Christmas Past

With the Holidays approaching I thought it would be a nice time to remind myself of what Christmas is really all about. It seems so ridiculous how we all get caught up in making everything look so pretty from our giant, pre-lit Christmas trees so overdone lighting on the house. Even Christmas cards have become somewhat of a competition with the photo-card fad. Then I look under the tree and literally think how we are buying ourselves out of the meaning of this holiday. Christ was not born onto this Earth to shower us with gifts, so why do we do it in His name? The one thing we were promised was love and that we would be shown it everyday, yet we celebrate such a simple concept in the most elaborate ways.
Take me back to the simplicity of the holiday....take me back to my Granny's house on Christmas Day. It was torture in the best way possible. I remember many times walking in he house mid-morning absolutely dying with anticipation of what was under the tree for me, yet well aware that it would not be the fanciest nor the most expensive gift I would receive. It didn't matter because it was often her gift or gifts that meant the most. She always cooked an outstanding meal for all who were there. Staying inside waiting on that fabulous food was antagonizing to say the least, so the kids would head off into the wilderness for an adventure of somekind. It usually involved someone climbing really high up onto something they shouldn't be on. We were always back in the house in time for dinner. It was a rule that everyone eat dinner first and help with the dishes. Absolutely no presents were to be opened until the work was done. If we weren't helping with dishes or having coffee we would set near the tree and guess what our presents were while playing cards.
The tree looked the same almost every year too. A 5ft cedar decorated with the biggest christmas lights I had seen and glass bulbs with a plastic and foil twinkling star on top always sat in the south window of the living room. A stocking for each grandkid was filled with peanuts, homemade candies and an orange...every year the same. One-by-one the gifts were unwrapped and each person was grateful if it was a package of socks or a nice desk set. Granny always went last because of course we saved the best gifts for last. It was so much more fun to see her face light up with joy as she was surprised with each gift. I hope she knew how much we all appreciated her Christmas and how much she touched us with the simplicity of it. It truly conveyed the message that Jesus had for us. Love one another and rejoice in the Lord. Thanks Granny!

Made it Home...and Made it Home Again

What a week! We were able to make it back home to Illinois for Thanksgiving. It was really a lot of fun to see the family and catch up with some old friends. If you are from Marshall you know that the Corner is THE place to go and have a drink. So in true Marshall style we met up at the Corner and wandered over to the VFW and saw a band with the oldest drummer alive. It was pretty cool really. His t-shirt read "Rock and Roll Lives!" To top the night off, we stumbled on over to the Frontier to watch karaoke. Now that's interesting! We also got in an all-important tractor ride, a Jr. High basketball game, gave a pitching lesson, and ate like a fool. I love being able to bring my kids back to the town where I grew up and experience the simple things. It seems like things down here are never simple. I can relax up North and be a better mommy. Sadly, our visit was cut short by a day thanks to a Southern Winter Storm. Yep.....snow and ice in South Louisiana. The TV headline read "Sneaux Mania." Seriously?

*sigh*

I had high hopes for myself pretty much all my life. Dreamed of a big farm house surrounded by corn fields, 4-wheelin' and fishin' on the weekends, and being surrounded by family and friends. I even concocted this idea once that marriage meant people supporting each other and cherishing the time they have with each other and their children, unconditionally. I guess we're taught that so we go ahead and let ourselves fall in love to the point of marriage and family. I'm sitting here tonight wondering what the heck happened. Why is it only half way or less most of the time? I'm really trying not to let my frustrations get the best of me but it gets a little harder with each disappointment.

Back To School.....So To Speak

Hooray! We survived the tonsilectomy with only a few minor incidents along the way. Now it's time to get back into gear and movin' forward again. For me, that means picking up a few sub jobs here and there until it's time for the real work to begin. In January I will be the Pitching Coach for one of the local high schools. It's totally my dream job, but it will mean some sacrafice and adjustment for the family, mainly the kids. The hours are pretty good and I think the only time it may affect them is for a long away game or weekend tournament. Anxiety is almost overwhelming at the thought of leaving them for any length of time or at night, but I go in confidence that they are in good care. (*sigh*....even though nobody does it like mommy) So, in the meantime I am slowly getting them used to being in Grandma's care by substituting a few days a week. And why not, a little extra cash never hurt! Whatever it takes to fatten up the vacation envelope. Now back to studying pitching grips and spins...oh and stride and wrist snap....

