Blogging from East Bruce
10/15/07
Vonda Tedford-Keon
After writing about cooler weather last week and my craving for a bowl of chili, I was so excited to wake up to cooler temperatures. The first thing I did Thursday afternoon, after I left work, was head to the store and buy all the ingredients needed to get a pot of Cincinnati chili going. Now, I like all kinds of chili but my favorite is Cincinnati style.
I’ll even share it with you but I have to warn you about the secret ingredients. You have to be really open minded and ready to try something that will knock your socks off.
Outside of the state of Texas, Cincinnati, Ohio, is the most chili-crazed city in the United States. Cincinnati prides itself on being a true chili capital, with more than 180 chili parlors. Cincinnati-style chili is quite different from its more familiar Texas cousin, and it has developed a cult-like popularity. Cincinnati chili is best enjoyed spooned over freshly made pasta and topped with a combination of chopped onions, shredded Cheddar cheese, refried beans or kidney beans, and crushed oyster crackers. If you choose "the works," you are eating what they call Five-Way Chili. Make sure to pile on the toppings - that's what sets it apart from any other chili dish.
Here’s the key to how to eat it:
One Way: just grab a bowl full topped with Oyster crackers.
Two way: Chili served on spaghetti.
Three Way: Additionally topped with shredded Cheddar cheese.
Four Way: Additionally topped with chopped onions.
Five Way: Additionally topped with kidney beans.
1 large onion chopped
1 pound extra-lean ground beef1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground allspice
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon red (cayenne) pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 tbsp unsweetened cocoa
1 (15-ounce) can tomato sauce
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1/2 cup water1 (16-ounce) package uncooked dried spaghetti
Toppings (see the key above)
In a large frying pan over medium-high heat, sauté onion, ground beef, garlic, and chili powder until ground beef is slightly cooked. Drain the meat mixture and place it in your crock pot. Add allspice, cinnamon, cumin, cayenne pepper, salt, unsweetened cocoa or chocolate, tomato sauce, Worcestershire sauce, cider vinegar, and water. Cook on medium or high for 2 hours.
Cook spaghetti according to package directions
Ladle chili over spaghetti and serve with toppings of your choice. Oyster crackers are served in a separate container on the side.
Now that I have finished sounding like someone on the Food Network, I hope you try my Cincinnati Chili. It is a delight to the senses and you will really be surprised at how good it is. And if you just have to have that ‘bite’ then got and add a jalapeno slice for good measure. I promise you that you will love this chili.
Bon Appetite!
Vonda Keon can be reached at vondak8753@yahoo.com.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Sunday, October 07, 2007
10/4/07 column
Ahh! That Fall nip is in the morning air. The sky takes on a different color this time of year. It is a more intense Cerulean blue instead of a washed out version. I smell the turned earth of the potato fields as they are harvested and the smell of the defoliant on the cotton. Smells invoke certain memories for me. The farm chemicals always make me think of my Dad and his airplanes. My Dad, David Tedford loved to fly. Some of my earliest memories are of flying with him along the Pacific /California coastline in the little silver Aronica. We would see pods of whales on their migration path and watch the waves break and just fly for the love of flying. I grew up thinking all kids could go flying, that’s how normal flying was to me.
When we moved to Mississippi in 1959, it wasn’t too long before Daddy’s flying bug really kicked in. There was a need for a local crop-duster and Daddy was just such the dare-devil to do the job. He and Mom had their flying service for 40 years. And for half of those 40 years I woke up to the sounds of Piper or Cessna or Ag-Cat engines roaring down the runway into the wild blue yonder. Daddy had a distinctive way of flying and his plane always sounded different from the rest. I could spot his flying technique a mile away. Flying those planes was my Dads’ talent. He was a Master at it and there will never be another one like him. He always told me that the average life a crop duster was pretty short and he did cheat death on several occasions in plane crashes. At the end of his colorful life it was a heart attack that grounded him and took him from us. This is the time of year that I really miss him; every time I hear a crop duster, I still look for him.
Calling all Cancer Survivors! The 2008 Relay for Life Committee is looking for you. We know there are still many more Survivors out in Calhoun that we have never heard about. Please tell us who you are and help form a second Survivors team. If you are a Survivor or you know someone who is please contact Barbara Winter at Money Connection in Bruce or Kay Barefield in Bruce at BankCorp South. Show your Purple Pride and let everyone know that you beat Cancer.
Let me tell you about my little buddy Casey Vance. Casey was in a pretty bad accident a few months back and badly injured his leg. He is not out of the woods yet and is in a battle to try and save his leg. This is one strong little boy, folks. I have never seen such determination. I designed a t-shirt for him to help raise money to offset the mounting bills. Its an Eagle rising into the sky with the Scripture, ‘They will soar on wings like eagles…they will run and not grown weary…’ Is.40:31. Please help Casey and buy one of his t-shirts. Penny Nelson at Bruce Insurance is the contact person.
Vonda Keon can be reached at vondak8753@yahoo.com
When we moved to Mississippi in 1959, it wasn’t too long before Daddy’s flying bug really kicked in. There was a need for a local crop-duster and Daddy was just such the dare-devil to do the job. He and Mom had their flying service for 40 years. And for half of those 40 years I woke up to the sounds of Piper or Cessna or Ag-Cat engines roaring down the runway into the wild blue yonder. Daddy had a distinctive way of flying and his plane always sounded different from the rest. I could spot his flying technique a mile away. Flying those planes was my Dads’ talent. He was a Master at it and there will never be another one like him. He always told me that the average life a crop duster was pretty short and he did cheat death on several occasions in plane crashes. At the end of his colorful life it was a heart attack that grounded him and took him from us. This is the time of year that I really miss him; every time I hear a crop duster, I still look for him.
Calling all Cancer Survivors! The 2008 Relay for Life Committee is looking for you. We know there are still many more Survivors out in Calhoun that we have never heard about. Please tell us who you are and help form a second Survivors team. If you are a Survivor or you know someone who is please contact Barbara Winter at Money Connection in Bruce or Kay Barefield in Bruce at BankCorp South. Show your Purple Pride and let everyone know that you beat Cancer.
Let me tell you about my little buddy Casey Vance. Casey was in a pretty bad accident a few months back and badly injured his leg. He is not out of the woods yet and is in a battle to try and save his leg. This is one strong little boy, folks. I have never seen such determination. I designed a t-shirt for him to help raise money to offset the mounting bills. Its an Eagle rising into the sky with the Scripture, ‘They will soar on wings like eagles…they will run and not grown weary…’ Is.40:31. Please help Casey and buy one of his t-shirts. Penny Nelson at Bruce Insurance is the contact person.
Vonda Keon can be reached at vondak8753@yahoo.com
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
The Tapestry of my Life/Last Week!!
Do you remember that old Carole King song about Tapestry?
“My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue,
An everlasting vision, an ever changing view”
Sometimes my ‘Tapestry’ seems to be stuck on the spinning wheel! My ‘engine’ has been at full throttle this week and I don’t know exactly if I have moved a smidgin. Take Monday of last week; I went to Oxford to do some temp work for a doctors office that had gotten behind on their transcription. I put my headset on, clicked the pedal and started typing stopping only to go to the restroom and to eat a quick lunch. By 4:30 I had listened to 7 days of patients and had gotten them caught up. What they thought was going to take a week took me one day. Oops, I worked too fast! Is that a bad thing?
Tuesday I loaded the whale with the ad kits I would need for some of the stores that I do merchandising in. I had to make a stop at the post office and when I pulled out I realized the whale wasn’t maneuvering like it should. It was a bit mushy on the passenger side, so I drove over to True Value and got my cousin Rodney to check the tire. It had a good sized nail in it. That sidelined me for the rest of that day.
Wednesday morning I woke up and my feet hit the floor running. I had to get the work that I was supposed to do on Tuesday finished as well as do the Wednesday work also. I started out in Bruce, then Calhoun City, on to Vardaman then Houston with a jog left to Houlka and then finished my stores in Pontotoc at 7:30 that evening. I saw a lot of deer and they all saw me. Deer in the headlights is not something I like to see. Been there, done that and whacked that doe to the tune of too many dollars I didn’t want to spend. Thank the Lord for my deer whistles.
Thursday was spent cleaning house and attempting to reorganize. I have stacks of papers I need to grade, worked on my own essay for my theology course, and had a couple of meetings to attend to some pressing matters. My oldest daughter needed to go to Tupelo to get Pointe shoes for ballet so that was added to my agenda and I had a couple of little store audits to do at Barns Crossing. While she was getting fitted for the Pointe shoes I was checking out the home made fudge they offered in the shoe store. If you go to Tupelo, stop at The Corner Shoe Store and buy a block of that fudge. I rate it in the top 100 things to eat before you die. It is THAT divinely delicious. We arrived back home and just missed packing the boxes for the food pantry.
Friday found me in Caledonia doing what I fondly like to refer to as clean up. I had to go and complete the work that someone else had promised to do and then pulled a ‘George Jones’. You know what that is. They never showed up! Finding Caledonia was a trick all by itself. Map quest was pretty bizarre in its routing. It first took me down to Eupora and across at Starkville and then up at Columbus. I knew that was not right so I chose the alternative route. It was going to take me down every back country road and then some to get me there. I finally just opted for pointing my nose toward Aberdeen and watching for road signs and I did finally get there. I do want to go back that way and check out the house with the 4 huge gargoyles at their gate. There has got to be a story behind those. Can you imagine giving directions to your home and telling people to look for the four 6 foot tall gargoyles at the entrance of your drive way. Then you must slowly travel down the dark tree lined curving drive to find what? I’m telling you it was something out of a gothic novel.
