Mirror Mirror on the Wall.....

          Who's the fairest of them all?   I woke up this morning with a poem already in my head.  Grabbed a pen and wrote it down before I could forget it.  Sometimes I wonder about this brain of mine.  Here it is.....no title.

I woke up this morning

Thought I'd see a brand new  me;

When I looked into the mirror

It was NOT what I wanted to see! 

Last night I didn't eat

So I could see the scales go down;

And the cream I put on my face

Didn't phase my natural frown.

So I threw my sholders back

Held my stomach in so tight;

Took another look at me

And I said, "Girl!  Your're lookin' fine!

After I wrote this poem, I had a chuckle because I thought about my Grandmother Wallace.  She was a funny lady.  If you complemented my Grandmother Wallace, she would reply, "I know....!" or, "I know I'm beautifull!" And then she would follow up with her laughter......oh the laughter!  I loved it!  If she had insecurities, she never showed it.  She was a strong lady.  She did what she had to....no matter if she wanted to or not.  Sounds like my mother!.......sounds like me!

........I'm just sayin'! 

  

That's Life.............

What is Life?
To be born?
To fulfill all your dreams?
A Song?

Define Life. 
Something that's living.
The period of time that something or someone exists.
A manor of living......(a life of ease)
The reason for existence......(you're my life)
The source of liveliness.........(the life of the party)
A Biography.

What will your Biography say?

Something to think about................

And the cow jumped over the moon.......

It's hard to believe that my first grandchild, Alissa, will be 13 this week.  I've spent a lot of time reminiscing about her as a baby and throughout the years.  It seems like yesterday that Nana was rocking her and singing "Nana's Lullaby" to her and now she's a beautiful young lady. Time is passing by too quickly!

I'll never forget when she was a baby, we were in church and I was holding her. She had her passie in her mouth and it was just a going!  I looked down at her and wiggled my nose.  She smiled through her passie and giggled.  Well, that was it for me.  Steph and I laughed uncontrollably and as quietly as we could. This happened during the preaching!  It was one of those times when you laugh so hard you cry! 

Another favorite memory of her was her ballet years.  Alissa started ballet classes when she was 3.  She always loved to play dress up so this was the perfect thing for her to get to do.  She took several years of ballet and we attended all of her recitals.  She was so precious in her little dance costumes!  Even after the recitals, her costumes became her play clothes and she transpired into a "balla-princess" once again.  That's what she called it...."balla-princess".

On one particular birthday she got a new purple tutu that came with a crown and a magic wand.  She danced and twirled and entertained us all.  She was so precious and cute and my heart swelled with pride......she's my granddaughter!

To this day I'm still not sure what transpired, but in a split second she was not happy with me.  She turned her sweet little face to me, scrunched her nose, lowered her eyebrows in her "I'm going to throw a fit" face, waved her magic wand at me and said, "Poof!  You're a Cow!"  In an immediate reaction to her spell,  my smile turned to the "granny stare" that would scare the horns off a billy-goat....and in an instant, her magic wand disappeared and never was seen again!   Mooooo! 

Smile awhile and give your face a rest................

As I’m laying back in the dental chair and a surgery lamp hanging over my head, I have flash backs of childhood when technology was not what it is today. I have to commend the person who invented the little suction wand that removes excess saliva during the teeth cleaning process. When I was a kid, the hygienist gave us a paper cup of water and we did the three “S‘s“. We sipped, swished and spit. It was awkward and embarrassing as drool made it’s way down the side of the little green, porcelain spittoon and down my chin! Now that I’m older, I can think of so many things that were wrong about that. Unless there was a full time janitorial service to clean up after every patient’s hits and misses, I am horrified to think of being the last patient of the day! Which makes me think of a similar porcelain object in my home that grosses me out not nearly as much!

I also remember when the hygienists didn’t wear gloves or surgical masks. Today, thanks to OSHA, many more precautions are taken. I’m always happy to see my hygienist put on a fresh set of gloves before putting her hands in my mouth and I‘m especially appreciative when she‘s wearing a surgical mask. Knowing there is a barrier between her DNA and mine makes me feel much better. Yes….times have changed a lot.

Finally, after sitting quietly while the hygienist works magic on my smile, I recall other times when a previous hygienist asked way too many questions. Don’t you hate it when that happens! First of all asking all of those personal questions makes you want too say, “It’s non of your biz-wax”, but how can you say anything at all with her hand crammed in your mouth…..I’m just sayin‘!

Will work for food..........

It’s been a long time since I've had to look for a job. I have decided that it is a full time job in its self. It's pretty painful preparing a decent resume, looking through the want ads in the local newspaper, faxing and e-mailing resumes in hopes of getting a call for an interview. Not only that, but spending days on end hand delivering resumes to every location that looks like a potential place of employment.  By the time I'd  been in and out of the car fourteen times the other day....in 100 degree weather, I started to  linger a little longer in each office just to take in the cool air.  I could visualize the staff talking about the sweaty street bum with a red face and soppin' wet hair, hanging out in the waiting room......I'm sure they considered calling security.  But, on the positive side....maybe I will be the very one they remember!

