It Was A Small Thing

Do you ever stop to think that those little things you say, maybe in an off-handed way, might, just might mean so much to the person you just spoke it to?

For example, I was going to open a business account at a bank. I had made an appointment and had given them the proper documents in advance.

 Joshua, the man that had spoken to me and had set this up, called me back to verify some things prior to my date. He asked how I was and all the proper pre-conversation foreplay.  I am wonderful, I chime out.  It was decided among us that it would not be beneficial to me or to the bank to proceed. Joshua then said he would delete me. I giggled, Joshua stopped talking. Remember when you asked me how I was a moment ago and I said wonderful? “Yes”, well being deleted is not exactly how I pictured my day starting off and going on today. “Oh, no” he cries out. “That is not what I meant!” Joshua! I am just messing with you.  “Oh!” He starts laughing. “You have just made my day! It started off bad and has been steadily going to worse.  Seriously, you have made me smile and laugh. Thank you.” My pleasure Joshua, Merry Christmas.

It was just a tiny thing I had said. It meant so much to Joshua.

When I am at an event and am going to photograph during the event I like to sit on the outskirts so as not to bother others. This is what I had done at my club meeting. Everyone else sat in groups at their regular tables. Nobody sat near me which was fine until a man I have known for a couple years walked in and snubbed me. Now he has done this on four separate occasions and to be honest I am not sure if it is on purpose or accident. He looks right at me then looks away avoiding eye contact for the next hour as though I might be Medusa and will turn him to stone. Everyone else is friendly and while not attempting to me my best bud they are polite and greet me except this guy. For some reason it hurt my delicate fragile girl feelings this time. I went through my memory chamber for anything I had done to offend him and came up empty. This further upset me because now I assumed I had accidentally done something and had no way of knowing and apologizing for the offense.  Eventually another club member arrives and takes up a seat next to me. Another friend at another table begs her to move over but she refuses hesitantly. I tell her, go I am going to be bumbling around photographing and may be a distraction. She refuses to move. So the other friend moves over to the table we are at.  I am still fussy about the snub when during the course of the meeting after a photograph of the two friends she looks over and tosses me an “I love you,” after I let her approve the photo I just took, “you know what I like”.

Now that little phrase may not have been important to her and was just tossed at me and is her personality but at that moment it meant so much to me.

Just the smallest thing sometimes makes everything so much better.  In my devotional this morning was a tale from WWI -1914 about a gesture made by King George and Queen Mary at Christmas. I have linked an article about the Christmas cards 

so you can read it on your own and see the two cards that were sent. It is a short read. A small gesture that probably meant so much to those who received them. Especially the wounded in hospitals and recovering.

Small things can be so big sometimes.

Try it!

Shopping Buggy Abuser

As I stepped out of my door this morning at 5:20 for my hike, there was a man by a car in pajamas and robe. He moved from the driver’s side door to the trunk and back and back and forth he went never doing anything just moving back and forth. I moved on down the road. As I made my first pass by my home he was still out there doing the same thing.

I kept going on my second time by my house he was walking away from his car but then he turned and went half-way back and then turned around and took about 8 steps then turned and went back toward his car and back and forth.  As he passed me he looked up, smiled and said “good morning”. Now I have had the pleasure of knowing some first rate tweakers in my days but this was a little beyond that. 

Maybe it is an OCD ritual except I have never seen him out there before. Perhaps he is restless because of a tragedy and just does not know what to do to calm his mind so he thinks up tasks that make no sense and he cannot complete. Curious.

Chaz had set out my Christmas boxes weeks ago and I had unpacked all the ornaments I wanted to use and he had put the boxes back except for two I had overlooked and then ignored. “I will get to them in tomorrow” was my Mantra. Tomorrow came yesterday. They were old dusty, graying boxes that had come from Mother’s attic. I knew there was nothing inside I wanted to use but I opened them anyway. Inside I found ceramic statues of the Three Kings that appear in almost all nativity scenes. 

These Maji, or Kings or Wise men of this nativity story fascinate me and always have, even as a child. I thought they were the best part of the story. Their story is just as amazing to me as the main story.  

They represent past, present and future.

