It's Your Turn

This painting is done from memory.  It's me, when I was a cherub, helping to the trim the Christmas tree in one of our warm and fuzzy tree trimming evenings, where we had hot chocolate and cookies and Bing Crosby was playing on the stereo.  You know I'm lying.  Unfortunately, Christmas season 2015 has left the warm fuzzies in the past and we've been KA-RAY-ZEE this year with one thing after the other.  We're lucky a tree is up in this house.  So I'm turning this page over to you.  You need to relate a funny/crazy/miserable/unbelievable Christmas story in the comments.  I need to hear from you!!!  Let it fly, people!

Holiday Ornaments

Hello.  Remember me?  I used to write stories from my life on here.  I'm still involved in living the stories, which is why I haven't written anything in a while.  That and my brain is practically non-functioning, but that's nothing new.  Taking care of the elderlies has eaten up a lot of time and brain power, too.  Sooooo, elderlies and no brain equals lots of time running around like the proverbial headless chicken.  I actually forgot to go to church this morning.  I have been consumed with Christmas decorating (which I absolutely love) and just plain forgot.  That should tell you something about my brain.  I am the Scarecrow.  And today is my mother's birthday, so I'll be taking her out to eat and she can yammer yammer yammer away bout nuttin.  That will be something new and different.  HA!  But she'll have a good time.  I hope.....  
So as I trimmed the tree a few weeks ago (remember, in this household, the tree goes up when the huzbin has a free minute), I pulled out the "despised ornament."  Do you have a despised ornament on your tree?  Maybe you do and you don't know about it.  This particular ornament was given to us a thousand years ago when our family was only three.  It is a red velvet fireplace with a paper fire in it and has three stocking hanging from the mantle.  One for the huzbin, one for the daughter, and one for me. For some reason, I used to think my MIL gave it to us, but that cannot be possible because she never like me and had she given me the ornament, it would have had only two stockings hanging from the mantle - one for the huzbin and one for the daughter.  Actually, that's another lie I'm telling.  It would have had only one stocking - for her little prince.  Anyway, when the son was born and began realizing the stories behind ornaments, he became very upset with this particular ornament as it dawned on him that he had been excluded.  Never mind the ornament came into being before he did; he was very upset about this exclusion and ordered the ornament to be put on the back of the tree where no one could see it.  Every year since that tree trimming experience, the despised ornament takes it's ugly place of dishonor on the back of the tree where no one sees it.  Ever.  Why don't I just pitch it, you think?  If you remember, the MIL was in the habit of giving the most CRAP presents on the planet.  So if she really gave us this ornament, it's only appropriate that it hangs on the back of the tree.  Sometimes that's just the way it is.  Better to be safe than.... uh....fill in the blank - my brain stopped working.

Halloween Costume

Ahhhhh..... I'm back!  And just in time for a great season.  Even though we live in the sticks and even though our kids are already growed up, and even though in the 30 years we've lived in this house and never laid eyes on a trick or treater, I love Halloween.  I reckon I have great memories from my childhood Halloween festivities.  I told you one of those memories about the school Halloween parade.  Another is a Halloween party I attended when I was about 9 years old.  A friend's aunt owned an old house and luckily, no one was living in it during the Halloween season that year, so the party was held in the house.  I remember dressing as an elf - a costume my mother kept telling me wasn't going to work because it wasn't on a retail shelf, it was in my mind, and in her mind, all Halloween costumes came from a retailer.  Bottom line - she couldn't sew a stitch and was not about to stop talking on the phone or cleaning in order to create costumes we would wear one night a year.  Therefore, 9 year old me was left alone to create the elf costume.  Ever have an idea in your head but couldn't properly implement it?  Hello.  Don't ever leave a 9 year old to her own devices.  I ended up looking like a half dressed freak.  Turtleneck shirt, tights - uh, with nothing covering them - socks, no shoes, and a stocking cap.  I remember confusing some of my friends with my costume identity, who, by the way, about 10 minutes into party time, began looking pretty good in their store bought costumes.  The empty house was now a haunted house and we had loads of fun screaming and falling all over the place.  We bobbed for apples and played organized games and ate cupcakes and drank cider and had a great time.  Of course, by the end of the evening, I was freezing, but that's one of life's lessons.  Now that I think about it, I don't remember the lesson.  I'm just sayin at this stage of life, I will not go out in a turtleneck shirt, tights with nothing covering them, a stocking cap, and socks with no shoes.  I have a feeling there will not be a party waiting for me.

