Day One

So, today is DAY ONE in my journey to once again run a half marathon. I walked just under three miles and my IT Bands are not happy.  They were perfectly happy sitting on their metaphorical pretty little rear ends for fifteen months and don't appear to relish the thought of moving again.  But they will move.  

In other preparations I hunted and hunted the house until I found this in its hiding place.

Yep.  That's my old Garmin Forerunner sitting in its charger.  Please notice that the screen is blank.  It is isn't charging.  At all.  It may be dead.  I may have already been on Amazon searching a rfeplacement.

Next I will be looking for ways to train with my right foot in a boot.  This could be interesting.

I am really looking forward to this journey.  My IT Bands...not so much.

 
 

New Goals

So why would pull up an old dusty blog from 2013 and make a new post?

Accountability.

I have made a decision to run the Paducah Iron Mom Half Marathon on May 12, 2018.

A little background may be needed to explain why this is such a momentous decision.  Fifteen months ago I had what can only be a catastrophic fall while running.  Now, I have fallen several times while running to include being chased off a bridge by a renegade goose.  But this time was different. I broke my right arm and bruised my ribs.  And now fifteen months later, I am still dealing with the aftermath of the severe twisting my body that took during this fall.  This week I am beginning PT on the left shoulder which is frozen and having a small foot surgery on the right foot to remove a small piece of broken bone that is dead.  Falling when you are older is not fun.

Since THE FALL as I call it, I have not been able to walk for long much less run.  So I have sat on my pretty little rear end and got out of shape.  My goal is to run, walk, or crawl that half marathon.  And Lord willing, I will.

So why share this with the entire cyberworld? Because I am a champion goal setter.  I set goals all the time.  I write them down.  I read them often.  And I don't complete them.  I want all of you to make me accountable to this goal.  

And with any luck, this will be me again.

               Me finishing my half marathon about six years ago.

Just a Bowl of Bottle Tops

It was just a bowl of bottle tops. It would look like garbage to anyone else. But to me it was the most memorable moment of our Nicaraguan Medical Mission trip.

But let me explain.

The previous September I had joined a team to present a Teacher’s Workshop to the instructors who taught in the schools that are supported by Mision Para Cristo in Jinotega, Nicaragua. The team decided to present a Math Workshop. I searched my mind for some sort of math manipulative that I could use in this workshop that would be low cost and that the Nicaraguans could continue to replicate after the team returned back to the states.

 I hit upon the idea of bottle tops. They were on the ground everywhere we visited in Nicaragua. The teachers could easily have their students collect these if they needed them. Problem solved.

I asked my home congregation, the Las Cruces Church of Christ, to help collect 1500-2000 of these tops to be used in the initial workshop. Which they did.

I then asked Danny Dearest to paint all the tops one of four colors, blue, green, orange, or purple. Which he did.

I then packed up my bottle tops and returned to Jinotega, Nicaragua, and presented my ideas for using them as math manipulatives at the workshop. And I thought that was the end of that.

Until this June.

We had set our clinic up in a school for that day. Miss Emily was helping with the VBS in a different classroom from the one where I was having the eye clinic. Then she came running up with a simple bowl of bottle tops.

These were not the pretty painted ones I had brought in September, these  were better.  These were ones that the teacher had taken on herself to collect and use.  She had taken my idea and made it her own.  

Which was the point to begin with.

Sometimes you feel like your efforts mean nothing,  that the need is so great that you are just spitting in the wind.  But sometimes the news that you are making a difference comes with your granddaughter holding a simple bowl of bottle tops.

Whole Earth Grandma, Here I Come

I came of age during the late sixties and early seventies and, as a result, I was a wannabe hippie.  I had the long straight hair that was parted in the middle. I had large bell bottom jeans.  And I could rock some hip huggers.

And one of the hallmarks of this era was The Mother Earth News magazine.This magazine extolled the virtues of natural living before it was cool.  You could learn to build a cabin, make cheese from the milk of the goats you raised, or make your own shoes.  I thought it was incredible.  I longed to be a part of that group.  I wanted to walk around in my handmade sandals.  I wanted to live on a self sustaining farm and name my children Sunrise, Sunset, or Mostly Cloudy.  That would be the life for me.
 
Except that while I love to plan to do things sometimes I don't have the follow through to complete tasks.. I love to plan my compose pile.  I love to plan a garden.  But, somehow, things never get done.

And  I am lazy.  Much too lazy to grow my own food.  Much too lazy to make my own clothing. Much too lazy to collect rain water for my household use.

It is much easier, and much more fun, to go to the mall.

