Memories and Verbosity

We started planting our garden this weekend. No, I didn't take pictures. My camera battery was dead. Planting the garden is one of our favorite things to do as a family. All of us get out there and get dirty. Studmuffin tills. I rake. The girls help plant, water, and do their share of raking too. We love it. Now, gardening reminded me of a story. Aren't you excited?

I went to the shop to get a hammer to drive the stakes we made to label our rows. I found the hammer Popcorn got Studmuffin for Christmas. She was so cute. She knew exactly what she was getting her daddy for Christmas. We walked in Walmart, and she said "I'm going to buy Daddy a new lawnmower!" I explained that her budget didn't really allow for a lawnmower. "Well, then, I'm going to buy him a hammer." And she did. She bought him the biggest hammer in Walmart she could find.

This Christmas Bookworm was equally decided on what she would get me for Christmas. I had strongly hinted at some warm socks *okay, I took them to the sock aisle and pointed to the exact socks I wanted.* She went with Studmuffin to buy my present. Guess what she bought me? The new Operation Game! How perfect! Every nurse needs their very own game of Operation, that now comes in a handy dandy doctor's case!

I don't know if I told you this story way back in December. The truth is, I'm too lazy to do a search in my own blog. Also, when you're as wordy as I am, your bound to repeat yourself at least 26 times. Your also bound to offer frequent apologies. Yep, when you have a mouth that moves as much as mine you offend people. So, I'm given to frequent apologies too. Sometimes I'll just randomly apologize for any offense I could have given during a conversation. Repeat and apologize, repeat and apologize. That's my system. You'd think I'd learn to just shut up, but that just doesn't work so well.

Oh, I've tried to be quiet. Truly, I have! Don't think I don't see you rolling your eyes and murmuring "yeah, right!" I did try to be quiet. But then the pressure started to build. I started trembling. My tongue started to have spasms. My jaw became tense. My brain began to spin and whirl in such a way that I could no longer keep up with my thoughts. My chest became tight. My lungs were over filled with all of the hot air I usually exhale so freely in my dialogues. And then.......I exploded.

It wasn't pretty. I started to talk. And talk. And talk. I talked to my family. I talked to the grocery store clerk. I talked to the poor unfortunate soul trying to buy yogurt and be on their merry way. I talked to the young man who obviously needed my coaching on picking appropriate produce. I chatted up the lady slicing my Virginia brand ham in the deli. I fellowshipped (there's a good Baptist word for ya!) with my checker. I flagged down my neighbor and asked them about their day, then proceeded to tell them every minute detail of mine. I talked to the dog, the cat, and of course Studmuffin. Eventually I went to bed with my thoughts continuing to whirl and twirl in my brain, where I'm sure I talked in my sleep.

So, I learned a very valuable lesson......

I will talk.

I will talk a lot.

I will talk fast.

I will talk loud.

I will talk erroneously.

But. I. Will. Talk.

I will be teased for my talking. My beloved family will feel the need to point out my tendency towards verbosity. I will agree with them. (after all, to deny it is ridiculous). But I will continue to talk. I must. I have a vast fount of information that I must share, and I must share it quickly. So, I will talk.

It's truly an unstoppable force. It's quite sad, really. Yep, I learned my lesson. I will never take a fifteen minute vow of silence again. The world is just not ready for the consequences.

Are they disappointed?

I'm sure you've noticed the Feedjit traffic map on the lower right hand side of my blog. I copied the idea from my sister. It's been amusing to see what people find interesting, or what they stumble across in their quest for knowledge on the world wide web.

I've noticed many find me through The Original Prairie Woman. What sort of research involves learning about my grandma? Are they on a quest to write the perfect historical romance novel? Do they need inspiration for the heroine of their novel? Were they inspired to learn of a woman who would face down armadillos and rattlers with her trusty .22 rifle, then clean the blood out of her pristine carpet leaving nary of sign of blood shed? Or are there truly that many people who just have a burning need for knowledge regarding all things prairie?