Then there is the interview process.  My first interview was with a staffing company who told me there would be a test.  I thought, no problem.  After finishing in about three hours, the smart mouthed little receptionist said, "It was only supposed to take about forty five minutes to an hour!"  I just wanted to slap her silly!  I've had to try really hard to be on my best behavior during this process!.....hoping not to do or say anything stupid.....knowing that unrehearsed words may escape my mouth, and the spirit of my mother may come over me!

Sadly, I’ve already been horrified by my spur of the moment stupidity when a possible employer said she would shake my hand but she’d been coughing.  I ever so stupidly said, “Okay…air shake!” and stuck my hand out in a pretend hand shake!  As I left her office, all I could say to my self was, “Air shake????……..AIR SHAKE!!!!”  What am I …...a twelve year old!

While I could blog a whole story about each interesting and memorable interview I’ve had so far, I will refrain.….in fear that somehow the very place that wants to hire me, won’t …..because they read my blog. I’m just sayin……………..

Super Hero................

In most every little girl is planted the idea that her dad is a super hero. I’m one of them. My dad…..John Wayne. Yep, that was my dad. He wore boots and jeans, a big felt hat. Strapped on his leg was holster with a real pistol in it. He's a pistol alright!

I remember when I was about fourteen, my boyfriend came over riding his motor cycle. We were outside talking when my dad came out in his John Wayne attire. With his arms wide at his side and his right hand over his pistol, he looked like he was going to snatch that gun right outta the holster, twirl it around, and then take down the punk that was messin with his daughter! In seconds, my boyfriend saddled that bike, spun out….and left me in a trail of dust. And John Wayne???…. was laughing his head off! Oh, yes he was! That’s my dad! Super hero…..not exactly perfect timing for me ….but, none the less a Super Hero he was and is.

More than his mischievousness, though, my dad had a serious side. I remember one time getting in trouble and my dad, my Super Hero, gave me a whippin!….with a belt. Now, normally, my mom was the one to discipline me, but that time I must have done something really awful for her to bring in the big guns! You see….if I was in trouble with mom, she’d have to chase me around the table and catch me before I got a spanking. By the time she caught up to me, she would be laughing too hard to spank me. Therefore, all was forgotten. Oh….but not my dad!

I’ve seen my dad grab a snake by the tail and pop it’s neck, then hang it on the barbed wire fence. I’ve seen him saddle and ride a horse like a real cowboy. I’ve seen him come home from work at midnight, covered with black suet and read letters I left for him because he worked long hours and I didn‘t get to see him much. More admirably, I’ve seen him on more than one occasion, witness to someone at a garage sale. That’s why they call him a Garage Sale Missionary. What an amazing man he is.

So….this Father’s Day I wrote him a song…..My Hero, My Dad.
Here are the lyrics.  Copyright 2010.

My Hero, My Dad

There is a man who warms my heart
Who’s always loved me from the start
There is a man with calloused hands
Hard working man, my hero, my dad.

If ever there were knights in shining armor
Superman, Lone Ranger, Roy Rogers
They couldn’t hold a candle to this man
I call my hero, my dad.

No matter how old I am
Daddy’s little girl I’ll always be
He’s always there to stand by me
My hero…..

If ever there were knights in shining armor
Superman, Lone Ranger, Roy Rogers
They couldn’t hold a candle to this man
I call my hero, my dad.

Stuffed Turkey............

The tradition for many families at Thanksgiving is having “stuffed turkey”. My family has turkey, of course, but as far as I know our turkeys are not stuffed. As a matter of fact, I’ve never seen a stuffed turkey. So tell me this……what does that mean exactly? Does it mean that the turkey, prior to it’s execution, is fed it’s last meal? It’s given every food it could possibly want to eat before hatchet day…..causing the poor bird to over eat, and therefore he’s stuffed?

I feel that way after every meal! I seem to push myself to the limit when certain foods are concerned. I don’t know why I do it!! Take Mexican food, for instance. I generally start off by eating chips and salsa, ordering my favorite enchiladas, drinking 2 or 3 diet cokes then, if anyone else wants a sopapilla, I will have one, too. Now I know there must be at least 500 fat grams in this meal alone, but tell my brain that it’s off limits and I will act like fool if you try and keep it from me. Therefore, I leave with the feeling of being overly “stuffed” and call myself a pig for doing it…..oink, oink!

I can see how the pig could be described as being “stuffed” since it doesn’t know when to quit when it comes to the slop it eats. But the poor turkey?  He’s stuffed BY someone…. and baked with his stuffing that was crammed into him… and then eaten by someone who has the intention of being stuffed himself…. by the very turkey HE stuffed. Mind boggling, I know!

And every time I use the phrase “I‘m stuffed“, I think about the pig who has no self control and then I picture myself in his body. I complain about gaining weight only to stuff myself again. I have come to realize that humans did not come from monkeys like they taught us in school.  We may act like monkeys sometimes but I think we must have come from pigs. Think about it! Our world is centered around food. We have breakfast and then a snack. We have lunch and then a snack. And for entertainment…..we go out to eat and have a 500 fat gram meal! Before we can count the little piggys on our footsies, we’ve fixed ourselves a midnight snack and wonder why we can‘t sleep. Now tell me, this……doesn't this sound like pigs to you??

So.....next time someone asks you if you want stuffing, just say, “no thanks, I'm stuffed already!"

I'm just sayin'.......