College kid

Just in case I haven't spread the word enough. My razorback's address is 360 Arkansas Rm 301, Fayetteville, Ar 72701. Anything in the mail would make his day. He's studying really hard.

Crossing the river

The first time we crossed today.Notice Chris's clothes are all dry at the time. Fifteen minutes later would be a different story.

On the other side of the Table

On a recent visit to Walmart, there were Girl Scouts selling cookies. This time I got to be the one walking up to purchase cookies. What a weird feeling.For once, I didn't have to watch the girls, didn't have to balace the money or the total sheets, and didn't have to sit there for hours freezing. These were the cutest-ok almost the cutest(mine were the cutest) girls ever and so, so polite. One said thank you, one said to have a good weekend and one offered to help me to the car(bought that many I did).
Troop 97 doesn't sell cookies anymore. Jessie is in her final semester of college-graduating with two degrees. Briana is working and in a serious relationship and looks to be having the time of her life.Emily is married, going to college, has a new baby girl and she still enjoys running. Nicole is back in Ft.Smith-she's engaged. Beth is going to college and working-she's a senior at UALR.Lauren is a Senior at Bauxite trying to decide what college to attend and she works after school.I miss my girls more than words can say but it sure is nice to enjoy a warm cup of tea and cookies on Friday night.

The River

Last weekend ,I learned an important lesson about the horse and the river. The first time a horse crosses the river, the horse will go very slowly pawing at the water to test its depth. The horse may even cross at an angle so that the crossing coinsides with the flow of the river. Upon the return trip, when the horse knows we're headed home, all bets are off. Just hang on tight and hold your feet as high as possible. The horse doesn't care how deep the water is, how cold the water maybe, or how wet you will become.Yea... I'm learning.

Grandmother

It's not the anniversary of her death, but when February rolls around I always think about Grandmother Bell a lot. She died in February over 20 years ago and I still have regrets. I never called her Grandmother enough.Being the oldest of all the grandkids, I coined her nickname-Mop-Mop. Never knew where that name came from but Mop-mop it was.She was a wonderful lady in her own way. She taught me to use a curling iron and bought my first set of luggage. She made beautiful cakes (I didn't say they were delicious, but they were beautiful). She was a wonderful artist. I don't remember her favorite color. I don't know if she watched TV. I never saw her read a book, but I remember her working in the kitchen. She loved for the kids to pick up pecans and she had the most awesome pecan trees I've ever seen. She told me a story about she and her sisters going out in the summer and they got too hot.So these girls slipped behind some bushes and took off their panty hose. Apparently this was really taboo because someone in town saw them and told their mother and all of the girls were in big trouble when they got home. I can't remember her voice, but I remember the way she smelled(and I've looked for this cologne to no avail)and lucky for me I'll always remember the way she felt when she hugged.

Should I Call?

Ever have one of those days when you want to call someone (maybe Paul) to see if something good happened(like getting into nursing school) but you were afraid to ask the question in case the answer was no. Well he only made me suffer Friday and part of Saturday, but the man has been accepted.Now comes all the fun stuff like the TB test, background check, CPR certification. I'm so happy to see his plans falling into place.

The month of Looove

I know it's February and the month of love-the only song I can hear in my head is Tina Turner's "What's love gotta to do with it" over and over. Surely, you can turn me onto another love song.
Cute sappy story? Please tell.

Silver Streak

I couldn't help but notice that my mom hasn't dyed her hair is quite some time. I thought maybe she had just been to busy running the streets and taking care of business. You know Mom takes care of the church, her friends, inlaws, outlaws, and everyone else before she takes some time for herself. Then she sprung the news on me-after 38 years of dying her hair she's sick of it.Wait a minute, she can't have dyed her hair for 38 years she's not that old. Oops. Yes she is.Then I do some math and she's had four kids for over 38 years. Four kids will do that to you.It's not that it looks bad-in fact it's really pretty-very thick and wavy, but it makes her look a little bit more like a Grandma. I guess after nine grandkids(one temp) she's entitled to look like a Grandma. I think the funniest thing is the men. They won't leave her alone. She hasn't opened her own her own car door since she said good bye to Miss Clairol. Forget going to the gas station or hardware store unless you're not on any kind of time schedule.