Julie Anne

Hello, today I am going to tell you about my sister's little girl, Julie Anne, or as Rosie would sometimes call her, Jule. I believe that she was named after her dad's mother and of course me.
I can remember my sister just shaking her head and asking me, "How do you do it?"  Of course, I had no idea what she meant. She said, "I put Julie in bed after her bath and in the morning, she is dirty." We laughed like two normal moms in love with our children no matter, clean or dirty.
Julie was a very active little girl, again I am going to compare her to Melanie. Melanie would wake up and babble to herself waiting for me to go get her. Julie would wake up raring to go once the sun came up. She would "walk" her crib until her mother caught her on the run!

When Julie was little she had a love for horses. When she was small she had a severe accident with a horse that caused the whole family to pray for her to live through the night.  She did do that. That accident brought her  family together as a whole unit.
Julie grew up close to her grandmother, my mother. She and my sister lived close by her. Mom taught Julie some things she never accomplished with me; crocheting and knitting. Mom started to "try" with me when I was about eight and continued until I was about thirty four.
Mom kept telling me it was relaxing. She would crochet and watch television as I know a lot of people do. It made me so nervous;  the yarn got so tight on the hook I could hardly get it off. It didn't make me feel any better when she told me that she was doing it independently when she was eight; made her own clothes when she was eleven and on and on.
The hands on teaching "took" with Julie, because she continues to do those things for her children and I think I have heard she makes gifts for her friends and relatives.
Our whole family was blessed when Julie Anne came to be with our family.  Miss you, my dear.
                                                          Aunt Lu

Giggles At The Grocery Store

Well, I have never had so much fun buying groceries as I did this morning.
First of all I forgot my glasses on the table by my chair.
Second of all, I made a sharp turn towards the sun making it virtually impossible to see ANYTHING!!!
Third thing, unbeknownst to me, silly stocking folks had put up a very flimsy display of jello that jumped out in front of my shopping cart.
I, of course, made a big deal out of it, and Fran started laughing and told me to just let it go, so I did because I was laughing so hard I couldn't do anything else.
I remembered something else that we needed so I turned the cart around and proceeded to go back down that same aisle. Fran was in front of me and told the poor stocking boy, "woman driver on her way back down!"
I had to get my medicine  at this same store and I got the giggles so bad I couldn't stop. It has been years since that happened. It felt so good, stomach ache and all.

Daddy's Little Knife

It seems the older I get, things seem to jog my memory to the "old days." Most old days go back to the farm where I was raised until I was eleven years old. I suppose those days hold firm in my memory because I am like most older people the long term memory holds true unlike short term memory does. In my case I have very little of the short term stuff left.
When I was little my dad did a lot of different things with no help except with a small jackknife.  My mom used to laugh about that little knife. She used to say that dad did every thing from castrate animals to quarter apples with that little knife.
I have seen dad sharpen his knife and test it with the hair on his arms. Sharpening his small "hired hand" was very interesting to
watch for a little girl. He had several different ways to accomplish this. Sometimes he would put his knife in water on a wet stone. In,over and in over. Then the testing would begin on his arm. A small satisfied smile would appear on his face and I knew that he was a happy man.
I loved to "tail" my dad on his chores. I loved observing the smells and cobwebs in the buildings and listening to his chuckles when I asked him little girl questions.
I learned that mama sows didn't like little girls leaning over the pen. I learned not to open bags of feed. That was a bad yelling lesson. That feat was supposed to be just my dad's chore with his little knife; not his little girl's  tiny fingers that teased the string loose.
Dad's little knife tested the sweetcorn for juiciness, the soy beans for dryness, and the creepin jenny vines from choking out the flowers and vegetables. Dad used his knife for plugging a watermelon. I saw Dad clean his fingernails with his knife and pick out a splinter from his finger.
As a matter of fact, shortly before he left this world, he was still using his knife to cut cardboard to make a cover for his dictionary.
I wonder what ever happened to that beloved tool of my dad's.