Jingle Bells, Jingle bells

  YES!!!!  It's Christmas in September!  Well, it's Christmas in September at my house, because if I want to get anything done in the handmade department, it must be done early.  Besides, it makes me happy.  All the color, all the anticipation of enjoyment by the recipient, all the fun of making something with my own two hands, knowing the item will be appreciated for years to come - I love it all.  That said, it's still summertime.  Yaaaay!!!  This has not been a "normal" summer for this household.  It has involved a lot of activities outside our realm of comfort.  In this house, we like comfort a whole lot.  I bet you like it, too, but sometimes life is like a river and it gets dammed up or floods or dries up or changes course and it's really, really, really difficult to adjust to those changes.  Especially if you're like me, and you don't welcome change in your life and you want that river to just flow nicely and allow you to float in your little inner tube and look at the pretty blue sky with the puffy clouds.  I think my life is pretty much perfect and when something comes along and upsets all that perfection wink wink I just about lose it.  I've been losing it for several months this summer, but I realize that I still have some time to jump in my inner tube and float.  I'm really trying to do that.  And making Christmas in September is a happy way to float.  And I do believe the recipient of the item will be quite happy and I like that thought.  Obviously, I have some days left on this Christmas in September project, but that's part of the floating.  I hope you still have some floating days in this summertime.  I remember a realization that smacked upside my head when I was 9, walking to my piano lesson.  I remember thinking, "This is the only day it will be October 23, 1960."  So remember that gem.  I was a genius philosopher even then.  But you already assumed that, didn't you?

There Ain't No Cure for the Summertime Blues

Hello.  Good grief, where have you people been???  I've been sitting here waiting and waiting and waiting for you to appear!!!  What's up?  What's been goin on in your lives?  Tell me!  I always love to know who's doin what!  We've been very bizzy in this household.  Very bizzy, indeed.  And nothing to show for it.  My summer plans included painting the bedroom walls, lounging in the pool with a drink, switching out furniture in several rooms, lounging in the pool with a drink, sewing some items that need fixing, lounging in the pool with a drink, reading many books, and, well, you know the plan by now.  Unfortunately, those plans are resting comfortably somewhere in the back of my mind and will be done some day or never.  I haven't painted  anything, on a wall or on paper, in over a month, and when you don't draw or paint for a very long time, even your crappy skills get crappier.  So there's that to deal with, too.  I remember long ago and far away, I was a little girl and summer was so, so wonderful.  It meant reading and playing and swimming, and mostly staying out of the way of our mother.  I've told you some of those stories in the past, but I still remember summer as being a fabulously free time.  Free compared to now.  When you're a child, you generally don't have a whole lot of worries; mainly, you worry about who is available to play and what time the pool opens.  We never worried about that in our house because our mother knew exactly what time to throw us out of the house and exactly what time she expected us to appear at the supper table.  Coming home to a house full of wonderful aromas after swimming all day is a memory I'll always have.  Our mother was an excellent cook in her time.  These were the days before central air conditioning, so walking home from the pool meant good smells coming from just about every house I passed.  My mother made all her dishes from scratch - no extra help from packets or pre-made ingredients.   She usually began cooking early in the day, using the fans to cool her before it got stinking hot.  Fried chicken, roast beef, pork chops, spaghetti and meatballs, lasagna, chicken casseroles, pinto beans/mac and cheese/corn bread (my favorite), were on the table at any time in our house, although roast beef was almost always the Sunday meal.  Sheesh, I wish I had one of those meals now.  Just one.  My mother didn't allow us to sit and enjoy anything, because she didn't know how to "sit and enjoy," so my sister and I often hid out before supper.  That meant hiding in the house somewhere or going outside and hiding out of earshot and sort of wandering in at the right moment.  One moment too late, and there would be hell to pay.  We had developed inner radars early on.  We knew self preservation skills better than any Boy Scout.  I was a "sneak" reader.  Did any of you ever do that?  Hide under the covers with a flashlight and a book?  I did that.  I also learned to take my book to the outside hideout, but it was difficult to read and stay awake after swimming all day.  Luckily, my "dinner radar" always kicked in.  I have a hammock that I haven't used this summer.  Of course, I haven't opened the books needed in the hammock, either.  Would one of ya'll please get over here and give me some respite?  I really need to get back to painting and reading and cooking and lounging and doing all those productive things that make life so interesting.  I may even let you get in the pool with a drink.