Saturday was Food Pantry day and I was out there marking off names. I didn’t have to use my ice pack this time because the sun was hidden behind those rain clouds. We handed out 190 boxes in an hour! I came home to figure out what I fondly refer to as the sadistics. I really hate to figure out percentages but I have to crunch the numbers to send in to the state and the different churches that are affiliated with the pantry like to know the numbers too. By 3PM my brain was screaming for a nap and I gave in. The sofa in my living room is the perfect napping spot. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
Sunday, after church I gathered my books and papers and the girls accompanied me to Tupelo where I go and meet up with the other 19 people that are working on graduating with that Masters degree in theology next May. We worked on a paper about the Tapestry of our life. I can tell you right now, my tapestry looks like a crazy quilt. Just like the past week does. All over the place, going full speed and sometimes it seems like I’m not moving an inch!
“My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue,
An everlasting vision, an ever changing view”
Sometimes my ‘Tapestry’ seems to be stuck on the spinning wheel! My ‘engine’ has been at full throttle this week and I don’t know exactly if I have moved a smidgin. Take Monday of last week; I went to Oxford to do some temp work for a doctors office that had gotten behind on their transcription. I put my headset on, clicked the pedal and started typing stopping only to go to the restroom and to eat a quick lunch. By 4:30 I had listened to 7 days of patients and had gotten them caught up. What they thought was going to take a week took me one day. Oops, I worked too fast! Is that a bad thing?
Tuesday I loaded the whale with the ad kits I would need for some of the stores that I do merchandising in. I had to make a stop at the post office and when I pulled out I realized the whale wasn’t maneuvering like it should. It was a bit mushy on the passenger side, so I drove over to True Value and got my cousin Rodney to check the tire. It had a good sized nail in it. That sidelined me for the rest of that day.
Wednesday morning I woke up and my feet hit the floor running. I had to get the work that I was supposed to do on Tuesday finished as well as do the Wednesday work also. I started out in Bruce, then Calhoun City, on to Vardaman then Houston with a jog left to Houlka and then finished my stores in Pontotoc at 7:30 that evening. I saw a lot of deer and they all saw me. Deer in the headlights is not something I like to see. Been there, done that and whacked that doe to the tune of too many dollars I didn’t want to spend. Thank the Lord for my deer whistles.
Thursday was spent cleaning house and attempting to reorganize. I have stacks of papers I need to grade, worked on my own essay for my theology course, and had a couple of meetings to attend to some pressing matters. My oldest daughter needed to go to Tupelo to get Pointe shoes for ballet so that was added to my agenda and I had a couple of little store audits to do at Barns Crossing. While she was getting fitted for the Pointe shoes I was checking out the home made fudge they offered in the shoe store. If you go to Tupelo, stop at The Corner Shoe Store and buy a block of that fudge. I rate it in the top 100 things to eat before you die. It is THAT divinely delicious. We arrived back home and just missed packing the boxes for the food pantry.
Friday found me in Caledonia doing what I fondly like to refer to as clean up. I had to go and complete the work that someone else had promised to do and then pulled a ‘George Jones’. You know what that is. They never showed up! Finding Caledonia was a trick all by itself. Map quest was pretty bizarre in its routing. It first took me down to Eupora and across at Starkville and then up at Columbus. I knew that was not right so I chose the alternative route. It was going to take me down every back country road and then some to get me there. I finally just opted for pointing my nose toward Aberdeen and watching for road signs and I did finally get there. I do want to go back that way and check out the house with the 4 huge gargoyles at their gate. There has got to be a story behind those. Can you imagine giving directions to your home and telling people to look for the four 6 foot tall gargoyles at the entrance of your drive way. Then you must slowly travel down the dark tree lined curving drive to find what? I’m telling you it was something out of a gothic novel.
Saturday was Food Pantry day and I was out there marking off names. I didn’t have to use my ice pack this time because the sun was hidden behind those rain clouds. We handed out 190 boxes in an hour! I came home to figure out what I fondly refer to as the sadistics. I really hate to figure out percentages but I have to crunch the numbers to send in to the state and the different churches that are affiliated with the pantry like to know the numbers too. By 3PM my brain was screaming for a nap and I gave in. The sofa in my living room is the perfect napping spot. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
Sunday, after church I gathered my books and papers and the girls accompanied me to Tupelo where I go and meet up with the other 19 people that are working on graduating with that Masters degree in theology next May. We worked on a paper about the Tapestry of our life. I can tell you right now, my tapestry looks like a crazy quilt. Just like the past week does. All over the place, going full speed and sometimes it seems like I’m not moving an inch!
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Shades of Gray
Blogging from East Bruce
Vonda Tedford-Keon
I finished yet another course paper and sent it off to my adjunct professor to grade. Working on a masters certificate in theology has been one long journey. The end is in sight though. I should be finished by May of 2008. It has been a time of spiritual growth and a lot of spiritual reflection. When I was an undergraduate student in the early 70’s at MUW, writing a paper usually consisted of regurgitating facts and making sure I didn’t plagiarize any information. There was a title page and then the body of the paper consisting of all the facts that I had learned; the citations and the endless ibid. It was all done on an old manual typewriter because there was no such thing as a word processor or desktop computer. Ahh the ‘good old days’ when things was actually black or white.
Now I have a computer and Word program to help me along so the paper writing is much easier. It’s just getting the content right that I am concerned with now. Now all of my papers are ‘reflection papers’. Those are the hardest kind of papers to write. It seems like just yesterday that I was young and life was so simple. I went off to college during the time of Viet Nam. I had friends that were drafted and many that sat in front of the TV during the nights that the lottery was pulling up the numbers, just praying that their number didn’t come up. It was easy to tell right from wrong and weak from strong. Things were actually black or white.
Growing up insulated by our rural community we never really lived with doubt or tasted fear. In our innocence and naivety, the answers always seemed so clear. We knew when a man should stand fight or just go along with the crowd. It was easy to know what was fair, what to keep and when to share. There were clues to tell you when someone was telling the truth or telling you lies. People didn’t sell out, they would find a compromise.
We were taught how to tell the foolish from the wise, and how to protect our hearts. We really cared about people then. Every thing was pretty much cut and dried. We went to church and learned our morals from the Gospels. Our parents punished us when we did something wrong. We surely didn’t sass our parents and live to laugh about it to our friends. Things were actually black or white
I look around today, and I see things that sadden me. What used to be cut and dried is no longer. What used to be simple is now complicated. What used to be fair is now unfair.
Today there is no day or night; today nothing is black or white. Now there are just gray areas. Only shades of gray. How sad.
Vonda Tedford-Keon
I finished yet another course paper and sent it off to my adjunct professor to grade. Working on a masters certificate in theology has been one long journey. The end is in sight though. I should be finished by May of 2008. It has been a time of spiritual growth and a lot of spiritual reflection. When I was an undergraduate student in the early 70’s at MUW, writing a paper usually consisted of regurgitating facts and making sure I didn’t plagiarize any information. There was a title page and then the body of the paper consisting of all the facts that I had learned; the citations and the endless ibid. It was all done on an old manual typewriter because there was no such thing as a word processor or desktop computer. Ahh the ‘good old days’ when things was actually black or white.
Now I have a computer and Word program to help me along so the paper writing is much easier. It’s just getting the content right that I am concerned with now. Now all of my papers are ‘reflection papers’. Those are the hardest kind of papers to write. It seems like just yesterday that I was young and life was so simple. I went off to college during the time of Viet Nam. I had friends that were drafted and many that sat in front of the TV during the nights that the lottery was pulling up the numbers, just praying that their number didn’t come up. It was easy to tell right from wrong and weak from strong. Things were actually black or white.
Growing up insulated by our rural community we never really lived with doubt or tasted fear. In our innocence and naivety, the answers always seemed so clear. We knew when a man should stand fight or just go along with the crowd. It was easy to know what was fair, what to keep and when to share. There were clues to tell you when someone was telling the truth or telling you lies. People didn’t sell out, they would find a compromise.
We were taught how to tell the foolish from the wise, and how to protect our hearts. We really cared about people then. Every thing was pretty much cut and dried. We went to church and learned our morals from the Gospels. Our parents punished us when we did something wrong. We surely didn’t sass our parents and live to laugh about it to our friends. Things were actually black or white
I look around today, and I see things that sadden me. What used to be cut and dried is no longer. What used to be simple is now complicated. What used to be fair is now unfair.
Today there is no day or night; today nothing is black or white. Now there are just gray areas. Only shades of gray. How sad.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Mini Vacation to the Dismals in Alabama Part 1
Not that I long for the ‘good old days’ but there are just some things that we should all hang on to, such as traveling for little short trips with the family. When I was growing up Daddy was always spraying the cotton fields from early spring till fall so it was up to Mom to take me and my sister for little mini vacations during the summer months.
With the Labor Day long weekend looming, my husband and I decided to take our daughters for a short jaunt over into Alabama to a few choice places. Our oldest daughter plans on majoring in History so she requested places that have historical significance.
Getting into the big white people mover is like crawling into a time warp because of the music I like to listen to. An eclectic mix of tunes from the 50’s to the 80’s are pretty much what any traveling hostage has to listen to when traveling with me. We loaded the van with our bags and a cooler of bottled water plus an extra cooler for food as we wanted to picnic as much as we could. A quick trip to the grocery for fresh fruit and veggies and all the sandwich fixins’ and ice was all we needed to get started on our weekend adventure.
Our first stop was The Dismals located near Hamilton and Phil Campbell. The Dismals is a privately owned geological landmark where you step back in time when the earth was clean and water ran clear. The area is not commercially developed or cheesy. It’s a 1.5 mile nature trail down in a sandstone canyon and despite the "dismal" sounding name, this canyon offers a quiet and unspoiled oasis as Alabama’s last secret hiding place. It's a place of seclusion far off the beaten path with steep moss-covered rock walls, waterfalls, an icy stream, and flora and fauna indigenous to it alone. It's a place shrouded in mystery and in history. There are no flies or mosquitoes or poison ivy. There are trees growing deep in that canyon that are over 350 years old.
