PICK YOUR FAVORITE SPRING WEDDING TABLE~

 

About time to do another one of these-

I thought I would do a wedding table

rather than a Easter table?

OK? OK!

So, I went searching for  

 WEDDING TABLES.

I was expecting some color

but I was surprised at how many

pale colors there were--

I guess weddings call for doing 

what you love, 

using the colors you love.

REMEMBER THE RULES!

Pick ONE table!

This is NOT a life or death situation, people!

If you hate your seated companions

you can always move- right?

Here we go!

#1-AFLAME WITH LOVE

#2- TABLE #2- GET IT?#2)

#3-THE BRIDE WORE BLUE

#4-DRINKS ARE PINK

#5- BLUE & WHITE BRIDAL FANTASY

#6- DOGGONE IT-I LIKE SUNFLOWERS IN SPRING

And last but not least-

#7-SWEET SPRING WHITES

So-there you have it, friends.

Think of your favorite person in the world

that you would like to see get married-

a daughter, a grandkid, even a friend--

Which table would you like to sit at

for the reception?

You will notice there is

NO ALCOHOL

in any of these.

It is a BYOB!

(Can you imagine THAT happening)?

For those that DON'T KNOW-

It's bring your own Boob (husband, partner, etc.)

Ok-I might have lied about that!

Truthfully-

BYOB means- Bring Your Own Bottle....

Happy Picking!

I'll be PICKING up around my house

after being gone for a week

and leaving Pops and Junior

here alone.

Yeah-They both LOOK nice and neat...

BUT CAN YOU GUESS

which one is really leaves the biggest messes?!

Hint: It's a tie!

OK!  Stop dawdling along and

VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE TABLE!

ST. PATRICK'S DAY-GROWING UP ON A PENNSYLVANIA FARM

 Sometimes life is bittersweet, isn't it

remembering the days when

people in our lives celebrated

special days with us?

Days like St. Patrick's Day!

I was always well aware of 

being Irish.

My grandmother was an Owen

and her family immigrated 

from Ireland.

She died long before I was born

so I never had the pleasure of

knowing her.

The family unit I knew as a child 

is all gone now.

A father, a mother and 

one younger brother.

We celebrated 17 years 

of Sundays  together 

before I left home. 

17 years out of a lifetime isn't much but

 0h! the memories created then.

My parents were not religious people

but they were believers.

I grew up right next to 

a Catholic church
but never attended there.
This was taken from 

the road in front of our house
before the road was paved..

I don't remember my father ever
going to a church service.

My mother took us kids 

sporadically over the years.

When I was a young teen, 
I started going on my own

with some cousins.

A little country church 

with a marvelous pastor,

Melvin Shultz.

His wife, Thelma, had 

the voice of an angel
and I loved

to sit as close to her 

as I could on a 

Sunday morning..

My father always 

pared the farm work down

to a bare minimum on all
Holidays and every Sunday,

doing only the chores

 that were necessary to 

get by for the day.

My Grandfather, 

dressed in his Sunday suit,
 would stand here by the
road on a Sunday morning 

to greet people
on their way home from 

the Catholic church

just up the hill.

He lived with us for about 5 years
until I was 6 or so.

I remember when my father planted
the elms on the left hand side
to give some shade to the front yard.
They were mere saplings then.

The big barns are long gone now.
The house burned to the ground 

15 years ago or so.

The shed that you see 

in the picture above
(that is hidden behind the trees)
is the only building that remains
of the original farm buildings.
I remember when my Father 

and two neighbors
built that shed for wood, 

storage and butchering.

Going the other way, down the hill,
the road makes a sharp curve 

then leads down
 to my Aunt Bessie's house.
She, too, is gone these many years.

 I spent a lot of time in the woods
that grew along the road..

Sweet, sweet memories this morning.

Memories of coffee percolating
on the kitchen counter-

Watching the sun rise 

and flood the East facing kitchen 

with light.

Bacon sizzling in the frying pan-

the sharp crack of eggs 

against the side of the pan-

Biscuits with home-churned butter 

and honey

from the bees from the hives
down past the little pond.

Sunday Memories-
Sharp-
Strong-
Stored Forever-

And----just so you don't think 

I have gone
all smarmy  and  sappy on you
here is what I plan to serve MyHero
for breakfast St. Patrick's Day

 morning if he
doesn't shape up.

It will go great with a side of
poisonberries boysenberries.

.

You can order your very own
SKULL EGG SHAPER here..