Some Catching Up

Wow! It has been a really long time since my last post. I'm going to blame it all on my 3 year old. About 6 weeks ago he and I had terrible head colds that lasted about 10 days. Mine got better pretty quickly, his seemed to linger a bit longer but had improved. In came the parents for a 2-week visit. Just so happens the evening they are crossing the Atchafalaya Basin bridge between Baton Rouge and Lafayette, my poor boy gets hurt playing and has a case of Nurse Maid's elbow. (OUCH!) My mom made it just in time to see us drive out on our way to the Emergency Room. I should have known the visit would be doomed from that point on. A night or two passes and we notice he is now snoring loudly and is having some sleep apnea.....then a scary moment of apnea. Headed to the pediatrician's office the next morning. Surprise! He has strep throat and his tonsils are practically touching. Here's the kicker...never ran a fever, so who knew! I felt bad...really bad. A 10-day round of antibiotics and he should be better....right? WRONG-O! Redness is gone, tonsils still touching and we now do not leave him alone to to sleep because the apnea is so bad. Back to the ped's office, try an allergy med for a few days, video tape his apnea and wait on a call. Waited long enough called them up to make sure they forwarded the files to an ENT. Finally get an appointment with Dr. Robin Barry, whom I mention by name because I believe in his ability so much. Checks the ears, looks good...check the nose, looks pretty good...say aaaahhh..........silent pause. He turns to us and asks how this child breathes. So he sheduled a tonsilectomy. Had the surgery 6 days ago, as per this post, and is recoverying pretty well. Wheeeewww! So that in a nutshell has been the better part of the last month for me. I am SO looking forward to a clean bill of health. Post-op check-up tomorrow. Crossing my fingers for good news.

Someplace Else

Nobody said life would always be gumballs and lollipops, right? No doubt I have a good life and I love the people in it, though it is certainly not what I ever imagined it would be. It seems selfish as I sit here and write about it, but there are times that I would just like to hit the pause button and spend a little time back when things were a little more simple. I can't pinpoint a specific time, but I can clearly pick out moments and places and time frames that set me at ease and put me back on the right track. I want to make life like those moments but can't quite reach that goal yet. It frustrates me, saddens me a little and angers me at times. But reality reminds me that I can't make something what it isn't.

I can't make my Granny's sun bonnet bob up and down between the tomato vines or blackberry bushes...can't get water for my Paw Paw in his favorite tin cup...can't walk in grass higher than my head without a care or fear in the world...won't be wading in clear creek water and watch the minnows swim around my toes anytime soon...can't sit in the driveway for hours looking for Indian beads...can't reach down and grab a handful of chalk before my next pitch...no sitting on the dock with moon shining bright waiting for a catfish to take the bait...no more waking up to a blanket of fresh snow....no more lots of things.

What can I do? I guess that's to be determined. Something for sure is missing and I need to figure it out. In the meantime I will treasure the things and moments that I do have. It's the stone cold truth that tomorrow is not promised so no more living the fool's life and waiting for things to happen or work out.

Got That Fall Feelin'

Maybe it's just wishful thinking, since South Louisiana isn't known for stunning seasonal changes. It pretty much goes from hot and unbearable to cold and rainy and right back to hot and unbearable again with a few "nice" days scattered in between. Back home is where Fall really happens. The leaves change to reds, yellows, and oranges before falling to the ground which is great because then you get to rake them into giant leaf piles and jump in them! Crops get harvested, wood is being cut and stacked for winter, fall festivals pop up, Halloween, High School Football...the list goes on. But it's the smell in the air that I miss. The air is crisp and carries perfectly the smell of those fallen leaves and the wood being cut and the ears of corn freshly harvested from the stalks and my oh my those pumpkin pies on the town square at Fall Festival. I love trekking through the woods when there is a nice layer of fallen leaves on the ground. They crunch as you walk, even on cool, misty mornings. The moss on the trees give that deep woodsy scent as you walk by. Wildlife is active and there is a photo-op in almost any direction. Sounds cary for miles it seems yet the quiet is almost deafening as you anticipate what will be heard next.
One of my favorite Fall activities was picking corn with my dad. I'm not talking riding in a combine singing along to the radio either. Remember that John Deere A? Picture that with a one-row corn picker attached and a wood-panel wagon behind that creeping through a field. Once the wagon was full, we'd have to unload it into one of a couple of corn cribs that my dad actually built when he was a kid. The wagon had a lift-gate on the back and it was my job to open that thing enough to let some of the corn spill out onto the hiker that carried it to the top of the corn crib. A crude operation to say the least, but one of my favorite Fall jobs. It was pretty much identical to the picture above (a copy of which is hanging in my son's bedroom). Oh how I miss those days.