We hiked the Dismals for nearly 3 hours and then left to go and see the Natural Bridge. It’s a 148 foot span of sandstone and iron ore that rises 60 ft. off the floor of the forest below. It is truly a wonder of God’s creation. The winding hiking paths took us up and down some pretty rugged terrain and we all decided that we needed to be part mountain goat. Ferns were growing out of crevices in the huge boulders and on the sheer canyon walls. It started raining and we just kept hiking. The sound of the rain coming through the leaves was soothing. We really didn’t mind getting wet. The Natural Bridge is privately owned and the owners have left this area as unspoiled and untouched as possible. Its truly a nature conservatory.
Before heading back to the Dismals for the night hike to see the Dismalites we stopped for dinner at the A&W. Now that was a real step back into time. The little diner was so 1950’s and 60’s. We washed our burgers and fries down with real draught root beer floats served up in frosty glass mugs that A & W is so famous for. We returned to Dismals and sat and waited for darkness so we could go back down into the canyon to see the real stars of the Dismals. Dismalites are the glowing worms that infest the canyon walls. These have been known to swarm forth and skeletonize unsuspecting hikers in seconds. Just joking, of course. The worms only eat the brains of their victims.
No, really, there are glowing worms in the Dismals, though they're actually harmless (as far as we know). The worms are colloquially known as the "Dismalites," and they only exist in a couple of other pockets on the planet, and nowhere else in North America. "Dismalite" is a much better moniker than the critter's actual name, which is "fungus gnat" (or Arachnocampa luminosa). The tiny worms are the larval stage of the gnat, and they glow in order to attract other mites and flies to capture and eat.
Darkness fell out there in the Alabama woods and our tour guide David appeared. He was this tall burly stereotypical biker type of guy with lots of tattoos on his arms and a skull and crossbones do-rag on his head along with the black jeans and muscle t-shirt. He took the first group down the path to the caves where the little worms were. We were in the second group. It was hard enough in the day light negotiating the rough twisting and turn paths, now I was doing it with a flash light! We made our way to the caves and turned off the flash lights and the mossy walls started glowing. There were little points of bluish light here and there like little stars in the black night sky. I could not help but think about the Native Americans that used to live within those stone caves and what they must have thought the first time they saw those little points of light.
We made it back to our motel room in Hamilton after 10pm and we were all very tired. My legs were aching from all the climbing and hiking. As a family we had a great first day of a mini-vacation. We learned a lot of interesting historical facts, heard a lot of folk lore that was based on fact and most of all we learned that Nature can live without man but man cannot live without nature.
You can contact me at hallowed_grounds2633@yahoo.com.
With the Labor Day long weekend looming, my husband and I decided to take our daughters for a short jaunt over into Alabama to a few choice places. Our oldest daughter plans on majoring in History so she requested places that have historical significance.
Getting into the big white people mover is like crawling into a time warp because of the music I like to listen to. An eclectic mix of tunes from the 50’s to the 80’s are pretty much what any traveling hostage has to listen to when traveling with me. We loaded the van with our bags and a cooler of bottled water plus an extra cooler for food as we wanted to picnic as much as we could. A quick trip to the grocery for fresh fruit and veggies and all the sandwich fixins’ and ice was all we needed to get started on our weekend adventure.
Our first stop was The Dismals located near Hamilton and Phil Campbell. The Dismals is a privately owned geological landmark where you step back in time when the earth was clean and water ran clear. The area is not commercially developed or cheesy. It’s a 1.5 mile nature trail down in a sandstone canyon and despite the "dismal" sounding name, this canyon offers a quiet and unspoiled oasis as Alabama’s last secret hiding place. It's a place of seclusion far off the beaten path with steep moss-covered rock walls, waterfalls, an icy stream, and flora and fauna indigenous to it alone. It's a place shrouded in mystery and in history. There are no flies or mosquitoes or poison ivy. There are trees growing deep in that canyon that are over 350 years old.
We hiked the Dismals for nearly 3 hours and then left to go and see the Natural Bridge. It’s a 148 foot span of sandstone and iron ore that rises 60 ft. off the floor of the forest below. It is truly a wonder of God’s creation. The winding hiking paths took us up and down some pretty rugged terrain and we all decided that we needed to be part mountain goat. Ferns were growing out of crevices in the huge boulders and on the sheer canyon walls. It started raining and we just kept hiking. The sound of the rain coming through the leaves was soothing. We really didn’t mind getting wet. The Natural Bridge is privately owned and the owners have left this area as unspoiled and untouched as possible. Its truly a nature conservatory.
Before heading back to the Dismals for the night hike to see the Dismalites we stopped for dinner at the A&W. Now that was a real step back into time. The little diner was so 1950’s and 60’s. We washed our burgers and fries down with real draught root beer floats served up in frosty glass mugs that A & W is so famous for. We returned to Dismals and sat and waited for darkness so we could go back down into the canyon to see the real stars of the Dismals. Dismalites are the glowing worms that infest the canyon walls. These have been known to swarm forth and skeletonize unsuspecting hikers in seconds. Just joking, of course. The worms only eat the brains of their victims.
No, really, there are glowing worms in the Dismals, though they're actually harmless (as far as we know). The worms are colloquially known as the "Dismalites," and they only exist in a couple of other pockets on the planet, and nowhere else in North America. "Dismalite" is a much better moniker than the critter's actual name, which is "fungus gnat" (or Arachnocampa luminosa). The tiny worms are the larval stage of the gnat, and they glow in order to attract other mites and flies to capture and eat.
Darkness fell out there in the Alabama woods and our tour guide David appeared. He was this tall burly stereotypical biker type of guy with lots of tattoos on his arms and a skull and crossbones do-rag on his head along with the black jeans and muscle t-shirt. He took the first group down the path to the caves where the little worms were. We were in the second group. It was hard enough in the day light negotiating the rough twisting and turn paths, now I was doing it with a flash light! We made our way to the caves and turned off the flash lights and the mossy walls started glowing. There were little points of bluish light here and there like little stars in the black night sky. I could not help but think about the Native Americans that used to live within those stone caves and what they must have thought the first time they saw those little points of light.
We made it back to our motel room in Hamilton after 10pm and we were all very tired. My legs were aching from all the climbing and hiking. As a family we had a great first day of a mini-vacation. We learned a lot of interesting historical facts, heard a lot of folk lore that was based on fact and most of all we learned that Nature can live without man but man cannot live without nature.
You can contact me at hallowed_grounds2633@yahoo.com.
Monday, August 20, 2007
It has been a year since my grandmother called my name.
For 14 nights I sat by her side, talking to her and reading to her and singing. The nurses kept telling me she couldn’t hear me but I would see a tear roll down her soft wrinkled cheek every so often when I would read something I knew she liked. I was there when she drew her last breath. Let me tell you about my grandmother, Earlene Brown Tedford Alexander.
There will never be another Earlene. If ever there was a woman that was proud as a peacock, that would be Earlene. She was always dressed up. When other grandmothers would put on some tennis shoes or other type of sensible shoe, here would come my Mamaw, trotting out in her pumps with that purse slung on that arm. It’s a wonder in all of her 92 years that she didn’t fall and break a bone. The only bone that I do know that she broke was when she hugged one of her nephews a bit too hard and she popped a rib. I thought it was a freak thing that happened until the same thing happened to me a few years later!
My memories of Mamaw are varied. She could make a mean chocolate ‘gravy’ for my breakfast biscuit.
She always doubled up on my name. Vonda Anne always came out as VonDan. I can hear her saying it now. ‘VonDan!, come here and give Mamaw a hug.’. Then it was time for THE KISS. There was never an escape. You were going to get THE KISS.
Through the years I would go and see Mamaw and eat with her. She would make some homemade tomato soup so loaded with hot chow-chow, that you would need a fire extinguisher to cool you down. I could not drink enough tea to cool that heat. Years later she tried to remember her recipe but age had taken that memory.
In the last few years of her life I would go and get her and she would sit and help me peel cucumbers to make pickles or peel tomatoes for canning. Then she would fuss at me and tell me I ought to be ashamed of myself for making an old woman work like that. She didn’t turn down those pickles when they were ready to eat though. “VonDan! Bring me a jar of those pickle we made.”
A few days before she died, she told me she just wasn’t hungry anymore. When I asked her what she thought would taste good, she smiled at me and said a banana split would hit the spot. The next day I packed my cooler full of ice and made a trip to the Sonic and bought a banana split. I took it to the nursing home and when I walked in her room, she was lying on her bed taking a nap. I set the dish on the table and called her name. When she opened those blue eyes and saw that banana split she sat up and clapped her hands. “Ooo! VonDan! I can’t eat that whole thing!” I produced two spoons and we attacked that ice cream like a couple of little kids. She smacked her lips and ate that ice cream with relish. She looked at me and grinned and let out the most unladylike belch! We had the best visit over that one banana split.
When I left her that afternoon, she pointed to the red hat I had given her for her birthday. She had called me one afternoon and told me about a ‘hat contest’ at the nursing home. She wanted to win it more than anything. “VonDan, can you find me a hat? I want a fancy one so I can win this contest.” So I found her a red hat with feathers. She won and she was so proud of that hat. She told me to take it home because she wasn’t going to get to wear it again. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer so I left with the hat.
I can still see her sitting there, head cocked to one side, snow white hair and those ice blue eyes magnified by her glasses, smiling at me. “VonDan, when are you coming back to see me?” Tomorrow Mamaw. I’ll be back tomorrow. She slipped into a coma that night.
It’s been a year since my grandmother said my name.
For 14 nights I sat by her side, talking to her and reading to her and singing. The nurses kept telling me she couldn’t hear me but I would see a tear roll down her soft wrinkled cheek every so often when I would read something I knew she liked. I was there when she drew her last breath. Let me tell you about my grandmother, Earlene Brown Tedford Alexander.