Happy 4th!

Wow!  I last posted in .... uh.... maybe 1978?  I haven't been available to post anything.  My brain hasn't been available to post anything.  I've been very bizzy, people.  I'm a bizzy, bizzy woman.  The mother needed to be moved.  Remember?  All she had to do was sit in the car and ride 400 miles.  The huzbin and sister worked like dogs to get the move done.  And then the huzbin and I worked like dogs on the other end to get the move done.  Then the huzbin got sick.  Then we made a quick trip across the country to visit the daughter and son in law.  When we arrived, the daughter was sick.  Then we came home and the huzbin was still sick.  Oh yes, between the move and the sickness, the huzbin's father was diagnosed with a cancer and another possible cancer.  In two very different places. Then he developed pneumonia, because two cancers aren't enough.  And then the phone rings and I'll have to run to the grocery store because the mother needs some doughnuts (she's beginning to misunderstand our relationship).  And then the dog develops two hot spots and the vet needs to see him.  And then we make one of the 400 mile trips to the mother's house (one of many made in a 6 week period) and within 5 miles of the mother's house, the 6 week old car decides to die.  Yes, die.  So I'm driving a loaner because the car needs a new engine.  Huh?  Whatever.... I really don't even have time to think about that one.  And the mother's EXTREMELY VERY IMPORTANT DO NOT EVER LOSE YOU WILL EVEN NEED THEM IN HEAVEN MEDICAL RECORDS get lost.  The only things in the move we really, really needed are gone.  Hello, more work for me.  I'm only touching on the big things that have happened, although the hot spots aren't major, unless you're the dog and scratching the skin off your skeleton.  I'm telling you, friends, when it rains, it pours. Good thing we have some big umbrellas.   If you're reading this and think of anything else fun that's happened to us in the past 6 weeks, please keep it to yourself or I will come and punch in your face, then pop your head into your neck cavity, then jerk your head out through your ass.   You will look ridiculous, but I'll feel sooooo good.  Happy 4th.  If you hear loud booms, look toward my side of town.  It may not be fireworks at all.  It could be something goin on here.....

School's Out

A friend and I were discussing a teacher from junior high.  He was a band director.  I wasn't in the band and I don't think she was, either, but this teacher had the ability to reach all the kids in the school with his fun personality.  He was also young, and in the mid 60's, a young teacher was still somewhat a novelty.  He seemed to understand us and our young teen social miseries.  There was another teacher at our school who also understood teen angst, but those two were NOT the norm.  Most of the teachers were old, even elderly, and although some of them were excellent teachers, some of them really should have retired before we arrived.  We had a music teacher who drank alcohol on her breaks.  Music class was ALWAYS crazy.  I never saw my math teacher not knitting.  I take that back - she would sometimes get into a rage and throw books out the 3rd floor classroom window.  I had an elderly science teacher who only talked about the airplanes he flew; especially the plane he flew under one of the local bridges in town.  He also let us draw all over the chalkboards.  My 9th grade civics teacher was the meanest woman on the planet, but had a mental breakdown in class one day, screamed obscenities at us and disappeared forever.  I spent one year in a sewing class and I don't believe the instructor ever called any of us by our correct names, but we did make triangle scarves and aprons from NO patterns!!!  How cool were we....  My 8th grade history teacher spoke in a monotone voice that made all of us stare at her the entire first week of school.  She truly looked like a ventriloquist's dummy.  We had an art teacher who could look at you and not look at you.  You know what I'm talking about - one eye looked left and the other looked right - at the same time.   We had fun in art class.  "Class, we're watching a fill-um today."  That was another science teacher. And my poor algebra teacher.... we would ask her to explain the problem over and over so we could watch the loose skin under her upper arm swing back and forth.  But with all their quirks, they had the ability to hold a large group of kids at attention because in those days, we generally behaved.  Talking was probably the biggest infraction of the rules.  Talking and throwing paper balls into the light fixtures.  Well, maybe a few other good tricks.  Gee, I'm so glad I didn't ever have to make a living as a teacher of junior high/middle school kids.  No wonder Mrs. Moses drank..... 

