Prosper is One Year Old!

Now that I am a Big Boy and have finished a year, I can do lots of things. Mostly, I can jump. Jump. Jump. Jump! I Love to Jump! I used to be very scared to Jump, but now I practice every day, and I can jump ennywher.

And you know what!? I can even Jump up on Mommy's bed! She smiles, then covers her mouth with her paws and says "Off!" I can Jump Off! too! I can Jump in the midle of the room. Like Eddie the cat does. I can Jump onto the Big Chair in the livroom. And when I lie down in the Big Chair, I pretend I am the King. But Mom says "Off!" again, and I hav to be the Big Boy on the Floor.

I think James is realy the King. But I lik to pretend sumtims.

I can Sit!, too! And I can Stay! I kno how to weave inside Mommy's legs. And I can circle around her while she circles the other way. I can bak up on both sides of Mom. And I can bak up in front of her. She smiles a lot when I do that. Sumtims I can even walk real nis besid Mom...Specially if she has kukies in her paws! She calls me Prancer when I do that.

\And you know what! I rid nis in the car, too! I can hup hup in and I Wait! when Mom opens the dor for me to get out. I Wait! reel gud!

Yes, I am groing and being Big. Maybe I'l get biger too and they won't cal me Erkle so much.

Could This be What is WRONG with our Country Today???

Today I received a call that I have received at least 3x a week for several months. It's about credit cards. Even tho I have been taken off the "soliciting list," they still have the "right" to call because it is regarding my current credit card. So it is considered "customer service," and not a solicitation.

They want to give me lower interest rates and open up a new card for me. I don't need lower interest rates. The card is paid off monthly w/out any interest accrued. Duh.

I have told them to take me off their call list. I've been polite. I've been rude. I've been brusque. Today I was an overextended redneck. Don't know if it was effective in reducing the calls, but I sure did feel better.....

The lady axed me (yes, she axed me) if I wanted to lower my cc rates. I told her of course. She then asked what my current rate was. I didn't know. How much did I owe on my cc? About $85,000. She didn't even gulp. She just asked me how many cc's I had. About 8, I told her. When did I plan on paying them off? I laughed and told her that would be the rest of my life! We Both giggled.

Would I like to have another card at a lower rate? Sure! Visa or MC? I'll take MC. Well, do I have an account that has not been shut down or maxed out? I told her all of them are maxed, but none are shut down, I just keep payin' on them. So then she asked me to give her the number of one of the accounts that was in current use so that they could verify it was "in good standing."

By now, Rob had left because he was laughing so hard. He was taking the checkbook to the WalMarts to buy some drain cleaner for the tub.

I had on my full Redneck regalia by this time. Hard "i's," misspoken English, poor grammar. And talking a bit loud and excitedly, too, I mite add....

I told her that I wuddin givin out my cc number to ennybody over th phone!!! That's how folks can steal yer identity, and I didn't want that to happen. She assured me that this was proper and according to their protocol.

Okay, stop and THINK about this! It coulda been Shaneeka from Muskogee calling on her boyfriend's cellphone, for god's sake! There was NO way in the world I coulda known if this were an actual call from Visa....

So, I told her to just mail me sumthin, and I'd git the information that way. She promised to do so...I'm assuming she has my address right there with my phone number, too? Or maybe she was just trying to finish up this call and go on to another one.....

Sigh....SOMEhow, this was a lot more beneficial to me than being rude......I really hope they call again....I think I'll start crying next time and make her feel really sad about my debt that isn't my fault.....

Site for Ya

Quotes from Charotte's Web....

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0413895/quotes

My Final Requests....

I went to a funeral the other day. And, of course, these occasions get one to thinking....About ones OWN demise and ending of this section of existence. It is certainly something to look forward to, tho there are plenty of "things" and folks that tie us to this planet. But a funeral is something that I have found is so very important to Those Left Behind. And, as a "final gift" to those loved ones, I think it is important to make ones wishes known regarding the "graduation party."

My friend Susy McHughes had the right idea. We had talked many times before she died (thinking our "end" was a very long way off) about what WE wanted when we passed on. We both agreed that the funeral homes get wayyy too much money from the grieving family, especially if the family is caught unawares. And we noted that we certainly should write down the plans for the party so that the family throwing it would not have any guilt regarding "all that money spent" or "not Enough money spent."

So, here goes, yall. Here are MY "instructions for the Party."

