Hello.....again.

After almost a year and a half hiatus I am back to document life, now for slightly different reasons. When here before I was a busy household hiding here for comfort now and again (who am I kidding? I was addicted for more than a minute.) I return, a grandmother who in a whirlwind, drastically changed life for the good and is intent on sharing the stories.
The change was domestic, social, geographic and mind altering.
Divorced and in a new relationship, I now LIVE!
It was intiated by simple words...."Life doesn't have to be so hard." These words, at first whispered were eventually written in stone. The phrase insisted on possibilities that had seemed lost. It suddenly seemed possible to change my reality. As a student of Jonathan Livingston I was determined to question my boundaries.
Since MiniMe was living her life between full time school, work and parenting classes and young daredevil was spending all free weekends with his gf, I had much time on my hands. I tired of being THE ROCK. I tired of spinning my wheels emotionally and financially and finally asked myself did "In sickness and In health" include MENTAL health. Just short of a commital (mine or his), I chose divorce. Hard and fast, had pussyfooted around for too long. Raising my children in a longterm rented country home, i truly had no ties and up and moved out a month after my last post here. I relocated a little over an hour south, coming home to farmland and big water within earshot. 
I have made many memories in this short time. Gbaby will be ONE YEAR OLD this coming Wed.

 I shot my first deer this past Thanksgiving morning, a three point thankyaverymuch.

 I have seen rabbits bagged and pulled monster catfish from the river. Who thought I could ever enjoy dove hunting as I have hand raised several types of birds? Conflict was resolved by wrapping in bacon and grilling til done.
The vegetable garden from my childhood came to life as did flower beds and herbs.
Still can't wipe the smile off of my face.
Every day is an adventure even the days 5/7 that i drive the hour north to work. The route is beautiful, I am a reincarnated farmer. I encounter the Bee people a time or two as they maintained hives for massive pollenation efforts. The symmetry of the fields and their constant changing colors soothes me and I usually arrive home completely decompressed from the day.
Those days. They haven't changed much, relaxed slightly but still same old politics that I won't play so I avoid and am avoided, pretty much left to do my job. Yay.

I am back to leave treasures for Gbaby by sharing the fun and hard work that is my life now.
 I will return to detail some highlights of this experience, from the childrens' "How can you leave OUR home?" to the six month move out of the monster schoolhouse to the drastic change in environment or how I turned the focus from pushing everyone else to do their best to demand more FOR myself.

Welcome to Doll Land

My mother's latest creations! Precious, No?

Many other dolls of all shapes and types, always with the hand painted faces.

One of these will be perfect for my.... first... (cough cough)....grandchild.

Yea.There it is. My daughter is pregnant. Which is not the same as me becoming a grandmother mind you. And, as if on cue, the three gray hairs in my temple that I had been successfully plucking/covering with mascara for several years suddenly became a 3" patch.

Second year college student with so much ahead of her, attacking it head on, working more than part time and full time school. I would not have chosen this for her, of course, but it is what it is. I have had weeks for it to sink in, can you tell? She is 17 weeks, so I better get busy crocheting something.

Hearts and Flowers for my Friends

I see a canvas out there.

Tie dye the world!!

But seriously, this is insane. Three + inches in most areas south to Valdosta. Snow in Savannah?? I don't think we came inside until dark and even then went back out every hour or so to revel in the awesomeness!

Old Man Mac

With everything buzzing around in my head to write about, I get overwhelmed and don't write at all, but when mother asked me to write about Mac for a book that was being put together I knew I had to find the discipline to do it.

 "The Man Who Shot the Tractor and Other Stories from Wayside" is being written by Mac's widow, who's age I can't quote but must be late 70's.  She only recently "retired" from her post as activities coordinator at a local nursing home, I hear she still goes in two days a week! An icon in her own right: a former teacher, clogging afficiando, a pianist, event coordinator,  she is pressing those of us who knew her beloved Mac to write of our experiences with him. I spent more time with Mac than my own grandfather, Loved them equally but Papa worked running his construction company during this time.