I packed them back up and told Chaz he could put the two boxes back in storage. As soon as I walked back to my room I realized they would fit beautifully on my mantle and there was just enough space for the three of them. Back out I went to rescue them. On the mantle they are now (that sounded like Yoda speak) and they look great with the other tarnished brass items that also rest there. I went about the rest of my day. This morning as I sit here writing I look over and realize that one of the Kings is looking over at me. I do not recall his head being turned yesterday. The other two are gazing straight ahead. Why is he not? Why is he looking over here at me? I am unsettled by this. Will someone please watch him and tell me if he follows me as I cross to the other side of the room. I get the feeling he does.

The last thing I want to say is…

Dear Psychotic, woman beating, child abusing, tragic excuse for human, p***s packing, creature, it is fortunate for you I was not there when you plowed down my 6-year-old granddaughter with your shopping buggy and then tossed over your shoulder as you strutted by “excuse you”. She is 6. 6!!!! 

                                               My Granddaughter  and Santa

It was NOT funny. It was not a lame excuse to toss over your shoulder as an afterthought “excuse you!” It does not matter that she may have been frolicking and veered into your path. You did not even try to stop or slow down and who the BLOODY HELL do you think you are to think you have a right to meet out what you may believe to be punishment or just consequences. She is 6!!!! You are a vile, (For some reason the Grinch song is now streaming though my head) ….  

Did someone run over you with a buggy when you were a child and so you believe it is OK? Was it OK when they did that to you? Did someone run you over and your parental unit have no sympathy and so you believe all children deserve cruelty and to be yelled at by a parent? Were you hoping my daughter would turn on her own child and blame her?  

Did some hurtful adult constantly curb your enthusiasm and so you now believe children should not express joy and be free and wistful? What horrible thing(s) happened to you as a child that has turned you so hard?  What if someone like you ran over your grandchild or child? Ran over your little sister? Little brother?

Santa was watching….  

……...have a Merry Christmas

Nehushtan the Good and Corruption

(Lest) One good custom (should) can corrupt the world... ― Alfred Lord Tennyson from his poem "Idylls of the King". This was in my Devotional this morning.

The poem is wonderfully brave and noble. There is a melancholy desperation woven in it as Arthur accepts his fate but, on top of that, shimmering like a finely woven silk is a grand hope. Not for himself but for the world. Arthur smiles at the rumors he has heard about his greatness, reminisces about his best adventures and challenges his last loyal knight to an emotionally difficult task. This is a selfless act that will free the knight gracing him with a wondrous tale and memory.

But the Devotional was not about Arthur it was about a bronze serpent created by Moses to heal those who were bitten by serpents cast upon them by GOD during the 40 years he and the tribes spend in the dessert. The serpent is named Nehushtan and GOD asked Moses to create it. This story is unfamiliar to me. How had I overlooked it? The referenced Bible verse is Numbers 21 4-9. I have not read it yet this morning. Shall we?

Numbers 21:4-9 New International Version (NIV)

The Bronze Snake
4 They traveled from Mount Hor along the route to the Red Sea,  to go around Edom. But the people grew impatient on the way;
5 they spoke against God and against Moses, and said, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread! There is no water! And we detest this miserable food!”
6 Then the Lord sent venomous snakes among them; they bit the people and many Israelites died.
7 The people came to Moses and said, “We sinned when we spoke against the Lord and against you. Pray that the Lord will take the snakes away from us.” So Moses prayed for the people.
8 The Lord said to Moses, “Make a snake and put it up on a pole; anyone who is bitten can look at it and live.”
9 So Moses made a bronze snake and put it up on a pole. Then when anyone was bitten by a snake and looked at the bronze snake, they lived.

                    Anthony Van Dyck: Moses and the Brazen Serpent

OK, the good custom from the Tennyson verse referenced in the Devotional is that looking upon the bronze snake will heal you. And where/when does good corrupt? The next verse dealing  with the snake figure is in II Kings 18:4 where GOD commands Hezekiah to destroy the serpent because the tribes have begun to worship it, burning incense and offering it sacrifices.

2 Kings 18:4 New International Version
He removed the high places, smashed the sacred stones and cut down the Asherah poles. He broke into pieces the bronze snake Moses had made, for up to that time the Israelites had been burning incense to it. (It was called Nehushtan.)

