Freckled Arms…

August 8, 2018

Held my children as babies, waved to parade passers by, hugged friends, held books, and carried groceries. In fact, my entire body has freckles stemming from my Scots-Irish background.

Many remarks spoken and numerous stares that say unkind things wordlessly have crossed the lips and eyes of people all through my life.

I’ve created with my freckled hands, kissed with my freckled face, bore children from my freckled body.

I’ve lived.

The Correct Tools..

December 15, 2016

Can make all the difference in life. Whether in housework, love, or career the availability and use of them can make things go a lot smoother. 

For years I’ve hated mopping floors. Each time, I’d always think…need to buy one.Three weeks ago on impulse I bought one. The model is plastic in every sense, but my outlook has changed dramatically. The first time I put the mop head in the wringer and did the twist the world of floors became less dreadful for me. To think I wasted all that time just because I didn’t go ahead and make the purchase. 

Love is a bit trickier than floors. You cannot purchase something that will instantly make you successful in this area.  Love comes from an intimate place, one that is personal and unique to every individual. There are things that can help you move towards it in the form of being friendly and open with those to whom you would like to love whether in friendships or romantic notions. You can use these ‘tools’ to further your chances in this area.

Tools are essential for careers in the sense of responsibility, drive, direction, cooperation, and integrity . Integrity is a tool because it is a self-instilled action that will reflect overall results in one’s  business whether as employee or employer. 

Having the correct tools can make all the difference, whether in our personal world or the world in general.  Lets learn to acquire the right tools and utilize them to build the best of both worlds. 

Clear Monday…

July 11, 2016

Not blue skies, but rather mind clutter. Sometimes it is good for one to decide enough is enough. Pity parties are good on a minuscule note, as you can see what you want to change concerning your life. It is not a party to which you want to retain a standing invitation.

You are your best friend. You will never ever have another person travel with you on this earth as closely as yourself. There in the sunshine, rain, cool mornings, lazy afternoons, lunch hours, early morning hours when no one is there…you are.

You are enough. Feel your feelings. Think your thoughts. Love yourself. 

KJV Matthew 22:39… Thou shalt love thy neighbor  AS THYSELF.  

Understand, this is the second commandment that Jesus told to the questioner when asked what the great commandments were. The first being, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. 

On these TWO commandments hang ALL the law and the prophets. 

Notice He said, “thou shalt”, not “thou shouldest” on BOTH of these. 

Go read it for yourself. Think about it. Study it. 

Matthew 22: 36-40






Tuesday Musings….

October 7, 2015

Watched yet another ‘tribute’ to someone’s father. I see this all the time. Videos are rampant on the internet with this sort of thing. Whether relatives, lovers, pets, etc., I find myself increasingly annoyed. It’s always the same thing. Panning across the faces of those watching…the sad mopey looks, the tears, the …whatever else. Yep. In a bad mood today. The more I see expressions of ‘love’, the more I detest them.

There is nothing wrong with it, except to me it has become the presentation instead of the actual thing. What happens if you don’t own a video camera, or phone or computer? Then what? All you have are perhaps things in your mind and heart that showed love. Asking someone did they want something to eat when you KNEW they didn’t feel like cooking for themselves. Or better…not saying anything and simply preparing them a light snack and bringing it to them silently. What about making sure there is enough groceries in the house, or cleaning the bathtub…or commode without being asked. Floors…getting swept and mopped. A flower (weed) getting picked by your small child, that you put into a tiny glass on the windowsill where the sun smiles on it. These things are also love. At least kindness…

Today there are so many ‘stars’ you can’t see the tiny light from someone’s eyes when you do a small gesture for them. Everything does not need to be captured on video to be meaningful. Have fun with them…just don’t make them to be the main source of ‘love’. Day by day by day…THAT is love.

This was what we always called it. The formal name of Byrd Manufacturing very seldom crossed our lips. Twenty-six miles one way from our house, my mother made her way to the plant in “Twinkle Town” for around two or three years. She didn’t drive, so she carpooled and in that fifty-two mile round trip she made our living.

Although a manufacturer of men’s shirts, I remember her also talking about ladies blouses, pajamas, and short sets. The beehive of mostly women workers earned their paychecks to live their daily lives in whatever custom their lot in life afforded them. Mama had worked there before and when she and her younger sister went to apply, the people already knew them. My mother was over the age they were looking for, but she looked years younger. The hiring manager was a man and he actually told her this. He put her back to work.

She didn’t sew, but inspected garments for package readiness. She learned to break a collar, and look for sewing flaws like extra buttonholes, or if the garment didn’t hang correctly. This was knowledge she stored away and brought out with every future clothing purchase. Once, she was tying blouse bows and her supervisor brought over one of the big bosses from up North. Mama thought she was in trouble, but they wanted to see how she made her bows. They gave her a blouse and she flipped it around opposite from how she received it, thereby solving the mystery of how she was able to tie such a pretty bow. Afterwards, it was standard procedure. Such a simple concept and Mama had managed to grasp what no one else had.

