Be back soon...

Pausing temporarily for the big move...

We have to take this computer over for our DSL to be hooked up on Chickadee Lane tomorrow, so enjoy this photo from Cheekwood Botanical Garden for a bit, and I'll be back next week sometime... In our new digs and with all sort of giddiness flowing!

Empty spaces

(Sun in an Empty Room by Edward Hopper - 1963)

I have to say, I love our new home so much more now that it is empty. My taste in decorating was nothing like the previous homeowners, and I was having a hard time seeing past some of the decor. Now that the long, heavy drapes are out of the master bedroom, it's as if you can breathe in there again. The huge tapestry is off the wall above the fireplace, and the rest of the frilly window treatments are no longer there to make me wince.

I worried when we place our current home up for sale that we'd move before anyone saw it, and everything I read said that it's harder to sell an empty house. Balderdash I say! If the decor does not resonate with someone, it can be a stumbling block to seeing the potential of what could be. Now that we have a clean slate in our new abode, I am falling more head over heels in love with the space each day, and can see so much more clearly what I want to place where. Once we are out of here, we'll start marketing it more heavily on ForSaleByOwner.com and see if we can generate some interest. The flyers are disappearing like hotcakes, but no real interest yet. Now, in a way, I am glad those who do see it, will be able to envision the space to their liking.

A good sort of tired...

Yesterday, we were at the new house waiting for delivery of the refrigerator we ordered from Lowe's. We were scheduled for a morning delivery, but by 11:30 we'd not heard a thing. Husband called them only to be told that they "couldn't locate our refrigerator" and were not sure where it might be. What? I had called the morning before to confirm we were on the delivery schedule. After speaking to a manager, they called back to say that they did locate it, with someone else's name on it mistakenly, and were going to load it up for delivery between 2:30-3PM. Sigh..... so, while waiting, we began to weed.

The previous homeowner was good at keeping the grass maintained, but apparently ignored the weeds. They were everywhere. Choking the crepe myrtle, wound around cherry laurel, and climbing the fence around the pool. We pulled and we pulled.... two 30 gallon garbage bags full of weeds. It looked so much better once we were done, but my, I don't have enough adjectives to describe how I felt last night. My hands were aching, I had split the skin under two fingernails trying to get to roots, the side of my right foot arch was aching from prolonged squatting, and I felt as if the fatigue would take days to fade. I had scratches on my legs and arms, and was praying I had avoided anything poisonous. We'll have to get the RoundUp to treat some three leaved vines coming from under the deck... "Leaves of three, let it be"... Memories of my sister's horrid systemic plight with poisonous oak several years ago kept flashing through my mind.

But, the weeds are gone, I slept like a dead log last night, I thankfully have no itchy rashes and today is another day. Back to packing up here, and later taking my geraniums over to the back porch on Chickadee Lane. Mom Dove and her third brood left Friday and she'll have to find another landlord for nest number four.

Waiting for the sun

Watching and waiting
Knowing it will come
Feeling the anticipation
Wanting to be enveloped
Needing the warmth
Needing the nourishment
Knowing it's always there
And then it comes
Warm on my face
Embracing my spirit
Nurturing my soul
The sun shines on me

It's all in the timing

Our last move was eight years ago, and so I am having a hard time remembering the timing of packing so that everything is ready to go. The movers are scheduled to be here at 8:30 in the morning on August 2nd for official "moving day." I have picked up 50 moving boxes, but thus far, have only packed up the dining room completely. I keep thinking that I certainly do not want to live out of boxes for the next two weeks, nor do I want to exist in tiny pathways created by stacks and stacks of boxes filled with our things surrounding us. In my mind, I think that I can get it all done in a matter of days, but am I kidding myself? Uh-oh... hope that's not the dreaded mind/body disconnect getting the best of me again. As I type this, I can see that I need to really get started this weekend with non-essential things so that the week of the move, only the essentials which we use daily remain to be packed up.

My bluebird babies are about to fledge, and then I can take the house down to be moved to our new location. Mom Dove is on her third brood in the geraniums, though she's chosen to move to the basket closest to the front door for some odd reason. Once her babies are gone, I'll need to take the baskets to the back porch so she doesn't construct a fourth nest. The feeders have been empty for a while now as I wanted to encourage my regulars to look elsewhere so that they are no longer used to these feeders being here.

We've been to the new house every night since we closed, and Sam is more and more comfortable there. He's now getting really excited, which is wonderful. He swam in the pool for the first time Wednesday night, and had a blast. I still can't believe it's ours. I love it more each time I am there and can't wait for August 2nd to come.