There will never be another Earlene. If ever there was a woman that was proud as a peacock, that would be Earlene. She was always dressed up. When other grandmothers would put on some tennis shoes or other type of sensible shoe, here would come my Mamaw, trotting out in her pumps with that purse slung on that arm. It’s a wonder in all of her 92 years that she didn’t fall and break a bone. The only bone that I do know that she broke was when she hugged one of her nephews a bit too hard and she popped a rib. I thought it was a freak thing that happened until the same thing happened to me a few years later!
My memories of Mamaw are varied. She could make a mean chocolate ‘gravy’ for my breakfast biscuit.
She always doubled up on my name. Vonda Anne always came out as VonDan. I can hear her saying it now. ‘VonDan!, come here and give Mamaw a hug.’. Then it was time for THE KISS. There was never an escape. You were going to get THE KISS.
Through the years I would go and see Mamaw and eat with her. She would make some homemade tomato soup so loaded with hot chow-chow, that you would need a fire extinguisher to cool you down. I could not drink enough tea to cool that heat. Years later she tried to remember her recipe but age had taken that memory.
In the last few years of her life I would go and get her and she would sit and help me peel cucumbers to make pickles or peel tomatoes for canning. Then she would fuss at me and tell me I ought to be ashamed of myself for making an old woman work like that. She didn’t turn down those pickles when they were ready to eat though. “VonDan! Bring me a jar of those pickle we made.”
A few days before she died, she told me she just wasn’t hungry anymore. When I asked her what she thought would taste good, she smiled at me and said a banana split would hit the spot. The next day I packed my cooler full of ice and made a trip to the Sonic and bought a banana split. I took it to the nursing home and when I walked in her room, she was lying on her bed taking a nap. I set the dish on the table and called her name. When she opened those blue eyes and saw that banana split she sat up and clapped her hands. “Ooo! VonDan! I can’t eat that whole thing!” I produced two spoons and we attacked that ice cream like a couple of little kids. She smacked her lips and ate that ice cream with relish. She looked at me and grinned and let out the most unladylike belch! We had the best visit over that one banana split.
When I left her that afternoon, she pointed to the red hat I had given her for her birthday. She had called me one afternoon and told me about a ‘hat contest’ at the nursing home. She wanted to win it more than anything. “VonDan, can you find me a hat? I want a fancy one so I can win this contest.” So I found her a red hat with feathers. She won and she was so proud of that hat. She told me to take it home because she wasn’t going to get to wear it again. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer so I left with the hat.
I can still see her sitting there, head cocked to one side, snow white hair and those ice blue eyes magnified by her glasses, smiling at me. “VonDan, when are you coming back to see me?” Tomorrow Mamaw. I’ll be back tomorrow. She slipped into a coma that night.
It’s been a year since my grandmother said my name.
Hummingbirds
I marvel at God’s creation on a daily basis. Hummingbirds are just an example of God’s work that is truly a wonder. I don’t have a birdfeeder but my neighbors do and those little balls of fluff are really buzzing at the moment. Mom and I have a lot of Lantana that is in full bloom now and those flowers are just covered with the hummers as they are getting ready for the big migration south.
In preparation for the big migration, they make sure they pack themselves full of nectar and insects. Those small birds have to be strong to make such a long flight. Even though hummingbirds are tiny, they have huge appetites. Hummingbirds consume between 3.14 and 7.6 calories a day. That may not seem like much, but if humans (who may eat 3,500 calories a day) had the metabolism of a hummingbird, they would have to consume approximately 155,000 calories a day. That’s about 77 times as much as most humans eat! The hummingbirds’ need for lots of calories is because of their high heart rate and small body size.
Also, when hummingbirds make this incredible journey, they prefer to travel alone. Unlike geese or ducks, traveling in large groups doesn’t increase their chances of survival. Only one bird can feed off of a flower at a time, so waiting for every bird to feed would be a hassle and waste precious time. Also, hummingbirds are so small that predators usually ignore them, so traveling in large groups offers no extra protection. Just because hummers travel alone, however, does not mean that you will not see more than one hummingbird at a time; after all, several may be traveling at the same time and cross paths on their journeys.
They typically travel during the day and rest up at night, except in special situations like that of the ruby-throated hummingbird, which travels over the Gulf of Mexico. It takes more than one day for them to make it across, so the birds must fly through the night until land is reached. Their journey from North America to Mexico typically takes them 2 weeks.
A couple of years ago I was going through ‘painters block’. That is sort of like writers block only with a paint brush. I wanted to paint but nothing was grabbing my attention. I was watching a huge garden spider repairing its amazing web when suddenly a ruby throated hummer flew right into the center of it. It was no match for the web and got all tangled in it. As it struggled to fly with the sticky web coating its feathers it crashed into the side of my house and fell right below the clothes dryer vent. The poor little thing was now covered in dryer lint. It was trying to fly and losing the battle. I then noticed Duchess, my old queen cat, crouching into her predator stance. I was not about to have that little guy become lunch for the kitty so I went over and gently picked him up praying the whole time that he would not peck me.
It was like picking up a cotton ball. He looked at me with his little black eyes and I was looking at that wicked sharp beak. I just knew that I was going to be stabbed. My daughter Erin ran and got some sugar water as I gently pulled the spider’s web off of him and picked the lint off his little body. I dipped my finger in it and held a drop of it in front of his beak and he licked it off! As soon as I finished cleaning him, he jumped on my arm and hopped up to my shoulder. There he sat while I held the sugar water up and he lapped it up. Then he hummed for me! Suddenly he flew away into the trees and then turned around and came back and hovered in my face and hummed again. I think he was saying thank you. At any rate, I went to my drawing board and started drawing hummingbirds. I created several paintings over the next few days of tiny ruby throated hummers. It has become my second favorite bird to draw.
I still sit outside early in the morning before the heat gets to me and watch the hummers as they flit about and every now and then one will hover in my face and hum. I have to wonder if it is the same one that I saved that day. He was sent to me to inspire me to paint. God’s inspiration can be found anywhere one looks; it’s even in spider webs and hummingbirds
In preparation for the big migration, they make sure they pack themselves full of nectar and insects. Those small birds have to be strong to make such a long flight. Even though hummingbirds are tiny, they have huge appetites. Hummingbirds consume between 3.14 and 7.6 calories a day. That may not seem like much, but if humans (who may eat 3,500 calories a day) had the metabolism of a hummingbird, they would have to consume approximately 155,000 calories a day. That’s about 77 times as much as most humans eat! The hummingbirds’ need for lots of calories is because of their high heart rate and small body size.
Also, when hummingbirds make this incredible journey, they prefer to travel alone. Unlike geese or ducks, traveling in large groups doesn’t increase their chances of survival. Only one bird can feed off of a flower at a time, so waiting for every bird to feed would be a hassle and waste precious time. Also, hummingbirds are so small that predators usually ignore them, so traveling in large groups offers no extra protection. Just because hummers travel alone, however, does not mean that you will not see more than one hummingbird at a time; after all, several may be traveling at the same time and cross paths on their journeys.
They typically travel during the day and rest up at night, except in special situations like that of the ruby-throated hummingbird, which travels over the Gulf of Mexico. It takes more than one day for them to make it across, so the birds must fly through the night until land is reached. Their journey from North America to Mexico typically takes them 2 weeks.
A couple of years ago I was going through ‘painters block’. That is sort of like writers block only with a paint brush. I wanted to paint but nothing was grabbing my attention. I was watching a huge garden spider repairing its amazing web when suddenly a ruby throated hummer flew right into the center of it. It was no match for the web and got all tangled in it. As it struggled to fly with the sticky web coating its feathers it crashed into the side of my house and fell right below the clothes dryer vent. The poor little thing was now covered in dryer lint. It was trying to fly and losing the battle. I then noticed Duchess, my old queen cat, crouching into her predator stance. I was not about to have that little guy become lunch for the kitty so I went over and gently picked him up praying the whole time that he would not peck me.
It was like picking up a cotton ball. He looked at me with his little black eyes and I was looking at that wicked sharp beak. I just knew that I was going to be stabbed. My daughter Erin ran and got some sugar water as I gently pulled the spider’s web off of him and picked the lint off his little body. I dipped my finger in it and held a drop of it in front of his beak and he licked it off! As soon as I finished cleaning him, he jumped on my arm and hopped up to my shoulder. There he sat while I held the sugar water up and he lapped it up. Then he hummed for me! Suddenly he flew away into the trees and then turned around and came back and hovered in my face and hummed again. I think he was saying thank you. At any rate, I went to my drawing board and started drawing hummingbirds. I created several paintings over the next few days of tiny ruby throated hummers. It has become my second favorite bird to draw.
I still sit outside early in the morning before the heat gets to me and watch the hummers as they flit about and every now and then one will hover in my face and hum. I have to wonder if it is the same one that I saved that day. He was sent to me to inspire me to paint. God’s inspiration can be found anywhere one looks; it’s even in spider webs and hummingbirds
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Blogging about tea
Blogging from East Bruce
With apologies to Daniel D. Emment who wrote Dixie land in 1859 for a minstrel show as a joke
Oh I wish I lived in the land of Lipton, sweet iced tea is always ready,
Drink it up, drink it up, drink it up Lipton tea!
When a Southerner leaves our little universe, we discover the awful truth about the world outside of dear old Dixie.
You can’t find a proper glass of sweet iced tea! You might order a glass of sweet of tea but chances are what you get will not even resemble that sweet concoction that we were all weaned on. Tea in any other part of the world is not the same. The other evening I was squalling through Steele Magnolias for the umpteenth time and Dolly Parton’s character Truvey called those glasses of sweet tea she was serving “the house wine of the South”. And she wasn’t woofing.
Drinking sweet iced tea is one of the most traditional things about a Southern meal. There is an art to brewing that clear orangey reddish liquid we cherish so much; seven or eight of the small tea bags have hot (not quite boiling) water poured on them along with a cup plus a smidgin more of sugar. Then when it reaches just the right color its diluted to the one and only gallon pitcher whose only purpose in life is to pour the nectar of the gods into a tall glass that is packed full of crystal clear ice.