I think my next trip home will include a tromp though the misty woods just so I can take a deep breath of that Fall air and smell the crunching leaves.

Tractor Ridin'

Over the weekend my oldest son and I got to ride in a cane cutter and a sprayer. He absolutely loved, as was expected, but it was really special to me too. I grew up ridin' tractors with my paw-paw and my dad. Paw-Paw had an old John Deere A that he'd drive down to check on the cows. I'd stand on the tongue of that thing and reach up nearly as high as I could to hang on to the back of the seat as he drove. An old metal bucket of corn clanged the whole way. It was magic...as soon as those old cows heard that tractor they would start bellowing and come running towards Johnny Put-Put. He'd stop the tractor in the pasture and it was like the disciples gathering around Jesus, their eyes fixed on him. He'd throw some corn to each one...and he made sure each one got the same amount. It was sad when his health deteriorated to the point that he was no longer able to take the tractor out to check the cows. I suppose it was around that time that my dad invested in a used, but well taken care of John Deere 3010. My favorite part was that it had fenders! No more hanging on the back. I went everywhere he went. We plowed, planted, mowed, scraped rocks, fixed fences, baled hay, moved cows from one pasture to another, plowed snow, and sometimes just rode around when there was nothing better to do. Dad has upgraded to a 4020 for most of his actual farming, but both the 3010 and the old A still sit in the barn. On those trips back home I still make it a point to get in a nice, long tractor ride before heading back South. Last summer I videod some of a ride he and I and my oldest son took. If nothing else, just enjoy the scenery and imagine yourself sitting on that fender on that perfect day in Illinois.

For My Lil Harris...

The Boy in Superman Pajamas



One little head peeks from behind the bedroom door. One little smile appears when he sees no one looking. Two little arms spread to the side like airplane wings and two little feet thump, thump, thump down the hallway. ZOOM goes the boy in Superman Pajamas! Two little hands rescue a glass of milk from the table and one little mouth drinks it down. Two little legs carry the boy to the bathroom to brush his teeth. ZOOM goes the boy in Superman Pajamas! Two little lips kiss baby brother goodnight. One little hand rubs one little eye. ZOOM goes the boy in Superman Pajamas. Two little arms reach up to hug Daddy goodnight. One little mouth gives a great big, yawn. ZOOM goes the boy in Superman pajamas! One little head lies down on the pillow. Two little eyes begin to close. Two little ears hear nighttime noises. Two little eyes open wide. ZOOM goes the boy in Superman pajamas! Two little arms reach up for momma. Two little arms squeeze her tight. One little head rests on her shoulder. Two little eyes close. One little kiss on one little cheek. Goodnight to the boy in Superman pajamas.

Embracing My "Hick-ness"

I had to laugh at myself today. I try to make a point of having music played at some point during the day while the boys are up. Sometimes it might be CMT as was the case today. My oldest son and I love the song "Big Green Tractor" by Jason Aldean. He likes it because it's about a tractor and a cowboy sings it. Not a bad reason. While watching the video for it today I thought to myself "what a romantic song." That's when I laughed and figured I must surely be a total hick. But seriously, that would be the perfect date for me. Ok...I'm a hick. I'm cool with that. So if you haven't heard it, go listen to it so you can laugh at me for being a hick too!

The Ice Cream Bucket

I had a flashback the other day in the freezer section at Wal-Mart of all places. We were walking down the ice cream aisle and I glanced over and saw a square ice cream bucket. I instantly thought of what a perfect berry picking bucket that would be. My Granny and I would use ice cream buckets when we picked blackberries. She used to dress in my Paw-Paw's overalls and long-sleeved shirts to avoid the chiggers. I, on the other hand, would climb in the middle of the briars in shorts and a tank top and be covered in itchy, red, welps by evening.