Let me give you a time reference. Nearly a 1000 years passed between Moses creating the serpent and Hezekiah destroying it. It obviously took a while for the corruption to occur. But now the quote used makes more sense.

Arthur's knight shares his fears about his own future and the future of the world with Arthur and the dying King offers this comfort:
And slowly answer'd Arthur from the barge:
 "The old order changeth, yielding place to new,            
 And God fulfils Himself in many ways,
 Lest one good custom should corrupt the world."

Everything changes dear friend says Arthur. Embrace it!

One last, little thing I noticed. The Bible tells us the serpent's name is Nehushtan. It tells us that at the very end, right at it's destruction in II Kings.  The snake is not mentioned again in Numbers 21 after its creation. So that is the only time we are told it has a name. The name translates to "little brass one" and was tensed and used as a term of endearment by the people. I think it a touching end, a beautiful reminder of the good the serpent was intended for. A wonderful epitaph.

I can now clearly see how good can lead to corruption and I can see where in my life that has happened as well. Be it relationships with lovers, people, jobs, good became corrupted and changed. These changes  catapulted me to more change. I am embracing it.

(However, it sometimes feels like I am embracing a cold wet porcupine.)

Chocolate Chip Football?

I thought I had chosen the perfect time. I thought I would breeze in and out in moments. It was days before Thanksgiving. There was nothing on my list that even remotely sounded like something anyone would cook for a feast. I thought I was removing a chore from my list. As it turned out, and does every time, GOD had planned an adventure that not only would affect me but, from what I later saw two others.

I was at the grocery store picking up a few needed items for my famous chicken club tacos 

and the chocolate chips needed to make my traditional Holiday pie.

A pie I have made for years, which my youngest believes is as traditional as most people view Pumpkin Pie. I had in my little hand basket everything I needed and the chocolate chips were the last item to grab.  I turned the corner to traverse the baking aisle when I came to an abrupt halt.

This was caused in part by the immense crowd, most with the huge buggies (not the small buggies) along the length of the aisle and a store employee with a huge cart loaded down with cases of evaporated and condensed milk who had just pushed his way to the start of the aisle.  Before I could stop it “Bloody Hell!” came tumbling from my lips. A Lady, who was half my size (in other words extremely short and very thin) to my right was huddled up next to an over-abundant end cap of cranberry sauce practically shaking with apprehension. Another Lady to my left had slammed on her energetic brakes at the same moment I had and was looking down the aisle with the expression one might wear while watching lions in the wild take down a wildebeest not 20 feet in front of you. 

I giggled. They both looked at me with concern after the expletive I had just uttered and then followed that with an obvious frosting of humor. I looked left and right and said “Ladies, I was NOT expecting this.” Tiny, the Lady to my right “I do not even live here. I live in New Berlin, I came here because it was a larger store than we have.” Looking again at them both I said “I say we do this. Let’s formulate a plan of what we absolutely need and make a run for it. No mercy!!” To my amazement they both move closer to me. It was a gauntlet, a field of big, ugly burly defensive linemen.

 There were defensive tackles and to either side of them some incredible scary defensive ends. I could see up middle the outside linebackers jostling and taunting us. One of the corner backs nodded her head much like Nemo taunting Mr. Smith.

All of a sudden there is a hole opening up in the middle and I start to move but the nose guard (employee with cart of boxes)  sensing my play blocks me and effectively also blocks my line of sight. He moves right as I shout” up the middle, now, now!” we start, only to have the safety (a large blonde woman with a huge buggy) move straight for us and stop. “Oh hell no!! She just did not do that!” I say in my outside stadium voice (apparently because several people turn to look) and my team, to my surprise move closer to me in solidarity and support. The safety sensing a shift in the Force moves forward and left. “Ready…..” Tiny squeaks “I am right behind you!!” and the other Lady shouts “GO!!!”  I charge up the middle and to my surprise the defensive team seems to be frozen they just stand there not moving except for a corner back whisking a small linebacker out of my way.

I go right, praying to catch the chocolate chips, when I see them. There they are and there is, hidden behind her guards a very strong safety. Strong as in agile, fleet of foot and very beautiful. 