In the south when we say sweet tea, we mean sweet . I read somewhere (don’t try and pin me down where, I read a lot of stuff!) that Southern sweet tea is twice as sweet as a can of ‘Co-Cola’. I find that hard to believe but there are some ‘nutritional scientists’ out there that swear it’s so. But hey, look at the other sweet stuff we love to eat! We Southerners have a hankering for pecan pie and pralines and sweet potato pie and sweet potato compote, and mint juleps. Oops, did I say Mint Juleps?! Why shut my mouth! Now there’s a classic Southern cocktail if you consider Kentucky as southern too.
Maybe our fascination with sweet tea is with the ice. After all it does get hotter than blue blazes down here and there is nothing more refreshing and hospitable than sweet tea poured over ice. I love to hear the ice crackle as the warm sweet tea pours over it. I smack my lips in anticipation of the sweet treat! And don’t go and try and to sneak in instant tea and pass it off as the real deal. A true Southerner can tell the difference. Tea does not have foam on the top!
My oldest daughter Ariel and I had the opportunity to travel to Washington DC a couple of summers ago. She attended a youth leadership conference and I was taking summer classes at Washington Theological Union. For two weeks she and I attended our classes and communicated each evening by cell phone. As we would recount the days events the one common thing that we both noted was, we were starving. Both of us were longing for good ole white Wonder Bread and a tall glass of sweet iced tea. Oh, I could order the tea and get a glass of tea with a few cubes of ice in it and pack of sugar. That was not going to cut it. The little deli I ate at daily finally took pity on me. They called me Mississippi. ‘Hey Mississippi! Show us how you make tea way down there in the South.” So I did. I showed them how to pack that glass full of ice and just how sweet tea should be and how make a proper tomato sandwich. As they sampled my humble creations I saw them smile. The next day as I headed toward the metro for my trip into the city I noticed a new sign on their menu. New Items! Southern Sweet Iced tea and Tomato Sandwiches. Food and Sweet tea….the universal language.
With apologies to Daniel D. Emment who wrote Dixie land in 1859 for a minstrel show as a joke
Oh I wish I lived in the land of Lipton, sweet iced tea is always ready,
Drink it up, drink it up, drink it up Lipton tea!
When a Southerner leaves our little universe, we discover the awful truth about the world outside of dear old Dixie.
You can’t find a proper glass of sweet iced tea! You might order a glass of sweet of tea but chances are what you get will not even resemble that sweet concoction that we were all weaned on. Tea in any other part of the world is not the same. The other evening I was squalling through Steele Magnolias for the umpteenth time and Dolly Parton’s character Truvey called those glasses of sweet tea she was serving “the house wine of the South”. And she wasn’t woofing.
Drinking sweet iced tea is one of the most traditional things about a Southern meal. There is an art to brewing that clear orangey reddish liquid we cherish so much; seven or eight of the small tea bags have hot (not quite boiling) water poured on them along with a cup plus a smidgin more of sugar. Then when it reaches just the right color its diluted to the one and only gallon pitcher whose only purpose in life is to pour the nectar of the gods into a tall glass that is packed full of crystal clear ice.
In the south when we say sweet tea, we mean sweet . I read somewhere (don’t try and pin me down where, I read a lot of stuff!) that Southern sweet tea is twice as sweet as a can of ‘Co-Cola’. I find that hard to believe but there are some ‘nutritional scientists’ out there that swear it’s so. But hey, look at the other sweet stuff we love to eat! We Southerners have a hankering for pecan pie and pralines and sweet potato pie and sweet potato compote, and mint juleps. Oops, did I say Mint Juleps?! Why shut my mouth! Now there’s a classic Southern cocktail if you consider Kentucky as southern too.
Maybe our fascination with sweet tea is with the ice. After all it does get hotter than blue blazes down here and there is nothing more refreshing and hospitable than sweet tea poured over ice. I love to hear the ice crackle as the warm sweet tea pours over it. I smack my lips in anticipation of the sweet treat! And don’t go and try and to sneak in instant tea and pass it off as the real deal. A true Southerner can tell the difference. Tea does not have foam on the top!
My oldest daughter Ariel and I had the opportunity to travel to Washington DC a couple of summers ago. She attended a youth leadership conference and I was taking summer classes at Washington Theological Union. For two weeks she and I attended our classes and communicated each evening by cell phone. As we would recount the days events the one common thing that we both noted was, we were starving. Both of us were longing for good ole white Wonder Bread and a tall glass of sweet iced tea. Oh, I could order the tea and get a glass of tea with a few cubes of ice in it and pack of sugar. That was not going to cut it. The little deli I ate at daily finally took pity on me. They called me Mississippi. ‘Hey Mississippi! Show us how you make tea way down there in the South.” So I did. I showed them how to pack that glass full of ice and just how sweet tea should be and how make a proper tomato sandwich. As they sampled my humble creations I saw them smile. The next day as I headed toward the metro for my trip into the city I noticed a new sign on their menu. New Items! Southern Sweet Iced tea and Tomato Sandwiches. Food and Sweet tea….the universal language.
Food For Thought
Now here’s some ‘food’ for thought. When is the last time you and your family sat down at the dinner table and had a real meal together? Oh you know the kind of meal I’m talking about….Remember when we were kids and we would be outside playing or working in the yard. Mom was busy in the kitchen whipping up those mashed potatoes, boiling the ears of sweet summer corn and black-eyed peas, pulling that big black skillet filled with cornbread out of the hot oven and serving it all with slices of garden fresh tomato and chunks of onion and of course the tall glass of sweet iced tea. Mom stuck her head out the door and yelled ‘Supper!’ and we came running! After a trip to the kitchen sink to wash our hands everyone sat around the dinner table and enjoyed that meal. Now I grant you this might have only been a couple of days out of the week and Sunday was one of those days, but it was a good time for the family.
Fast forward a couple of decades and now what is a family meal like? Jump in the car and go to Sonic or Subway, grab the bag with the sandwich, go home, plop in front of the TV and watch ‘Are you Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?’. Breakfast might be the kids are strapped in the backseat and mom tosses an oatmeal bar at them while she is gulping down the diet soda as she frantically drops them off at school on her way to work.
Our lifestyle today is not conducive to family meals and that is so sad. Just because Mom is at the ball field with the kids during a game and Dad drives up and they grab a burger at the concession stand, does not qualify as a sit down meal together. Some kids today don’t know how to conduct themselves in a dinner situation. They take calls on the phone, they don’t know how to pass food or even pass the salt and pepper (they are married and never go anywhere without the other) and they don’t know how to have a conversation around the table. The dinner table is where a family builds its identity and culture. Legends are passed down, jokes rendered, eventually the wider world examined through the lens of a family's values. Younger kids pick up vocabulary and a sense of how conversation is structured. They hear how a problem is solved, learn to listen to other people's concerns and respect their tastes. A meal is about sharing. So pull up some chairs. Lose the TV. Let the phone go unanswered. See where the moment takes you. Bon Appetit!
Fast forward a couple of decades and now what is a family meal like? Jump in the car and go to Sonic or Subway, grab the bag with the sandwich, go home, plop in front of the TV and watch ‘Are you Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?’. Breakfast might be the kids are strapped in the backseat and mom tosses an oatmeal bar at them while she is gulping down the diet soda as she frantically drops them off at school on her way to work.
Our lifestyle today is not conducive to family meals and that is so sad. Just because Mom is at the ball field with the kids during a game and Dad drives up and they grab a burger at the concession stand, does not qualify as a sit down meal together. Some kids today don’t know how to conduct themselves in a dinner situation. They take calls on the phone, they don’t know how to pass food or even pass the salt and pepper (they are married and never go anywhere without the other) and they don’t know how to have a conversation around the table. The dinner table is where a family builds its identity and culture. Legends are passed down, jokes rendered, eventually the wider world examined through the lens of a family's values. Younger kids pick up vocabulary and a sense of how conversation is structured. They hear how a problem is solved, learn to listen to other people's concerns and respect their tastes. A meal is about sharing. So pull up some chairs. Lose the TV. Let the phone go unanswered. See where the moment takes you. Bon Appetit!
Food Pantry and Goofy politicians
Saturday was hot and I and few of my Methodist brothers and sisters were right out there in the oppressive heat sweating off a few gallons of water. No, we were not exercising, at least not in that sense of the word. We were giving out food boxes at the Our Daily Bread Food Pantry. The morning began around 10:30 when my husband and I arrived at the parking lot to start checking off the names of the people that were lining up and give the pickup ticket according to how many family’s boxes they are there to get. Bro. John Foster set up his tent for the cool water station while trying to get people lined up neatly. I had a bag of ice draped around my neck and wore a huge hat. It made the heat a bit more tolerable. The good folks from Louis Memorial had the assembly line going and in one hour we had given out 206 boxes. At times it’s a lot like herding cats.
The Food Pantry gives out food once a month to those in need. Pray about it and then come help us in anyway you can. You will sweat in the summer and freeze in the winter but in your heart, you know you are doing the work of the Lord.
Later I ventured out to go listen to some political speeches and to stump for my dear friend Mabel Murphree who is running for Public Service Commissioner of the Northern District on the Republican ticket. I heard some good speeches and some that made me stop and go HUH!? One such speech maker said he doesn’t believe in the ‘Toyota Way’ referring to the coming Toyota Car Plant in Union County. After listening to this candidate I think he is sadly misinformed about what the term ‘Toyota Way’ means as well as not understanding the Japanese culture.
Listening and learning are key principles to Toyota, that and a desire for continuous improvement. The Toyota executives came to North Mississippi and they saw a potential workforce of hardworking people that desire to have an education and good jobs and they saw that our culture and people are not that different from theirs. Toyota saw our potential folks! How long has Mississippi been the front page whipping post for America? How long has Mississippi been ridiculed for being ignorant and backwards? How long have we been laughed at because we talk with a southern drawl and since we talk slow, we must be slow thinkers? Now is our chance to show America and the world that we are not dullards. I am glad that there are visionary people in the PUL Alliance. They worked hard to make this plant happen. I am proud of Gov. Haley Barbour for going to Japan and meeting with Toyota and getting us this plant.