I guess I got sidetracked from a

St. Patrick's Day Post...

but that is what you get when you

visit me.  lol...

You never know what lane my

mind will go down.

ANYWAY~

I hope you have a wonderful

St. Patrick's Day &

upcoming weekend.

Make the day special and 

tell someone

you love them.

As for me--

I'll be looking for leprechauns

and I really need to visit

the Blarney Stone

before I die!

Who knows what I could talk
MyHero into after that!

IT'S MARCH-BUT EASTER IS COMING-GET READY FOR SOME MARBLED EGGS

 

Hey!  I need a trip down South!

I am really sick of winter.

So sick of it that I 

 thought I would look towards

Easter.

How about some

Marbled Eggs for Easter Morning?

They are pickled--

kind of like my old neighbor after a night out.

click on image for recipe

Are those cute or what?

Hmmmm...wonder what kinda chicken

lays THOSE eggs?

I'm thinking they look like this....

but you know how gullible I am.

I know-I know-

Don't all you animal rightists get

your undies in a bundle.

I am NOT in favor of dying chickens,

even though when I was a kid

 we picked some up

every Easter for pets.

They always outgrew their colors

and were then layers--usually...

Has Angel Food Cake EVER looked so Heavenly?

Click on image for recipe

So,  While I am covering my eyes 

so I am not

tempted by the cake,

 I am peeking through my fingers and 

yearning to see this.....

click on image for link

However, while I am dreaming of the South

  I look out and see this-

I used to see this...

Not a dream at all-

It's a nightmare.

Someone wake me up when

Spring hits, will ya?

oh-yeah- wake the old boy up, too.

Tell him it is time to come out

of hibernation.

And wake up his little dog, too!

Ummm..HEY!

SCRUFFY!

I know I call you 

BUTT HEAD sometimes but---

the other head goes on the pillow!

Have a wonderful day.

Smile- It's infectious!

STORY OF MY LIFE WITH ROXIE THE BURRO

THE STORY OF MY LIFE 

WITH ROXIE THE BURRO 

I rarely write long, story-like posts but

there is no way to shorten this one. 

So, grab a coffee, or vodka and read away.

I had a wonderful brother~ CS Charlie (I will tell you all someday what the CS stands for- it has something to do with poultry & excrement and that’s all I’m saying for now no matter how hard you beg). 

I hope he is smiling down from heaven on this blog today because he would certainly remember Roxie The Burro. 

Mr Ed (the talking horse)

had nothing on her. 

She had her own way of communicating.

When we were kids we wanted a horse. My father had plow horses but they weren’t for riding so we were always begging for a pony. 

My father thought that a pony might be a bit "dangerous" so he started looking around for a suitable substitute. What do you think he found? Aha! I see you have already peeked at the picture. I’ll bet you thought it was a donkey, didn’t you? Well, you can bet an ass it is NOT a donkey (or an ass)-it is a burro. No purer form of stubbornness has ever existed-

(except for Scruffy the Cockapoo-my current boyfriend)

Don't let that sweet face fool you!

I remember clearly the day we picked Roxy up. 

It was down in the Valley and my father let me go along. 

He also took the hired hand, Louie Wheeler, with us. 

My father traded a cow for the burro...

let me tell you...

I think he got screwed 

but that was his own doing. 

We got Roxie loaded up into the back 

of the 1953 Chevy truck and 

started home with her. 

I think there were two stop signs 

in Athens, PA. at the time.

 At both stops Roxie 

threw her head back and 

brayed til Kingdom Come. 

She was a brayer extraordinaire! 

My father laughed almost as loud 

as she brayed 

but I can remember Louie 

slumping over in his seat 

and pulling his hat down a bit.

 

As I got older 

I realized that it was because 

he didn’t want anyone to recognize him 

and connect him with 

the unspeakable sight 

riding behind him.

We got her home....

Oh boy! oh boy! Oh boy! 

I can’t WAIT to get on that "horsie" 

(as I called her). 

Careful-careful-get on her carefully, 

my father admonished me.

 

Ever so gently I was placed on her back. 

Hmmmm...she didn’t like that much 

so she sat down. 

Try again- haul Roxie to her feet 

and I get back on. 

She sits down again. 

My father thought 

we should give her a break 

and let her get used to the place. 

She had a nice little barn off the main barn with a lowered door frame...

remember this because 

it is important later in the story.

 Roxie would, on occasion let us ride. 

However, we learned to not ride any farther from the barn 

then we wanted to walk home. 