I fake left and right and then right again catching her off-guard. I reach over her buggy, grab the bag of chocolate chips scream out (yes I actually did) “YES!!!” and charge to the goal at the end of the aisle. After I cross the end caps of boxed whipped topping

 I turn, raise the chocolate chips over my head and shout “Touchdown!!!” 

A man who had been at the goal line cracks up and tells me “good game!! Well done!!” I smile and head off to the check-out.

The house smells like chocolate chip cookies this morning and we are having pie for breakfast. 

Enjoy your Thanksgiving! 

GOD Saved the Cornbread

I suppose you are wondering how the cornbread saga came out? 

My daughter went and purchased two mixes (this would later prove to be a good thing) and as she glanced over the instructions realized I would need milk so she bought that also. She came home dropped it off along with two surprises. I had already had a meltdown in front of them, apologizing for not being able to get it together and being a terrible mom. By the way, the moment I was losing it my daughter was picking up the slack and reassuring me they could get breakfast and not to worry; which by the way added to the onslaught but also was astounding to watch. I had not seen her be a “grown up” before, at least not like that. 

I started making the cornbread. I measured the milk and cracked the egg into the milk and thought I spied a piece of shell as the egg slipped into the milk. I tried to look for it (white shell, white milk) but no luck. I prayed, that if there was a shell for GOD to do something. I was already fussed up and needed to press on. I mixed the egg, milk, opened the mix and dumped it in. As I did some chunks of brown alien substance were in the mix. I was startled and disgusted and then thanked GOD because I knew there had been eggshell in the milk. I started over, got it in the oven and went off to get ready for my meeting which by now is causing me to be even more fussed up ( my imagination was on hyper-drive). After a while I smelled cake and realized I had forgotten the cornbread and believed it to be burnt. Well, it was not burnt, Thank GOD, but it was very well done and a lovely golden brown.

 I got it to her at work in plenty of time.

As for the surprises, she had bought me flowers and a chocolate coconut doughnut. She was spending money from her first paycheck on me a surprise. It was so sweet.

My meeting went very well and was casual and fun. It did not turn out like my imagination envisioned. I also learned that my friend’s daughter who is playing volley ball like a pro (she is in junior. high) had been noticed by Oakley and they are sending her product to wear. Seems like only a week ago she was an awkward little 7 year old. She is blossoming into an amazing beautiful young woman and I am so honored to know her. Someday she will be the face of Oakley and I can say “I remember when she was just a cute little kid!) Keep playing Canada!!!

I have been doing a little Christmas shopping. I like to be done before Christmas so I can just chill through it and enjoy myself.  Doing this joyful task  has generated no Christmas anxiety or should I say anxiousness so I have watched a few Christmas movies and still nothing. I can see it charging at me like a child who has missed his mother but I am not feeling anything back at him. Christmas is about to embrace me and I am not feeling anything. This is troubling.  Maybe I should start playing Christmas music?  Go ahead and decorate the tree and house.  I am going to go see a Christmas movie with some girlfriends on Thursday maybe that will help.  Maybe I just needed to chat about it I am beginning to feel the first flutter of a Christmas butterfly under my right ribs....hmmmmm..... 

Yep there it is!

Down and Dirty or Cornbread

Down and Dirty is what the truck had blazoned across the back window. What does that mean? The truck was lifted so maybe you need help to get down out of it. The white paint was definitely in need of a wash maybe that was the dirty. Maybe it was slang for I pull stuck vehicles out of the mud. “If you are down in the mud and dirty” call Pete he will pull you out! Maybe he is down for getting dirty. He takes his lifted truck out and then slings through mud creating mire and trashing fields, trails, roads and creek beds.

I got it! They are either a band member or a groupie of the band Down and Dirty.  

No wait they are proud sponsors of Subaru’s Down and Dirty Obstacle Race.

The Dictionary lists it is being lewd, funky, and unscrupulously competitive as in down-and-dirty political campaign. So…. The owner is into politics?

I have a cousin several generations back who married a woman named Cherry Dew. Seriously! I thought it was a typo or someone had been cheeky with a relative’s name. No she is Cherry Dew and she has a sister named Violet Dew. Now you would think the other sisters would be Rose Dew and Lilly Dew with a brother named Juniper Dew right? No they are Sarah, Ruth and Horton. Did the parents not like the other 3 kids? Actually the last name was originally spelled Dhu, but as with people migrating in from across Europe and arriving here and saying their names (and being unable to spell themselves) they were spelled wrong on documents. Of course some changed their names on purpose. 

