Happy Birthday Mom!

As you can tell from this old torn, stained photograph... she's a natural beauty.
But her beauty is much too deep for any skin to contain.
She knows me unlike any other person, she knows my core and I trust her more than any other living being.

Her love & support is as unconditional as life & death itself.
Her determination could push an oak tree across the front yard.
Her wisdom eases pain & dances with pleasure.
Her strength carries the strongest of the strong through rough times.
Her thoughtfulness inspires family, friends & strangers alike.
Her motivations are good at heart & her own generosity is humbling.
Her sense of humor leaves tears in your eyes.
& her ability to cry without making distorted faces is amazing.
She is so much more than just my Mom, I know...

She raised us to know the things she values & to value the things we know.

I Know I Absolutely Love, Adore & Admire this Woman... Happy Birthday Mom!

Momma's First Date and the Music that Followed

"Sooooze-aye-en! Now, we have all heard this cock-eyed story of yours 100 times... now just stop."

"Well, I don't think everyone has heard it and it's not cock-eyed...it's true."

"Jeezy-mah-neezy... I don't believe a damn bit of it. You have worn it out. And how is it that after 50 years I have never met, nor heard of this man, except from you? A band named after your first date?!?"





After 54 years of marriage, my parents have heard each others tales, stories and recollections a thousand times over. Each, having to grin and bear it, or not, anytime anyone new gets into the mix while they each re-hash their own distinct recollections of yesteryear.

Flash back to the late 1940's.
A beautiful young woman on her first date ...
with an older boy, at that!
A big occassion.
Big enough for her grandmother to relinquish the window coverings to make a special dress, form fitted just for her.
Big enough for her to wear a coursage, freshly picked by her mother.
Big enough for everyone to forget that she might need shoes to go with that new dress.
Big enough for her mom to give her two special rings to wear on her toes, so that when she danced there would be a tippity-tap upon the hardwood floors.
Big enough for her father to look the other way as she trapsed out the door.
Big enough for her to never forget his name.

So, years later when her children started bring vinyl home with a name so similar home, she had to wonder...

Nearly fifty years after that date, Momma and Pops were perched on the fifty yard line of an FSU game... hooting, hollering, reveling and cheering.
A man three rows down looked over shoulder and Mother caught a glimpse of him as he turned back to the fields. He spun back around and bellowed out...
'Suzanne?!?'
'Leonard?!?'
'Yes! Oh My! It has been years!!!'
'Yes...this is my husband, he has heard stories...'


And my Father never questioned Mother's story again...

Anyday & Everyday is Thanksgiving & Mothers' Day

Mother's Day is coming upon us.
I hope that it is not considered slack of me to link back to this wonderful picture of my own mother.
My love & admiration of her is as timeless & priceless as the photgraph.
Peace & Love to All of You Out There
May You All be Blessed with Unconditional Love.

Soulful Sister Singleton is at the beach this week-end with her middle daughter, preparing the sands for things to come.
Sweet Sister Kimbies is back on the chemo, but holding her own, surrounded by the good love of her daughters and grand-daughters,until we can all runaway together to the beach next month.

Momma Always Said...

Momma Always Said 'Smart Girls Know When To Play Dumb'

I signed a one year lease on an old, neglected house. The paint was completely peeled up. the yard was rockhard Georgia clay. Me & my 2 dogs shared the house with ferocious squirrels that would race & fight in the attic, knocking the losers into the walls.

I painted the trim, shutters & front door barn red. I ignored the profanities & cop lights that continuously buzzed around my next door neighbors' house. I tilled the yard & threw grass seed. I used my Singer to whip up patchwork curtains, made from scraps of old tattered scrubs. I built a parkpad.

'You'll never grow grass. This whole street has been dirt & rock for 20 years' said an elder in the hood.
'I don't care. I just like to dig in the dirt.'
'Women who live alone shouldn't have red doors. It's like leaving the light on, right?' asked the elder.
'I don't know but the light fixture doesn't work'
I fixed the light fixture & watched the grass grow in the wee hours of the night.

Three months into my 12 month lease, a real estate agent showed up at my door, lockbox in hand.
"I'm putting a lockbox on the door. The owner is selling & gave me a key."
"But..."
"But Nothing! You're just a tenant! The owner says he's done a lot of work & wants to sell."
"Oh......Ok, but I have two dogs...one who's ferocious. And I live alone. What if you or even worse a prospective buyer, gets bit by my dog? Does the owner have good insurance?"
"Ok, we'll show by appointments only then."
"Who will?"
Eyes roll..."Who will what? Show the house?"
"Yes."
Heavy sigh..."I will."
"Then why the need for a lockbox? You have a key right?"
"Ok."