So fast forward to the present time and I am going once more try to stick the very tip of my toe back into that lifestyle by raising and drying herbs. Don't laugh.  It could happen.

Just call me Paisley Pam.

You may remember my herbs from a earlier post.

(Did you notice the oh so cute markers that I have added. I think the markers will make the herbs  grow so much  better.  Don't you?)

They are growing right along.

After an extensive internet search (five minutes on google), I found a website that shows how to dry herbs in the microwave. I think I can do that. No spreading of herbs on clean sheets in the sunshine and waiting and checking and waiting.  Just pop the herb leaves in the microwave, cook for a few seconds, and remove.  I can do this.

 So, continuing with my love of planning, I know that I will need something to put these aromatic herbs in once they are dried. So what can I use?

Enter IKEA.


After a trip to mecca, otherwise known as IKEA, I found the perfect shelf and jars in which  to encase my precious herbs.  Danny Dearest graciously hung it on the wall for me.

(Fantastic iPhone photography!)

PERFECTION.

Next thing is to find just oh so cute labels for the jars and fill them.  Now I know I that I am growing three varieties of herbs and I have eight jars on the shelf but three jars would have just looked silly on that shelf and it is all about how it looks.  PRIORITIES people. PRIORITIES. We all know that looks are much more important that function.

So the plan is that in the not to distant future, I will be sprinkling my fresh herbs on my delicious home made meals.

Just call Whole Earth Grandma. Or Martha Stewart. Or whatever.

Once a Duck, Always a Duck

 Like all good southern girls, I spent my Friday nights at the War Memorial stadium cheering on the mighty Mayfield Cardinal football team. In between the flirting, gossiping, and drama that is the lifeblood of high school, there was some football played.  I think.  I was very involved in the flirting, gossiping, and drama so I'm not really sure how much football was actually played. 

 The point was that the Cardinals, be they football, basketball, chorus, or whatever, were very important to our young hearts. And the hearts of our small town.

GO CARDS!

But every small town has the high school mascot that they hold near and dear and Taylor is no different. In Taylor, TX the mascot that lives in the hearts of its citizens is...the duck. Yes, Danny Dearest and I  are now a part of the Taylor Ducks. Where, apparently, the motto is "Once a duck, always a duck".

GO DUCKS!

And this town embraces their ducks.

One of the selling points for Taylor when we were looking around (other than the fact that my grandbabies live here), was Murphy Park.   Murphy Park is a wonderful green space that stretches through the center of town. It has playscapes for the younger set, swimming pool, large trees, and a very nice path for walking and running.  And this.

(I especially like the little duck that appears to be flying.)

These signs are placed at the cross streets in Murphy Park because the park is full of ducks, geese, and cranes that enjoy the lake that is an part and parcel to the park and they do not yield the right of way to oncoming vehicles because they are, after all, THE Taylor Ducks.

As a rule, the local fowl are a friendly sort.  They will eat bread if you bring it and generally ignore you while you bask in their glory if that is what you want.  All except one.

 

The dreaded TURKEY DUCK!

This member of the bird family looks like the cross between a duck and a turkey.  And he got the worse attributes of both animals.  I mean a duck with a wattle?  A wattle for crying out loud.

And, in general a very foul deposition for a fowl.  ( Did you see what I did there?  Har Har  Har!)

And when an older woman (that would be me) wants to use the trail in Murphy Park to run in order to improve her general health, this frightful duck will chase the hapless runner, nipping at her legs.  He will run under her feet in attempt to make her trip and fall.  He will flap his massive wings to scratch her calves. I have personally experienced his techniques in combat against runners in "his" park. And he is evil, pure evil with wings.  And a wattle.  Don't forget the stinking wattle.

 

So if you are feeling the need to partake in a little exercise in Murphy Park in Taylor, Texas beware of the vile Turkey Duck.

(Kind of looks like he can see right into your soul, huh?)

And remember once a duck always a duck...unless you are a Turkey Duck!

Am I a Kentucky Girl? Why Yes. Why Do You Ask?

One of the things that attracted us to our new home in Taylor, Texas was the swimming pool in the backyard.  I envisioned days of laying around the pool with my lemonade.  Getting up to take a dunk in the pool whenever I got a little hot from the summer sun. Maybe floating around on a raft with my fingers trailing in the water.

But I forgot one little fact.

Maintenance. That stinking maintenance.

Danny Dearest has been outside for hours working on the pump.   He has wrestled that pump, checked the internet, and made two trips to the "pool guy".   I have done my part to help.  I put on my swimming attire, grabbed my new inner tube, and stood dramatically by the pool. Just to give him a little sense of the importance of him completing this maintenance in a timely manner. He didn't seem to appreciate my assistance.  Go figure.