My daughter informed me this evening at dinner that I had to bake a pan of cornbread for her to take to work tomorrow.  I have no cornmeal or baking powder or eggs I ran out of these things making breakfast this morning. They are on my grocery list. I had scheduled a meeting for 11:30 tomorrow and I have to get client commitments done in the morning so I am buying … shhhh…. Mixes.  

Yes I will be buying cornbread mix and cheating. I will take my early morning hike, dash over to the grocery, grab mixes and get them baked dropping them off on my way to meeting hopefully showering and dressing during that time. I love hitting the ground running. Not really. I used to, but now I like to waltz my way through the morning stopping to smell roses and coffee.

Speaking of morning…. Enjoy yours!

Now off to write a blog for a client for tomorrow. 

Leathered Up Buffoon

Dear people on motorcycles,

Those of us who choose not to ride would like to inform you that we, all of us, did not study nor did we opt in for mind reading classes in High School or college. So your speeding down the road,  weaving in and out of traffic, not signaling your intent to swerve left and then right, doing your little "I am a Jedi Ninja" thing at mach 7 will be met with the same disrespect you are affording us your victims.  

You will be hearing things like "oh, did I change lanes without signaling while you were passing me without signaling??" and "Was that you flying over my car when I had to stop suddenly and you were not paying attention because you had just charged down the interstate weaving through traffic like a Barrel racer on crack." 

You want respect on the road? Then show us some. Sporting a leather jacket does not entitle you to special driving/riding privileges. 

Thank you

For those of you who are now assuming I hate bikes and their riders, NO I do not. I actually spent several years happily hugging my man from the back of his bike. 

What I hate is the disrespect some bikers have toward people in a car. We are not obstacles on some race track of life you need to speed around. We are trying to get somewhere the same as you. And yes, some bloody leathered up buffoon on a bike fussed me up. He caused several vehicles to swerve and slam on their brakes creating a hazard in his wake. You want to play chicken with your life and drag mine into the fray? Good luck! But my Grand Daughter was in the car and you will NOT be dragging her into your self absorbed, ego-boosting joy ride to your destruction. I will end you!!

Have a peace-full joy filled day me Hearties!!

The Zombie Ballerina Clown

My first child's first Halloween, she was 8 months old, I made her a cheerleader costume and took her around to a few houses just for fun and because she looked so cute with her yarn pompoms and little skirt. Everyone loved her until we came upon one woman who said "isn't she a little young and aren't you a little old for trick or treating. You just want candy. Go buy some" and she slammed the door. I was crushed and actually the thought about the candy never crossed my mind in that way. I was just taking my child out and had been turning down the candy. I went home and vowed to never treat a young mom like that nor a small child nor any teenager. It is Halloween!!

In Em's bag of goodies from Halloween last night was a scripture lollipop. 

The cellophane around it had scripture written on it and included a small card with explanation. I thought this was an awesome idea and when she asked what kind of lollipop it was I told her it was a Jesus lollipop and it was to be eaten on a day she was sad so she could be cheered up by knowing Jesus loved her.  Sounds good right? She informed me 10 minutes later that she was sad and needed her Jesus lollipop. She ate half of it and then threw the rest away telling me she was no longer sad and could she eat a Hershey bar from her bag of treats. She is her mothers daughter. 

 My daughter has a Zombie app on her phone. Ems went around the table taking everyone's photo and then turning us all into Zombies with peeling skin, grunts, growls, popped out eyeballs, exposed flesh and bone and blood and laughing. 

            This is the Zombie she created of my photo.

A zombie is what she decided on for Halloween. A ballerina who is a clown who was turned into a Zombie. 

She wanted to be drenched in blood and now this morning there are stripes all down her from her chin to her belly in a vivid shade of pink. Stains from the fake blood. She laughs and finds it funny. 

Today she is running around in pink fangs and a unicorn hat. Is this what happens to Ballerina Zombies after eating candy? Maybe the child ate a unicorn and wears its horn as a trophy!! 