The stress response...

Ack! Stress is stress, whether it be positive or negative I suppose. But, when my left upper lip started tingling yesterday, I instantly knew. That is my designated place for cold sores to form. Time to break out the Abreva and get ready to massage it into the area several times a day. Thank goodness the Abreva really does work if you start it at the first sign of symptoms. That sucker just won't hardly even come out the entire way if you use it for several days. Oh, if I'd only known...

I was sweet 16 and smitten with a guy whose name was Bradley, but his family nickname of Rusty was how he was known. Cute, and dangerous he was... with a propensity for cold sores now and again. What did I care? Those lips were, oh, so kissable. If I'd known then that I was inoculating myself with herpes simplex virus, I may have steered clear (who am I kidding?).

His mom passed away several years ago, and I couldn't help myself but to go by the church. They had all since moved to Indiana, but brought her home to be buried next to their dad. I had been close to two of his sisters, and his mom and I had many conversations about how fickle teenage boys could be, her boys in particular. I was feeling pretty darn good walking up the steps of the church, as I was feeling very confident in a new black pant outfit and hoped beyond hope that he was now fat and balding just so I could gloat. It had been over 25 years since I'd last seen him, my first love. I walked up the aisle of the church and his sister, Sandy, spotted me immediately and walked up to greet me, smiling with her arms outstretched. It was so good to see her. She walked me up to the front, and turned as she said, "Rusty, look who's here." I turned around, and there he stood... tanned with chiseled jaw, short (but still there) hair, and a knockout smile... a 43 year old version of his 16 year old self.... well, damn. He hugged me and introduced me to his wife. I didn't feel so old until he told me was soon going to be a grandfather. Makes my lip tingle just thinking about it.

A blank canvas

(View of the kitchen off the great room from the realtor site)
We're done! We signed on one thousand dotted lines, exchanged good wishes and had house keys in hand. The Agent Who Was Fully Always Looking Out For Us surprised us with a huge gift basket as a "thank you" (for what, I am not sure since I did not pay him a penny) and we skipped out smiling to take a visit to our new home.

I knew I loved it, but seeing it now fully empty made me love it that much more. It's now a blank canvas and I can more clearly envision our stamp on it as we fill it with those things we love. We'll have lots of time to make decisions about what will go where, but it will be so very lovely and so "us" once we are done. Today I am meeting the Lock and Key guy out there to get the door locks re-keyed. Two weeks from today, we'll be moving in!

Stress, yes, but positive stress. A new leaf, a fresh start, a new way to see things... this from a gal who was so stuck in a rut only weeks ago. Another path taken along this journey which is my life. Can't wait to see where this road leads me. 

It's closing day!!

The evening of August 2nd, this is where you will find me... soaking in this glorious tub, um... with the shades drawn. :c) Today is closing day on our new home. The home with more light, more space, more room to grow. Change is sometimes the most positive force. It propels you to look at things differently, and see with eyes a bit more wide open. I am so looking forward to a change of scenery.

Splashes of color

This is a beautiful bed of zinnias at my parent's house. They are so very beautiful and just bloom, bloom, bloom all summer long. I may just have to explore them along with new dahlias next season...

Reaching towards the sun

I saw this glorious sunflower in my yard yesterday. Funny thing is, I didn't plant it. Of course, I do feed the birds, and among the seed in the feeders are black oiled and stripped sunflower varieties. So, it's not too surprising that some might fall to the ground, get planted, germinate, and eventually bloom.


But, look where this rogue flower is blooming! Right next to my dahlias. This year I removed all the old top soil and replaced it with Black Gold, a rich blend of composted soil with manure and other ingredients which are magic for growing. There are no feeders around this area, except one for the hummers. So, it was either buried deep in the old dirt and found its way up, or was "deposited" there and took full advantage of the healthy growing soil. It literally bloomed where it was planted. It didn't wait until it thought the conditions might improve. Nope, it just planted it's roots, and forged its way up through the soil to find the nurturing sun. Now its happily growing. Shouldn't we all reach towards the light, no matter where we are?

Ashes to ashes

Tommy Scott was 59 and had a huge smile to go along with his big heart. I first met he and his wife when I began attending my current church last October. In adult Christian education classes, he was honest and forthright about his reluctant late spiritual journey and how he'd wished he'd had such peace earlier in his life. I looked forward to seeing him and his lovely English wife, if only to hear her beautiful lilt as she spoke.

