Giving Thanks and Walmart Shopping

We just got back late this afternoon from a week long Thanksgiving visit with Sprout in fly-over country. Stoicdad has a horrible fear of flying so we drove...two days up and two days back. Under normal circumstances, this would have been enough "bonding" time to end a twenty-seven year marriage, but we took Bridey and cousin Pedro with us so we had to be on our best behavior. Sprout was glad to see us, VERY glad to see Bridey. She is staying on an extra week so that they can go hunting for an apartment and do other such getting-hitched type stuff.

On the way up and back, we spent the night at the home of my mother's sister. It's been eight years since I have seen my aunt. She moved away about ten years ago, around the time my mom died. I did not realize just how much I missed her and her family. We stayed up talking and reminiscing and laughing and she looks so much like Mama and sounds just like her and moves just like her and laughs like her and thinks like her. It was nice to have someone else remind ME that it was Mama's birthday for a change. Mama would have turned seventy-one last week had she lived. She and my aunt were so close and so funny together. Sigh! How I miss those days.

But the most exciting thing about our little trip is that our hotel stood just across the parking lot from a Walmart. Now, normally I don't do the Black Friday shopping thing BUT when Walmart is so close you can spit on it, well, if that ain't a sign from God, I don't know what is. I woke up at 4:30 A.M., looked out the window and saw a stream of headlights heading into the Walmart parking lot and decided to brush my teeth, throw on some clothes and grab my purse. I left Stoicdad a note that said "Gone to Walmart" just in case I never made it back. I got there and just happened to be at the exact door where the portable DVD players were and managed to get a couple without a fight and made it back to the hotel by 5:30 and Stoicdad was none the wiser.

The poor man could wake up completely broke one day and not have a clue.

Another Funny From the General

As I've said here before, my grandkids remind me often that I sometimes cuss. I didn't realize that I cuss so much, but hey, I'm raised in the south. It's in "mah bluud". Anyway, I now own a coin bank that the grandkids remind me to fill each time I say a bad word. The other day they were over and we were putting those shiny State quarters into their little collection books. They enjoy this and they earn and learn in the process. I have promised them that as soon as they get them all, they can go buy something and start collecting all over again.

Anyway, we had one quarter left over that they didn't need and the Little General asks me what to do with the quarter. I point to the cussin' jar and tell her to put it in. She holds the quarter to the slot on the jar and looks at me with that sly little grin and says "say a cuss word, Grandma".

Well hey! No need to waste a perfectly good quarter.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! All Tuxedos, Fitted and Paid For

We have all been trying to encourage Sgt. York to be the ring-bearer in Sprout's wedding(or ring-barrier, as the child at my niece's wedding called himself). He balks. Two years ago Sgt. York was in his cousin's wedding (he was four years old then, a mere child) and as he speed-walked down the aisle, he dangled the ring-pillow from the pretty satin ribbon that was meant to hold the rings (wisely, no rings were attached) and swung it back and forth all the way to the altar. The audience giggled. We did not know until now how that laughter affected Sgt. York. He does not want to be laughed at again. So, we have tried every means of persuasion. Bribery, threats, empathy (do it for a soldier)...nothing was working. But hey, they don't call me GRANDma for nothing.

I decided that if we couldn't get him on a childish level, maybe we could get him on a manly level. As we rode home together the other day, I started talking about the wedding...AGAIN...and I just happened to mention how the men in the wedding party usually sneak out during the reception to decorate the get-away car. I watched in the rear-view mirror as Sgt. York's ears perked up. Now, he was listening. I mentioned all the ideas I had seen on wedding cars. The painting, the tin cans, the condoms (uh-umm, I didn't mention the condoms, but a picture of the car in Steel Magnolias was running through my mind). Well, I had found a way to Sgt. York's heart. THIS he could be a part of. THIS he was willing to endure a little embarrassment for. He wants to be a part of a group of men who vandalize cars for the shear fun of it.

