Hashtag...Corned Beef? Cannabis? Conversation?

Another thought on #.  When I hear the word "hash" I think of corned beef and hash.  A not so wonderful dish my Grandmama Dolly liked to eat.  I ate it.

It was okay.

But not as good as her apple pie.

#ipreferanapplepiethankyouverymuch.

Also, "hash" brings to mind marijuana.  Or cannabis.  Whatever you will...

#thatisdopey

Or perhaps the phrase, "We still need to hash out the details." 

#shallwechat

But hashtag?

And speaking of #, why did it become the "pound sign?"  Why was it ever added to the phone?  What was the point?

I'm pretty sure the automated messages will soon sound like this:

Press 1 for English.

El primo dos para Espanol.

For twitterish press hashtag for any menu consisting of 140 characters or less.

#icrackmeup

Feeling Sentimental

Have you heard that ridiculous country song, ""I Hear Voices."  It's not my favorite, but today I find that I'm hearing voices.  Or rather, I'm being reminded of loved ones.



As you know from Wednesday's blog, I hurt my back at work.  It worries me to have back pain.  I simply do not have time for back pain.  And, having an injured back makes it tough to do my job.  I don't want to get into all of the worries that are floating in the not so back of my consciousness.  It makes my back hurt worse!



I was given Friday off by my supervisor.  We had a light day scheduled, and she asked if I'd like to take the day to try and rest/heal my back.



Guess what?



I'm TERRIBLE at resting.  When I have mountains of things to do, and little time to do it, I am GREAT at resting.  In nursing school I realized that I have two reactions to stress.  One reaction is to organize every detail of my life that I can even remotely control.  The other is sleep.  It is a sleep that can not be avoided.  As in, I would be sitting in a chair trying to desperately understand the renal system, and the next thing I'd know, it would be two hours later and drool would be running down my face.



Thursday I rested.  I attempted to some light housework, but my back spasmed every time I tried to move something, or reached in a certain way.  I ended up finishing a free Nook book that I didn't particularly enjoy, but determined to finish it.  I clipped three weeks worth of coupons, and cleaned out about half the expired ones.



I swear by 7pm I thought the day was never going to end.



So, Friday I sat on my couch and slowly sipped my coffee, and looked out the window at the brilliant sunshine, and decided there was nothing for it.  I simply had to wash my light fixtures and windows.



Because, clearly that is just the remedy for back pain.



Why is this post called "Feeling Sentimental?"  Patience, Dear Reader.  I'm getting there in my rambling too drawn out fashion.



I washed windows.  And I thought of my Grandma Irene.  I could picture her, with her cream colored wash pan and white tea towels helping me scrub the fly specks off of her kitchen window and storm doors.  Grandma Irene has never allowed a speck of dust to make itself at home in her house.  She was and still is a hard worker.



She is also very no nonsense.  She will say the most outrageous things.  And they will be true.  But somehow, you can't help but laugh at the crazy thing she just said.  I think I'm a little like her in that way.  I have a terrible tendency to say what I think, then think twice about what already popped out of my mouth.



As I sat at my dining room table, eating a bowl of leftover chili, my gaze wandered to my new chairs.  It set my mind to remembering Grandmama Dolly.  I really don't think I am much like her at all.  Perhaps we have some similar physical attributes.  She was always tall and thin with long thin fingers and small wrists.  I have never been as thin as her, and never will be, but I have really long arms and legs, and my fingers are long and thin like hers.  Oh, and we both love a cute pair of heels, and I remember her saying that skirts should hit just above or just below the knee to be the most flattering.  I have no idea why she told me that, or why I remember it, but I find it to be true!



While I was thinking of her and missing her, I decided to treat myself to a cup of coffee.  Feeling indulgent, I added some hazelnut creamer to the cup.  Since Grandmama was fresh in my mind, I felt a pang of guilt over the unnecessary calories and fat from that creamer.  I don't know of very many grandmas who tell their grandchildren, "Don't drink so much milk, it will make you fat."  Or, better yet, "Don't eat so much bread, you don't want to get fat."  I was always horrified when she would say such things to me, but now I see how right she was.  Granted, I still drink a giant glass of milk every single morning, but you can bet Grandmama Dolly's bright red Roper boots that it is skim!

As I looked at the not so practical chair in my living room, I realized I may be more like her than I realized.  My mom has told me they never had matching furniture growing up.  Well, considering my house is decorated with odds and ends that I have accumulated and kept for various sentimental reasons, perhaps I take after her more than I think!



Grandma Irene has a very few nick knacks scattered through her house.  They are the same ones I always remember, with the exception of a few things she's received as a gift in the last few years.  Her house is always spotless, and every flower arrangement and little figurine is exactly as it should be, and no dust dare live near it.


Grandmama Dolly had more nick knacks and whatnots than the eye could discover on a distracted scan of the room.  She had 5 kids, 16 grandkids, and I won't even attempt counting greats and great greats.  She had lots of framed photos that we all gave her of our families.  She could always name everyone's birthday.  That always amazed me.  I can barely remember my siblings birthdays!



