The List

I'm voting for the Naked Cowboy!

Here is the List. What do we have here....lots of radio talk show hosts, quite a few Minnesotans, they must be trying to escape the bitter weather for free white housing. I'm guessing we could get a little more info on the candidates as soon as the Casey Anthony trial wraps up. It appears she is the only woman on the face of the earth that has ever killed her child. Or not, that remains to be seen, because in America you are put on trial and given a verdict of guilty or not guilty. Which really has nothing to do with innocence, but everything to do about which side can put on the best dog and pony show. Back to the candidates for President of the United States of America.

Please don't be too dumb, but not too smart either. Harvard graduates are out...paralysis by analysis...trust me on this one.

Please don't be an extremist....either way

Please have at least a smidgen of common sense

Please don't try to regulate my body, my beliefs, or forget that all men are created equally.

Please be moral

Please be virtuous

Please be righteous

Please be noble

But please don't take all of my money

Oh well, that person is not in existance.... just go ahead and appoint Glenn Beck. The money saved on paper alone with the use of chalkboards will save millions and the forest too.

At  least the Naked Cowboy can play the guitar.

oy vey Gregg Allman

Busted bubble, knocked down a few notches. How can this burly man

that rides this Harley

own this frou frou dog?

and even worse....a poodle

Sigh

Natalie, I want to count your fingers and toes!

Natalie, I am ready to see you. I want to see who you look like. I want to see if the image in my head is true. Dark curly hair and blue eyes.
I am going to be in the labor and delivery room. So I am gearing up for that. I am pulling out all of the rational and sqaushing all of the emotional to see my daughter in pain. That part I don't like. I am a mother that fixes things. I want to fix everything, the pain of childbirth I can't fix. I wish I could. Lord knows I have seen my share of women in labor. But they weren't my child. She is prepared and she has my strength. and she has the best husband to hold her hand. I have got about three weeks to get ready for my heart to jump into my throat and choke me with joy and emotion.

Baby Jesus Prayer

I was reminded of this prayer last week so I decided to look it up.  I am glad I found the clean version because the little boys Walker and Texas Ranger's bad behavior made we want to put them in time out. I've got many things to be praying for now and in the next coming weeks. I have many things to be thankful for too. Enjoy a laugh. gotta go work, Shake and Bake
a little longer version HERE

Rising above

Lady Antebellum can put out the songs. Can't they? The ones that take your heart and wring it out like a dirty mop. This must be the season for broken hearts. I have several friends who are hurting with lost love and lost lovers. This is not an advice column, but I can say it is OK to keep those lost loves tucked away in a special place in your heart. Just the good stuff, not the bad stuff. And keep them there. All tucked away with goodness and good memories. The hardest thing you will ever do is rise above your heart.

Gypsy and Baby

Gypsy Woman with Baby

Modigliani

I am not writing about paintings today although I do love Modigliani's paintings. I love people paintings.

Yesterday, I was running to the grocery store for dogfood and the weather was about to bust loose. Instead of going to Publix, my grocery of choice, I went the closest route to Kroger.  Long story short, as I was leaving there was a girl, a gypsy girl, a Romanian gypsy girl holding a cardboard sign of hunger. Pushing the stroller front and back and front and back, the baby was a boy with chubby legs and bare feet. The girl was young and had fire red hair. I pushed my cart passed her, smiled and hurried to the car before it rained. I put my few groceries in and looked back just as the manager was waving her away from the entrance. My mother's voice in my head said, don't give her money she is a con artist, the baby is a prop, she will just buy alcohol or drugs. I reached in my wallet and pulled out my cash and ran to catch her and when I handed her the money she said God Bless You. I looked into her black eyes as my head was saying don't look at the baby, don't look at the baby. I went back and sat there in my luxury car and put my designer wallet back in my designer purse feeling guilty of my things. My things that I married into on that day 33 years ago. I was thinking so what if she buys alcohol so what. I did not reach into my pocketbook and pull out money specifically for her to buy food for her baby. I gave because I could. I give because I can. No strings attached. It is not up to me to label her or to assume the worst of her. I defied that negative voice in my head, and that felt good.

33 years ago today....

Well hello again. I decided to write another blog. It's called Sliced Bread cause what could be better. I got rid of the old because I hate to be censored. Maybe I will try real hard to not write anything that will need to be censored in the "I am private" catagory. There is something too about people from places in the world I can't even pronounce reading my words. Maybe this one will be more private.

On to the wedding thirty three years ago. About this time that many years ago, my Mama and I were sitting at the kitchen table seeing how much wine we could get down before the nuptials began.( See picture of huge smile on her face) I can't remember what kind but I'm sure it had scupenines in it or a red with a frosty chill! Haha!  My mother planned my whole wedding. I wasn't really interested in the wedding part. I was more interested in the married part. She would say how about this or that and I would say fine. I remember vividly going to the bridal store and heading straight for the clearance rack of winter gowns, trying on the first one and saying OK it fits, this will do. Never in my wildest dreams did I think about it being a "pass downable" dress. It still hangs in my closet all yellow and I pull it out sometimes and laugh. You see, it is a mass of polyester. I think my daughter was going to dress up for Halloween as The Bride of Frankenstein once and then decided on Carrie the girl that the bucket of blood falls down on instead.  I remember my china was involved in a UK dock strike and I needed to change patterns according to Macy's. I had Hunka's mom go pick out a new pattern as she was more interested in that stuff, so whatever. The only head butting thing I can remember was that my MIL insisted that my showers were put into the society section of the paper. I put my foot down on that. I am not the society page type. My mother made all of the food, made all of the tablecloths and borrowed the reception flowers in pots from the local flower shop. I can't remember who made the bouquets. I am sure I did not plan them. I had one request that my friend's father marry us and that Corinthian 1:13 be said. No singers, no speeches and we were done in about 15 minutes. Good deal...on to HH for the honeymoon. I was right as rain and the whole thing might not have been better than sliced bread but here we are 33 years later still celebrating the day.