I think I can safely assume that most people haven’t traveled to Japan. I have and I have friends there and when they travel to the US they come to Mississippi. It is a beautiful country and they hold their traditions close to their hearts just as we do. They love their children, just as we do. They have extremely strong family connections and take care of their own, just as we do. They also have one the strongest educational and work ethics of any country I know, probably more so than we do. So, Mr. Candidate, before you go and start bashing the ‘Toyota Way’, read and listen and then make an informed decision. I, for one will be talking to people and I will cast my vote for the candidate that understands what that term means. The polls open at 7 AM on Tuesday August 7th. That’s my 54th birthday and I can think of no better way to celebrate the day than to work at the polls and to cast my vote.
The Food Pantry gives out food once a month to those in need. Pray about it and then come help us in anyway you can. You will sweat in the summer and freeze in the winter but in your heart, you know you are doing the work of the Lord.
Later I ventured out to go listen to some political speeches and to stump for my dear friend Mabel Murphree who is running for Public Service Commissioner of the Northern District on the Republican ticket. I heard some good speeches and some that made me stop and go HUH!? One such speech maker said he doesn’t believe in the ‘Toyota Way’ referring to the coming Toyota Car Plant in Union County. After listening to this candidate I think he is sadly misinformed about what the term ‘Toyota Way’ means as well as not understanding the Japanese culture.
Listening and learning are key principles to Toyota, that and a desire for continuous improvement. The Toyota executives came to North Mississippi and they saw a potential workforce of hardworking people that desire to have an education and good jobs and they saw that our culture and people are not that different from theirs. Toyota saw our potential folks! How long has Mississippi been the front page whipping post for America? How long has Mississippi been ridiculed for being ignorant and backwards? How long have we been laughed at because we talk with a southern drawl and since we talk slow, we must be slow thinkers? Now is our chance to show America and the world that we are not dullards. I am glad that there are visionary people in the PUL Alliance. They worked hard to make this plant happen. I am proud of Gov. Haley Barbour for going to Japan and meeting with Toyota and getting us this plant.
I think I can safely assume that most people haven’t traveled to Japan. I have and I have friends there and when they travel to the US they come to Mississippi. It is a beautiful country and they hold their traditions close to their hearts just as we do. They love their children, just as we do. They have extremely strong family connections and take care of their own, just as we do. They also have one the strongest educational and work ethics of any country I know, probably more so than we do. So, Mr. Candidate, before you go and start bashing the ‘Toyota Way’, read and listen and then make an informed decision. I, for one will be talking to people and I will cast my vote for the candidate that understands what that term means. The polls open at 7 AM on Tuesday August 7th. That’s my 54th birthday and I can think of no better way to celebrate the day than to work at the polls and to cast my vote.
Be Prepared
You can collect almost anything these days. The Franklin Mint makes a mint selling everything from replicas of antique cars to porcelain scenes from “Gone With the Wind.” Well, I have a collection of my own: Umbrellas! I must have gone through about 20 of them and I think there are 5 at home. I have several with the Velcro closure. I have one with the snap closure. I have one with a silver button. I have one with Mickey Mouse. I have one that looks like a sunflower and one that looks like a Monet painting. It all depends on where I was when the thunderstorm hit. And every time it happens, I tell myself, I’m not going to buy another one, and then I’ll be out shopping somewhere and it starts pouring down rain so I give in and buy another one. And then, a week or two later, when the weatherman is predicting rain, I forget one of the ones that I already have and go out of the house without one. So what I’m about to say falls under the category of “Do as I say, not as I do.” Because I do exactly what Jesus tells us NOT to do in today’s gospel. I end up not being prepared. And I get soaked. I sometimes think I’m single-handedly keeping the umbrella industry afloat. But Christ today tells us something every Boy Scout knows by heart. Be prepared. Be like the servant who is awaiting the master’s return. Have the lamps lit. Be at the door, ready to greet him. Be prepared. There is an almost anxious tone to this gospel – and I suspect we often think of it in terms of the second coming, or the last judgment. Be prepared for Christ’s return, and to have to give an accounting of your life. Be prepared to be judged. That is part of it. But I’d like to suggest another way of approaching this passage. One more hopeful. Because this particular gospel is not about an ending…but a beginning. Be prepared…for something wonderful. Be prepared for God to come into your life. Be prepared to open the door to Christ…and let him in, and to serve him. In a way, this gospel is nothing less than a profound parable about the vocation to the Christian life. We are all called. Each of us has a vocation, a calling to fulfill for God. But are we able to answer it? Are we listening for it? Are we prepared? Are we ready for whatever God wants us to do with our lives? Are we looking for Him, anticipating Him? Are we ready to give Him what He wants and needs – our time, our talent, even perhaps our lives? I think it’s misguided to think of this as just referring to material wealth. After all, Christ had earlier told his disciples that life does not consist of possessions. No, I think this passage goes deeper. What we have been entrusted with can’t be measured in dollars, or kept in a bank. You can’t stash it away in a safe deposit box or a trust fund.We have been entrusted with something better, the most monumental gift: our faith. The letter to the Hebrews puts it so eloquently that faith “is the realization of what is hoped for, and evidence of things not seen.” It is something beautiful and mysterious. And it is ours. Our Catholic Christian faith has withstood two millennia of persecution and denial and doubt. And it has been passed on to us – the deposit of faith, and all the sacraments. In short: we have been entrusted with much. And much will be required. You can never know when God might come to your door, asking you to give something back. Be prepared. Be prepared to feed the hungry, or shelter the homeless. Be prepared to listen to a child who is hurting…or comfort a friend who is lonely…or say a prayer for a stranger in intensive care. Be prepared to stand up for those who have no one to stand up for them. The weak, the frightened, the old, the unborn. Much will be required of the person entrusted with much. And still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more. Look around you at the faith that has been handed to us. And look before you, to the tabernacle, where the Eucharist, Christ himself, waits for us. And look to the altar, where the greatest mystery of our faith is about to unfold. We have been entrusted with everything. What will we do with that? This morning, we pray to be ready whenever God comes, for whatever He may ask us to do. Light the lamp. Wait by the door. Be prepared. Be prepared for something wonderful. And of course…if you don’t remember anything else I’ve told you this morning, please remember this: Don’t leave home without your umbrella.
Monday, July 23, 2007
voting and VoTech high schools
Sundancer is into day 6 and coming toward the finish line. So far the stats show they are coming in at number 1. These kids have worked their bums off on this project. They are awesome and their teachers are to be commended for the dedication shown . Good Luck Sundancers
I can't wait to see tomorrows results.
voting and VoTech high schools
Whoa, signs, signs.Everywhere a sign.Blockin' out the scen'ry.Breakin' my mind.Do this. Don't do that.Can't you read the signs? The lyrics to that song from the 70’s goes through my mind these days as I see all of these political signs across the landscape. Everywhere you turn there are signs. Big ones, little ones, red ones, blue ones, bright green and some with pictures are popping up faster than weeds. Years ago when I worked in an ad agency, we just thrived on election years. It meant fast and furious work trying to get each and every political hopeful just the right design for his or her campaign. It was tough trying to make sure each one was different and eye catching and would get the message across. One political race I am watching with interest is the Superintendent of Education for Calhoun County. I chose to homeschool my daughters. My oldest decided she wanted to go to BHS last year and I am proud to say I was a pretty good teacher and she was a great student because she made the transition well is now a rising senior and university bound in ‘08. I home schooled for several reasons and most of those reasons had to do with curriculum. There needs to be much higher standards for our students so that they can be fully prepared for colleges and universities. I dare say that if Rip Van Winkle woke up today he would see that there really hasn’t been too much in change in the Mississippi curriculum over the years. Oh, there are new updated textbooks every so often, but are there enough for all the students? Is what they are learning actually going to help them make a high score on the college entrance exams or just look good on paper so it looks like no child is left behind? Are they all going to have to take remedial classes that first year of college or can they jump in with both feet and make the grade? Not all students are college or university material. There are many that just don’t want to or can’t go on to college. They want or need to get out into the world and get a job. So for those kids, Calhoun County needs a Vocational High School. I think one of the shining examples of a great Vocational High School is at Houston. Those kids have built a solar car and they have won the Dell Solar Car Challenge race years in a row. They are committed and invested to that program. I wonder what those students have gone on and done with their educational lives after they graduated from Houston High? My family and I drove over to Houston last week to see the solar cars as they came through Houston on their race to New York state. It was amazing to see that there are four Mississippi schools competing this year. We watched those kids as they got those cars ready and positioned in the sunlight to recharge the batteries. They were very professional and scientific and you could tell they knew their stuff. The support of the community was evident also. A Vocational High School in Calhoun County is something that we need to support. Students need the option of going to school to learn a trade or going to school to prepare for college. How on earth do you think they would ever compete for a good paying job in the coming Toyota plant? Have you tried to find a plumber lately? How about an electrician? Or a good mechanic? A good vocational program can teach the basics for so many professions. Carpentry, electrical, plumbing, appliance repair, automotive…..there are so many areas in which kids could get hands-on training so that they could actually be qualified for a job at graduation. The drop out rate would decrease. I urge everyone to talk at length with the candidates and find out where they stand. Then get out and vote on August the 7th. One vote can make the difference for the educational future of our children.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Sundancer is on the move!
Sundancer is out of the gate! They left early Monday morning for the road trip. Man I am envious of these kids. In a good way! This is the most wonderful opportunity for them. Years from now they will look back at all of this and I hope they will be proud of their acomplishments.This is the view I have gotten of Sundancer as it boogies down the highway!
