Saturday, July 30, 2011

Breaker, Breaker

Way on back in the summer of 1978 while attending the University of Montevallo, I stumbled across this guy.

He introduced himself to me as Henry.

All his friends, which pretty included every breathing being in Shelby County, called him BlueJohn.

His Mama'n'em called him Lin.

It would be fair to say I took one look at this man with all those names and that was all she wrote.


He had a car at that time that he fairly well loved.

She was a 1974 Spirit of America Chevy Nova.

And inside this car was one of these.

For those who are too young to remember having to get up to walk across a room to turn the TV down, this is a CB radio. With these things you could tune in to a channel and find other people who were in their cars or trucks or big rigs (that would be an 18-wheeler, child) and talk to them.

While you were DRIVING. Like, down the road. 

It was a marvel, let me tell you.

Folks didn't use their names on these things, of course. 
They had "handles," which were, I suppose,
 the early incarnation of "screen names." 

Henry/Bluejohn/Lin had a handle. 

It was Captain America.

I did not have a handle, until he gave me one. 

It was Kid. As in "young goat." As in stubborn. 

I do not know why.


What I do know is that we still call each other Cap and Kid, but he's picked up a couple other names since then.

Like Daddy.

And Pop.

He answers to all of them. He is not, as they say, "particular."

Tonight we are going to see Captain America at the movies. We'll have fun. We don't travel, so movies are our vacations. We'll share the largest box of popcorn we can carry and whatever candy off the top row of the candy counter appeals to us, 
and we will call that supper

And I'll remember the good ol' days, and that old Chevy Nova and that CB radio, and be so very, very grateful for the summer of '78.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Yabba Dabs.

I have long been addicted to this stuff:

St. Ives Scrub Fresh Skin, Apricot Scrub, Invigorating - 6 oz

It's a weakness, I know.

But yesterday, because I was out and the variety I really like the most was out of stock at the drugstore I picked up this replacement brand. I like everything else I've ever used by Aveeno, so why not give it a whirl?

Well. In the midst of my post-walk shower this morning, 
I opened it up to get the post-sweat salt mines off my face.

It smelt oddly familiar, and when I say oddly, I mean oddly.

Like THIS:

At first I was repelled, but the longer I washed my face, 
the groovier the whole thing began to be. 

I mean, lordamercy, I was a chewable vitamins junkie back in the day.

Raise your hand if you ever popped a handful of these things in your mouth just because they were the only vaguely sweet things 
your Mama would allow you to have.

"But MAMA!!  They are VITAMINS!!"

Later in the morning I went into the kitchen to get the 
RDA's "they" tell me are good for me these days. 

They were not as much fun.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Weekend With Oopsy Doodle

Last weekend was about the most fun we have ever had with our granddaughter. The evil molars had finished painin' themselves into her gums, and she was giggly and playful and mischievous and full of curiosity.

Because there was a good bit of rain (thank you, Lord!) we were sort of confined to the house -- until I remembered that playing in the rain is very, very, very good for wee bairns.

Getting her bearings.

Wet sand on belly - fascinated, she was. 

 It doesn't taste all that great, though.

This look is what we call "grinnin' like a mule eatin' thorns."

What good is a little sand if you can't exfoliate?

Although it's true ladies oughtn't spit in public, some rules
are made to be broken.

C'est la vie!


There was so much wet sand in her hair it seemed like a good idea to do a little pre-bath bathing....

As you can see, of this she was not much of a fan. 

I was waiting with a towel to take her in. She seemed to have had quite enough of this foolishness, but after we pulled her now-soaked diaper off she absolutely REFUSED to come inside with me. She went back to her Pop, stood in the puddle just off that step, and  would not budge.Her Pop thought maybe if he turned that hose on again -- since she clearly hated it -- that she would give in and run to her Grandmama. 

Nuh uh. 

After a time she chose to relent and I got her all clean and dry and dressed and we decided to have a very early supper at Zoe's Kitchen . Oopsy Doodle had the cheese quesadilla with SunChips and ice water. 

She was not impressed with the ice water. 

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.....
But she was diggin' on that quesadilla. 

One of my most favorite things in the world to do is to simply just watch her. I love knowing that so many things we fail to notice are utterly new to her. I love knowing she is too young to be jaded.

After our early supper we went for our customary frozen yogurt, then decided to stroll around the shopping center a bit before loading back up to come home. The rain had stopped, and there were plenty of little puddles just perfect for splashing in, and even a couple of fountains that held her fascination. Because it was a Sunday and there were few businesses open she had nearly free rein to run and check out her reflection in all the shop windows. She was having a ball. Even in this setting her Pop found something of nature to help her discover. 

One of my other favorite things in the world to do is just to simply watch the two of them together.  

"There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child.  
There are seven million."  ~Walt Streightiff

Monday, July 11, 2011

Inches, Feet, Yards, Miles: My 180 Life

I hope you'll enjoy this post from my walking blog. If you're inclined to share, that would be great!

Inches, Feet, Yards, Miles: My 180 Life: "One Thought My Daddy ran. My Mama played tennis. My brothers played baseball, basketball, football. My sister was always on the move doi..."

Saturday, July 9, 2011

A Thrill a Minute

Let's just file this under Utterly Random Posts, shall we?