Then, in a sad twist of fate, just after he'd finally retired, had time to be more involved, and happily joined the Vestry, he was diagnosed with a grade IV glioblastoma.... a very malignant brain tumor. I saw him in the hospital when he came in for surgery. It was close to Valentine's Day and I took him some Russell Stover candies as I rubbed his head and told him his incision made him look rather like a swashbucker. He grinned and vowed to fight this calamity.

Over the past months, when he felt up to it, he came to church, and I was always able to hug him during the peace to let him know I was praying for him daily. He would get very emotional during the service and often times cry. He was, in many ways, so at peace with what was to come. When he wasn't there, his beautiful wife was, soaking in the love and support around her.

Last Saturday, Tommy died at his home with his family at his side. On Wednesday, we gathered at church for his memorial service which was beautiful. After the service, we processed out with his ashes, gathered in the memorial garden behind the church, and interred his ashes into the ground. The symbolism was strong and powerful as the solemn bell tower chimed and our rector poured out his ashes into the ground...

In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life
through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty
God our brother Tom.; and we commit his body to the ground;
earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless
him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him
and be gracious unto him, the Lord lift up his countenance
upon him and give him peace. Amen.

So there Tom will be, among us and the beautiful lilies for evermore...

A day to celebrate!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL MOTHER!!

She is my best friend, my confidante, my consoler, my warmth, my support, my coffee drinking buddy. She is the one who understands me best because I am so like her. We have this silent understanding between us, because, well... she knows me as well as she knows herself. Maya Angelou once said that we should value and love our children so much that our eyes light up when they come into the room. Well, my Mother's eyes always light up for me. I feel her deep, abiding love and pride every time I look into her eyes. I am loved by her, totally and completely. She freely pours out her affection to those around her. And so today is a day to celebrate the woman that she is, the women that she's created, and the woman I will eventually be, because of her love for me. Happy Birthday Mother. I am so blessed and proud to call you mine...

So, will you make us a promise ABC?

My ISP was down this morning, so I started the day watching Sunrise Earth on DHD... very relaxing, but really missed my blog time.

Got home to catch up on news and saw that Grey's Anatomy garnered 11 Emmy nominations!!! Yahoo! So, do you think ABC will promise us to leave it be? Every time I find a show I love, it some how always finds itself relegated to one or two seasons. Oh, how I miss Mer, Dr. McDreamy, and the gang... looking forward to the fall.

Perfect housewarming gift

My sister was in town last week with her boys, and with my parents, took a trip up to a local dairy facility for a tour. They traveled some distance to get there, only to find that "the ice cream department was on vacation" and so all they got to see was how milk jugs were made! Sort of like Chevy Chase and the trip to Wallyworld, though no one hijacked the tour guide to force her to turn on the ice cream making machines!

But, all was not lost. They apparently had a neat little gift shop, and just lookie what she found for me!! The most perfect housewarming gift EVER! "It's cute," you might be thinking, but why so very special? Well, the fact that I love the birds is special enough, but it's the most perfect gift ever because our new address is on... oh, yes... CHICKADEE Lane! Thanks Sissy! You are the best sister ever. :c)

Safe in a Crazy World

I was searching for some new iTunes music one day, when I came upon Corrinne May. I first loaded her initial CD, then went back for Safe in a Crazy World as she has such a beautifully relaxing voice. You can listen to samples of her music on her web site above. Just today, I really listened to the lyrics of "Everything in its Time" and found myself smiling at the message. Words I really needed to hear as I drove to work yesterday. Yes indeed... Everything in its time. (Smiled too that it was co-written by Carole Bayer Sager).


Everything in its Time

Sometimes I wonder what lies ahead
How long till my hunger is fed
They say it's hard to make it in this part of town
So many people on this merry-go-round

Some folks try astrology
Some turn to crystal balls
To find an answer,
To get through it all
I just fall on my knees and I try to pray
In the silence I can hear Him say

The river runs and the river hides
Out to the ocean and under the sky
I promise you, the answer will come
Hold on to patience and watch for the sign
Everything in its time

I often feel like I'm two steps behind
Somebody must have moved that finish line
There are a thousand reasons
Why I should give up
But I'm stubborn in the things I believe

The river runs and the river hides
Out to the ocean and under the sky
I promise you, the answer will come
Hold on to patience and watch for the sign

'cause maybe there's another plan
One I still can't see
A little surprise, like your love in my life
Funny how time changes how we see

The river runs and the river hides
Out to the ocean and under the sky
I promise you, the answer will come
Hold on to patience just watch for the sign
Everything in its time
Everything in its time

Happy window spot

Both Madge's violet (L) and Sam's fifth grade violet (R) were getting mighty big to be on the kitchen table, so several weeks ago, I found this pretty plant stand at Lowe's and place them in front of the large window that surrounds my table. Must be just the special place they needed for they have both spread out new leaves and have outdone themselves blooming. Looking at them just makes me smile.