It's funny how many uses we had for those buckets. They hauled cat feed, persimmons, critters that I caught and would keep as a pet for the day, you name it. In the afternoons we would go out beneath the maple trees in the front yard and play frisbee with the lids. You had to throw with precision because the front yard wasn't real big. On one side was the house with it's peeling, white paint and huge front window. On the other was the road, which at he time was like fine pea gravel over crude blacktop. If you hit the maple branches at just the right time, dozens of "helicopters" would come fluttering down. The lids were so light-weight that they rarely made it to the other person. Eventually we would both take our own lid out and see who could throw it the highest and have it come back down and catch it ourselves. It was our special game.

I still find myself clinging to every ice cream bucket I come across. Who knew they could be such wonderful things?!

So Stoked!

Yippee Skippee, I'm so excited! Just confirmed today that I will be giving a fastpitch clinic in Lafayette Sept. 9 for the Rec. Department. I'm so stoked because it gets me back involved with the one thing I enjoy next to my boys and that's softball. Now I have to start practicing again to prove to myself that I haven't forgotten everything. That means a lot of underused muscles are going to be very sore, but it will be so worth it. My Marshall homies have also been hooking me up with some lessons up there. It's hard to believe that they are willing to wait for someone that lives 800 miles away to come give them a lesson. I don't know if I'm worthy, but it makes me feel really good. Plus it means the interest is back and that should get the program back up and running after being stagnet for so long. Yay for softball! :)

Pictoral Vacation

Friends

How nice it has been to be back in my little hometown. Before coming up for this visit, I did my best to try and contact people that I hadn't seen in a long time. I've been able to reconnect with some of my old friends this week and have had such a rewarding time doing so. It's sad how hard good friends are to come by once you become a "grown-up." Living in the south has not met my expectations in the friends department, although I have had the fortune of meeting some really great people. It's just easier to stay to yourself rather than get caught up in the drama and cliquiness of it all. I was so glad to come home and see that the people I grew up with and called friend really hadn't changed all that much. It's very refreshing and something I was totally missing out on. I'm really looking forward to catching up with some more good buddies in the days ahead.

Lately...

It seems as the more I plan to relax and settle into a content lifestyle the more crap comes about and disrupts things. Maybe it's just the way I handle things emotionally. In the midst of planning and enjoying my son's 3rd birthday party and finalizing plans for vacation, my husband tells me about all of these predictions for the end of the world, at least as we know it, in 2012. Umm...not what I wanted to hear. Long story short, apparently even the Mayans has this marked on their calendar, which has been pretty accurate for an extremely long time. And there's more...science has confirmed that we are due for a catastrophic polar shift with the sun's next maximum. When? 2012 of course! I know..pathetic to let this stuff bother me, but it really creeps me out to think what could happen to my boys because of this stuff. My prediction for myself is that I need a REALLY relaxing vacation before the little white truck with the guys in little white coats come fit me for my very own little white, really tight jacket of my own.

My New Clothesline!

Never, ever in a million years did I ever expect to get excited over a clothesline. Thanks to the recession we've recently made several downgrades and money saving moves to try and stay afloat in this horrible economy. The clothesline was a product of that, though I admit I've been wanting one for quite a while now. At any rate, as I was hanging things up to dry with the baby sitting in the stroller behind me it dawned on me how many women have gone through this task with two or three little ones hanging on to their skirt tales screaming and fighting! Wheewww! No tears for me this time. The experience did make me feel very domestic and brought me one step closer to my crusade to make life simple again.

Just A Quick Thought

I haven't blogged as much lately as I had intended to (hopefully I can get back in the groove) but I have been able to catch up with some old friends lately. I'll just relay a quick thought before heading out to take my son to swimming lessons. A lot of people complain at how the internet and the electronic age has taken away phone calls and hand-written letters. I agree, it's nice to get a letter in the mail from a long-lost relative or be able to pick up the phone to ask cousin Joann for her recipe for New York Stew. But I'll also add that for some who have burned such personal bridges the information highway may be the way to go to travel back to those who have been left in the past. I say if it's a tool good enough to get the job started then let's get to work. I know for a fact that I'm not the only person who has someone from the past that I either need or would like to make amends with. Maybe it's the "mom" in me, but in the end we really do need each other. Even if it's hard to get the ball rolling it will be so worth it in the end.

The Smells of Clean!