All the other men in the wedding party have been fitted for tuxes and now I felt sure it was time to snare Sgt. York. I was on a mission. I knew that walking into the tux store and seeing all the suits and trying on a coat in front of big mirrors would be all it would take to push the Sgt. over the edge. It was just a matter of luring him into the car and getting him there. This was my mission and it must not fail. Like the great generals of yore, I only had to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

Suddenly yesterday, the time had come. His dad, Sir Duke, called to ask if I would babysit for a few hours after work and I knew that would be the time to act. I knew that the tux store stayed open until 7:00pm. I figured that if I offered to take the kids to a movie, I would have just enough time after I got off work to run by and pick them up, drive through Friday night traffic out to the tuxedo store, and from there we could move up the road a ways to the movie house. A perfect plan. And it was even enhanced by the time-change because it was good and dark when we drove into the parking lot of the tux store and I could see Sgt. York's eyes light up as he surveyed all the suits in the store window. As we walked up, we saw the store was empty and the Little General tried the door but it appeared to be locked. She couldn't budge it. OH NO!!! I might not get this chance again. I read the schedule on the door and it said they were open for two more hours. I started to panic, but in situations like these cool heads must prevail, and I stopped and put the mission back into focus. After pressing my face against the window once or twice and looking back and forth up the walkway for some sign of hope that my mission was not doomed to be a miserable failure, I decided to try the door myself. The Little General was, after all, the weakest one in our party and an unknowing accomplice...she may have been wrong about the door. Stealthily I grasped the door handle and with all my might (okay...a little bit of my might)I opened the door. Within seconds, we were in. Like taking candy from a baby...Sgt. York did not even realize that he had been snared. And as I suspected, he was in awe of his surroundings. He loved being the center of attention while the nice lady measured his arms and neck and legs. Trying on the coat turned my shy little grandson into Russell Crow on the red carpet. My misson was accomplished. It could not have worked better. We now have complete tuxedo fittage and the over-all plan is still on target. W-day is getting closer and clearer every minute.

Sleepin' At The Foot O' The Bed

It's due to get good and cold tonight...FINALLY. Down into the thirties, so they promise. In honor of warm quilts and snugglin', here's a fun winter poem of old.

Sleepin’ At The Foot O’ The Bed
By Luther Patrick


Did ye ever sleep at the foot o’ the bed
When the weather wuz whizzin’ cold,
When the wind wuz a-whistlin’ aroun’ the house
An’ the moon wuz yeller ez gold,
An give your good warm feathers up
To Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Fred-
Too many kinfolks on a bad, raw night
And you went to the foot o’ the bed-
Fer some dern reason the coldest night o’ the season
An’ you wuz sent to the foot o’ the bed.

I could allus wait till the old folks et
An’ then eat the leavin’s with grace,
The teacher could keep me after school
An’ I’d still hold a smile on my face,
I could wear the big boys’ wore-out clothes
Er let sister have my sled,
But it allus did git my nanny goat
To have to sleep at the foot o’ the bed;
They’s not a location topside o’ creation
That I hate like the foot o’ the bed.

‘Twuz fine enough when the kinfolks come-
The kids brought brand-new games,
You could see how fat all the old folks wuz,
An’ learn all the babies’ names,
Had biscuits an’ custard and chicken pie,
An’ allus got Sunday fed,
But you knowed dern well when night come on
You wuz headed fer the foot o’ the bed;
You couldn’t git by it, they wuz no use to try it,
You wuz headed fer the foot o’ the bed.

They tell me that some folks don’t know whut it is
To have company all over the place,
To rassel fer cover thru a long winter night
With a big foot settin’ in your face,
Er with cold toenails a-scratchin’ your back
An’ a footboard a-scrubbin’ your head;
I’ll tell the wide world you ain’t lost a thing
Never sleepin’ at the foot o’ the bed;
You can live jest as gladly an’ die jest as sadly
‘N’ never sleep at the foot o’ the bed.

I’ve done it, an’ I’ve done it a many uv a time
In this land o’ brave an’ the free,
An’ in this all-fired battle uv life
It’s done left its mark upon me,
Fer I’m allus a-strugglin’ around at the foot
Instead of forgin’ ahead,
An’ I don’t think it’s caused by a doggone thing
But sleepin’ at the foot o’ the bed;
I’ve lost all my claim on fortune an’ fame,
A-sleepin’ at the foot o’ the bed.

John Kerry - Stu-oo-pid!

Here is our military's response to Democrat Senator John Kerry who said "You know, education -- if you make the most of it, you study hard and you do your homework and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well.
If you don't, you get stuck in Iraq."

I pilfered this picture from the Drudge Report. It was just too tempting.