NO LONGER...

Another funny, but painfully true, e-mail from my niece. However, it doesn't address keyboard germs.


Dear Everyone,

I just want to thank all of you for your educational e-mails over the past year.

Thanks to you, I no longer open a public bathroom door without using a paper towel.

I can't use the remote in a hotel room because I don't know what the last person was doing while flipping through the adult movie channels.

I can't sit down on the hotel bedspread because I can only imagine what has happened on it since it was last washed.

I can't enjoy lemon slices in my tea or on my seafood anymore because lemon peels have been found to contain all kinds of nasty germs including feces.

I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one pass-time while driving alone is picking your nose (although cell phone usage may be taking the number one spot)

Eating a Little Debbie sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons of trans fats I have consumed over the years.

I can't touch any woman's purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public bathroom. Yuck!

I must send my special thanks to whoever sent me the one about poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing.

Also, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny
Brown) who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's novena has granted my every wish.

I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

Thanks to you, I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an email to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

Because of your concern I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer can buy gasoline without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas..

I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put "Under God" on their cans.

I no longer use Saran wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.

And thanks for letting me know I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face...disfiguring me for life.

I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or FedEx since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.

I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica, Uganda and Singapore and Uzbekistan.

EATING CRAYONS...

Just the smell of crayons can make you feel young again. Seeing all those colors in Crayola's 64 pack made you long to be an artist. My favorite color was periwinkle. Not only can you still buy the wonderful 64 pack but you can get color pencils, markers and just for moms...washable markers.

If your kid tries to eat a crayon, you can now buy a soy crayon, Prang Fun Pro. If you want some adventure in your world of art, you can make your own soy crayons. I found this recipe at www.agintheclassroom.org.

SOYBEAN CRAYONS

Materials:
* 600 ml beaker
* Hot plate
* Candy molds
* About 1 1/2 cups fully hydrogenated soybean oil (soy flakes)
* 4 teaspoons pigment

Instructions:
Fill the beaker with the soybean oil.
Place the beaker on the hot plate on the low setting.
Allow the solid oil to liquefy while stirring occasionally.
Add the pigment after oil is liquefied. Stir until it is evenly distributed in oil.
When the pigment is evenly distributed, remove the beaker from the heat.
Pour into candy molds.
Cool 1/2 hour.
Remove the crayon.

Soyflakes can be found at major craft and hobby stores.

IT WAS HAIL...

When bad weather is predicted for Mississippi, my son and daughter-in-law will usually have it first in Texas. Last week when I heard that we'd have the threat of tornadoes again, I called Cole to tell him to watch the weather. He said they generally don't get much rain so he really didn't expect any.

They got hail. Both of the photos are of the hail that was blown in under covered porches. The yard was covered.

They also see scorpions in the wood pile!

POLYGAMY...

I’m sure that most of you have followed the story about the polygamous community in West Texas.

After a call from an alleged 16-year-old girl who claimed sexual abuse, 416 children have been taken into state custody and will undergo DNA tests to determine who their parents are.

Several mothers have been interviewed and their way of thinking is hard for most of us to understand. Most of them were born and raised in this religion and believe it to be the right way.

In an effort to save these children, scared and separated from their mothers, it is they who are truly suffering. While authorities sort through this tangled family tree, would it be better for all involved if women and children were allowed to stay at the compound and the men were required to leave?

What are your thoughts?

THINKING OF YOU...

Every morning I get up at 5:30 and stumble to the coffee pot, reach for the cream and sugar...and think of our good friends, Donna and Ricky Hunt. When Sid and I married, they gave us the creamer and sugar set, in one of my Good Earth patterns from their gift shop/soda fountain/pharmacy in Forest.

Right after our wedding our neighbors and friends in Forest hosted a party for us and each brought us a Christmas ornament. We remember who gave us each ornament and we think of them each time we hang them on our trees. Donna and Ricky gave us a couple of Jim Shore ornaments, one of which was a mailbox. Donna, an artist, painted our address on the tiny mailbox.

My niece Tina and her husband Joey gave us a wonderful welcome sign that hangs outside our door. Joey cut a message and our names into sheet metal and not only do we get a lot of compliments on it but I think of them each time I walk through the door.

Some people just seem to have a knack, always seeming to give just the perfect gift. If you want your friend to think of you often, give them a gift they'll use often with fond thought.

How do you choose when shopping for gifts? Do you give money, gift cards or do you spend a lot of time looking for the perfect gift?

SUCH A SLACKER...

Daughter Kate, a college senior, called us today in a very happy mood. She said she made 103 on a history test. She's such a slacker :)
We're very proud...

TRY THIS AT HOME...