Ch Ch Ch Changes

Tomorrow I go to the town of my birth/childhood to pack up my mother's belongings in preparation for her move to the town in which I now live and have lived for 46 years.  It will be a difficult transition for her, mostly because everything associated with her is difficult, but also because she's leaving the house my dad built for our family.  What a great house it is, too.  Dad wasn't satisfied to have just a house - his house had to be a fortress.  It is a cinderblock house faced entirely with brick.  I can only assume he was not going to let the wolf come to our door and huff and puff and blow down the house.  All the little piggies inside would always have a roof over their heads.  My dad built that house entirely by himself, with a bit of help from my uncle and one of my dad's friends.  The house was always something we were proud of as my dad put so much of himself into it.  Because of my mother's OCD, the house is in excellent shape.  She has always anticipated a problem and called Mr. Fixit.  "Hello, my furnace has a 20 year warrantee on it and I'm already in year 5.  I just know it's ready to explode so can you come and replace it?"  "Hello, my roof hasn't been replaced in the past 3 years, can you come and replace it?"  "Hello, all my toilets innards need to be replaced as I've used them exactly 100 times since they were last replaced."  That's really just about the way it goes.  This is the home of my childhood and as with all homes, it has good memories and bad memories.  Unfortunately, some of the bad memories have scarred the house.  Yes, my mother and her inability to handle things out of her control ......  All those screaming fits inevitably led to throwing fits.  All those throwing fits led to scars on plastered walls.  My sister and I can lead tours through the house, pointing out the scars and what particular fit is associated with each mark.  Of course, the biggest scar is still on my mother's psyche and will be there forever.  She never learned to go with the flow and let loose of the things out of her control.  So you can imagine her attitude about moving to a new apartment/town/surroundings, etc.  Lordy!  I can't imagine what fireworks the next few months will bring, but I'm going to be patient and positive.  Of course, you all know I'm a liar.  I'm going to follow my usual path - wear a suit of armor and always assume the worst.  If you do that, you're always prepared and many times, you'll get a lovely surprise.  I'm looking forward to lovely surprises in the near future.  Whatever happens, I bet you'll hear about it.  Remember, I don't lie to my friends.

Fun Times

The post vacation blues - they're inevitable.  We had the best time at our annual vacation site, but we have rules.  It must be a beach.  It must be the same beach.  It must be relaxing.  And we must have people we love come with us.  That's really the only way to enjoy a great vacation.  Of course, Sweetie Pie and his parents came the first week.  And my sweet cousin visited the second week.  There was only one bad time - the day we had to leave.  It's always sad to come home.  We love our home, our town, our friends, but we always want to stay longer at the beach.  That was true when we were children and it's true now that we're old.  But we're home and now it's time to get back to the lives we were leading before the vacation.  Cousin and I like to talk a lot and we had so much fun chit chatting about the family and remembering fun times we had long ago.  I talked about my 5th birthday party at my grandmother's house in Kentucky. I had a birthday cake with a circus on top and my cousin brought me the most desired present in the world - a new coloring book with a big box of crayons.  Jackpot!!!  Coloring books presented an entirely new and fresh opportunity for me.  I can easily slip back into that world and see myself lying on the floor with the book spread in front of me, first sniffing the inside, then turning the pages slowly and taking my time scanning each page to decide what picture to color, how to color it, and think about maybe tracing around certain parts of the picture. The more intricate the picture, the more excited I would become.  And the crayons, oh, the colorful crayons.  Lordy!!!  I'm getting all giddy just thinking about them even now.  The best part of the crayons??  That fabulous, brand new, break open the box scent.  Looooove me a good smellin box of crayons!  I never failed to pull out every single crayon, read the names ( and back then the names never changed so I still don't know why I did that - remember brick red and cornflower?), and return them to their special places in the box.  That flip top box.  Soooo cool.  I was always careful with my crayons and I don't remember breaking any.  I do remember peeling the paper away at the top of the crayon so I could get as much from the color as possible.  I think I colored them pretty much down to the nub.  After I got older (I'm still waiting to grow up), I made sure my kids had coloring books and crayons.  And every now and then I would color with them.  I still love to color.  It's very relaxing - and it can trick you into believing you're still on vacation.