Friday, July 13, 2007
Blogging on Friday the 13
Blogging from East Bruce
Vonda Tedford Keon
Do you know anyone who is so paralyzed by fear that they won’t stick their head out of the door on Friday the 13th? I read that a study was done by the Stress Management and Phobia Institute and they concluded that 17 million people are affected by Friday the 13th. I wonder if these are the same people that throw salt over their left shoulder when they spill it, or refuse to walk under a ladder or step on a crack. Friday the 13th didn’t get any hype until prior to the 19th century. I love to study history so I decided to do a little impromptu research on the subject. The Last Supper, was held on Thursday, with Judas numbered among the 13 guests (Jesus plus the 12 apostles). Then Jesus was crucified on Friday. Then there is the theory of when the death angle went through Egypt and killed all the first born. This Passover day was the Friday the 13th of Nissan which I would agree was a very unlucky day for the non-Hebrew people. The rest of what I found was a bit ridiculous and unfounded so I just decided to do what any sensible person would do on Friday the 13th ; I am taking my cup of coffee out to my gazebo and sitting down to enjoy reading one of the books in my ‘gotta read this’ stack and enjoy the cool breeze and relax.
It has occurred to me that life has gotten so fast and furious, even in our rural area, that we as people don’t really get the chance to visit or ‘sit a spell’ with our friends and neighbors. How many times do you catch up on the news of the community by happenstance because you ran into someone in the grocery aisle? It’s a shame that we don’t see our neighbors and friends like we used to. I blame this on not having a porch. Modern houses don’t have a nice shady place out front to sit and wave at your friends as they go driving by. We don’t grab our iced tea and go chill on the porch at the end of the day. It’s too easy to turn on the TV and plop on the couch than it is to actually talk to someone. Bring back porches I say! Or gazebos at least.
We could just pick up the phone and call folks. The majority of the folks I know have cell phones in their pockets now. Pesky contraptions that they are, they sure do come in handy. There are days that go by that I don’t get to see my mom because I am all over the place working but I can call her. The only problem with a cell phone is I don’t remember phone numbers any longer. If it’s not stored in that memory card I can’t call. That is a shame. So I have to call Mama and use her like directory assistance. Her number is the only one I can remember now. I remember the number that matters the most right?
I am cantor at my church, St. Luke the Evangelist Catholic Church. The cantor is the song leader and there to help the community worship. The songs and Psalms and scripture that are sung at each service are sung prayers for the congregation and for me. Through the songs the congregation becomes involved in the worship instead of just sitting there. It matters not how well a person sings. It matters that the words are intoned with sincerity and are from the heart. Each week I look at the Psalms and Sacred Scripture that I will be cantoring. The cantor sings the verses and the congregation sings the response. It is a beautiful moment during the service to hear the voices sing in unison and to know that we are all singing the same praises and prayers. This Sundays Psalm of response is excerpts from Psalms 69. The response is beautiful, ‘Turn to the Lord in your need and you will live.” Simple words to live by this weekend.
Vonda Tedford Keon
Do you know anyone who is so paralyzed by fear that they won’t stick their head out of the door on Friday the 13th? I read that a study was done by the Stress Management and Phobia Institute and they concluded that 17 million people are affected by Friday the 13th. I wonder if these are the same people that throw salt over their left shoulder when they spill it, or refuse to walk under a ladder or step on a crack. Friday the 13th didn’t get any hype until prior to the 19th century. I love to study history so I decided to do a little impromptu research on the subject. The Last Supper, was held on Thursday, with Judas numbered among the 13 guests (Jesus plus the 12 apostles). Then Jesus was crucified on Friday. Then there is the theory of when the death angle went through Egypt and killed all the first born. This Passover day was the Friday the 13th of Nissan which I would agree was a very unlucky day for the non-Hebrew people. The rest of what I found was a bit ridiculous and unfounded so I just decided to do what any sensible person would do on Friday the 13th ; I am taking my cup of coffee out to my gazebo and sitting down to enjoy reading one of the books in my ‘gotta read this’ stack and enjoy the cool breeze and relax.
It has occurred to me that life has gotten so fast and furious, even in our rural area, that we as people don’t really get the chance to visit or ‘sit a spell’ with our friends and neighbors. How many times do you catch up on the news of the community by happenstance because you ran into someone in the grocery aisle? It’s a shame that we don’t see our neighbors and friends like we used to. I blame this on not having a porch. Modern houses don’t have a nice shady place out front to sit and wave at your friends as they go driving by. We don’t grab our iced tea and go chill on the porch at the end of the day. It’s too easy to turn on the TV and plop on the couch than it is to actually talk to someone. Bring back porches I say! Or gazebos at least.
We could just pick up the phone and call folks. The majority of the folks I know have cell phones in their pockets now. Pesky contraptions that they are, they sure do come in handy. There are days that go by that I don’t get to see my mom because I am all over the place working but I can call her. The only problem with a cell phone is I don’t remember phone numbers any longer. If it’s not stored in that memory card I can’t call. That is a shame. So I have to call Mama and use her like directory assistance. Her number is the only one I can remember now. I remember the number that matters the most right?
I am cantor at my church, St. Luke the Evangelist Catholic Church. The cantor is the song leader and there to help the community worship. The songs and Psalms and scripture that are sung at each service are sung prayers for the congregation and for me. Through the songs the congregation becomes involved in the worship instead of just sitting there. It matters not how well a person sings. It matters that the words are intoned with sincerity and are from the heart. Each week I look at the Psalms and Sacred Scripture that I will be cantoring. The cantor sings the verses and the congregation sings the response. It is a beautiful moment during the service to hear the voices sing in unison and to know that we are all singing the same praises and prayers. This Sundays Psalm of response is excerpts from Psalms 69. The response is beautiful, ‘Turn to the Lord in your need and you will live.” Simple words to live by this weekend.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Sundancer
This is Sundancer. It is a solar car built by the students at Houston Vo-Tech. It wins races. The Winston-Dell Solar Car challenge is next week (July 16-July 24). They start in Roundrock Texas and drive to New York State. I'm going to Houston Wednesday July 18 to see the car when it rolls into town for the night. If you want to come along give me a call.
Sundancer has won multiple years. Scott and I saw it a couple of Sundays ago on hiway 45 and that thing was booking down the road. If Calhoun County had a Vo-tech center, our students could be learning to make a solar car or at least learning how to use technology to the fullest degree. They could go on to work in the Toyota plant. There are just times that 'book sense' doesn't cut it. You need vocational skills to get a job. And what about farming? That needs to be in your blood but the average age of a farmer these days is mid to late 50's! I don't know about you but I don't really trust the big mega farms to feed me. Remember the spinach scare? Now I ask you, have you gotten sick from eating anything of Mr. Johnsons peas and tomotoes? I thought not. There is not a darn thing wrong or demeaning in being a farmer. ITs a tough life and long hours and I thank God for a farmer with every bite I take. Just like I hope one day to drive a solar powered car and I know that the technology will have been developed by some kids from Mississippi. Sure wish some kids from Bruce could be in on that parade.
Blogging from East Bruce
Blogging from East Bruce
Vonda Tedford-Keon
If you don’t live in the South, it is hard to imagine what life is really like in rural Mississippi. That is why it is so important when we have visitors from other states (anywhere that is not in Dixie), that we show them true Southern hospitality. This past week the congregation of St. Luke Catholic Church was blessed with a visit from a group of teenagers and their chaparones from Casey, Illinois. They helped us with Vacation Bible School for the children of our parish and then we gave them the full Bruce, Mississippi experience.
They were treated to the ‘cooks’ tour of town and a little history lesson. Then we all went to Saturday dinner at Bubba T. Chickenbone’s Family Smokehouse for some of that fine Bubbateenie Pizza and tall glasses of southern sweet tea. We then walked to the Bollinger Family Theater for the show. It was an enjoyable evening for the group from Illinois. They were in awe at the amount of talent, professionalism and love that was evident on that stage. Thank you, Bollinger family for your shining example of Southern Christian Spirituality. Sunday afternoon they were treated to a swimming break with a Lonesome Dove before heading on up the highway for some Oxford culture. Thank you all for helping us give our visitors a taste of the true Mississippi culture.
There is nothing more relaxing than a slow steady rain. The rain is very welcome after this drought. I hope it’s not too late to help the crops. As I was out driving, I noticed the fields of corn, beans and sweet potatoes were looking green and lush. I also noticed that the grass in my yard seemed to grow a foot overnight! Anytime I look out my kitchen window and see water standing in the dry creek bed between my house and Mom’s, I know its been a good rain.
There is an old dead tree standing in my yard that apparently bothers everyone but me. I can’t count how many people have pulled into my driveway telling me what they would charge to cut it. They can’t tell me how they can get it down without taking out my gazebo or bridge or goldfish pond or without making ruts in Mom’s yard. So I always say no. Anyway, it provides a home for a family of those endangered woodpeckers I keep reading about, and in one of the holes is a family of sugar gliders. The tree is coming down little by little as nature has its way. When the wind gets to blowing just right, a pretty good chunk of that old rotten tree will fall. I have yet to hear a limb fall but little by little it is getting shorter and shorter and I still have my gazebo and bridge and fish pond.
Calling all W girls and guys! There has never been, to my knowledge, an Alumnae chapter of MUW in Calhoun County. Join Vonda Tedford-Keon and Mack Spencer on Saturday, July 21st at the Historic Pittsboro Methodist Church, for an organizational meeting. Our guest speaker will be Susan Puckett, President of the 118 yr old MUWAA. If you graduated from the W or only attended for a semester, you are welcome to come and join the Long Blue Line and share your W stories with us. For more information call Vonda at 983-9118 or Mack at the Monitor Herald.
Vonda Tedford-Keon
If you don’t live in the South, it is hard to imagine what life is really like in rural Mississippi. That is why it is so important when we have visitors from other states (anywhere that is not in Dixie), that we show them true Southern hospitality. This past week the congregation of St. Luke Catholic Church was blessed with a visit from a group of teenagers and their chaparones from Casey, Illinois. They helped us with Vacation Bible School for the children of our parish and then we gave them the full Bruce, Mississippi experience.