So, since swimming was out of the question, I decided to check on my suburban farm.  First, my herb garden.  The basil was here when we moved in.  It was about dead but after some water and tender loving care it has come back.

I am growing basil, sage, and oregano.  Spaghetti sauce is in my future.

Even before we had any household goods delivered, I had been to Wal-mart and picked up some tomato plants and one green pepper plant. For that spaghetti sauce, you know.

There is also some onions that the previous owners left in the bed and one lonely cucumber plant.
 And if you look very carefully at the heirloom tomato plant you will see...

My little tomatoes!

And then I thought these plants looked lonely so I put these in.

Two more tomatoes and two Sandia peppers.They went out about 4 weeks later that the other ones so they are having to work hard to catch up.  Go little plants!  You can do It!

And sweeping around the backyard you will find...

Squash and cucumber plants.  Now I really like fresh cucumbers and fresh tomatoes.  I really don't like squash.  Neither does Danny Dearest.  Neither does Baby Susan.  Neither does Miss Emily.  Neither does Mr. Jacob.  Neither does Josh.

So why I am growing squash?  Because I am a Kentucky girl and Kentucky girls grow tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash. That's why.

Danny is back from another visit to the "pool guy" and a part has been ordered for the pump.  And apparently our pump is old.  Very old.  Like floppy disc old.  This could be a problem.

But we decided to keep the old pump around as long as it keeps working.  Sort of how I feel about Danny Dearest. 

Varuump! Went the Little Green Frog

Our first night in our new home I climbed into bed exhausted and ready to sleep.  But I kept hearing a loud noise that sounded like gears grinding.  It was loud and continued the entire night. I jumped to what I thought was a logical conclusion.  It had to be the pump on our swimming pool.  Now, Danny Dearest and I have never had a pool before so I really had no idea what a pool pump sounds like when it is going out, but I imagined it would be something like this sound I was hearing. I was mentally counting how much it would cost to replace a pool pump and not liking the sums that I was coming up with.

But, funny thing, the next morning noise was gone. We were very busy getting things done in our new home so I promptly forgot the noise.

Until the next night when the sound returned. As loud and obnoxious as the night before. But, sun up the noise was gone. My pool conclusion was obviously incorrect because what swimming pool pump only goes out at night?

When the following evening the sound returned I was determined to find the source of this devilment.  I tracked to it our front yard goldfish pond. At first I though It was the goldfish pond pump but then I saw...

a lovesick bullfrog. And unless he gets voice lessons, he will continue to be lovesick because no self respecting lady frog will have anything to do with him.

It's Been a Long, Long, Time

So I thought I would pick up this little blog, dust it off, and start writing again. 

So since I last wrote Danny and I had a few life changes.  Danny joined me in retirement and, about 6 months later, we packed up and moved to Taylor, Texas.

That's right.  I am now a Texan.

But home is where you make it and guess what is in Taylor, Texas (other that Danny Dearest and myself)?

Those grandbabies...they will even make this New Mexican move to Texas.

A Boy and His Grandmother

Recently I ran across an old picture.

This would be Danny Dearest with his grandmother, Momma May (I hope the spelling of that is correct), about 57 years ago when he was about one year old.  Doesn't he seem happy to be  with his gramdmother.

Flash forward about 45 or so years and you get this...

That is me with Mr. Jacob at about the same age as Danny Dearest with HIS grandmother.

Grandma's just love those little boys.

Memories, Pressed Between the something of the something

On our recent trip to Kentucky (see previous post) something that had been hidden for 37 years rose to the top.  I give you...

Danny Dearest and I the Christmas before we were married (that would be 1974 by the way).  My, my, my how impossibly young we look.  And my, my, my how impossibly THIN we look.  But you have to be thin to wear snazzy double knit bell bottoms like I am in this picture.

Just look at the way Danny Dearest is gazing at me with adoring eyes and I, of course, am looking modestly downward.  That would be me... always modest, shy and retiring.

Now, in contrast, the other day I posted on Facebook some age progression pictures of Danny Dearest and I.

These photos show how Danny Dearest and I will look in another 35 years,  Now when I posted these to Facebook there were several questions about what Danny Dearest is wearing around his neck.  I can assure you that it is neither a beaded eyeglass holder or a string of pearls (as was suggested by his "friends" on Facebook).  This picture was taken in New Orleans and those would be Mardi Gras beads a-swinging around his neck.