 

 

Migraine Madness

Today is Monday, one of my favorite days of the week because it represents fresh beginnings.  It sometimes represents what the week will involve, but if that's true of today's Monday, I need to rewind, back up, re-do, or whatever it takes to undo the scenario that created the frickin migraine that has decided to descend into the depths of my head (and truly, there's not a lot of depth involved) and take up residence like a squatter.  The pain began last night.  I  dutifully took my meds.   I woke at 3, pain was still there but I stupidly thought the meds I took at 10 would still work.  Loss of linear thinking also accompanies my migraines.  At 6 this morning, I finally, duh, realized the chainsaw inside my head was running at full speed, my migraine was not leaving and I needed more meds.  So here I am around noon and although most of the pain is gone, I'm now in the throes of the migraine hangover.  I just love it.  Every muscle in my body, even the ones that aren't there, are aching.  My earlobes hate me. Even my hair is sensitive.  My head is full of cotton.  Nothing new there, but it feels very airy.  I have no energy and I still have trouble gathering thoughts.  As I type, I've had to correct mistakes about every third word. Yes, I have triggers and I know what they are and yes, I dipped into one of those triggers last night because I made that choice.  Sometimes I can get away with smooth sailing, most times I end up with a migraine.  On a happy note, if I can catch the headache at the very beginning, I can head it off with a dose of meds and get relief.  This one wasn't caught in time.  I passed out fell asleep before I realized I would need meds.  Every now and then, I'll get a migraine sent by Satan and his minions and it will take multiple medications to get rid of it.  Back in the old days, I used to have to tough them out in the bedroom, head under multiple pillows, and barf and sleep it off.  Ugh.  Sooo thankful for good drugs!  I'm fit for just about nothing when I'm having a really bad migraine.  I know some of you have them, too.  Someone once told me her brain truly shut down and turned black during a migraine.  I wish mine would.  This painting is just about what I see if I look at a vase of flowers as I'm experiencing a migraine.  As if I would really do that.    My eyeballs would melt and drool down my face.  Too bad the colors aren't shooting in your eyes like they do mine.  Then you could enjoy a little of my misery.  Not that I would want that for you.  Ever.  Know your triggers and stay away from them.  Unless you can sneak one in every now and then.  And always, always carry your meds.  You may have nice shoes on and you don't want to puke all over them.

Hair Bizness

We're already in the merry, merry month of May.  Good grief.  Why is time flying?  Why is every day about 3 hours long?  Not so long from now, I'll be an older old lady!  Yikes!  I need to do all the things I said I was going to do and haven't yet done.  Like clean out the attic.  And finish my undone projects.  And become a hairdresser.  Yep.  That was my ambition when I was about 10 years old.  I was going to become a hairdresser and own my shop and run my part of the world!  I remember visiting the hairdresser with my mom and grandmother, but back in the fifties, it was called the beauty shop.  My dad said he could never understand that because my grandmother always came back as the same ugly old blue haired lady who went into the shop.  He was speaking of his mother in law, who, in addition to having blue hair, also had a very sour personality.  Therefore, no beauty shop could have helped her.  I've always been soothed by watching others getting their beauty on and I know it began way back in those days.  I found it fascinating to watch these women sit down and have their hair tortured every which way - the meticulous way the hairdresser would take about an inch of hair and wrap it around a metal tube curler and continue this process until every inch of hair had been "tubed." Then all the tubed heads sitting under the hair dryer, gossiping with one another, or with another patron sitting in the hairdresser's chair having her head tubed, or with the owner of the shop.  And after the hair dried and the curlers came out, then the backcombing would commence.  Lordy!  My mother looked wild as her hair appeared to have been electrically shocked, but the hairdresser would take her comb and begin to comb down the wild parts and using the handle of the comb, would continue lifting the hair that laid too flat for her satisfaction.  I always wondered what would happen if some catastrophic event occurred and all the ladies in their various stages of "beauty" would have to run from the shop into the light of day.  After mom's hair had been teased and lifted multiple inches off her head, it would need to be sprayed into an impenetrable helmet in order to last the week.  Even with a can of hairspray sprayed on her head like bug spray, she would need to sleep on a satin pillowcase - just in case one of the hairs became wild and tried to escape.  I found all of this to be right up my alley.  This entire place was a woman's place - no man ever dared enter.  Therefore, the conversation could cover any topic and usually did.  As I used to do under the kitchen table, I would keep very quiet and pick up the gossip of my mother's world.  It was a wonderful place full of wonderful scents and I wanted to own all of it.  My hairdresser recently told me she never learned to give a permanent - schools no longer teach this particular hair style.  My mother still gets them.  She's ninety years old and thinks no head is nice unless it has a permanent.  Geez, I really miss the beauty shop and it's scents.  Enjoy my sketchbook page.  Pretend there is scent there.