Try this at home...as many times as you like.
1) Sit and cross your right leg over your left.
2) Make clockwise circles with your right foot.
3) While doing this, draw the number "6" in the air with your right hand. Your foot will change direction.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME...

A great e-mail passed along from my niece...

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, 'Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday.' Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.!

'Jack, did you hear me?'

'Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago,' Jack said.

'Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it,' Mom told him.

'I loved that old house he lived in,' Jack said.

'You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stopped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life,' she said

'He's the one who taught me carpentry,' he said. 'I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important ... Mom, I'll be there for the funeral,' Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time.

Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time. The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture ... Jack stopped suddenly.

'What's wrong, Jack?' his Mom asked.

'The box is gone,' he said.

'What box?' Mom asked.

'There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'' Jack said.

It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

'Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him,' Jack said. 'I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom.'

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. 'Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days,' the note read.

Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. 'Mr.Harold Belser' it read. Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

'Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett.It's the thing I valued most in my life.' A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch.

Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved:

'Jack, Thanks for your time! - Harold Belser.'

'The thing he valued most was ... my time'

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. 'Why?' Janet, his assistant asked.

'I need some time to spend with my son,' he said.

'Oh, by the way, Janet, thanks for your time!'

'Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away,'

Think about this. You may not realize it, but it's 100% true.

1. At least 2 people in this world love you so much they would die for you.

2. At least 15 people in this world love you in some way.

3. A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don't like you.

4. Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep.

5. You mean the world to someone.

6. If not for you, someone may not be living.

7. If you have a great friend, take the time to let them know that they are great.

MOTHERS...

With Mother's Day just around the corner, grandson Rowan, now 4, is planning what to give his mom. This is a photo of Jessi's first Mother's Day when Rowan was just seven months old.

He had just gotten up from a nap and was being so sweet. They were both unaware that I was taking the photo and it's turned out to be one of my favorites.

Sister-in-law Judy, (better known as Goddess to her grandson Kesler) sent me the best e-mail about mothers/moms/grandmothers. It deserves to be shared. The author is unknown.


MOTHERS and MOMS

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's okay honey, Mommy's here."

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers
who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at baseball and softball games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars. And that when their kids asked, 'Did you see me, Mom?' they could say, 'Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world,' and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read "Thumpity-Thump Gets Dressed," twice a night for a year. And then read it again, "just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before
they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to throw a ball.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home – or even away at college – or have their own families.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them. For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it in her heart? Is it the ache she feels when she watches her son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes her from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put her hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when she just wants to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in her home?

Or the need to flee from wherever she is and hug her child when she hears news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation...

And for mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us...

Hang in there. In the end we can only do the best we can. Tell them
every day that we love them. And pray and never stop being a mother...

Please pass along to all the mothers in your life.

“Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all fall.”

Please pass this to a wonderful mother you know.

SINGING WITH THE STONES...

Some people sing in the shower, some people sing in the car, maybe even in the closet...but everybody sings.

Grandson Rowan was visiting over the weekend and realized that he'd left his guitar at our house. He went to the guest room to fetch it from the closet and strummed it a couple of times. It was really out of tune but that didn't matter to him. He belted out "You Can't Always Get What You Want." Sid and I were doubled over in the kitchen. He knew a lot of the words and it was great! By the time he got back to the kitchen we told him it was wonderful and asked him where he heard it. "My mama's radio," he said.

So...what do you sing when no one is around?

DANCING WITH THE STARS...

Do you watch Dancing with the Stars? It makes you want to rush right down to the dance studio for lessons.

I've watched it each season and one thing's for sure – you can't tell who'll win. It depends a lot on viewer voting but some of these stars really improve as the competition continues.

At first I thought Kristi Yamaguchi would surely win. I'm surprised how good Marlee Matlin is and I was surprised how bad Monica Seles was.

I also can never tell how the judges will score them. Last week I thought Marlee Matlin's performance was excellent and they scored her with all 7s. Jason Taylor has been doing very well but this week he had a couple of flubs and they told him that he was forgiven and scored him pretty high. Priscilla Presley has also done very well.

The weakest two remaining seem to be Adam Carolla and Marissa Jaret Winokur. The judges didn't seem too impressed with his unicycle and they've been pretty hard on her. I think that everyone expected, including the judges, that she would do really well because of her performance in Hairspray. Must be quite a difference when it comes to ballroom dancing.

Who's your favorite? Who do you think will win?

I'VE BEEN TAGGED...

The rules are:

1. The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.
2. Each player answers the questions about themselves.
3. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

What I was doing 10 years ago:
Working a zillion hours a week as managing editor of The Scott County Times in Forest, MS and raising kids who were then ages 13, 15, 17.

