I'm clucking!

Oh yeah! I'f my back wasn't hurting so bad, I'd be up doing the victory dance. I received my final round acceptance from Chicken Soup for the Soul books on my story for the Married Life book. It is a story so dear to my heart about how Bill and I met. It is about how his pantry like his life seemed perfect, mine and my life were haphazard. I wrote how I like to wing it and he has to plan every detail. It also includes a humorous incident involving a vacation.

I had titled it Committed, No Matter How it Stacks Up. The only edit they made was the title, they changed it to, The Odd Couple, which is probably more appropriate.

They are growing up!

My grandson, Austin, celebrated his fifteenth birthday today. He has abs of steel, but won't let me see them.

"No, you're my grandma, that's weird."

He works out and exercises several times a week. He has sports memorabilia and posters of ball players (and also a Sports Illustrated model) all over his walls, a large TV in his room, and a recliner which he bought with his birthday money a couple years ago. Fifteen and his own man cave! He's a good kid with a lot of ambition, and I am very proud of him. He invited his uncle and cousin outside to toss a football. He spied me and pretended to toss it to me.

"Go ahead! You don't know who you're messing with here, boy! Last time I was here I proved I could slug a baseball. I can hit, and I can catch. I just can't throw."

"Yeah, right!"

"Toss it!"

"Wow!" he and Nick both yelled, as I caught that spinning pigskin.

I tossed it back and narrowly missed a Mustang, car.


I have never taken a cake decorating class. When my kids were small I used to make them stand with me at the grocery store bakery department so I could observe the bakery ladies decorating cakes.

Years ago, I bought a few tips and decorating bags, a large pan and obtained a frosting recipe. Shhh! Don't tell the Cardinals I used their logo. The bird's head feathers are a bit too froo-froo, and his legs are out of place, but close enough and not too bad for free-hand drawing.

Handiwork for you and for them

Keeping little hands busy doesn't require battery operated games or electronic gadgets. It requires a bit of creativity and ingenuity. I love making something new out of something old. Hubby says I am the only person he knows who will destroy one perfectly good thing to make another thing. Yeah? So?

Did you know that twisting, turning, squishing, smooshing, squeezing and wringing develops and strengthens small finger muscles that children use when printing?
I have a collection of about twenty different sizes and shapes of jars and bottles in which I stuff an object, then screw on the lids. The children unscrew the lids using wrist action. They like to see what is inside each. After all of the lids are off, I put them in a pile and the children have to match them and screw them back on. It requires reasoning. Sometimes I put a corresponding sticker on a lid, for example, if I have two Ponds Cold Cream jars, and one has a dinosaur inside, I would glue a dino sticker on the lid of one.

You would be surprised at how much fun the simple things can be for little children.
Hubby cut these hands out of a piece of scrap wood. One side is brown and the other lighter (multi-cultural). The kids love placing corresponding amounts of rings (from the Dollar store) on the fingers. My original "hand" game was made out of strong cardboard, so don't think you need a carpenter!

You are invited! Please come and bring a friend.
I am participating in a multi-author event at an independently owned coffee house. Several contributors will read and sign books.

WHEN: Saturday, 10-noon

WHERE: 6 North Cafe at 14438 Clayton Road (near Hy 141)

WHY: Multiple author book signing and reading event

TITLE: St. Louis Reflections, a St. Louis Writer's Guild anthology of prose and poetry.

PRICE: $9.99, but you don't have to buy. Stop by and say, "Hi." Have a cup of coffee or a
pastry, and support local writers.

My cup overfloweth

This over-sized, ceramic glazed, earthenware mug is my favorite. It holds two cups of coffee, cocoa, or hot tea. It was a Christmas gift a couple of years ago from my oldest granddaughter, Ashley, 22, who will be getting married in four months. It is one of a matching pair. The other one is navy blue and has PaPa etched on it.

Every morning when I awake between 4:00 and 5:00 a.m., the first thing I do is fill my mug, pop it into the microwave for two minutes and then, head to the study to write, search markets, check out blogs and Facebook.

When I cradle the mug in my hands it is as if I am cradling the bald headed, blue-eyed baby girl I called my Tweety bird when she was born. This mug holds the memories of a bright precocious preschooler with bouncing blonde curls who gave me so many laugh lines; a hurt little school girl who suffered the consequences of her adults' behaviors; a non-judgmental teen who befriended the problem kids so she could help them; a bright, young woman of strength and character, with a great sense of humor and sharp wit.