Are the Canadians who were researching the origins of hockey shocked to learn it was all started by a dried out biscuit? Were they disappointed to learn it didn't have a more auspicious and heroic origin? Or did they decide I was just a big fat liar, and leave disgusted that they wasted their time on one who gleefully and blatantly lies to their children?

And who would have thought so many people needed help patching jeans? Were they disheartened to realize it involved a kazillion steps? I hope they found the info they needed interspersed between my completely frivolous extra steps that I must add to entertain myself.

Well, whatever brought you to my bizarre world of rambling, I hope you were moderately entertained. Even if I do feel the need to use 20 words when maybe 3 would have sufficed.

How to Tell if Your Husband is a Redneck

Not that I ever had any questions about mine...But if your hubby displays similar behavior...Take my word for it...He's a true redneck!

So, I was sitting in my recliner blogging (of course) when Studmuffin got home from work. He was rattling the front knob, and trying to frantically unlock it. By the time I peeled my worthless tookus out of my chair, he was in, had dropped his stuff on the floor, had shouted "There's a coyote in the back yard!" and headed to the bedroom for his......GUN!!!

He appeared a few minutes later totin' his gun and calls. I stayed in the house to watch the excitement through the window. I could see the coyote in the field behind us. He was trotting up the fence line west of us, heading north (away from the house.) The Canadian geese are back. They were just north of our house. I could hear Studmuffin using his call. The coyote would slow down, look over his shoulder, and resume his trot into town. However, when the geese heard the call, they would all stand up and look at our house. The dogs were pretty excited by the noise too. The coyote was too weary of our house and although the was interested, he wasn't trusting Studmuffin's wounded animal sounds.

I, of course, lost interest and went to gather up some laundry. I passed back through the living room to discover this:


Studmuffin was standing in the house watching the coyote walk all the way into town. He stopped at a pond, then Studmuffin lost track of him. Yep, you might be a redneck if you use your rifle scope to watch wildlife through your living room window!

I think I encountered this same wily fellow nearly every morning last summer. He was younger then, and he would walk right through my back yard every morning as I would be out weeding my flower beds. However, on the weekends, when Studmuffin was sitting on the porch with his gun loaded and ready for action, he never passed by. Yep, he's on to Studmuffin's game. We'll see who comes out the winner in the end!

Hey, and for anyone who noticed my bare gazebo...I DO NOT recommend gazebos with cloth covers for Oklahoma. The previous owners had purchased the one we have the fall of 'o7, and anchored it to the concrete slab in the back. The frame stayed put, but the cover didn't last through the summer. The wind tore it to bits....Now we're trying to decide what to do about it. Buy a heavier canvas? Cover it with a light weight wood for an arbor effect? Tear it down and build an arbor out of lumber and relocate the gazebo to a different area of the yard?

Of course, we are in the middle of trying to get a fence built for the backyard, and getting a garden in. The porch cover is on the back burner for now...But it's still something I think about. Oh well, these rambles are for another day........

Wednesday's Wardrobe

Sorry this post is late. I started it yesterday, planned on adding photos, but never got around to taking them. Typical....Oh, well...Here it is, bare of visual images.

Popcorn has always had wardrobe issues. Correction: I have always had issues with Popcorn's wardrobe choice. Sadly, for the most part I've given up on having much control over what she chooses to wear. I offer advice, but if she chooses to ignore it, I give a mental shrug and go on with my day. Now, I realize that many mom's (my friends included) would shudder if their child appeared in public like Popcorn does. But, as long as she's clean and decently covered, I'm pretty lax on what she wears. For example, she wore her Halloween costume for months when she was four. She was a cat that year. Every morning she would put on her kitty ears, tail, and collar, and off we'd go to run our errands!

Today's wardrobe:

Shirt: Yellow and white striped polo shirt with a silver logo over the pocket.

Pants: Pink corduroy pants with a purple flower embroidered on the right lower leg. I swear these pants fit fine just a few weeks ago. But now, they are short on her, but she loves them. Today, she swore they were the first thing she grabbed. *Ahem*, I happen to know that could not be true because I just put 3 clean pairs of jeans on top of these very pants....Moving on...