First of all, Let it be known here and now that I have had a Wonderful Life. I've not made history, but I Have made the front page in the local newspaper a few times (tree-hugging, dawg training, walking pre-schoolers to the library in costume, etc), and I've been influential in two very important lives who have become beautiful women. I've known the exclusive love of a kind and handsome man. I've taught the Lord's Prayer to many people. I've taught people how to crochet, knit, embroider, braid (hair and leather!), sew, get stains out of carpets and quilts, pump their own gasoline (yes! There was a Time when it was a new skill to learn!), plant potatoes, create water gardens, and teach their dogs to be Good Citizens. Maybe that's enough. Probably not. I've had way too much fun doing it, so it may not "count" for anything.

So, I'm thinking that all this fun time living should be Celebrated, not grieved. Rejoiced, not wept over.

I don't want this party to be in a church building. I used to think that this was very important, but I've buried too many gerbils, hampsters, kittens, and even dogs in my own yard, with our own ceremonies and prayers to know that the confines of a brick building is not necessary in order to remember the Joy.

So, just use my yard, if the weather permits. If not, then the church gym. Tell folks to bring their guitars so we can sing. And sing yall's favorite hymns (I like "Great is Thy Faithfulness") and campfire songs. "Barges", "Girl Scouts Together," "Ain't it Great to Be Crazy," Disney songs, "Mr Moon, Mr. Moon, You're Out too Soon," ---Em has a bagful of my old songsheets....Pass 'em out! At some point, pray the Lord's Prayer. That's enough "ceremony."

Cheese and crackers, Hershey's chocolate, koolaid, coffee, tequila. Maybe grapes. Beer if the boys want it.

Everyone should wear their favorite color. Mine is Red. I hope everyone who knows me, knows that. We should ALL know each others favorite color and pie. So, wear your favorite color to the celebration, and wear enough of it that everyone will know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what YOUR color is.

Nametags would be good. And bring your business cards, so that if you meet someone you do not know, and discover that you have lots in common, you can contact each other later.

Let my dogs in on the celebration. They can work the crowd like no other. And they will help to make you smile if you decide you wanna grieve....

Tell funny stories about me. And laugh. Laugh a Lot. Hug each other. Don't feel sorry for me or any of yall. Just remember me and get tickled.

Gee. I don't even have a picture to go with this post. And I hope it ain't too morbid for ya. I hope that it gives you a bit of insight to the fact that the bonds of this planet do not hold me as tightly as they did when I was younger. It's a nice planet. My favorite, in fact. But I look forward to what lies beyond and all the songs I will learn thereafter.

Buy WHAT for your Soul???

"If two loaves be your Daily Dole, then sell one and buy hyacinths for your soul..." ---from an old metal sign in my backyard



Today, I went shopping for new walking shoes. My old ones were handmedowns from one of my daughters, and had rubbed a huge blister (that popped en route home) yesterday during one of my 4-mile treks.



I don't have sexy legs and feet (I hope to acquire those someday when I ascend into Heaven. Oh, yes, and full, round bosoms). I wear shoes that are low to the ground and "safe" and ones that do
not draw attention to my less-than-perfect calves and toes.


I truly intended to buy new walking shoes. Walking is one of the reasons I have kept my weight down for the past 2 years....Rob had given me great confirmation regarding this purchase....I Really meant to buy the Practical and Comfortable....


But today....Today there were some very lovely red patent leather round-toed heels that jumped off the shelf in the shoe store and onto my feet in a most disturbing manner. They made me walk with my chin held high and my breasts thrust forward. I had a confidence and an arrogant attitude that I didn't recognize. They shone up at me from the basket as I eased them off my feet. and as I rounded the corner, another surprise greeted me. Purple heels with peekaboo toes. Purple. Spike heels. On sale.



So, today, instead of spending $30 on walking shoes, I spent the money on the impractical. The frivolous. The UNcomfortable. Shoes of a color I have never had before. Bright shiny red and brilliant rich purple. Because they did so much for my soul, you see. Very much like the aromatic scent of hyacinths in the spring.



My mother died 13 years ago this very day. I don't think I ever saw her wear flat shoes in the 43 years I knew her. But today, just for a moment, I think I caught the scent of her perfume.

Mom! Hey, MOMMMM

I hear this a lot. Not so much from my own children anymore, for they have flown our nest and are Moms in their own rights.

But I hear it. Children everywhere call out that phrase. "Mom! Look at ME!" "Mom! Watch this!" "Mom! S/he broke my (fillintheblank)!" "Mom!" "Mommmm!" "Hey, Mom!!!"

There is a point in all our lives when we want our moms to see and be a part of everything. Of course, then comes age 12 or so, and they would like it if Mom became a hazy figure. SOME of the need for Mom's approval sweeps in and out over the next few years, and moms relish the (albeit brief) attention that before had so annoyed them prior to puberty.