They were treated to the ‘cooks’ tour of town and a little history lesson. Then we all went to Saturday dinner at Bubba T. Chickenbone’s Family Smokehouse for some of that fine Bubbateenie Pizza and tall glasses of southern sweet tea. We then walked to the Bollinger Family Theater for the show. It was an enjoyable evening for the group from Illinois. They were in awe at the amount of talent, professionalism and love that was evident on that stage. Thank you, Bollinger family for your shining example of Southern Christian Spirituality. Sunday afternoon they were treated to a swimming break with a Lonesome Dove before heading on up the highway for some Oxford culture. Thank you all for helping us give our visitors a taste of the true Mississippi culture.
There is nothing more relaxing than a slow steady rain. The rain is very welcome after this drought. I hope it’s not too late to help the crops. As I was out driving, I noticed the fields of corn, beans and sweet potatoes were looking green and lush. I also noticed that the grass in my yard seemed to grow a foot overnight! Anytime I look out my kitchen window and see water standing in the dry creek bed between my house and Mom’s, I know its been a good rain.
There is an old dead tree standing in my yard that apparently bothers everyone but me. I can’t count how many people have pulled into my driveway telling me what they would charge to cut it. They can’t tell me how they can get it down without taking out my gazebo or bridge or goldfish pond or without making ruts in Mom’s yard. So I always say no. Anyway, it provides a home for a family of those endangered woodpeckers I keep reading about, and in one of the holes is a family of sugar gliders. The tree is coming down little by little as nature has its way. When the wind gets to blowing just right, a pretty good chunk of that old rotten tree will fall. I have yet to hear a limb fall but little by little it is getting shorter and shorter and I still have my gazebo and bridge and fish pond.
Calling all W girls and guys! There has never been, to my knowledge, an Alumnae chapter of MUW in Calhoun County. Join Vonda Tedford-Keon and Mack Spencer on Saturday, July 21st at the Historic Pittsboro Methodist Church, for an organizational meeting. Our guest speaker will be Susan Puckett, President of the 118 yr old MUWAA. If you graduated from the W or only attended for a semester, you are welcome to come and join the Long Blue Line and share your W stories with us. For more information call Vonda at 983-9118 or Mack at the Monitor Herald.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Chasing the Mouse
I hate mice. I can co-exist with the little buggers as long as they stay outdoors and not trespass in my habitat. Well one has invaded my realm. A few weeks back Scott told me he thought he saw one in the hallway. I have searched and sniffed and run wet cloths along the baseboards looking for mouse trails. Nada. Then about 3 weeks ago as I stood at the sink washing dishes, the blamed thing walked right in front of the sink on my counter. I nearly killed myself when it happened. I started trying to hit it and it ran right across and disappeared behind my fridge. I went bezerk and cleared off the counters and cloroxed everything. Found his little grubby trail too. I put out one of those sticky traps and all I have caught was gnats.
Friday, Scott told me that we didn't have anymore oatmeal because the mouse had been in the box. All of my boxed food is kept in the lower cabinet of the kitchen. I started pulling things out and ended up throwing out a lot of food.
That little rodent had been all over everything including my plastic boxes that I keep bulk food in. More clorox!! I put the sticky trap in the bottom cabinet and about 2 hours later checked and it was totally covered in gray fur and that thing had gnawed its way off the trap. So much for being humane. It is now bald and peeing and pooping its way through my house. So I set out the clap traps dosed with peanut butter and more sticky traps and the green death pellets! Every night I check the traps and nothing. I figure now that it smells clean it won't come back. Until tonight that is. That thing is figuring things out. It pushed the trap into something in the cabinet and threw one of the traps and ate the peanut butter! This is war! I will win and catch that little bald rodent and relish the thoughts of flushing it down the toliet at this point. I am not going to cart its little squeaking self off down the road just so it can re-invade my home.
Now I am going on a cleaning binge. If something is setting on the floor I am cleaning it or throwing things out that we don't use. nothing is safe at this point. I opened my pot holder drawer and stuffing exploded out of it. That thing had been in there shredding my pot holders. I needed new ones so I should thank it for giving me a reason to get new ones but eeww.!! its been in that drawer. More clorox!
I hate mice. Last year when my grandmother lay dying in the nursing home, I sat there for days and nights with her. And one of those nasty critters came out and got on the table where my bag of oreos was sitting and started eating my cookies. It took me a couple of days but I caught that one. Before she died we had to throw away a lot of her things because it and its friends had been all in her belongings.
And one night my Aunt Ruby woke up screaming holding her head and in her hand was a mouse that had climbed on to her bed and was in her hair. She had told me that it had happened before and no one took her seriously. They did that night.
Mice and huge spiders I can do with out. I don't like using chemicals but I may have to to keep the pests at bay. Does Sulfur really work for repelling snakes? We found a 5 foot long snake skin in the yard. Not a good thing to find.
Friday, Scott told me that we didn't have anymore oatmeal because the mouse had been in the box. All of my boxed food is kept in the lower cabinet of the kitchen. I started pulling things out and ended up throwing out a lot of food.
That little rodent had been all over everything including my plastic boxes that I keep bulk food in. More clorox!! I put the sticky trap in the bottom cabinet and about 2 hours later checked and it was totally covered in gray fur and that thing had gnawed its way off the trap. So much for being humane. It is now bald and peeing and pooping its way through my house. So I set out the clap traps dosed with peanut butter and more sticky traps and the green death pellets! Every night I check the traps and nothing. I figure now that it smells clean it won't come back. Until tonight that is. That thing is figuring things out. It pushed the trap into something in the cabinet and threw one of the traps and ate the peanut butter! This is war! I will win and catch that little bald rodent and relish the thoughts of flushing it down the toliet at this point. I am not going to cart its little squeaking self off down the road just so it can re-invade my home.
Now I am going on a cleaning binge. If something is setting on the floor I am cleaning it or throwing things out that we don't use. nothing is safe at this point. I opened my pot holder drawer and stuffing exploded out of it. That thing had been in there shredding my pot holders. I needed new ones so I should thank it for giving me a reason to get new ones but eeww.!! its been in that drawer. More clorox!
I hate mice. Last year when my grandmother lay dying in the nursing home, I sat there for days and nights with her. And one of those nasty critters came out and got on the table where my bag of oreos was sitting and started eating my cookies. It took me a couple of days but I caught that one. Before she died we had to throw away a lot of her things because it and its friends had been all in her belongings.
And one night my Aunt Ruby woke up screaming holding her head and in her hand was a mouse that had climbed on to her bed and was in her hair. She had told me that it had happened before and no one took her seriously. They did that night.
Mice and huge spiders I can do with out. I don't like using chemicals but I may have to to keep the pests at bay. Does Sulfur really work for repelling snakes? We found a 5 foot long snake skin in the yard. Not a good thing to find.
Still Waiting
Well I went in for the interview and I am still waiting. I was told that I was in line for the part time as needed position. But so far no phone call and they haven't put anyone else in that slot. So either they aren't going to hire or they just haven't gotten behind enough to call.
I am staying pretty busy with the part time merchandising. Not my favorite thing to do but it is work. I had to watch Pirates of the caribbean over the weekend. 3 times and then I actually went back and paid to see it the next night with the girls. I was not really watching the film for entertainment the 3 times I was paid to watch it. Doing the movie checks is pretty cool and not hard at all except for dealing with the theater managers. They are so suspicious that I am going to give them a bad report or something of that nature.
This week I have had to travel to all my stores and do resets on diapers. I can do those in my sleep. I still have 8 more stores to do in the Tupelo area which is out of my reion but its extra money and I need it. The great white whale was really sick and I had to park it for a few days until I could get the money together to get it repaired. Thank goodness it was not serious and was an easy fix. I am so thankful for my mechanic cousin. Rodney is a whiz at fixing things most of the time.
I am staying pretty busy with the part time merchandising. Not my favorite thing to do but it is work. I had to watch Pirates of the caribbean over the weekend. 3 times and then I actually went back and paid to see it the next night with the girls. I was not really watching the film for entertainment the 3 times I was paid to watch it. Doing the movie checks is pretty cool and not hard at all except for dealing with the theater managers. They are so suspicious that I am going to give them a bad report or something of that nature.
This week I have had to travel to all my stores and do resets on diapers. I can do those in my sleep. I still have 8 more stores to do in the Tupelo area which is out of my reion but its extra money and I need it. The great white whale was really sick and I had to park it for a few days until I could get the money together to get it repaired. Thank goodness it was not serious and was an easy fix. I am so thankful for my mechanic cousin. Rodney is a whiz at fixing things most of the time.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
just waiting and waiting
As I sit and recover from the next phase of reconstruction, I am still waiting on finding out about the part time job. Its posted at the hosptial and I talked with the supervisor. I am next on fhte list for consideration. I sure hope I get it. I might only be 20 hours a week and its an on call type of thing but its better than nothing. I perhaps can continue to do my merchandising PT work as well and make enough that way to get us out of the hole.
darling oldest daughter is really gearing up for college. She is going to take the ACT test again and is trying for the higest score she can go for. She really wants the scholarships and I do too. Funny how there weren't any out there for me or I was not ever told about them. I had the grades for them. But I worked my way through on a work study. Even taught some art history when the professor was ill my senior year. I would like to get a masters in studio art but that will have to come later. I would be an OWL for sure. Older Wiser Learner.
Surgery this time was not so bad but I am a little woozy. No pain to speak of this go round. I'll be glad when its over with.
darling oldest daughter is really gearing up for college. She is going to take the ACT test again and is trying for the higest score she can go for. She really wants the scholarships and I do too. Funny how there weren't any out there for me or I was not ever told about them. I had the grades for them. But I worked my way through on a work study. Even taught some art history when the professor was ill my senior year. I would like to get a masters in studio art but that will have to come later. I would be an OWL for sure. Older Wiser Learner.
Surgery this time was not so bad but I am a little woozy. No pain to speak of this go round. I'll be glad when its over with.
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