Prom Queen

Ahhhhh.... Springtime!  Springtime means prom time.  I was just reading an article in WSJ about today's proms and how insanely expensive they've become and I realized how simple prom was years ago.  Of course, everything was simple years ago.  Well, retrospectively speaking.  Once upon a time, long, long ago I found myself in the middle of one of my lies.   Shocked, aren't you.  Remember I told you my sister and I are professional liars to our mother?  This story began with a lie to my mother, then turned into a lie to my friends.  Somehow, someway that I now cannot remember, a whopper of a lie came out of my mouth that I was the only 10th grade girl invited to the prom.  Usually, 10th grade girls at my school were not invited because.... well, let's just say they weren't quite good enough to be seen with the 11th and 12th grade guys.  I reckon it would have sort of been saying, "I couldn't get a date with a girl in my grade."  It just wasn't done.  That apparently didn't stop me from shooting off my mouth and declaring I was going.  My mother asked me just who was taking me. (She was all over insisting knowing everyone who visited our house and their entire pedigree.)  I remember stumbling, fumbling around about the lucky guy.  Crap, I was such a liar I probably made up a name but it wasn't long after that she was taking me to look at prom dresses and shoes.  And I went right along with it!  By this time, I was so caught up in the lie that I was actually believing it and I began telling my friends I was going to the prom, but I kept them guessing about the oh so lucky boy.  The dress and shoes were purchased, the time passed and the day before prom night arrived and I was beginning to shake in my shoes.  YIKES!  How was I going to get out of this?  I was sweating bullets, trying to figure out what kind of lie was going to get me out of this insane situation.  And then the heavens opened.  Really, really opened.  A 12th grade guy called the house, apologized for the last minute invitation, and asked me to the prom.  Whoaaaa.... Did I ever escape public humiliation AND the wrath of my mother!!!  I could NOT believe my luck.  I attended the prom, and went to a very nice after prom party, but I did not have a good time because everyone there was an upperclassman and I didn't know them very well.  The hosts parents must have felt sorry for me because as the partygoers were having fun with each other, I was sitting on the steps with the host's mom, talking.   I think about this crazy situation every now and then.  I think about all the lessons to be learned.  Here's the biggest lesson - lie to mom, not the friends.  And always have a fancy dress handy, because you never know when you're going to be asked to go somewhere special.

"I Got All My Sisters with Me"

My sister and I share many things.  We're both gorgeous, super intelligent, hilarious, fun to be with, superb cooks, and unicorn trainers.  :-)   Actually, we both think the other is hilarious, we love our grandchildren as much as our children, we drive within the lines, and we try to be good daughters - like that's ever going to happen....  My sister and I shared a bed for about 4 years when we were children and we got into some shenanigan troubles because of it.  We must have heard "If I have to come in there one more time, you're both going to get it!" hundreds of times.  I don't remember "getting it."  Of course, that's because we were "getting it" in some form or another every day.  I think I've revealed earlier that our mother was a screamer.  An hours long screamer.  Not a few hours, but many, many hours.  Seven, eight hours sometimes.  That was a good day for her.  One time, when we were older, my sister came into my room and said, "I wish she would beat us to death.  Maybe she would stop screaming if we were dead."  Nah.  She would find someone else to scream at.  Of course, she has been suffering personal demons all her life.  Now that we're older, we have come to understand what's behind the screaming, and it taught us to not scream at our kids.  In the house of our childhood, there were many "don't do this when you get older" moments and we learned them well.  Sometimes, instead of becoming that crazy person who is front and center in your life, you learn to watch carefully and do the opposite.  If you're a Seinfeld fan, you will remember George's opposite episode.  That's what my sister and I did.  Well, 12 years of therapy didn't hurt, either.  Soooooo, in addition to operating in opposite mode, one of our survival skills was a good sense of humor.  We love to laugh and we laugh a lot, even when things are down, really down, we can find some humor in it.  And I think that's a gift.  It has allowed me to get through some very hard times in life.  It's done the same for my sister, although I must say the enjoyment she gets from watching people fall down can sometimes make others thinks she's an uncaring psycho.  Hey!  Most of you enjoy a good fall, too, so don't judge!  Honestly, if she happened to be present during your fall, she would rush to help you up - after she hee hawed like a donkey for a few minutes.  This painting is in honor of my sister because we both reeeeely, reeeeely enjoy bizarre things.  And this is fairly whack.  

