Crazy Life

One Halloween when I was about 7 my grandfather, Scooter was left in charge. My grandmother, Mommy, had to work late at Evans grocery store and she would bring home the candy to give out with her when one of her daughters picked her up and gave her a ride. I was costumed, oddly enough I don't even remember what my costume was that year. I remember the anxiety of having no one to take me out, and dancing foot to foot impatiently. I would ask every few seconds, which seemed like hours to me, if it was time yet. The magic hour back then was 6 pm. The first two trick or treaters arrived and my grandfather had to treat them out of his very personal and private candy stock. It was hidden in the end table drawer on his side of the couch, I knew to never touch it. Inside my anxiety was at a peak, positive NO ONE was going to take me out to score candy. I doubt if I complained much out loud. Scooter didn't play. If I had complained too much he would have just banned me from going at

The last year or so I have been working in the antique business. I had a little booth and worked estate and auction sales. I see lots of beautiful things. When I am trying to price and  searching for the value of a piece I check a lot of different sources.  What I have learned is that it doesn't matter what I think something is worth. The value of any item is the amount a buyer is willing to pay. Some pieces I let go for what feels like below value, some are so beautiful or rare that if I can't get the price I want them I keep them. You can refer to an earlier blog of mine called Hoarders. So what is the value of a human? The mineral components in a body come up to less than $5. What if I needed some quick cash? I could sell my heart - legally even - for one million dollars.  Of courses I wouldn't be around to spend it. Liver? About half a million, same problem.  What about a private adoption? What value is placed on a child? In my state somewhere between five and

When I was a child everything was a mystery, We had a Roman Numeral clock on the console  of our black and white television.  It fascinated me, but I could not understand the symbols on it.  When my mother felt it was time for me to learn to "tell time" she used this clock and I am now time impaired for all eternity. I was not intellectually ready for anything more than the old paper plate clocks we made in first grade. Adult conversation was usually a mystery so I learned to tune it out. A second cousin came to visit us for a long time and then she left. In later years my mother mentions something about when this cousin had come to have her baby and give it up for adoption.  WHAT? All that time she lived with us and I never knew she was going to have a baby! I thought she was FAT. Back then words like "pregnancy" and "adoption" were whispered and I was too young to understand. If someone from centuries ago were transported to modern times, could thi

Yes, we are approaching that scariest time of the year, Family Thanksgiving! I think anyone who has read my blogs can guess I come from the kind of family that made the D in dysfunctional into a capital letter. I think you can also guess that I am the one throwing the monkey wrench into the mix just to see what happens. Every year for decades my cousin has hosted the Thanksgiving Dinner at her home. Every year, at her house with each relative bringing their properly assigned dish, in the proper portions, in the approved serving dish. (Relish dish provided by Aunt J. in the Longaberger approved basket, with liner) There was actually a list kept from year to year with number of potatoes to be peeled. Worst of all was the laminated map of where each dish was to be displayed for service. I had lived AWAY for many years, so when I returned there was a dilemma which required a family meeting to determine what I should be assigned.  The first year I was assigned rolls. Heiners pre-bro

Does that sound like a rent to own sales agreement?  So much down and so much for a period of time until the goods you purchased are paid for.  This brings me to a touchy subject TITHING. I have never been very good at it. For one thing, when you are poor, as I have been most of my life, I felt I could not spare any money for the offering plate.  I had an electric cut off notice, four children with overdue lunch bills, a broken lawn mower with neighbors complaining about my yard, a blind husband who had anger management issues, and the list went on. Battling a lifetime of depression didn't make the picture any rosier.  I could excuse myself because 2  Corinthians 9:6-7 says "  whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully [ a ]  will also reap bountifully.   7  Each one must give as he has decided in his heart,  not reluctantly or under compulsion, for  God loves a cheerful giver." I was not a cheerful giver, therefore God did not wan

Once I took my older children camping in Kentucky. We decided to go hiking so we drove to the trail head of a popular path at Greenbow Lake.  We had a few snacks, some bottled water, and off we went. I am not sure what happened but we ended up on a dirt road. We could not find the path we had just left, we could not find a marked path to go forward on.  There were very few occupied houses. Finally I knocked on a door. I was told to just cut through the cemetery, cross the ridge and I would be back at the campground.  We walked to the cemetery and I looked at how high the ridge was. There were no marked paths. We were nearly out of water.  No one knew where we were. We weren't expected home for two more days, so no one would even look for us right away.  I looked at my two small boys, walked back to the house and asked the man if he could give us a ride back. He looked doubtfully at his old truck, with no license, a busted windshield, and said he didn't know if it would start.