So look at the first picture and the second set of pictures.  Which would you rather be?  The impossibly young (and thin) 20 year olds or the more experienced folks of 93 in the second set of pictures.  Given all that Danny Dearest and I have done, seen, lived through, and loved, I vote for the second set. 

I can't wait to be 93 with him.

My Old Kentucky Home

So Danny Dearest and I returned yesterday afternoon from our yearly trip to Kentucky.  We visited with family and attended my 40th (gasp!) high school reunion.  Baby Susan joined us there with Mr. Jacob and Miss Emily.  ATVs were rode, fish were caught, and stories (true, untrue, and simply exaggerated) told.

But one of the highlights was...

the four generation pedicure.

This would be Baby Susan, Miss Emily, Mamagran (my mom), and me.  This was interesting for all kinds of reasons but the primary one was that this was my mom's FIRST pedicure EVER!  And she loved it. I expect her next one to have sparkles on her big toe!

And then there was our four generation picture.

SO HOW CUTE IS THIS!!!

But I could not leave Mr. Jacob and Daddygran out of the fun.

Betcha wish you had one of these pictures!

(Photography and computer skills...credit goes to Danny Dearest. He can be handy to have around)

NKOTB

When Baby Susan reached the dreaded middle school years she developed, as most young girls do, a crush on some sort of celebrity.  Her celebrity of choice was a boy band.  New Kids On the Block.  Hereafter to be referred to as NKOTB (just to show how amazing HIP and WITH IT her mom is).

Danny Dearest and I tolerated this obsession as well as two HIP and WITH IT parents could who also happen to have a little taste in music.  We sort of cultivated an altitude that this too will pass.

Except it didn't, pass that is.  Baby Susan has recently attended reunion concerts at which these aging "boy" band members sing and attempt to get their bodies to recreate the moves of their youth.

And she loves every minute.

And then yesterday I saw this on the web.

Baby Susan, this is for you.

And remember.  He sings this Old Navy catalog for YOU.

Mr. Jacob

Eleven years ago today something very special happened.  Mr. Jacob came into our lives and nothing has been the same since.

He was a sweet baby who is growing into a sweet young man.  And I can't be prouder of  him.

I can't wait to see what kind of adult he will be.  But if this is any indication, perhaps he will be a lot like his memaw.

I love you my little man.

Excitement in the Southwest

**As a side note. I had numerous technological problems while trying to write this post.  But I didn't want to disappoint my fans (All two of you.  Hi, Mom!) so I persevered and managed to get this on line.**  

So Saturday, Danny Dearest and I loaded up the family truckster and headed up the highway towards the metropolis of Hatch. 

Along the way we did a little geocaching.  If you don't know what geocaching is I have heard it described as using multi-million dollar satellites to find tupperware in the woods.  Or, as I like to call it, hiking for geeks.  It is fun and we DO enjoy it.

But then we arrived in...

 And whenever we travel to Hatch we have to visit Sparky's.

 Let's go in for a closer look.

So how cute is that! We go there for..

Yes, we go there for the green chile cheeseburger.  Danny Dearest and I ordered our burgers and sat down to eat.  I had every intention of snapping a picture of that delicious burger to share with you but...

I am sorry to report that my appetite over ruled my brain and this is what was left when I remembered that I wanted to take a picture.  Oops, so sorry!

So after our Sparky's green chile cheeseburger we headed back down the highway to home. And then we sat at home digesting.  

I know.  Will the excitement ever end?

I Can Fly! I Can Fly! I Can Fly!

Well, I did it. 

I signed up for the Tinkerbell Half-Marathon. Plucked down an exorbitant amount of money in registration fees (It IS Disney, after all. Someone has to pay for all that cute.) and made reservations at The Disneyland Hotel.

When I cross the finish line in January, I will be a 58 year old diabetic memaw with hypertension and fibromylagia who has a had a stroke.

And I will get one of these...

I can fly!  I can fly!  I can fly!

Kentucky Wild Cat???

So Danny and I have returned from our medical mission to Nicaragua.  Our hearts have been touched in ways we can not even explain.  I suspect I will be writing more about the physical and spiritual blessings that occurred on that trip but for now...

One evening, after clinic, we were walking to see one of our former interpreters who had recently had a baby.  Along the way, we saw a man with a small animal on a string.  I, of course, had to hold it.

 Let's go in for a closer look, shall we?

Sure looks like a little fox doesn't it?

But the Nicaraguan who was trying to sell it to us assured us that it was a "wild cat from the mountains".

So, since I am a Kentucky girl and I am holding a "wild cat" could I caption this photo "Kentucky Wild Cat"?