She would talk about how at lunch she would take her Dr. Pepper and pour  a package of peanuts into the bottle. How the supervisors would make a lot of the women cry and that some of their nerves were shot. Her own words were something in the neighborhood of, “They’ll never make me/ see me shed a tear.” and to my knowledge, she never did.

Her hands began to take offense at the fabric dyes. They would crack and bleed and she would put ointment on them prescribed by the doctor. I remember sitting in her lap scratching the parched skin in her palms with my tiny fingers and she would say how good it felt. Years later when I was grown, we talked about her days there. She said my Nanny (her mother) told her, “You said you would work for them until your hands bled and now you have.” She did exactly that. She loved us and bled for us at the Shirt Factory.

Today I laughed as I fed the second dog turnip greens and pinto beans. I could not believe he ate it. The other one turns up her nose quickly unless she is given her favorites. This one is younger, always happy with his tail in full swing and loves you like he hasn’t seen you for months even if only five minutes have passed. Grateful. That’s the word to describe him. He accepts every scrap you are willing to part with, every pat on the head, each kind word you utter to him and any sort of attention he can garner with relish. He makes you want to love him. My other one is my baby since I’ve raised her from a pup. I still see within her face the young dog of yesteryear, just like I still ‘see’ myself as young. Essentially, we’ve grown old together. We are both in our middle years with her catching up to me in dog years. The younger one baits her with play in the mornings and it is a sight to watch. He ‘blocks’ her and skips around till she chases him a bit and then they continue with the little dance. She’s gained a cousin and I’ve got more good memories to think about. No wonder dogs are called man’s best friend.

It’s All Relatives…

June 21, 2013

Kinship without love is mere bone and sinew

To be ground up and tossed

Into the wind

Whose wings carry it far

Into the heavens

For God Himself to hear the cries

The grave is quiet, the eyes are closed

The heart doth not beat, silent

Is the tongue

Stiff are the hands and the feet

Words of yesteryear, cold as stone,

Yet fresh as Spring

Remember no more, yet remember true

Kinship and words, and the winds that blew

Here today, gone the same,

It all passes by

Kinship is severed for all shall die

Love given or withheld is a choosing of one

The day turns to night

And then it is done

Copyright 2013

Perfect Timing…

May 6, 2013

The dog wanted outside and I opened the door just as my husband and grandson started across the road for the ice cream van. As I watched, my heart swelled with love for the two, one so small with a quick stride and happiness in his little voice and the other, calm strides with a surety of purpose for the mission. I stood there watching as they scanned the menu, all the while my sweet baby’s voice singing like a little bird telling precisely what he wanted. In a moment the deal was done and they came back with goods in hand. I so wished I would’ve had a video of this perfect moment. I will keep it in in my mind’s video. I love these two souls.

I love my children, simple as that. I think each one knows that. I love them as a whole unit and as individuals. Not one of them can ever be replaced. They are woven in my heart, mind, and soul as long as I draw breath. After that, I have no idea, so I won’t go beyond what I know here on Earth. We humans long to believe that love is forever, but forget that forever is not something we really understand. Scores of people through books, scientific studies, and sermons attempt to shed some light on it, but which one of us can really understand? The one thing I know for sure, is someday we each will have that discovery and answer for ourselves. In the meantime, I will love my children to the best of my ability on the limited basis I know here on Terra Firma.

with hummingbirds. Isn’t that wonderful news? Earlier in the summer I became privy to this information from reading on the little beauties. It seems the dirty windows detract from them plowing into what they perceive as more fly space. One day I was at the computer and this ‘thwump’ (my new word) made me turn to see a hummingbird on the deck floor. It was so still I thought it had flown in spirit to the great beyond.  I was afraid to open the door in fear of giving it a heart attack if it wasn’t dead, so I simply bent down close to the door to see if I could determine its status. It lay motionless except for its tiny wings barely fluttering as if it were in neutral gear. I started crying, continuing to watch it a few more minutes. I then decided to turn back to the computer remembering a watched pot never boils. Sure enough a few seconds passed and just as I turned to glance, it rose in flight, my heart soaring along with it in happiness. In less than a week another mishap, only this time there was a flymate and it hovered guardedly over the stunned bird a few seconds before flying off. This bird didn’t take as hard a hit due to the playing and was up in flight faster than the first one.

My nerves were shot, so I researched and found the dirty windows information. It’s a win win situation. I don’t have to clean the patio doors and the birds are safer for it.  I love those birds.