Halloween was always a huge deal in our house. Mom decorated the house in plenty of Halloween themed things, pumpkins, black cats and witches everywhere. She always bought candy in flavors she and my Grandmother enjoyed so they could eat the leftovers. They never tolerated the rude "trick or treat smell my feet" line and refused to give treats to those who said it. Mother took great care in creating us wonderful costumes and the one year I wanted a store bought boxed costume was the worst Halloween of my little life. I was unhappy, looked wretched, could barely walk and could not see out of the mask. I cried the entire time. My dad had to explain to several people why I was so unhappy. Many of them told me I was very cute but I knew I was not and could not wait to get back home and throw the horrid thing away. 

One year my two youngest wanted to be witches so I got them costumes and made myself up as a witch and we went to Mom's house to trick her neighborhood because we lived out in the country.  Mother wanted to partake in the fun so we put together a witch costume for her as well and we all went out. Mom had more fun I think than the rest of us. 

Halloween is the Best Holiday.

On another note....

My Grand daughter is watching a TV show called Daniel Tiger a production by the Mr. Roger Neighborhood people. The lesson is about Babysitting and that grown-ups come back. I have found myself extremely fussed up over this recurring theme which has carried on to the next episode because, grown-ups sometimes don't  come back. Why would a child's program say this and teach this when the truth is sometimes they just don't come back? A parent can die either by illness or accident or malicious intent. They say good-bye and kiss their child and go off to work or a trip or to the store and never come back. Sometimes they go out and find a new wife and make a new family and never come back. Sometimes they do something horrible and go to prison and never come back. Sometimes they decide drugs are their family and after years of abusing and neglecting, stealing from and lying to their family they never come back. Dear Daniel Tiger the truth is grown-ups do NOT always come back, and sometimes Daniel, it is a good thing. 

What was nice about the show is after the animated Daniel has an adventure they show a real child going through the same situation. A day at school, doctor appointment, babysitter.... you know child challenges. 

Now what is my little Zombie up to she is bring very quiet.

Who Was Talking to Lovey?

Dear Horatio,
I have been faithfully reporting on your coming and going for years. I have been a dedicated stalker and stayed out of your way so I would not interfere with your business or job. I have been respectful of your privacy by not taking any photos of you but, son!!! We had a flat tire and you just drove on past us. You looked at us, you gawked at us and just drove on by. I am extremely disappointed. I know, you could have been on your way to a double homicide, a suicide, chaos at some disco but  lets be honest, whomever or whoever you were rushing off to or for was already dead.

I am sad about this but I am terminating our relationship.  Thank you for the fun and good bye.

Good times.... yep some good times.

As I was enjoying a long over due pedicure this morning something on the opposite side of the salon fell to the floor with a bang. There was no one over near where the noise came from and the only person in the shop never looked up, looked at us or even flinched. "What was that?" I asked and my tech just shrugged her shoulders. I leaned forward and said "ghosts" and she laughed and said "no it was a cockroach or a pencil rolled on to the floor. After a few moments passed she   leaned forward in a conspiratorial way and whispered "Do you believe in GOD?" I told her yes, she glances around the room, "Me too" she whispered. She then lowered her voice even more and leaned forward again after looking all around the room in paranoia and proceeded to tell me that in downtown San Antonio a long time ago people were buried in mass graves or unmarked graves and no one remembered they were there. Now, with some wonderful strides in urban renewal, they are building apartments on top of some of these old forgotten graves and things are happening to people.  She looks around again and tells me of her friend, Ngoc and her family who had just moved into some new apartment community downtown. Her husband has seen people, men women and children walking around in vacant apartments, hallways and on the grounds some are white, some of the people have a darker skin tone and some are Mexican. She tells me that Ngoc has not seen them nor have any other of their friends but a few other residents have said they have seen strange things and some have seen a person. 

She glances around the room one more time and continues on with her tale. She says the family has a young son who will be playing, laughing and then suddenly talk to another child who is not there. When the mom asks him who he is playing with he says his friend. This has happened to her several times and every time she tries to tell the boy that no one is there he tells her to go away, that she is making his friend angry by saying he is not there. 