 Mac was a tree farmer in my lifetime. He owned so much land that we would drive around all day and not see all of it. Between 14 and 17 years old I worked summers and weekends around his farm and sawmill, riding tractors, picking blueberries, muscadines and other veggies. Some days were hard and we were glad to see mac drive up at lunch to take us for "belly washers". On extremely hot days, he would knock us off early and head to the creek to swim for a while to cool off. Some days it seemed he had forgotten us, but would always be there eventually. I worked with other neighborhood boys, all older and in college by then, who we called "Mac's boy's". I LOVED working with them. Mainly because it was as close to boys as I was allowed to get. I worked hard and according to Mac they worked harder when I was around. I remember once Mac came to get me one Sat morning and told me "Go get your swimsuit, we going to the creek later on."  So I ran back and put on my suit and work clothes and  we took off to the sawmill. Upon arrival, the mill in is full swing, Mac's boys working hard. Mac tells me I got an easy job this day.... taking lemonade to his boys. I remember being slightly miffed to haved to stand around and hand out lemonade since i usually stacked lumber or rolled logs, but I played along. Turns out Mac knew what he was doing as they finished early that day and we all went to the creek.

Not every day was all work. Some days we would ride around and see various people in the neighborhood. He would check in on a widow, drop off some homemade goods to a friend, and deliver garden goods to another each time waving off the thank you he would always receive. There was some weird rule that you just didn't thank Mac.  One did not dare mention a need of something within earshot of Mac, or one would find it literally on the doorstep upon arriving home. Once he pulled right up into "Big O Ranch", Otis Redding's  home here in Round Oak and we strolled up to Mrs. Zelma Redding for a chat about something. I was in awe.

Somehow he would fit in collecting used eye glasses and selling brooms to raise money for the Lion's Club that he so loved, all the while managing his trees.

I will not forget the lunches, with an occasional treat of fried okra or peanut brittle that he would just whip up in a cast iron skillet. I still call Mom for his best recipes. Fall would always bring the question of "When is Mac's squirrel stew?", which was probably always on opening weekend, since it was he that would host a gathering for all the out of town hunters that came to hunt on his land. These were cool evenings with a bonfire, music, clogging and of course stew.  For several of these events I was blessed to have helped cook the stew out behind his house over a fire. It was no secret that stew consisted of whatever was in the freezer from that year... rabbit, squirrel, possum and all the tomatoes and potatos you could fit in that huge cast iron pot.

When there came a time that I took clogging lessons at the Lion's Club, Mac was there.  A Lion's Club lifer that would open the  buiding for clogging classes and the like. He would be found in the corner with his bag of gum to hand out while watching the ladies dance. While other husbands might not be caught dead up there, Mac was no fool.

Mac taught me about a little about trees, muscadines and tractors and even sparked my interest in welding for high school shop and beyond ;) but he taught me more about friends, family and community and that might have made him as happy as my knowing the difference between a paper oak and a water oak.

Lunchtime Tie Dye

I don't normally break out the tie dye mess in the middle of winter, but a special request was made and since it was small scale, I decided to do it.
My mom called and as usual, wanted to suggest a gift for my father. It seems he liked the "do-rags" (tie dyed bandanas) I had made Mom for her hairless phase and had adopted them. She advised that since he disliked using "old man white" hankies, I could tie dye some special for him.
I bought a pack of 12 and sat up late one night folding and tying, so I could dye at work during lunch the next day. It was fun working on such a small scale, much less mess. And as with every experience, I learn something new.

The result is Tie Dyed Office!!

Exposure Rocks!

Three weeks ago it seems the phone started ringing with requests for the mister to sing/play with various new groups around the area and even a band he used to play with years ago. Since he has been feeling somewhat better, he has taken every opportunity offered. It seems that his morale is improving with every gig. He was invited last week to the local *insert large furry animal with antlers* lodge to meet/jam with the house act.