Mother's Helper For Table Decorating

When I was a very little girl, I loved to help my mom; Probably more, in fact than she would have liked when she was having company. I think I have posted about the ladies coming to visit that mom called, "club ladies."
 My parents were very poor, but  that did not keep my mother from entertaining with style. 
She never used napkins for every day when I was little, but when the club ladies came she used napkins that resembled Vanity Fair napkins of our time.
I have been seeing them being advertised on television lately. Every time I see that ad I think of the "chore" my mother gave me to get ready for the ladies.
She would get my colors and the napkins out and let me color the flowers on the bottom.  If she had "club" in the spring she had me color the flowers yellow, and pink etc. If the ladies came in the fall, the flowers needed to be colored gold and rust and purple etc. The ladies always remarked on the lovely napkins on the table, and then of course, my mama told them that I had helped decorate them.

Another wonderful memory that has been hidden away for over sixty years.

Doggie Preschool



Bandit

Fran and I have done something this last week neither one of us ever dreamed we would do. We adopted ANOTHER dog.

Our little Maggie was also unexpected, but after three years we have gotten used to the temper tantrums, the sad looks that make us feel so guilty (planned on her part) etc.
We went to a flea market the other day and saw the most woebegone dog I have ever seen. He looked like a sheltie, had long fur that just glistened and great big brown eyes. The sign said FREE. We talked and talked and told the man we might be back but we doubted it.
However, we did go back into town and picked him up. He was scared to death. I don't blame him. He felt all of the proverbial orphan.
Fran took him outside and he marked his places over and over.
Well, Maggie's worst nightmare had just begun.
She barked and snapped at him like I had never seen her do before. He, of course, wanted all of her bones and toys even though we had gotten him his own.
And......the race was on!!!
Most people can't or won't believe this, but we got another dog because we were bored with our hum drum life. lol


Maggie

After just a few days we have developed a schedule of Doggie Preschool. The part of the school day they like best is Recess. They even know the word "out" that means recess. They both race to the door at the same time. The "Kids" huff and puff as do I to keep with them.  Fran takes one door and I take another.

Now we have another problem, smaller than the first, but Maggie has developed a poor self esteem. She is not standing up for herself, so we have to be the disciplinarians to the new big brother.



Oh, Joy, to the life of being new doggie parents!



The Chicken Caper

About thirty some years ago my sister-in-law  and I loaded up a bushel or two of apples and took them to Sioux City, Iowa to my mother's house. Why? You guessed it. For an extra pair of hands, of course. Also for some expert advice.

My mom made pies that looked nicer than those you would win in a blue ribbon contest. She did so effortlessly. When the pies were done, they were not baked, but made of raw dough and piled high with raw apples.
My father made shelves of wood for us to put the pies on in the backseat. He was always so creative that way.
All went well until I got home.
We lived on an acerage with cats, dogs, chickens, oops chickens did I say?  Yup the chickens were so spoiled they followed us every where like a dog.
I didn't pay attention to them when I drove into the driveway. They did as they always did; ran to the car 100mph.
I opened up the back door of the car and they swarmed in to attack the pies. You never heard such screaming and squawking in your life. I was so angry and so were they. I was not about to let them have the pies we had  worked so hard to make.
I salvaged the majority of the pies. In fact all, but one. We had that one for supper that night.
I felt like the chickens had this all planned ahead of time, just waiting to attack when I got home it was so perfectly executed!

Remote OCS

Fran missed the news this morning. Our house is like a mental health facility. He is "surfing" and muttering and mumbling about no news...."I can't find it anywhere!" type stuff.
He is going to have callouses on his thumbs. He is going up and down so fast there is no way he can read what the movie is all about.
I don't help matters any by saying,"I have no idea why you want to watch the news, it is the same old junk they have every day; politics and politics."
He says, "but I want to watch the weather."
I say, "but it is all over with, and you know it didn't rain or blow us away."
Oh, If I could drive I would go shopping the rest of the day. Nascar starts in three hours and it is way to hot for even a short walk.
Oh, well, I have a new cookbook that my daughter sent me, so I will read new recipies.
Wish me luck with the "surf and turf" hubby and his disgruntled attitude. Oh, listen I hear the cowboys and Indians on in the background!  Nope, that is gone too now an old old movie. We will see how long that one lasts!