"My friend cannot afford to move yet again and the managers will not let them change apartments." She sits up straight and looks around. She starts to tell me something and then looks around twice more. She leans in, "my friend pray to Buddha for the ghost to leave them alone, and nothing happen. Her husband still see people, her son still play with his friend."  She looks around again and continues, "She finally throw her arms into a cross (she demonstrates by crossing her arms and putting them in front of her) and walks about her apartment shouting,  You leave house! You leave son! GOD says! You leave us be until we can move! We don't have money but we will leave when we do. You leave us be until then. GOD says you have to leave us be. GOD says!" I am mesmerized by this story, it is just a bit familiar. I ask her what happened. "Her husband has not seen any people and her son's friend is gone."  I smiled. "Do you believe in ghosts?" she asks me. Yes I do. "Do you think GOD chased off the ghosts?" Yes I do.

As I said this story is little familiar and here is why. . .

I would put Lovey down for her afternoon nap in her crib in her room when she was 18 months old and she would sleep for about an hour and a half. Then I would hear her. She would giggle, she would chatter but she would be very quiet about it. I would hear her move around in her crib. This would go on for at least half an hour. I thought it was just her normal waking up from a nap pattern and thought nothing of it. After a while she would get louder and I would go get her. Until one day, as I was peeking in the door to make sure she was OK while she played in her crib I noticed something very odd. 

She was looking off to my right, which I could not see without opening the door, and smiling. She then got a surprised look on her face, shrieked with joy and started giggling. She then stood up in the far corner of the crib  and proceeded to have what almost sounded like a conversation with someone who was making her giggle. She never once looked at the door where I was peeking through so it was not me she was playing with.

I closed the door and started to walk away. I was happy she was a happy baby and then it dawned on me that she was reacting to someone, something so I opened the door and went in. She looked over at me and then back at the corner and her smile disappeared. 

There was nobody in there and nothing odd in the corner of the room. But someone had been entertaining her. 

Ghost?......

Where To Park on a Blind Date

I am preparing my art blog today which happens to be about witches in art. I am googling and researching up all kinds of articles from witch to witchcraft to divining wands and sorcery. Can you just imagine the type of ads and smart suggestions I am going to be getting for the next 24 hours. Hmmmm...

Oh yes and then this....

While I was at the Emergency Room with my Mother last week a man was in a room across the hall. He kept watching me sit and stand and pace the room. He never smiled or acknowledged me just watched. I have no idea what he was thinking. I have no idea who he was there with. It was unnerving. I started thinking a hospital is not the place to meet and arrange a date. But then I remembered I was going on a blind date arranged for me by a friend. The man called and we talked for a while prior to our date so we could get to know each other a little. He lived on one side of Dallas and I lived south of Fort Worth, miles and miles apart. I needed a place where I could park my car and feel safe if I needed help. Where could a Lady park that her car would be safe and she would be safe?

 A hospital emergency parking lot. People were constantly coming and going and it was open all night. Perfect! He agreed. I gave it not another thought, I am quirky and it seemed logical. He later shared with me that out of all the blind dates he had ever been on this one would stay in his memory because he had never picked a Lady up for a date from a hospital. Well, that and the gay dance club we went to after jazz night at the Sons of  Hermann  Hall in Deep Ellum. 

I had a great time! We chatted on the phone a few more times and decided that the great distance between us was a huge hindrance and so we went our separate ways. I wonder how he is. 

In case you are wondering the Sons of Hermann is also called The Order of the Sons of Hermann or  Der Orden der Hermann's Soehne or Hermannssöhne.  It was formed as a protection society for German immigrants in New York City in 1840. It provides low cost insurance,  mutual aid and preserves German language and traditions. 

In 1861 the first Sons of Hermann Hall formed in Texas was Harmonia Lodge 1 and was formed in San Antonio. 

 In 1937 Harmonia Lodge 1 phased from German being spoken to English. In 1920 Harmonia Lodge 1 allowed women to join and became the first mixed Lodge in Texas and non Germans were allowed membership into the Organization in 1994. 

Did I tell you he kept bees and made honey. He brought me a jar of his honey on our date. One of the best first date gifts EVER!!!

Maybe I will tell you of the man who wooed me with a daily beer.... tomorrow.