Today was an extremely long day of Spring cleaning at my house. Now it's nothing that June Cleaver would stand up and clap about, but it is nice to get an extra layer of dirt and grime off of things. After almost 6 solid hours of cleaning I thought to myself, "man! This smells nice!" The blue Pine Sol had really paid off. Then of course my mind faded back to thoughts of my Granny and what clean really smelled like. I have 2 associated smells with what clean really is...bleach and hot Tupperware.
Have you ever seen or used a wringer washer? That was a beast of a machine and I remember very vividly the one that was in my Granny's basement for years. I was always fascinated by that thing. It was the load of whites that instilled in me what "clean" really was. The aroma of bleach filled that dark basement and the gleam of all those white clothes and towels lit it up. Of course things were hung on the line and that only made the clean smell last longer.
Now about that hot Tupperware smell... I generally spent every Sunday at Granny's house. We had a very set schedule on how the day operated. First it was breakfast that usually consisted of eggs, bacon, and toast. Then it was Sunday Morning with Charles Kuralt. Her friend Mildred would pick us up for church and bring us back. She'd then make a ridiculously huge meal and we'd eat until it hurt....EVERY TIME! Then we'd do the dishes side-by-side. She'd wash and I'd dry. She had 2 old Tupperware tubs that fit nicely in the sink that we'd wash and rinse in. Now I'm not sure how hot Tupperware has to be before it releases that smell, but as the dryer it was my job to pull the dishes out of the sclading water and place them in the dish drainer before the skin melted off of my hands. I swear those old tubs were cooking right there in the sink! The dishes were clean though...so clean they made that sqeaky sound.
So the house doesn't smell like bleach or hot Tupperware, but it feels pretty good. I think I'll stick to my blue pine sol for next year's day of spring cleaning. I may even try to do a few more loads of just whites and use bleach just to remember how clean really smells.

The Almighty Euchre

This evening I have found myself in a major planning session on facebook for a serious game of Euchre. I say serious, because where I come from Euchre is just about as serious as Uncle Joe's cows getting loose. According to Websters Online Dictionary, Euchre is defined as "A card game similar to ecarte; each player is dealt 5 cards and the player making trump must take 3 tricks to win a hand." The definition fails to mention that all players involved must be able to tolerate unimaginable amounts of heckling, use phrases that edge ever so slightly into cheating, and be willing to play almost anywhere, anytime.
Growing up in a small town makes it harder to get into trouble and get away with it. Either everyone knows each other or they know who to tell if they suspect something's up. So for those times when small crime wasn't an option we played euchre. I'm going to guess that I was about 13 or 14 when I learned how to play; so let's say Jr. High. Although I don't remember exactly how, I'm sure my first lesson was on a team bus coming back from a basketball game late one night. It was addicting from the first hand. We played on team busses, free-time in school, weekend camping trips, you name it. I have even played euchre at the county jail with on-duty deputies. In High School while some of the more "cliquey" kids were doing their thing, my crowd was at someone's house with 2-3 tables of euchre going. We'd play to all hours of the night. There were some deep converstaions had and good friendships made over a few hands of euchre. Sadly, way down here in the swamp lands of Louisiana you can find every type of card game imaginable, except euchre. In the 9 years that I've been here I have yet to find a single person who has even heard of the word, let alone played the game.
Here's to meeting up with old friends on my trip back home. Hopefully we'll be able to rekindle those old friendships and engage in deep conversations all while handing a few good old-fashioned ass whippin's!

Something Old, Something New

I was looking around my house today trying to decide what decor to go with or what knick-knack to stick where and came to the realization that even though it's a brand new house, I'd really like it to look old. I've always been drawn to old things and I suppose that's because I grew up around old things. My grandparents and my dad ran a small family farm in Clark County Illinois. As long as I can remember, they never purchased anything new to run that place except the seeds they planted. A the ripe old age of about 8 years old I was given the duty of learning how to drive the tractor that my paw-paw always to referred to as Johnny Putt Putt. It was a John Deere Model A, which was first produced in the 1930's. Kind of rugged for an 8 yr. old don't ya think? That tractor was the work-horse of the place. I can clearly remember my dad using "the ol' A" as he called it, to pull a one-row corn picker over about 80 acres of corn. He's since upgraded to a 5 row combine to get the job done, but "the ol' A" still putts out of the barn now and then.