The first time it happened 

I was up in the back field 

and quite a distance from the barn.

She got tired of carrying me around. 

First she lowered her head down 

hoping I would slip off....ah...

but I had learned her tricks! 

Next she dropped to her knees in front-

No go-this cowgirl is hanging on 

and staying straight-

even if my feet are flat on the ground.

 

Uh Oh-this isn’t working...

Let’s try ROLLING. 

There is NO way you can stay on a rolling burro-

take my word for it. 

Mission accomplished-she gets up-

takes one glance back-

 and merrily trots back to the barn riderless-

God bless her soul 

Yeah, yeah...I hear the Christians among us

 and I AM a believer but THEY say

-animals don’t have souls but–

the way she looked at me-the depth in those eyes...

Okay! Okay!..no soul, I get it-

Okay-God bless her anyway!

If, for some reason, she was out 

and spotted the barn, 

and didn’t ditch you first, 

she would lay her ears flat back 

against the side of her head and 

RACE towards the barn. 

You had to hold on and duck 

because a low door 

to the stall did not stop her. 

However, it WOULD stop you 

if you are sitting upright. 

You know-no matter how good/bad/ugly 

that old burro was- 

we loved her and 

she was a fun part of our childhood. 

Thinking of getting one now, are you? 

Well, I do have one piece of advice for you. 

It’s simple to understand-

IF you are thinking about getting a burro- DON’T! 

NOW-just wondering because I am used to doing short posts,

Do you like reading these longer 

story-like posts

or do I keep them short?

Inquiring minds want to know.

ps-Today is my father's birthday.

There is rarely a day that goes by

that I don't think of him.

He died when I was 21.

He would love this story.

THERE'S MORE THAN ONE DUMMY IN THIS FAMILY!!!!! Make Me Laugh Monday

 There’s a dummy in the house.

 Not the usual one either.

 Only at MY house would there be a real live dummy! 

(well, he’s not really alive but you know what I mean)

This is a story from some time ago

so bear with me.

 Mortimer Snerd 

was found at Goodwill by none other than the Tpot and Mimi.

 Not to be outdone by their brother, 

MamasBoy, who had always 

played tricks on them, 

the two sisters 

decided that pay-back 

was in order.

The first call woke him  up late at night. 

When Mamasboy answered a voice rasped,

 "Let me out of this box!" 

Being a quick thinker, 

even in the dead of night, 

Mamasboy looked at the number 

and it was not one he recognized. 

He hit redial and a sleepy voice answered...

"Yeah..whaddaya want?" 

He apologized, said he had a wrong number, and hung up.

 Little did he know that for the next few weeks 

he would be plagued by phone calls from strange numbers,

and have even stranger remarks 

rasped into his phone.

 

AND Little did he know that his sisters 

had cajoled other people into letting them use their phone 

at any given moment to make a call.

First MamasBoy called Mimi, 

"Knock it off"he told her. 

"Knock what off?" she asked quite innocently..."

Yeah...like you don’t know-quit calling me". 

"I’m not" she replied very seriously. 

Then he called Tpot-

Very funny!" he told her. 

"What’s funny?" she asked. 

You know what’s funny," he told her, 

"and quit calling me".

"I’m NOT calling you", she said

 and asked what he was talking about.

The calls got more and more desperate 

and the raspy voice got louder- 

"LET ME OUTTA THIS STINKING BOX- I CAN’T BREATHE".

 Now MamasBoy worked with police departments at the time,

 so he did a little follow up on the phone calls.

 Nothing made any sense and 

he still couldn’t figure it out. 

He even called me to ask if I 

was in on the joke...

I played dumb 

and let me tell you-

I am so good at that you would think it was real-

 hey-watch your mouth-I heard that...

I told him I had no idea what was going on.

Finally, when he was to the point of 

being totally freaked out, 

a box arrived at his door. 

I think he was afraid to open it-

although he swore he wasn’t. 

Inside was a note that said- 

GOT YOU DUMMY! 

And so they had!

Here’s the sad thing-

He learned to throw his voice and make the stupid thing talk. 

You know what was even worse? 

He bought another one 

at a garage sale and now 

Mortimer has a friend, William.

 

Here’s what’s even sadder-he used them to scare Tpot’s kids when they were little.

Like I said--there is more than

ONE DUMMY 

in this family!

You know- like

Dumb and Dumber!

So, there you have it-

your laugh for the day

and a memory recorded here

for future generations....