Just asking.

America's Game

When most people are asked to name a few major holidays the answers will usually include Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, or Fourth of July.  Danny Dearest would add one more.

  Opening day of Major League Baseball.

Now just to be clear, before I married Danny Dearest I didn't know Major League Baseball had an opening day, a closing day, or any kind of day at all.  I believe Danny Dearest was shocked at my ignorance at the inner workings of the goings on of those guys with bats that ran around on a field.  But he accepted me as I was and I chose to ignore his rather limited fashion sense.

But in going through our pictures I ran across this.

Let's not even think about how impossibly skinny Danny Dearest is in this picture let's just go in for a close up of that amazing footwear he is sporting.

No baseball cleats for him.  When you are as fast and sure-footed as a deer you don't need cleats. Rather, he is wearing the original low top converse basketball shoes.  It turns out he was a fashion trend setter way back in 19-something or other.  And while I can accept his footwear choice, the dark socks with athletic wear does give me pause.  (I am pausing here. For the socks, you understand.)

Now for the whole team proudly representing Youngblood's of Mayfield Kentucky on the baseball diamond.

You got to wonder why that one coach has a bandage on his nose.  Errant baseball perhaps?

These Are the Days of Our Lives

When Baby Susan was growing up, she had all the typical teenage crushes on actors, singers, etc.  But one that stood out was...

Bryan Datlilo, better known as Lucas (Roberts) Horton on Days of Our Lives.

Now according to She Knows Soaps.com, this bad boy
1. has forgiven Sami a million times but done his fair share of bad deeds.
2. had helped Kate frame Sami for the murder of Franco Kelley,
3. attempted to kill Sami himself.
4. has kidnapped his son, Will, once.

And that is just a partial lists of Lucas' exploits on this soap.

And Baby Susan thought he was the cat's pajamas.  The bee's knees.,  All that and a bag of chips. (Let's see how many out of date metaphors I can name.)

And then good fortune struck for Baby Susan,

The local minor league baseball team was having soap night when various soap stars would be in attendance and play one inning of baseball to raise money for charity. Before this, Baby Susan's interest in baseball could be measured by the flavors of ice cream being served at the concession stand.

 But suddenly Baby Susan developed an overnight interest in baseball so being the over indulgent parents we were, we took her.

And Lucas was there.

And we got this rather out of focus shot.

It was love at first sight.

I Can Say All the New Testament Books!

When we purchased our current home, one of the selling points was a 900 square foot permanent garage/storage building that was located on the property.

We promptly began filling that building with 1,000 square feet of junk.

So recently I began to try to sift through all the "treasures" and keep the good and dispose of the not so good.  And in doing so I have run across some real gems.  Like this.

Yes, that would be Baby Susan"s button from kindergarten Bible School after she had learned all the books of the New Testament.  Not only did she receive the button, she also received a small New Testament of her own.  Sadly, that little Bible has not been found in my excavation of the storage building but hope springs eternal and perhaps it will turn up.

And just let me say, that button and Bible were not easily earned.  We sang the "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John" song over and over and over and over.  Until she finally had it down and could sing/say the books of the New Testament.  It was a proud moment in her young life.

 This is a picture of Baby Susan the first day of that Sunday School class.  Doesn't she look happy to be there?  And since this was pre-digital , there was a back to this picture. Here is what Baby
Susan put on the back of this picture...

Perhaps only a mother would say this but...isn't that cute!

Look At Those Smiles!

So recently some family members have been bugging me about not writing on my blog so to satisfy that massive fan  base (all three of you), I will attempt to write again.

Since my last post we did complete the Bataan Memorial Death March and attended the Final Four basketball tournament in New Orleans.  I will describe both of those events in excruciating detail at a later time.  But right now I would like to talk about another life event that has occurred.

A little over a week ago, my father in law passed away.

The whole week was a bittersweet experience.  It was bitter in that we lost a marvelous man who was 82 years old and would have been married to my mother in law for 60 years this week. 

A young Danny Dearest with my father in law.

It was sweet in that we had a family reunion with all the cousins and in laws.  I met some of Danny Dearest's cousins that I had never seen before.  At one time all the brothers and their families were eating at a local restaurant when my mother in law leaned over to me and said that,"He would have loved this."  And he would have.  The laughing, the talking, and the eating.  He would have truly loved it.

Toward the end of the week, Baby Susan posted a new profile picture to her Facebook account.

When Danny Dearest saw it, his first comment was, "Look at those smiles!"  And that is how I choose to remember him...smiling with a grandchild on his lap.