Late one night, my son was in the garage unlocking the back door without turning the light on. He heard the cat eating, so reached down to pet her. He was rewarded with a horrible hiss. Flipping the light on, he found he’d disturbed a mother possom, with numerous babies on board, dining at the cat’s bowl. Snatching his hand backhe found it nasty and greasy. It appeared the possom was still filthy from feeding on roadkill. He insisted, though he washed over and over, he couldn’t get the odor off. Oh, the babies hissed,too.
Reblogged from GluestickMom. This is great
Is it possible to make a pig’s ear out of a pig’s leg? In Teflon Man’s case, absolutely!
Now rumour has it, some people have immaculate, sparkly kitchens with work tops void of anything but tasteful-yet-essential utensils. (Or is that just on Pinterest?)
Not my kitchen.
No, not mine either.
Generally speaking though, there still tends to be room for me to cook and plate up amongst the tubs of peanut butter and tins of lunchbox goodies. There is still room for me to do my thing.
Or at least there was.
And then Teflon Man decided he needed to buy a leg of Serrano ham. Lidl was doing a special deal on them and who doesn’t like Serrano ham?
Yes, I like a nice slice of dry-cured ham… But when it comes in pre-sliced packets that fit so neatly in the fridge. Notwhen it’s a…
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Reblogged from My Friday Blog. Thank you very much, Josh. We are all mentally ill some or all of our lives. If we and society are fortunate, we get treatment when we need it.
Hello dear reader(s)!
You have no doubt heard by now about the guy who crashed the plane in Germany. You have also no doubt heard the comments from people who still stigmatize mental illness saying that those of us suffering from mental illness should just kill ourselves. If you haven’t, then I’m sorry to bring it up. If you have, then I’m not sorry to bring it up. If you wanted to, I am also not sorry to bring it up. If you didn’t, then once again, I am sorry to bring it up. I could go on.
Suffering from not 1, but 2 different mental illnesses makes this pretty easy for me to say: I am less crazy than the people who do not believe that mental illness is a genuine illness and should be treated as such.
There is a very real difference between sick and evil. Can…
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I found some great vintage chairs to redo for my patio. I couldn’t be trusted. Bud was possessed, got out his blow torch, torched and wire brushed the paint that was left. He straightened the frames, rewelded a few areas, put new casters on several of the legs. He primed and made beautiful new seats out of pine. I did come out and started taping the metalwork while he went to bathroom. This is my work, which occasioned him to say, “Shit, Honey!” when he returned. The first picture is his work, the second, mine. Look at the beautiful pine white pine seats he made. Isn’t he amazing? We have $80 invested in these chairs. Now, on to the table. It is a sunflower mosaic on plywood, on a base he made about 30 years ago. Pictures of that later.
“Them that don’t work, don’t eat.” We must have looked like a hungry bunch because Daddy made sure we worked. Farm work was a regular thing, but when Daddy had invited folks in for a holiday, he kicked it into high gear. The place had to be groomed; brush cut, fence rows cleaned out, fields bush hogged. It was always good to have Continue reading
Other times, when we were ungrateful for how great we had it, he’d tell us his family sometimes went three days with nothing to eat but peas.
i piped up. “Why didn’t y’all eat one of those cakes your mama or sisters made every day?”
He took time out his busy day to teach me the difference in smart and smart aleck.
My sister Phyllis is seating holding my squalling sister, Connie. I am the beautifully groomed girl standing in the back row. Mother made me wear that skirt and pink blouse I had just gotten that day for Christmas. She made them. The top button was the only one left by the time this picture was made. The hem was ripped out of the skirt. That’s what happens when you play football in a dress.
Me and my cousin Cathy. I was the tall kid.
I’ve been fortunate enough to have lots of cousins, more than forty on my father’s side of the family. Some of them were great friends and partners in crime, some were object lessons, preparing me for life, and many are great fodder for my storytelling. I am grateful for all of them. There were always plenty for two ball teams. The little ones made great bases!
There were five of us born about a year apart, three girls and two boys, my first friends. We played, fought, and grew up together. I often spent the night with Sue or Cathy. It was common for our families to visit on Saturdays and again on Sunday, so there was lots of kid-swapping. We loved it. More often than not, it was late when we collapsed and ending sleeping in our clothes on pallets on the floor.
Of course, as we grew up and started families, we drifted apart, occasionally meeting at a family gathering, where we’d catch up a bit, making fruitless plans to get together. The old feelings were there, just put on a shelf.
Now that we are older, we are starting to rekindle our relationships. It is lovely.
Though I wasn’t an actual heathen, I looked like one compared to my older sister Phyllis. In her religious fervor, she never missed a church service, sang in the choir, and volunteered for all kinds of activities, while I dreaded Sunday mornings, knowing I’d have to sit through another long service. This really rankled me, so one Sunday I decided to Continue reading