Five things on my to do list today:
1. Work, work, work deadlines
2. Mail computer software to my son
3. Buy a photo scanner
4. Mail tax return
5. Fill up with gas

Snacks I enjoy:
1. Fruit
2. Pringles
3. Cashews

Three of my bad habits:
1. Banana popsicles
2. Reese's peanut butter cups
3. Coffee

Five places I have lived:
1. Lake, Miss.
2. Forest, Miss.
3. Ridgeland, Miss.
4. Brandon, Miss.
5. Forest, Miss.

Five jobs I’ve had:
1. Sales clerk in clothing store
2. Newspaper reporter
3. Photographer – newspaper and wedding
4. Designer – newspaper and ad agency
5. Editor – newspaper and magazine

People I want to know more about (a nice way of saying TAG!):
1. twicker
2. leroy
3. Rusty
4. Jennifer
5. Katy

GOING HOME ALONE...

We all crave independence and hold tightly to it once we have it. As soon as a child can string words together you’ll hear “I can do it myself.” Next they want the training wheels off their bicycle, they want to drive the car, make their own money, live on their own and hopefully pay their own bills. An elderly person who no longer should drive will cling tightly not just to the car keys but to the independent life that it represents.

Lenore Skenazy’s 9-year-old son wanted to prove that he could get home from downtown Manhattan. Skenazy, a columnist for The New York Sun, writes in a recent column that she left her son at Bloomingdale’s in Manhattan to find his way home. Shenazy gave him $20, a subway map and a Metrocard for the subway. He made it home safely and was thrilled at his accomplishment.

I was always aware that my kids loved independence but I was overly cautious. Even at a young age my middle child would always lag behind because it was some kind of adventure to him. It always scared me and I was constantly telling him to hurry. I wouldn’t let my daughter walk one block to school because “something might happen.”

So…I don’t think that I could do what Skenazy did no matter how much my child begged. How do you handle your child's thirst for independence?

MY RUBY RED GLASSES....

Last weekend, Sid and I went to Oxford to visit daughter Kate. After breakfast at The Beacon, a fun walk around town and the usual visit to Square Books, we headed to The Depot – a neat antique shop and flea market. Kate loves to go there for book finds and thought we’d like the antiques. It looked full of treasures so we went in different directions.

For years I have searched for the perfect red glasses. I wanted heavy, deep-red goblets that I could use often and certainly for Christmas, Valentines’ Day and the Fourth of July. The only glasses I could ever find were either the wrong shade of red, not heavy enough, not enough of them…it was always something wrong with them.

Then…there they were. I held one. It was heavy, the perfect shade of red and there were 12 of them. I put it back and thought. Did I really want to spend that much? Did I really want to worry about getting them home without breaking one? So…I walked around to give it some thought.

Sid joined me later and said that he’d found what he was getting me for Mother’s Day. I was shocked. It was the red glasses and I had never mentioned that I have searched forever for them.

We ended the trip with dinner at Taylor Grocery and then headed home. The red goblets look fabulous in the dining room.

It was only as I looked for a photo on the Net that I discovered that they were made in the early 70s for the Henry Ford Museum. In tiny letters on each of the glasses are the initials HFM. And…we got them at a bargain.

DO YOU COLLECT?

Everyone collects something. For me, it’s items that are worth very little. I enjoy collecting Hawaiian prints, buttons, cameras and newspaper items.

My interest in collecting started as a child. My grandmother was a talented seamstress and made almost all of my clothes. She never threw a button away. When a garment was worn out, the buttons were taken off and used on a new garment.

I spent many happy hours at her house sorting through the jars of buttons. I’m sure she was keeping me entertained but I thought that I was looking through treasure. I’d sort the more glamorous and shiny ones and then I’d group matching ones. When she died my aunt gave me a jar of her buttons and some of them I remembered from childhood. I guess she never made a dress they’d look just right on.

I also enjoy collecting old cameras. Friends and family often find them at yard sales and flea markets and send them to me. I always like to find another font in lead newspaper type. From years of working in the newspaper business I’ve come to love hearing the press run and the smell of newsprint.

Sid and I collect unusual bottles. A trip a while back to the liquor store was funny. I walked in looking around and a gentleman there asked if he could help me. I told him I was looking for a red bottle. “What type wine?” he asked. I told him it didn’t matter, it could even be hard liquor, but I wanted a good-looking bottle, as cheap as possible. He stood for a moment staring at me until I explained that I needed a cool red bottle for our bottle tree. I guess relieved that I was not buying cheap, crappy liquor for someone, he promptly directed me to a nice red bottle with some kind of wine in it. I bought several, poured the wine down the drain and decorated our tree.

ONE WAY...

This is a video about Oprah Winfrey. I am a Christian and this disturbs me. I hope that she means that we're all trying to get to Heaven. Please watch and tell me what you think.
Sorry, but you'll have to copy and paste.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=pwGLNbiw1gk