a long time ago, my dad got us kids (well, me) (my brother had a quarter horse) a pony.  If you know anything at all about the equine world, you know that ponies are mean little you-know-whats and stubborn.  My dad had a sense of humor, and I can only imagine he bought this pony so he could laugh his buhiney off at the things it did to me.  That’s him sitting on the porch with my little sister on his lap, getting ready for a big guffaw no doubt.

I was six or seven in this picture.  Back then kids had more freedom to move about and play, and were allowed to do all sorts of dangerous (in the eyes of today’s world) activities.  We didn’t have Wii or other games like that, and television wasn’t nearly as interesting as going exploring or playing with friends.   Today, kids think it’s dangerous to walk or ride their bike down the street, even in our little rural town (one of the effects of instant news).  And truthfully, I would have a cow if my grandgirls did half what I did when I was growing up.

My dad had a small farm about a mile or a little more out of town.  Down the dirt road to the north from our house, past the horse show arena, on out toward pee curve, turn to the west and go up a sloping, steep hill (especially on a bicycle in the hot summer), then breeze on down the other side to the farm.  We had a great time on that place.  That’s where Mom had her garden, where Dad had animals of all sorts through the years, and where the barn with the horses was.

Some days I would drive out to the farm with Dad (back then we could sit in the truck bed) and ride Old Bill.  This particular day I was going to ride him back into town to the house, following Dad’s truck.  We did just fine till we got to the top of that steep hill.  It was summer, and I guess Old Bill just didn’t like to be pushed that hard.  We were in the part of the road that had shade trees on either side, and Dad’s truck was waaaaaay down the road turning pee curve to head on to the house.  He was gone.  And I have to admit, I felt just a bit more than a smidgen of panic.

I don’t know if Old Bill sensed I was scared to be there all by myself or if he had it planned the minute he saw Dad’s truck make the curve, but he started to lie down in the road… with me on him.  I pulled on the reins and kicked the fat, stubborn thing with all my little years had in me to no avail.  It was either jump or get squashed.  So I jumped off just as he did the full lie-down.

Oh, I got Old Bill to the house.  I led him the rest of the way home.  Every time I tried to get back on him, he would lie down in the road.  As soon as I quit, he got up and would start plodding along.  I know I couldn’t have felt any heavier than a mosquito on his back.  By the time we got home, I was spitting mad… at Old Bill, at Dad, and at me for my inability to control that stubborn pony.

Now, though, I give myself a little credit.   I suppose at the age of 7 or 8 that I had some control… or he would have bucked me off and ran away.

But that’s another Old Bill tale.

Redo!

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Hmmmm.  Not sure what happened to Maxine’s pictures.  Could be something I wasn’t supposed to put on here, and they somehow stopped me.  Wouldn’t that be nice to have a built-in stop-her-when-she-needs-to-be-stopped mechanism?  Oh, wait.  We have one.  It’s called a conscience.

So I took the Maxine post off because it just wasn’t the same without Maxine’s funny little pictures and stuck a little note up here instead.  Just a little reminder, I guess, to listen to your conscience.  Maybe it wasn’t WordPress that had something to do with me needing to change the post.  I wonder…

My Quest To Be Freshly Pressed

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This will come as no surprise to bloggers on wordpress.com, but it may to all my BFFs and homeys.  I have this inane desire to be Freshly Pressed.

Freshly Pressed

It’s been over a month, and I’ve meandered around blog world quite a bit, hitting wordpress.com fairly often, just checking in for the little tidbits they give us to help us be better bloggers: get an interesting read out there, express ourselves, use the tools they hand out freely to our advantage.   I have found great bloggers; really funny, witty, heart-wrenching, insightful, informative, helpful, great people with great blog sites.  Which, of course, has the adverse effect of making me realize how un-all-those-things I am, and that I now want to be more like that.

blogger stories

Nothing at all what I had intended when I set a goal to have a blog.

my most favorite egg and cheese sandwich in the whole world recipe

My goal was to cook delicious food and take pictures of my delicious food on these really cool white plates while laughing and socializing with friends, old and new.  I was gonna be the town socialite; everybody wanting to come and sit a spell and chow down (in the refined verbiage of rural living).

Being the Gemini that I am,  that idea was replaced just about as soon as I thought it with the fact that, no, my appetite was bigger than food.  My blog would have to be about all my appetites (well, some I refuse to discuss on an open forum).

http://www.astrology.com.au/astrology/12-signs-of-the…/gemini.html – Cached

Since I’ve discovered being Freshly Pressed, http://wordpress.com/ my whole take on my blog goal has escalated from “What am I going to talk about tonight?” to “How can I be interesting enough to have creases be Freshly Pressed?”  Click on one of those blogs, and one can see why they’re highlighted and held in high esteem, looking crisp and sharp, savvy and stylish.

me making a decision

Then there’s me.

Hmmmm.  The little country bumpkin looking for just the right words to draw the attention of the Pressers.

What are the key words?

Maybe I should focus more on just one subject instead of a gazillion.  Maybe my visual aids (I learned that in speech class) aren’t inspiring.  I’m too long-winded?  I sound like the nincompoop that I am?  They’re going to make me actually work to achieve it?  (insert Maynard G. Krebs “WORK?” from the old sitcom The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis)

I may just have to settle on being fresh… or pressed… for time, money, fame.

Pick me! Pick me!

My Most Favorite Egg Sandwich In The Whole World

2 eggs (mix with a fork in the pan) fried in a T. of unsalted butter, no salt, better flip once, maybe fold them over some to fit on the bread

2 slices whole wheat bread, butter lightly one side, lay one piece butter side down in the same pan after scooping up the eggs with a pancake turner, then plop the eggs onto the bread

1 slice of cheese, whatever cheese you like, parceled over the top of the eggs, then place the other piece of bread on that, once again lightly buttered

flip to melt the cheese until it’s gooey and oozing out the sides and the bread is all crispy.

serve with an ice-cold Coca-Cola over crushed ice

Mrs. Lee

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Mrs. Jim Caldwell

Tonight as I read the comments on yesterday’s post, it occurred to me I should have put a picture of Mrs. Lee on here.  She would rather be referred to as Mrs. Jim Caldwell, I am quite sure, because she still loves that man and is still proud to be called his wife.

life-long friends

This was at Mom’s birthday one year, not too many years ago, only two or three before she passed away.  We always tried to bring Lee for the festivities.  She is an optimist, ever looking for a reason to smile.  And to go.  A good lesson by a good woman.