Within a week, the phone rings. It's the real estate idiot. He has someone from Florida who wants to see the house ASAP. I tell him to come immediately. It's not a good time for the agent, he has a two o'clock appointment elsewhere.

'Well, send the buyer on over. I'll show it. I'd hate for you to loose your first prospect just because you don't have the time for him.'

The prospect came and stayed for about an hour. He loved the grass, loved the front door, the fake brick wall I had painted in the kitchen. I raved on about how great the location was & pointed out how local sales had been sky-high and that this house was a deal...how I'd love to buy it myself, but just couldn't afford it. He was renting a pay-by-the-week place until he could buy a house. I told him we could do a ten day close.

'Really, a ten day close? But what will you do?' asked the prospect.
'Well, I will move. It's no big deal.' and I beamed will peaceful assuredness.

DONE DEAL!

He put in his offer from my living room sofa. Appointments were made to draw up the papers.

The next day the real estate idiot called.
10 days to close. I needed to be out in nine.
'No problem...what's in it for me?'
'What? Didn't you tell the buyer that you would move?'
'Yes & I will. But what's in it for me?'
'What do you mean?'
'Look, if I broke the lease agreement on you, I'd have to pay for the remaining 9 mos. I could refuse to pay & you could take me to court. Then I would have to pay the remaining 9 mos plus court costs. Time is of the essence, I believe, is the legal jargon on my lease. So you're breaking the lease & I just want to know what's in it for me?'
'Let me call you back'
An hour later the phone rings. The landlord has agreed to buy my lease out, but I have to be out in 9 days.
Hmmmm....
'I don't know, I'm really going to have a hard time finding a place on such short notice. That's a bigger problem than buying out the lease'

A huff & a puff...'Let me call you back.'

10 minutes later he calls again...
'OK, the buyer has agreed to give you thirty days to get your stuff out and the seller has agreed to buy your lease. Deal?'
Hmmm... 'Let me call you back' I said.

At about 10 pm I called him back.
I lied. I told him I had called my uncle. I told him that my uncle had told me to be suspicious of him. It was all so fast & this was a man who had wanted to put a lock box on a single womans' rental. I told him I had been advised that a landlord had no right to show a property until the final 30 days of a lease. He breathed hard into the phone. Finally I told him that I was an honest person & would not go back on my word, but I needed him to put dates & figures in writing. If he could do that & have it to me at my place of work, where a notary worked, by 9am then it was a deal. I like to waifer back & forth but if I had a legal obligation, he could rest assured that I would not flutter on this one. Otherwise, I was following my uncles advise.

The next morning he was waiting for me in the parking lot.
He chuckled, 'I made it real simple, so you could understand it yourself & not have to call your uncle.'
'Oh, Good. I hate to bother him'

DONE DEAL! On 3-30-2000, Skinny was to move out of the residence on Scott Drive & would receive a lump sum of xx$ for early termination of her lease by such&such dip-shit real estate company.

Days later, the phone rang. The buyer couldn't qualify. I could stay.
My reply? 'Time is of the essence. I'll be out & I expect my check as agreed upon.'
'You have only got a couple of weeks now. We can go month to month if you like.'
'No need. I'm buying a house & close in a few days. That will give another 10 days to get my stuff out. I expect my check on the 30th.'

Silly man.... just because I am a skinny little blonde does not mean I am not my mothers' daughter.

Sandcastles & Scrapping

In 1979, we lived in a very small town on the gulf coast of Mississippi. Our town was small, yet festive. We had one gas station, a grocery store no bigger than a 7-11 and a police department that consisted of 2 men & one woman. There were no casinos, bowling allies or movie theatres, but we did have annual festivities...the Blessing of the Fleet, Mardi Gras, the Crawfish Festival & more.

These events were very important, perhaps more important there than in other larger communities where the citizens had more entertainment on a daily basis. One of these events was the Annual Sand-Sculpture Contest. It was an all day event...beginning at 8am and ending promptly at 5. I can't recall how many contestants there were, but the usually desolate beach was packed with each group assigned to a 20' x 20' section of sand.My brother, a year and a half my senior, and I were contestants.

We got to the beach when the wind was still cold and the water freezing. We lugged 5 gallon buckets, shovels, forks, picks and knives to our little plot in the sand. We worked with increasing franticness throughout the morning. At lunch time, we were able to walk around & enjoy the eye candy of everyone else's creations. It was amazing spectacle.... mermaids, ships, lobster, gnomes, houses and more... all built of sand.

After lunch, my brother felt somewhat already defeated. The other sandcastles seemed to be so detailed and grand compared to our massive mound of sand, true. But we, still had a wonderful fondation and were left only with the details that would make our castle 'pop.' So, I took to one side and he took to the other....slicing, carving, smoothing & shaping.