We were there as guests of the "band" which turned out to be an act similar to David's- one guy with backing tracks- except with about $5000 worth of equip incl BOSE speakers that fit behind the seat of his truck!! There were maybe 10 folks in the bar, ~25 in the ?ballroom? and yes,  I was the youngest one there. As we got acquainted in the bar area I looked around and tried to imagine how old all these fellas  might have been when Gramma & Papa were members.
I tried to imagine it a different time, like when G & P would go, which seemed like alot. I remember when I was a young child seeing  Gramma in fancy pleated skirts, shiny jewelry and perfect hair leaving to go dancing. Of course they never said that. It was just "We are going to the Lodge." As I got a l little older, I can remember Pop saying they were going to "Paint the town red".  As i got even older it became evident what they were doing, it was DANCING!
Tonight, I saw them. I know not them exactly, but in that atmosphere. There were three couples that danced every song, including 'Up On the roof', 'Pink cadillac', and even a Kid Rock song. One couple in particular was trained. I mean they paid money to learn to dance like that. They took the floor first song,  David asked me if I wanted to dance and I was appalled at the thought. No Way, I said. For one thing we would get run over by them, they were waltzing, shagging and foxtrotting and some things I dont even know and had never seen. He was as ?elegant? as her, I would have placed them between 60 & 65. OMG they did not stop except for a glass of wine. They swapped partners often, seeming to be teaching some. They line danced. How did I not ever learn that?
At some point the inevitable happened, a man came to us and asked were we guests and musicians, we said yes. He introduced himself (my mind drifted to local businesses with that name...) and asked if we knew any Lodge members and we said no. He was nice and of course said we should consider filling out an application. He returned with two. He, too danced the night away with his wife ( I highly suspect highly botoxed, i put them late 60's and Jack Lalane fit!) I look around and see mostly they all are. Trim and fit that is. I mean there was still arm flappage, hell I contribute to that, but the calves on these ladies were enviable!

[So me thinks here that this is either some weird *recall furry animal name* cult where they stay youthful draining the blood of young inductees OR  maybe it's just that they dance their arses off 2-3 nights a week!!! Putting 2 + 2 together, I shall surf the net for ballroom lessons I can find for free. Plenty of room in the back room to practice.] 

David was called up to sing several songs and they seemed to loove the new blood. He sang Sweet Melissa, Margaritaville  and a few others.

We also had a friend sitting in with a house band at a club adjacent to the Lodge. Fortunate coincidence . We wandered  there eventually and he took the joint over for a few songs. We saw some old friends and made some new ones. Overall it was a very productive night!

Smashing Pumpkins

I am behind on blogging but I wanted to write about Halloweek and years past.

It is usually a busy week with a day or two for costume compilation, a day for the pumpkin, another for the pumpkin pies. I was the mom that would NOT buy a costume. EVER. My mom had always made mine, and I vowed I would do the same. I can remember so many evenings spent hot glueing, stapling, sewing, painting, stuffing, ironing and pinning our way to first place costumes.

I should dig out the photos of the wee ones as Little Miss Muffett and her Spider, or the next year as a large sunflower and bumblebee (utilzing same frame as spider for the boy). There was the year I rallied at the last minute for Carrie and in a fit, threw her to the floor on top of a doubled up white sheet, and forgetting everything my mama taught me about sewing, cut around her body, sewed it up and proceeded to dye large dots with food coloring. When it dried and she stepped in !voila! a clown! It rained that afternoon and one of the activities at the local
party included diving in the abundant fall leaves to find prizes. The leaves were fairly wet and by the end of the night so was she. When we got home and she stripped down, she was at first horrified then amused that (because i had cheated and used food coloring) SHE was covered in colorful dots. I regret not taking THAT picture. Mom would sometimes help with costumes and one year she came up with Mickey Mouse (The Apprentice) and the Sorcerer. Then there was the time we tried latex. Worked great. Latex remover, another story. She was a gypsy hag among pricesses and ballerinas and walked away with first place but slept in her make up.

Young master graduated to boyish scary things that were easy to do and I would always result to turning a black shirt into cat ears and tail for myself.
During all of this we would squeeze a pumpkin in somewhere,along with home made pies.
THIS year there were no children to dress and I was sick almost the entire week. I was NOT in a Haloweeny mood. I did muster the strength to carve a pumpkin on Wednesday evening and 2 pies on Thursday night.
Interesting that, since there were no competing ideas for the pumpkin, I carved what I wanted:


When mini-masculine (now living with his father) visited on the weekend, he did get to enjoy a time honored family tradition of diposing of pumpkin. This non-event was executed expertly and we watched happily as it carved an arc in the sky just before exploding in the pasture behind the house.

Memories........ I'll take 'em where I can get 'em.