There's also that age when the children know a lot more than mom, and, once again neither really likes the other for a while. It is a portal thru which we must all pass.

But allinall, Moms are a necessary part of becoming who we are. They infiltrate their children's very being and soul, and they place markers thruout their psyche that affects them for a lifetime. They give us a template, and most of us match it, good or bad. Some of us take what we like, and forget what we need to forget (my Animal Behaviorist friend calls this "being like Teflon").

I had a friend once who was so angry at her mom because she never said anything that was quotable.

Now. Once you've read that sentence, think back to SOMEthing that you've said in the past 24 hrs that your Mom told you. I thought everyone quoted their moms, that her words always came back to you at the moment that you needed it. Like the clean underwear thang, or as long as you have a smile on your face and your hair is brushed who cares if you are wearing the latest fashion? Or, your face is gonna freeze that way. Or, there are children in China who are starving (name three...--that response'll get your face slapped). Or even, you cannot fit that whole thang in your mouth.

My mom left us with a lot of quotes, in addition to the old standbys aforementioned. She told us to always pass on the Good. She told us to be a lady if it killed us. She told us that as long as we had manners, we could eat and drink with kings. We could get glad in the same pants we got mad in. We were praised for "going the second mile" (putting the liner in the trash can after we empty it). We were chastized if we did not take exquisite care of our hands. We never ate chicken salad (she had this "thing" about spoiled food). And we were told if we got pregnant before marriage, she'd jump off the Mississippi Bridge.

She cheated at cards. She carried a pistol in her purse. She wore 6-inch spike heels every day. She had her hair done professionally every week. She got up every morning at 5 am to fix our daddy's breakfast. She danced. She sang off-key. She believed in God.

I am sure that my daughters can add a few sentences regarding "quotable moments" from their mom. They actually did listen to me when I thought I was screaming to the wind. I have heard them tell their children some of the exact same things I told them. So, the eye rolling and the heavy sighs continue on to the next generation of children hearing these quotes.

I am fifty-six. Fifty-six and a half, really. My mom died when I was forty-three. I have lived a very good life and have even jumped a few minor hurdles. I'd like my mom to see what I've done. I'd like for her to look at how I've grown and what I've become. I'd like to be able to say Mom! Hey, MOMMMMM!

Guess we never really outgrow that.

Emeril's Essence

I bought some of this stuff today. Emeril's Essence. It's a salty seasoning with a bit of a hot bite to it. Emeril yells out on his show, "BAM!" when he uses it. I'm thinking I can duplicate it, but for right now, at $2.50 for a large-sized bottle, I'm pretty happy with what it does to me....It's a good product. Goes well with Tequila....Well, actually sprinkled on crackers that you eat when you drink Tequila....

Do I Love You the Best? Favoritism Parenting

Do I love you the best? Of course I do. YOU are my very favorite. Some parents have it "easy" because they have one of each....Therefore, they can say, "You are my favorite little girl," and "You are my favorite little boy." I never had that "luxury." So I told both girls they were my favorite.

Truer words were never spoken. And most parents would understand.

Both girls, born from the same parents, nurtured in the same womb, victims of the same net income and parental humor, consumers of the same diet, attending the same church and schools-----they turned out as different as night is to day and both quite lovely and unique and funny.

So, yeh....I love you the best. I've never met two people whom I would love to count as my dearest friends more than you. I admire you, marvel at you, and get hysterically tickled at you more than anyone else on this planet (well, maybe your Dad ranks a little bit higher, but, then, he's got a few legs up---so to speak---on you).

After my Mom died, I realized that my brother and sister both thought that they were her favorite. Not so! I was! Certainly she loved ME, the baby chile, most like her, the most. We were intimate. We knew each others thoughts and we enjoyed the same activities and believed almost the same beliefs, religiously. She marveled at all that I did and everything I accomplished. No WAY she loved Sherry or Nic more! But they believed the very same thing as I did.

This "realization" made me think that Mom had a very special "gift" of convincing each of us that we were most important in her life......Now I know that it was not a gift at all. It was just her way of delighting in us----in each of us. It was how she lived out her mothering.

So, yeh....Don't be thinking I am an exceptional woman because I can convey to each of you your importance to me...

Nope. It's just how I enjoy you! I love your creativity--you make bows, fashion jewelry, dig ponds, sew baby clothes, design homes, heal wounds, find new ways to teach your children. I love your spirituality, your heart for mission, and your desire to serve. I love your humor and your patience and your positive approach to Life. AND, you are doing all this on a Limited Budget and with literally no help from anyone else. It all belongs to you and the Creator who probably had a blast making you!