Graciously accepting

This past week, I received a lovely surprise from my friend in Munich, Germany. Yes, all the way from Munich she wired this beautiful bouquet of flowers to be delivered to me with a sweet card thanking me for my love and friendship. How very sweet indeed. Yet, I got that feeling again. The one that always comes over me when someone does something for me fully unexpected. The one that releases that feeling in me that I am not able to accept graciously. Oh, I can give and give until the cows come home and feel great, yet don't feel comfortable being on the receiving end.

As I was reading my friend Mata's post, Max the Sax, from yesterday, I began thinking about all the forces within us which shape who we are and how we live our lives. What about my life made me this way? Why is it that I pretty much set friendships up so that I make the majority of the effort, yet then become disappointed when I feel as if it's a one way relationship? I then become broody and sad that I am not worthy of someone's efforts, which makes me withdraw all together. Is it any wonder that my dearest, most trusted friend is in Munich and we have an on-line friendship?

Much of this was also the crux of my overeating. I was the doormat people pleaser. I was always worried about disappointing others or making them angry. I ate to recoup all that external power I so voluntarily relinquished to others. It filled me up, made me feel safe and worthy in my own skin. I've shed much of that, no doubt, but the feelings of being unworthy still linger heavily. It's hard to even write that, but it is the truth. Now I need to explore that and find a way to value my being a bit more.

Forgiveness vs. permission

Last week I followed a very kind, soft spoken gentleman who was admitted to the hospital with an exacerbation of his congestive heart failure and horrible lymphedema of his legs. They looked like swollen tree trunks. After someone has venous insufficiency for so long, their lymphatic system just does not work properly, and they end up with horrible swelling and weeping of their legs. As I walked into the room, I saw him sitting over in the corner of the room in a chair with his head down, his legs wrapped in sheets, with the embarrassment he felt walking and dripping every place apparent. He'd been trying to manage them at home with ACE wraps, but once the fluid got too tight due to his CHF, the weeping became worse.

The core of treatment is compressive dressings to the legs. I smiled, introduced myself, and immediately went about getting his legs washed, treated and wrapped up. The look of relief on his face was priceless. He looked up at me, took my hand, thanked me profusely, and said, "Now I can get in the bed and rest." Because he didn't want to ruin his mattress at home, he'd been sitting up in a chair every night, as he had apparently planned to do in the hospital as well, even though the nurse had told him we'd use underpads over the mattress. I was only doing my job, yet knew that this would improve his quality of life tremendously.

The next time I saw him, the difference was remarkable. The swelling was down a good bit and the open areas which had been weeping were healing. I was so proud for him. He was smiling and again thanking me for helping him. Later that day, I got a page from his admitting resident. "We are ready to discharge him, but how can we get him follow-up for his legs? He has no insurance and no resources," said the kind Dr. W who had also grown fond of Mr. S during his hospitalization. No insurance, no resources... so you just send him home with nothing? No home health will go see him, he can't afford trips to the lymphedema clinic at an area rehab facility, and they only see a limited number of indigent patients (I called and tried to get him in).

So, I told Dr. W to have him call the Wound Center mid-week and I'd work on something. The wound center could not register him without it generating large bills sent to him to pay, so I pretty much decided right then and there that I really didn't care. The man was motivated, he needs help, he can't afford to pay, but what's less expensive.... seeing him weekly or having him readmitted to the hospital? So, I basically told them that I would come to the wound center and see him, and yes, I would use some products on him, and I really didn't care if he was registered or not. Heck, I'll purchase the wraps if I have to. The man is a human being who deserves help and compassion. We had samples of wraps I could use and samples of medication I could utilize which would not cost the hospital a thing, well... except my time, but sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and ask forgiveness instead of permission. I will get him healed and I will get him into some compression stockings. He deserves no less. We can take care of every other country's poor... what about our own??? Just don't get me started...