Our oldest son was just a little older than his daughter is now when Michael Jackson's Thriller video premiered in December of 1983. I am not ashamed to tell you that I loved that whole album. As mortified as he will be to hear this, if I had a nickel for every time I danced him around the house on Cherry Street while it was playing in the background I'd be rich. He loved it, too, and he'd come out from wherever he was, saying "Do 'again, Mommy!" and off we'd be in our own little world.

He was absolutely terrified of the video, however, and in those days, MTV played it nearly non-stop. Nothing would send him running down the hall as fast as his catching a glimpse of it. It has taken him decades to get over it, but to this day he has an unhealthy fascination with Zombies.

I only think about that now because of this video that went out on recently.

Obviously, this little boy did not have similar issues.  Enjoy!

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Rock of Ages

I am growing increasingly disappointed and saddened by friends in faith who would have been perfectly happy if Casey Anthony had been found guilty in less than a day, and therefore subject to the death penalty, but who are outraged over a finding of not guilty in that same amount of time. It has all taken on the tenor of a lynch mob, and the anger doesn't seem to be directed solely at her. The jury is being vilified, and Nancy Grace (how's that for a last name full of irony?) is leading the charge.

Ms. Grace is an attorney. She should know better than anybody else that a verdict of not guilty doesn't mean that the jurors believed she was innocent -- it never means that. Years ago my husband served on a jury for a trial dealing with the theft of a window air conditioning unit. I should explain here that he has always struck me as a "hang 'em high" kind of guy, so you could have knocked me over with a feather when he told me after it was all said and done that they found the guy not guilty -- but that everyone in that courtroom knew he was. The state had not proved its case. They had clearly shown Point A and Point C, but had neglected to provide a Point B. (And do not think for a minute that I'm putting the death of a child and the theft of property on the same level.)

Hate it all you want to, but when the State decides to charge a person with a crime -- particularly one in which death at the hands of the State is an option -- then they had better have a Point B.

It doesn't matter whether I think/believe Casey Anthony did any or all of the things for which she stood accused. If she had been found guilty, and sentenced to death I can well imagine that there would have been a cheer go up amongst the bloggers who were frothing at the mouth for her to come to justice. They might very well have called it God's justice, as though He requires us to give him the go-ahead for such.

You either believe God is a God of justice, even when you don't understand how or when it's going to work, or you believe that the mob should decide, and you're hoping construction starts on some new coliseums very soon.

In all of this, I have found myself wondering, what would Jesus do? How would He have me respond?

Seems to me that when He was confronted by an episode of mob justice He squatted down, picked up a stick, and began to write in the sand.

Go ahead. Pick up the rock.

I dare you to sling it. 

Monday, July 4, 2011

Inches, Feet, Yards, Miles: Guilt Free Potato Salad

Inches, Feet, Yards, Miles: Guilt Free Potato Salad: "Today's walk was all about 'earning' a little extra holiday BBQ, potato salad, and a cold beer. Sometimes that's as noble as it ..."

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Garden Report, Week Ending July 2, 2011

The garden is just a hot mess. Literally.

This is why I am not out there taking pictures so much. It's just hot, and the mosquitoes have begun to laugh at Deet. I mean it. You could put me in a tub of that stuff and turn me loose in the backyard, and I would still come inside covered in bites.

It is my sweet disposition, I know. It's a heavy burden to bear.

Saturday morning, though I took a little hike -- early -- and when I got back, here's what was waiting for me!


That basket holds okra, carrots, and an assortment of peas and or beans. (You know I can't ever seem to remember.)

But we were most excited about the tomatoes, and I don't even eat 'em. Well, I mean, as a rule I don't eat 'em. Unless the man I love grows them for me, then I'm pretty much all about the tomatoes.

Therefore, I am interested in those tomatoes.

And these, too. These are staying right there until after the 4th of July Food Fest.

Now, can we chat for just a minute about those carrots in that basket?

I realize they are teensy. We were so sad when we pulled the first big batch of them up. We felt obligated to eat one, though, just as a way of honoring root vegetables.

Well, let me tell you, these things may be little, but they pack an unbelievable punch. I just wash 'em off and toss 'em in whatever I'm cooking. They take no time to get done.

When I eat them cooked like that I think of my Grandmama, and how she loved cooked carrots, and what a kick she would get out of these little midgets.

She had a little sign in her garden about God being nearer to us in a garden than anywhere else on Earth. I think He puts a whole lot of love in the stuff He lets us grow out there, that's for sure.

Have I digressed again?


We need about a gazillion more of these out there. They enjoy eating mosquitoes.

They also think they hide well.

I'm keeping him.

I named him Gomer.



This next bit has nothing to do with gardening.

Henry has fired up both smokers for the 4th of July.

Here are two pictures of one of them.

The other one didn't look this exciting.

It smells real fine out there right now.



This is a pretty dreadful picture of one of our sunflowers. Things were getting a little dark out there, and I was at the sort of angle that real photographers laugh behind your back when they see you doing it, but I don't care. There was just something about this I liked anyway.

You are free to disagree.

There are, however, no refunds.

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By the way.... this is the little fun thing I put together last year about Henry and his smokin' butts.

This is exactly what the next couple nights here will look like.