Springtime

Here we are in April - one of the most beautiful months in the calendar.  It's soooo green and pretty here.  All the daffodils have bloomed and are on the way out.  The tulips are here now and the dogwood and redbud trees and other flowering trees are blooming.  All the  non-flowering trees are budding and it's just gorgeous here in Central Virginia.  As I've stated before, springtime is my favorite time of year and it brings back many memories dear to my heart.  One outstanding spring memory is our 6th grade patrol trip to Washington, DC.  Some of you reading this also took that trip.  Some were with me and some were with other schools.  The patrol trip was the reward given for your hard work as a school patrol and the highlight of the 6th grade.  It was also a learning event, as we visited every monument in DC you can cram into 48 hours.  It was a three day event that covered every possible historic site between Charleston, WV, and DC.  We visited Monticello (little did I know then I would live my life at the foot of Jefferson's house) and I remember the guide showing us Monticello on the nickel.  We visited Endless Caverns and I remember it was freezing, therefore ending any more travels underground.    But the most outstanding memory of DC was the very wide, white , meticulously cared for sidewalks and the significance they conveyed to my 11 year old mind.  They were national sidewalks, therefore, they were better than my state capital city sidewalks.  They bore the weight of people from all over the world AND their dirty shoes and spilled food, and yet they gleamed and sparkled.  They seemed to go on forever.  No matter where we walked, those wide, sparkling sidewalks adjacent to the large, magnificent buildings never ended.  I was mesmerized.  This was what people in that powerful, fabulous city deserved - the very best sidewalks in the world.  We were so lucky to be walking those shimmering sidewalks.  This city was Oz!!  It glittered like Oz!  We walked in a line, double file to our destination.  Our leader called, "HALT!" and we stopped.  We were waiting for the stop light to allow us to cross the street.  Still infatuated with the big city, I turned around to see where we had been, and standing there was a sight I'll never forget - a drunken man, urinating on the splendid sidewalks of the capital of the United States.  As I've grown into an old lady, I have indeed learned that DC is Oz, but not the Oz of the 11 year old.  It's still beautiful and we still love going there, but always, always, watch your step.  You never know what's on the sidewalk.  And that's true everywhere.

Here Comes Peter Cottontail

Just returned from a fabulous trip to see the grandtoddler and his parents.  Anyone who is a grandparent knows the joy/love/excitement/non-stop fun that visit brings.  And it's welcomed!!  I would love to see him every day, but right now, that's not possible.  We're just thankful for Delta.  Direct flights 4 times a day from our town to their's.  Works out wonderfully.  One of the activities we enjoyed while we were visiting was an Easter egg hunt.  All the children were gathered together and told that the 5 and under group would have a head start.  Enjoy it, Sweetie Pie.  All too soon you'll be waiting with the other older kids.  All the kids were in their "start" positions, waiting to hear the whistle blow.  The large yard was covered with eggs.  The woods at the edge of the yard was covered with eggs.  The raised beds were covered with eggs.  The whistle blew and the little ones scrambled onto the grass with their baskets, buckets and bags.  A few inches into the yard, they were picking up eggs as quickly as they could.  But not Sweetie Pie.  Sweetie Pie ran as fast as he could across the entire yard and into the woods to retrieve a pink egg.  These days, his favorite colors are pink and purple.  Throughout the entire hunt, he would only pick up the pink eggs he came across.  Like most toddlers, he has distinct preferences.  I don't remember being a toddler, but I do remember attending an Easter egg hunt when I was in kindergarten.  It was magical.  The eggs weren't spread across a yard as they are these days.  They were really hidden and we had to look hard for them.  I remember the excitement I felt as I found a few eggs.  And, by the way, the eggs were real eggs, not plastic.  There was a special egg that was gold.  If you were lucky enough to find that egg, you won a huge Easter basket full of Easter treats.  I'm sure the parent of the winner was thrilled to see more candy coming into the house.  We held Easter egg hunts for our kids as they were growing up, but one memorable hunt was when the kids were adults.  My sister and her family were visiting and we decided to have an egg hunt for our kids.  Early in the day, we hid the eggs and after lunch, we announced it was time for the Easter egg hunt.  Oh my gosh, the groans and whines and eye rolling was unbelievable, until we announced there was a 20 dollar bill hidden inside a plastic egg!  They almost tore down the front door in an effort to get outside.  That was a fun hunt.  I don't remember the winner, but I'll always remember the event.  Easter is Sunday.  I hope this day offers you hope, renewal, and new life. 