Socks: Sky blue bobby socks. Doesn't seem like such a big deal, right? Well, her pants are so short that the entire sock shows. And even though I'd like to pretend the pants could be mistaken for capri pants, they can't....It. Just. Won't. Work. Believe me, I tried to tell myself this all morning.


On her feet? Her sister's tennis shoes from last year. They are fine, but they are dingy. Apparently she had a sudden growth spurt, because her favorite black shoes were suddenly so tight this Sunday she couldn't hardly walk when we got home, and she'd worn them the Sunday before with no problems. I guess she's having the same situation with her tennis shoes.

Coat: She put on her pink fleece jacket. It is a jacket that zips inside of a coat to add warmth. I purposely bought the coats a little big so they could hopefully wear them next year. Consequently, this little jacket is just a tad too big for her. And it shows. It hangs down to about the middle of her thighs.

So, there my child went.....Strolling into school with her mismatched clothes, too short pants, and too big jacket. I had to laugh when I saw her skipping in the door. My child looks like an orphan. But I'm okay with that if she's okay with that. Really, I am. Seriously. I'm totally over her mismatched, too small clothes. I'm totally secure in my momminess....I don't need confirmation of well dressed children to reflect my value as a mother. I don't. Not at all......Nope......I'm Oooooookaaaaay.

Why are you doubting me?

Herding Cats

We used to have a house cat. She was beautiful cat. She was colored like a siamese, but she had incredibly long fur and blue eyes. She was one of the most gorgeous cats I've ever seen. Her name was Satan.









Just kidding. Her name was Mitts, but it could have been Satan. She was not friendly. We took her with us any time we went to see our parents. But, nobody ever new she was there. She spen the entire time hiding under the bed. She liked Studmuffin. But that was it. She tolerated me, because I came with Studmuffin, so she really had no other choice.

She used to sleep on top of Studmuffin. One time he was napping on the couch, and she had fallen asleep on his chest.

Wait. I need to hit the pause button on our little tale here. I need to describe our living room at the time. We had the same couches we have now, arranged at right angles to each other. We also had a long coffee table that sat in between them. The coffee table, of course, was a hand-me-down from my mother-in-law. It was the same table Studmuffin grew up with, as a matter of fact. It was approximately 6 feet long. It had a cabinet in the middle, and two open areas on other ends with decorative finials. These open areas were approximately 18 inches square and about 2 feet tall.

Okay, back to our tale: Studmuffin is asleep, Mitts is sleeping on his chest.

You know, cats are fickle. When they are done with you, they're done. Mitts decided she was done with her nap. She stood up and tried to get down. Notice I said tried. She started to get down. Studmuffin jerked into action. He grabbed for the cat. He chased the cat. Down his body. Onto the floor. And under the coffee table.

The cat escaped to the other side. Studmuffin calmly climbed out from under the table, and laid back down. Mitts hid around the other side of the table and sat there, panting and looking terrified.

A moment passes....

Studmuffin sits up and looks at me with a very confused look on his face.....

"Did I just do something weird?"


I laughed so hard, I almost wet my pants.

An Interesting Place for Flowers

When I first began working as a nurse's aide, I had stars in my eyes. I was living in this ivory tower of dreams where I would change the world one patient at a time. I was going to bring a sunny smile and a positive attitude.

It was with this attitude that I eagerly arrived at work every day. To take vital signs. Give baths. Wipe bottoms. Clean up vomit. Change sheets. Feed people. It was a bit of an eye opener. And yet, I loved it. Still do. Nursing is definitely a calling that is not for everyone, but if you can look passed the "job" you will be truly blessed by the impact you do make on others each day.

But, enough of the sappy stuff. You get the picture. I arrived to work with stars in my eyes, and an extremely rose colored view of the world. I was working night shift at this time. I was eagerly doing my duties when I was called to another floor to help tend a patient. This particular lady was a very prominent member of the community. She was very well off and very well known. She also happened to have Alzheimer's. She normally had a 24 hour sitter with her at home, but for some reason her sitter was unable to be with her at this time.