In the quiet early hours I sip from the memories and can almost hear her beautiful voice singing, I Hope You Dance. In the swirling liquid I gaze into her youth and hear her singing A Capella in front of the high school student body. I laugh at her talent show antics, her college artistic ability, her way with people, her brilliance, her delightful personality.

I feel all of her hurts and all of her happiness as I hold the past in my hands. The beverage warms not only my hands and tummy but my heart. This mug represents a little girl who held hands with me and called me Nana ever since she was one year old.

These days she is busy making her own life, working, preparing for her future. I seldom hear from her unless I call her, and when I do, she usually TEXTS me back. Kids! :)

But when I wrap my fingers around this mug, I feel the warmth of her little hand in mine. Nana's girl is grown up, and she doesn't need me anymore, but she will always be my girl. Ever since I can remember, we said goodbye or ended every phone conversation this way, Me: "You're my girl!" Ashley: "You're my nana!"
These days she says, "You're my Nan." After all, she's a big girl now.

I read recently: Time passes swiftly when you get older. The only thing a grandparent really wants is time with grandchildren, a few minutes, a phone call an unexpected visit. When they are gone, will you say, "I'm glad I did, or I wish I had." I am so proud of Nana's girl.

Do you have an object that evokes special memories when you hold it in your hand?

A bargain for you

Cheapskate, skinflint, frugal, I suppose all of those words applied when I was a young mom and we had to stretch every paycheck.

The day after Valentine's Day my late, best friend and next door neighbor, Rose, and I used to drop the kids off at school and make a beeline to Walgreens Pharmacy to purchase the biggest, most beautifully decorated boxes of chocolates for our moms. Half price! It made us and our mothers so happy.

I thought I'd make my honey happy, so yesterday, I went outside in my pink robe and black tennis shoes at dawn and stomped a big heart in the snow on the lawn. I used a broom handle to write I LOVE YOU. Hubby woke and with coffee in his hand I told him to look outside and see what was going on.

"I KNOW, it snowed a couple of inches."

"No, look out the door."

He gazed out and said, "The darn squirrels are back, they've been running around
like crazy in the snow."

He's a big joker. I hugged him and we acted silly.

Four year old Nicole, lying on the couch, giggled and said, "You guys gave me smiles."

We went to dinner and then for a nice walk as the snow melted at 40 degrees. In the evening we played Wii bowling. I kicked Bill's butt, jumped up to cheer and kicked a hand weight which was on the floor, and broke my toe next to the baby toe. Another memorable Valentine's day.

Hope someone treated you right yesterday. Just a reminder, 50% off Valentine's Day candies today at Walgreens if you want to treat yourself.

No thorns on this one

Twenty-two years ago today, we celebrated our first very first Valentine's Day together as a couple. Eighteen years ago today, we were married.

Today, let me share our first Valentine's Day memory.

An entire week before the big day, Bill would read florist's marquees, "$59.99 for a dozen roses. Wow! $39.99. I'm going to buy you a dozen red roses."
"No, a dozen roses would not make me happy."
"How about half a dozen?"
"No. Please, no roses. It's crazy to spend that kind of money. I'm way too practical."
"How about one rose? I can even get it from 7-11 if it's about money." He's always been my funny honey.
"Cut flowers do not make me happy. They remind me of withering relationships, sad endings, not happy beginnings. Please do not buy roses. They will die."

We had been invited to a Valentine's Day dance with a group of friends. He knew how much I wanted to go, but he had to work second shift. I'd see him at midnight. He said we'd go dancing on the weekend. As a utility company shift worker he had missed so many of his own family's functions over the years, and I knew how it saddened him. "I'll make it up to you," he promised. "Roses?"
"NO! I mean it."

I walked into the house after work, dreading the bouquet of roses I thought I'd find. But what I discovered on the counter made me laugh out loud.

On top of the pile of mail instead, was this 8 inch long post card advertisement from a well known local florist.

When I read Bill's inscription, my heart pitter-pattered. The chocolate-covered strawberries lasted two days.

This one, long-stemmed, red rose has been hanging on the side of our fridge for more than twenty years. It is a simple, thoughtful memento that I will always treasure, and like my funny honey, it makes me smile every day.