Then I began thinking of my Granny and how she could amaze me with the things that came out of her kitchen. My realization...old things make it better. I used to tease her that she was the only cook on earth that could make boxed spaghetti taste good. And that's no lie! I loved it when she made boxed spaghetti. It wasn't better because she was old. The way she went about it was old, meaning everything she was taught was handed down to her, who had it handed down to them and so on and so forth. She didn't need the lastest and greatest in modern kitchen gadgets to get the job done. She had an old gas stove that had to be lit with a match, stoneware bowls, an old metal hand mixer, and most importantly the care to do it right.

So why do I love these old things so much? I guess it's because it keeps me grounded. Why are we constantly trying to upgrade our lives and keep up with the next person when there really isn't anythng wrong with the way we are now? I am thankful everyday for the beautiful house that I share with my family. It's complete with all the modern conveniences, central heating and air, city water, vents in the ceiling, yada yada yada. But if I had the chance to have my dream house it would be an old farm house with squeaky wood floors, a wrap around porch, wood-burning stove, and a kitchen that makes you smell hot blackberry cobbler by just looking at it. It would be a dream partly because I think those things are really cool, but mostly because I can appreciate the things that those old amenities have endured and the character that keeps them beautiful. When I'm "really old" I want to be described as that old farm house, and to do so I better stay grounded in the qualities that all these old things have taught me about. I also have an obligation to pass this old stuff along to the "new" in this scenario...my beautiful children. Everytime I go home to visit that old farm I'm going to make sure they get a ride on Johnny Putt Putt and maybe they will find their respect for all the cool, old stuff as well.

**footnote: The picture in this entry is of my dad on his tractor looking out over the pasture and my oldest son at 2 years old getting his first taste of "old stuff."

Saying Goodbye

Today I learned of the death of one of my former softball coaches. Howard had been battling cancer for sometime and his passing was not a shock. Since I had learned that he was in his final days of life, I often thought of the many laughs and lessons he gave us girls. Howard was the assistant coach of our traveling softball team, one of the player's step-dad, and friend to all of us. He was a towering man that could have easily frightened anyone with his sheer size, but it was his gentle soul that we all admired so much. He was our biggest cheerleader on the team, especially as first base coach. My favorite catch-phrase of his came when runners were on base and he would shout to the batter "ducks on the pond!" That meant you better make them swim home. Even opposing teams fell in love with Howard and his captivating personality. How could you ignore the biggest man in the ball park when he was standing right in front of your dugout? I can't remember a time when even in our grimmest of performances that he wasn't constantly uplifting and looking for the positives. He truly knew how to lift us up and get us back in the game. Lessons like that go beyond the diamond. That's a true gift. Thanks for sharing that with us, Howard. I'm gonna miss you big guy! My next rise-ball is for you.

Why Now?

It's taken a while, but here I am in the world of "blogging." Hopefully I can keep up with it as there is a lot going on right now with a toddler and a baby in the house. I guess my intentions for starting this is so that I can keep reminding myself of who I am and why I'm that way. Sounds cheesey, but I'm edging into my 32nd year of existence, and to some people that's OLD! What I'm getting at is that I feel that I've come upon a crossroads in my life. As a 31-year old stay-at-home-mom of two, I find myself constantly evaluating and re-evaluating my every decision. I even think about how decisions in the past affect me and my family now. For instance, had I known what life would be like 800+ miles away from friends and family would I have still made that decision? Not so sure of the answer to that. Regardless of the true feelings deep down inside the decision is made and here I am. Now what do I do? So I guess the real title of this entry should be "Why Not." Maybe it will help me remind myself of the things that I really find important in life and why they've become true treasures to me. Sure I could go on and on about politics and the dismal forecast of the economy and it's direct affect on families like mine...but really...don't you still have to find a way to muster through even the toughest of times? Let's remind ourselves that we aren't who we are by accident. What an injustice we do to ourselves by getting swept up in the socialisms we base our existence on and forget about what we once dreamed of or how we felt on a sunny day with our bare toes tickled by the soft clover beneath them. Close your eyes and remember you. In the most lonesome of times it's all you'll have to comfort you.
It's my hope that someone, somewhere will read my entries and be inspired to think a little more simply about the basics of life. Remember your Granny? I bet that question alone has sparked a warm glow in someone's brain. And if you are wondering about the title of my blog..well..that's where it all began. Hopefully one day, that's where it will end.