'Damn it!' was the first profanity I heard from the other side of our mound. I asked 'What is it?' The mumbled words held a warning for me....'Nothing! Just shut up.' Ut-oh... young teen-age boy testosterone kicking in on the other side, I shut up. A few minutes passed and I could hear more... 'Stupid peice of sh-t.' Ut-oh, he's wearing thin. I said not a word. Then I heard the caravan of every word our Mother had told us to never use... they rolled off of his tongue and into te air like a tsunami. I walked over to his side to see what the problem was. A small section of the castle kept collapsing. He warned me, 'Don't say a word, I know it sucks! We're gonna lose!'

I smiled (mistake) and said, 'It'll be ok...we can fix it!' Boom! Trigger was tripped, the levy was broke & the profanities flew. I shut up. When he seemed to calm down a bit, sitting on his upturned 5 gallon bucket, I ventured to speak again. 'Maybe some more water in the sand will help.' He looked at me and sighed in defeat, 'Yeah, maybe. I'll get it, I'm just taking a break.' Ok, cool. I ventured back to my side...packing & poking my sand.

I saw my brother walk to the water with his bucket/stool in hand. He filled it with water & came back. Another labored sigh and 'Ok, I can do this.' I let him be, not saying a word. He could do it, I just knew it. He had been stressed & just needed a little bit of peace. Hopefully, the break and the absence of my voice were his tickets to peace.

Moments later, the motherload of profanities flew through the air. A hurricane in our little section of the sand. Water flying upwards, downwards & sideways. Sand being blasted, smashed & our castle trashed. A 5 gallon bucket of water had been slung onto the face of our sculpture. I had rose to my feet just in time to have sandy water splatter into my face. I paced maybe a step or two when I saw the bucket get thrown into the remains of our melting castle. A pace later, I could see his leg & foot maliciously kicking the remains of our sculpture.

That's when it happened. The storm in me had been aroused. I jumped onto my sibling like an angry hornet attacking someone who had intruded their nest. We were rolling in the sand, fists and feet flailing. Whack! Bam! Crack! I felt it. I heard it. I did not immediately see it.

In the flurry of sand and elbows, in a rage of munts, grunts and occassional profanities the sun disappeared from my sky, the sound of the waves & the wind had ceased. Whack! Crack! Bam! echoed in my head and on my back through all of our munting & grunting & heaving of air.

Then I saw him. A little old man. Bent knees. Dark gray hair gone wild. Cane in hand, but not on the ground. 'Damn Shame!'

I froze. His cane was once again over his head & he was ready to pelt me again. He said, 'Where's your mother?! You children should be ashamed!' Once again, I said nothing. I looked around, scanning the masses for our mother. Still spitting sand out of my mouth & collapsed on top of my brother, I scanned the masses for our Mother.

I saw her. She was about 5 castles away, backside to us... walking away. I called for her. She didn't flinch. I yelled loudly for her, she kept walking away.

The old man, cane still overhead, said 'Get up you shameful little varmit!' Where's your mother.' I got up and spotted my mother, now twice as far away & gaining speed. I told him, 'I'm sorry. Your'e right. We should be ashamed & I am ashamed. I'm sorry. Would you please lower your cane?'

Humpft! 'Where's your mother.'
I got up and spotted my mother, now twice as far away, backside still to us. 'Our mother didn't come out today'

This ThanksGiving is Especially Special

This Thanksgiving I'd like to give special homeage to my dear Mother.
As you can tell from this old torn, stained photograph... she's a natural beauty.
But her beauty is much too deep for any skin to contain.
She knows me unlike any other person, she knows my core and I trust her more than any other living being.

Her love & support is as unconditional as life & death itself.
Her determination could push an oak tree across the front yard.
Her wisdom eases pain & dances with pleasure.
Her strength carries the strongest of the strong through rough times.
Her thoughtfulness inspires family, friends & strangers alike.
Her motivations are good at heart & her own generosity is humbling.
Her sense of humor leaves tears in your eyes.
& her ability to cry without making distorted faces is amazing.
She is so much more than just my Mom, I know...

I know it is Thanksgiving Day coming upon us & not Mothers Day... but I am Thankful! She raised us to know the things she values & value the things we know.

My Dear Sweet Sister Kimbies is on her last round of Chemo today. My Sweet Soulful Sister Singleton is cooking a Turkey dinner, I think for the 1st time, for her kids coming home for the holidays & her new found love. My oldest brother is cooking the Master Turkey dinner for all the divorced, single or lonely folks in his town & Sweet Innocent Chanty Boy was released yesterday from the hospital after a 7 week stay. I am getting ready for the in-laws & really, we just owe so many thanks to our Dear Momma.