Honoring life and loss

After Sam and I ran some errands on Wednesday, we were on our way to Logan's Roadhouse for lunch. As we approached an intersection, I noticed a funeral procession coming towards us in the opposite direction. This being a small town in Georgia, immediately all the cars to my right stopped and did not progress through the green stop light. I could not get over at that point, but of course, did the same, I stopped. It's always been the respectful thing to do to honor someone's passing and the family's grief, or so I was raised to believe.

As I was watching the patrol car leading the procession, I was jolted by a loud horn honking behind me. I looked in my rear view mirror to see a guy in a Land Rover behind me laying on his horn. I had to move forward through the intersection to be able to pull over a bit to the far left side of the road's shoulder, and he roared past me, seemingly oblivious to the procession. I won't say what unkind thoughts came to my mind to describe his behavior, but it saddened me as I thought about the fact that so many people in this day and time are only focused on themselves and their own schedules. I mean, it took all of a minute or so for the cars to pass and for the rest of us to be on our way. This happened to me another time, and the man actually was cursing me and flipping me off as he passed me for making him miss a green light. I can only hope that when they leave this earth, someone will take a minute of their day to pull over so that at least those loved ones remaining feel their grief and loss is being acknowledged.

The disconnect of body and mind

As I age, there seems to be this disconnect. It was never more apparent to me than in the past few days. We're having to clean out our attic storage room above the garage. There was eight years of "oh, just put it up there" stuff to go through, along with eight years of dirt, dust, and unlucky dried up insects. Truly, that room in particular was the reason I was initially resistant to moving at all. Just the thought of having to actually go through layers and layers of stuff was so overwhelming, yet once we signed on the dotted line, and it was a done deal, I had to face it. I decided to just do one corner of the room at a time, and so last Sunday morning, early, as it's way too hot in there as the day warms up, we began the weeding.

I could see immediately that husband was not a good weeder, as he was having to ask me about every item he touched, so I sent him to the garage below to destroy some large boxes with a box cutter and bag them up. My man is better at destruction than at weeding and organizing. So there I was, inhaling dust and sorting keepers from trash. After two hours, I had to leave as it was getting way too hot, and I could tell I was feeling spent. My body felt physically ill from being in there and I was sure I'd probably overloaded my lungs with dust. My mind tells me, "Sure, you can do this!" But my body knows better. The disconnect.

I secured a light paper mask to wear for the next time I went in there, as I realized after Sunday that I needed to protect my lungs when I finished up organizing the remainder of the room on Wednesday morning. Wednesday morning came, and I donned the mask as I went through the remaining side of the room. My back hurt, my wrist (which has been having pain like tendonitis for days) was aching, and I was oh, so tired. I was covered in dirt and sweat. But, it was mostly finished. Later in the afternoon, my dad called and had arranged for someone to come remove the gazillion 30 gallon trash bags of junk I'd bagged up. I was so appreciative that my mind said, "Well, at least go up there and haul the bags downstairs to make it easier for him." So I did. Again, the disconnect. My mind thinks this 44 year old body can do anything, but the truth of the matter is that it really can't any longer. I felt horrible the rest of the evening. Is this what they mean by aging gracefully? Where does one purchase some sync for the mind and body? I am in dire need of some apparently. Or at the very least, someone needs to have a chat with my mind and intercede for my body.

Bittersweet for bluebirds

I've been so busy with absorbing the impending things to do regarding the move to our new home, that I forgot about my bluebirds for a bit. They have already raised two broods of three this season, and they've been off in the higher trees seeing about teaching this latest group how to find their own food. I have seen them occasionally bring their latest babies to the bluebird feeder, but did not think about the upcoming plans disrupting their lives. That is, until I noticed dad on the house and realized, uh-oh, they have yet another nest.


I snuck out there when mom had left to see that there are indeed four more eggs in a brand new nest. (This photo was taken of a nest last year.) They should have time to incubate, hatch, and fledge this group before we move, and then I'll have to take the houses down. That's when moving became bittersweet. Each year, these guys always come back to this particular house to nest, and now it will no longer be there for them. No longer will there be a feeder full of fruit and nuts either. Oh, the bluebirds on our new street will be happy, but these guys will have to find another place to call home. This particular house has raised countless broods over the years, and though it will be in use at a different location, their home of choice over the past eight years will be moving. Guess I'll have to send them a postcard with our new address.

The Declaration of our Freedom

Because every now and then, it is good to re-visit the introduction and absorb it's content... Oh, to have been a fly on the wall in 1776...