I bemoan the things I have scattered throughout my house.  I swear, at times I let it get so bad, that one could pretend they were walking through a junk shop as they wander my house!  But so many of them have sentimental value, or they just make me think of my grandparents, so I simply must put them out!



I'm contemplating asking my husband to drag my box of fall decorations down, but that would mean eliminating some of the "things" that make me smile to look at!  However, if I don't put something up, you won't even be able to see the different decorations!



Oh, well, this point is not well thought out, and flows terribly.  I guess I will just show you some random photos of a few trinkets I've laid about.  Apparently so I can have something to dust around.



Wait!  What am I saying?  I don't dust as a general rule.  I do not dust, empty the dishwasher or scoop dog poop.  I have children for those tasks.  Even if they don't dust as well as I'd like.  At least I'm not doing it.

This porcelain doll is the only wrapped Christmas gift I ever remember getting from Grandmama.  One of my girls posed her behind this frame with an old doll dresser and the old red truck.  Affection for old junk seems to keep trickling down the line.

Obviously I didn't get to this window.  But I love these old bottles.  Grandmama Dolly had a thing for bottles.  They were everywhere.  As I sit in my claw footed Grandmama Dolly chair and type this I can count 12 bottles and old mason jars within my eyes range.

I take that gift thing back!  She gave me this bit of pottery she bought on a trip with Granddad!  But I don't think it was for Christmas.  And I do know I received it as an adult.  How cute are those little books?  They are actually little card games!  Fun!  See why I can't pack all of this away to never be gazed at?

This vinegar jar used to be Grandmama's.  I remember her giving it to me when I still lived in South Texas.  I was so happy to get it and afraid I'd break it on my way home.  The other stuff is sheer junk.  A rooster from the Grand Canyon, and popcorn tubs from a dear friend as a parting gift when we moved, and just a random jar to make the scene complete.

This is just a pile of random stuff I carried home from going through Grandmama's stuff that Mom had.  She was an avid bowler, and those little pins make me smile.  I'm a TERRIBLE bowler.  I wear the bracelets and necklace.  I've never been one for accessories, but each time I slip them on, they make me think of my Grandmama, and I smile.

So that's it.  Today I'm sentimental.  What treasures do you have that bring up fond thoughts of your grandparents?

By the way, Grandmama was a country music fanatic.  She would have loved that song.

Of COURSE We Came Home With Two!

Last summer my girls spent time with my parents.  My dad decided that he did not have a special "something" that was just for him and Popcorn.  He rides horses with Bookworm, but Popcorn has no patience for anything that requires a calm demeanor.  He fishes with my nephews.  Again, Popcorn is short on patience, so while they fish she tends to flit away and get into mischief while they angle for the big one.

Well, while the girls were at my folks, Dad had to go the local sale barn to either buy or sell cattle, I can't remember which.  He took care of his livestock business, but he also did an unthinkable thing.

He came home with a kitten.  A kitten that belonged to him, (another unthinkable thing) but knowing how much Popcorn adored cats, she could play with "his" kitten all she wanted while she was at his house.  He even let her keep it in the house!  Shock shock!!!

Anyway, this adorable little kitten grew up.  She grew up and had a litter of her own this spring.  Well, my parents have been hounding me about "how many kittens" we were taking ever since Mitten dropped a litter of five about the same time one of their many barn cats had a litter of kittens.  The barn cats are all wild and impossible to catch, so my parent's odds of finding the new kittens and getting them tamed down to give away are not great...I have told them over and over that the cat is "Dad's cat" not my problem...

Remember we went to see my grandma last weekend?  Well, my parents were in Yellow Stone and my mom had asked me to go by and put some water on her flowers.  We have had a ridiculously hot summer.  It was 110 at my parents the day we were there.  I spent about an hour or so in the ridiculous heat watering flowers.  Of course during that time my precious girls found the perfect two female kittens to bring home with us!

Yes, two.  Yes, female.  I am hoping Oliver will be less likely to kill/lead off female kittens.  Hoping, hoping, hoping.  Especially since the girls have held the little sweeties nearly nonstop since we left my folks.

Kelsey is absolutely in love with them.  They are NOT in love with her.  They only want to spit at her and scratch her nose.  This makes her all worked up, and she ends up yipping and nipping them on the behind.  I hope they work out their differences soon.  Kelsey was never a concern, as she has always adored baby kittens.  However, these kittens are a few weeks older than the others I've brought to her, so they are a little more leery.

Please remind me of their cute factor when I'm griping at my destroyed caladiums in a week.

Thankfully Oliver has no use for them.  He walked into the garage where they were.  They hissed and spit at him, arching their little backs and running away.  He ran under our car to hide, realized they were tiny little threats, plopped down on his belly, narrowed his eyes at them and went to sleep.

Hopefully this status quo doesn't change.

The story we've told the girls is the kittens will NOT be in the house.  They may not survive.  It's called the circle of life.  They will be sad, but they will have to deal with it.

And now let the comments begin about spaying/neutering pets and that indoor pets live longer safer lives...

I can take it.  But you gotta admit:  They are pretty stinkin' cute!