I don't know your knowledge base of Alzheimer's but let me tell you, people that may do fine and be able to function okay at home, but when placed in a new environment, they struggle.

So, I was called to stay with this lovely, albeit confused, lady. She was agitated, and angry. I arrived, sunny as a daisy, ready to charm her into doing just what I wanted...Which was to go to bed. She did not want to go to bed. She wanted to get out of bed. She wanted to go home. She wanted her husband. She did not want me. I was trying to distract her. I offered to find a tv show for her. She ordered me to turn off the tv immediately. I did. I tried to convince her to rest for awhile. She told me to get away from her. That's when I spotted them. She had a BEE-YOO-TEE-FUL flower arrangement in her window. I was desperate for distraction. I was determined to charm her into bending to my will.

"What a beautiful flower arrangement! Who sent these to you?" I picked them up for her to admire.

"How lovely!" Her entire face transformed. She smiled at me with the most charming smile you can imagine. "At last" I thought, "she's starting to like me!"

"Do you know what I want you to do with those lovely flowers, young lady?" She continued to smile at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"What?" I was so pleased with myself.

She smiled at me and said in the most pleasant voice imaginable, "I want you to take those flowers and SHOVE THEM UP YOUR A%*!!!!"

Oh. My. Goodness. That was not what I was expecting. However, I was still determined to charm her, so thinking very quickly I said, "Well, not today. I would hate to mess up such a lovely arrangement!" And I put them back in the window.

Yep. I was a charming soul back in the day. Too bad she couldn't see it!

Me and the Mafia

Did you know I've had intimate dealings with the mafia? Yep. You just never know who you will encounter as a nurse. Okay, this time I was a student nurse. My friend Amy and I were in nursing school. We were both working at a hospital as nurse externs. This particular hospital had a contract with the federal prison systems.

This contract meant we had prisoners from all over the country. They would have 2 armed guards on them at all times, and depending on their crime, they may have 2 additional armed guards outside the door. They were all shackled to the bed. There were all sorts of safety restrictions we had in dealing with these particular patients...But that is irrelevant to today's tale.

You see, Amy and I had to do a particularly.....Errrr......intimate procedure on a particular patient. He was a shriveled up little man. He was semi-comatose. He looked like death warmed over. We both discussed how pitiful it was that he was spending the end of his days shackled to a bed, with no family around, with two guards sitting, munching on potato chips and watching Springer....Anyway, we completed the......ummmm......thing that we had to do, that I seriously don't want to shock you with, and we were essentially done for the day.

We gave report to the oncoming shift, and stood around talking. We were just about to head out the door when we hear: CODE BLUE ROOM 445. CODE BLUE ROOM 445.

What? That was our little shriveled prisoner! Being nursing students, we were morbid. We stuck around to see what the excitement was going to bring. Can you guess what it brought?

It brought a man....But not just any man. He was a man in a very expensive dark suit with dark sunglasses, and he arrived in a limo. A LIMO! You have to understand I have never worked in a hospital that was in a good part of town. Completely the opposite. To see a limo in that particular area was nothing short of shocking. And, the dark suit man was not alone. He was surrounded by other dark suit men.

Apparently, when the doctor decided shriveled prisoner man's death was imminent, he got permission from the federal prison system to notify the family. Only, there was a hitch....They said it would be "very bad" if the staff allowed him to pass. In fact, they scared the dickens out of the team working on him. They "saved" the patient. For him to arrest several times more in the next 24 hours, when the "family" agreed that it was fine to let him pass.

After all of the drama we found out that our pitiful little shriveled prisoner was actually a very powerful man. A man with enough power that it would be "very bad" if he was deceased. He was with the mafia. I have no idea who he was or what his role was, but apparently he needed to be alive as long as possible.

You just never know who you will meet in that bed. It could be a housewife, a plumber, a preacher, a farmer, or just your ordinary run of the mill Soprano. Yep, you just never know!