IN CONGRESS, JULY 4, 1776
The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America

When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. — Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

Apple butter virgin

Husband had never been a breakfast sort of guy, but following my lead about how much a good breakfast can jumpstart your day, he began eating whole grain toast with coffee. He has been topping it with Land O'Lakes Light Butter and some Smucker's Simply Fruit, strawberry being his favorite.

As I was leaving to go to the grocery store yesterday, he asked me to see if they had something different. Something like... apple? When I got to the store, all I found in the Simply Fruit was blackberry, red raspberry, strawberry, and apricot. But, I looked down, and there was White House Apple Butter, which made me smile. I called him standing there in front of the jelly aisle as I knew he probably would not want apricot, and told him that the only "apple" on the shelf was apple jelly and of course, apple butter. "Hmmm..." he said, "Get the apple butter, then." So I did.

Little did I know that he'd never in his life had apple butter. How can a boy grow up in the deep South and never have had White House Apple Butter?? He loved it! He fixed himself some toast as a snack, and was blown away by the smooth, cinnamon-y taste. It made me smile. For I remember Apple Butter as one of the staples at my Mamaw's house. I mean, the importance of it went along with having bread, milk, and eggs, in the frig for goodness sakes. There was always a jar of White House Apple Butter to slather on her mouth watering biscuits in the morning, which she made with country ham, scrambled eggs, bacon, and red eye gravy. I can close my eyes right now and smell that gravy in that hot cast iron skillet. Nothing in the world like it, her breakfasts.

A family joke surrounds apple butter as well. My sister, as a young preschooler, loved apple butter so much. Seeing as how she was born on my grandmother's birthday (and I was born on my grandfather's birthday, which was also a wonderful family story), she was never denied the apple butter. My mom tells that she would get the jar out of the frig and say, "I'm going to take this home with me." My grandmother, of course, would let her, and then my mom would periodically bring jars back as she didn't need jars and jars of apple butter at home.

Fond Apple Butter memories. I'll be smiling the rest of the day. I may just have to have me some toast...

Letter to parents of the Dazzlers

Dear moms and dads of the Dazzlers dance/cheer squad,

I know you are proud of your daughters and their participation in this sport. When you signed them up, you no doubt knew there was significant cost involved, and so I am assuming that fact did not preclude their participation. So, why on earth were you with your daughters yesterday at a busy 4-way stop intersection begging for money? Not only were they jumping up and down smiling with painted faces, and pleading for donations, but they were out there in tight (way too short) shorts and tank tops. They looked like young Britney wannabes as they dangerously clogged up traffic flow, and invited way too many suggestive stares from men in pick-up trucks. Why on earth was that OK with you? Did it occur to you that this looked very exploitive to the casual observer?

I don't have a problem with the Shriners occasionally using the intersections to sell pecan logs, the proceeds of which support their children's burn hospital, but I do have a problem with kids holding out buckets and begging for donations to pay for team sports or trips. Especially when they are prepubescent girls dressed provocatively, it adds to my consternation.

So, put some clothes on your daughters, teach them to respect their bodies and the signals they send, and find another way to pay for trips to cheer. Otherwise, don't be too surprised when you find they are chatting with 40 year old men on MySpace.com. Just use some common sense, that's all.

Sincerely,

A concerned fuddy-duddy

A hard sell?

Well, we put our For Sale by Owner sign out a week ago today. We've counted 15 flyers picked up, but not one phone call have we received. I allowed that some neighbors would pick one up, and probably some realtors, out of curiosity. As a matter of fact, a Prudential Realty guy showed up at the door Thursday evening gushing about how our home is "as cute as a button" (his exact words, I kid you not) and were we sure we didn't need his help?

The more disturbing thing is that I ran into a former neighbor at the bank where we're getting our loan who is also trying to sell her home just up the street from us. She and her husband divorced, and they've had it on the market for months now. She showed me a sheet that their realtor had just sent to them listing 20 homes on the MLS listing in our neighborhood with prices. Thankfully, our asking price is on the low end, but he also shared with them that no homes have sold in the last 90 days. That's worrisome.

Maybe it's just the market right now, or maybe interest rates eking upwards is to blame, but regardless, it's apparently not a great time to be trying to sell. Oh, well... we'll just have to wait for the pendulum to swing the other way I suppose. As long as it sells within the six month introductory rate of our bridge loan, we'll be OK. If not by then, we may be wincing a bit. Come on and look people! It's truly cute as a button... really.