Sweet Spring!

Hooray!!!!!!  Spring has finally opened her eyes and is stretching into the dawn of a beautiful season!  I'm sure some of you have daffodils that have already bloomed, trees that have beautiful, plump buds on them, and grass beginning to green up.  Here in Central Virginia, we have daffodils that have budded - I can see yellow on the outer petals so I know they'll soon open.  I love spring time.  It's my favorite time of year.  I love the freshness, the beginning, the promise of life to come.  The singing birds take me back to my early days of childhood and early days of marriage.  I see so many babies that have been born over the winter and are now becoming alert to their worlds. The days are now longer and warmer.   I see restaurants prepping their outside spaces, making room for tables, sun umbrellas, and chairs.  We're so lucky in this town that we have so many wonderful outdoor eateries.  So many food choices!!  We have excellent restaurants.   We also have multiple bakeries, two cupcake bakeries, and now a pie shop has opened.  Lawdy!!!!  Just what I need - another vice to fight.  And they make a daily assortment of scrumptious, mouth watering savory and sweet pies.  My favorite pie?  Chocolate.  This pie shop makes dark chocolate and chocolate hazelnut.  They make apple southern comfort, bourbon pecan, lemon chess, peanut butter, banana rum, whiskey chocolate chip, citrus, and many others!!!  Their savories include sausage, gravy and egg, sausage, goat cheese, and honey, fresh salsa, white cheddar, and scrambled egg, baby spinach, feta and egg.  And they also have pot pies - chicken, bacon, and roasted garlic, pork and pepper, porcini mushroom, leek, and gruyere, and broccoli and pimento cheese.  Geez Louise, this was just yesterday's menu.  It changes every day!!!!!  I've spent many a dime at Sweethaus, my favorite cupcake shop in the world, but I have to get myself to the Pie Chest.  I just looove a good pie, although I must confess to being quite the snob.  I make a damned good pie myself.  I'll have to taste test the Pie Chest pie to see if they can best me.  It will no doubt take many testings.  If I were you, I would go down there and get myself a slice of pie.  They sell out by around 2:00 every day.  And while you're indulging yourself in a slice of springtime, buy one for me.  I done told you what I like.  I'll even reimburse you if you drive it over.  Or I might even bake a pie for you and you can tell me which pie is your favorite.  Go on.  Get that pie.  Don't even start in about the calories.  Life is short.  It's good for your soul. 

Making Stuff

Totally ignoring the fact that it's sleeting/turning to snow outside my window.  Honestly, this has been the grayest, coldest winter I can remember.  And I grew up in a cold, snowy climate.  I reckon it's the old lady I've become.  Ugh.  Remember, I'm the one worried about freezing in the assisted living facility.  I'm still worried about those socks and sweats I'll need.  And I also want to be able to amuse myself.  Amusements are very important to me.  I've never understood people who say they can't stand to stay home because there's nothing to do.  HA!  Look around you.  There's plenty you may not WANT to do, but there's plenty to do.  And that's not even digging up the amusements. Amusements are part of my reason for living. My amusements include knitting and painting and drawing.  When we travel, amusements are the first things packed.  I take more amusements than clothing.  Sometimes I make the huzbin crazy on driving trips because I take so many amusements.  Flights are fairly safe because of the bag restrictions.  Driving trips, not so much.  I began amusements years and years and years ago when I was about 6.  I was making paper dolls.  And I looooooved coloring and working puzzles.  And making "stuff."  Any kind of stuff.  I would make designs out of twigs or rocks. I would make doll clothes.  I would get into the cabinets at home (without my mother's knowledge, of course) and make "potions" in the bathroom sink.  Santa Claus brought a chemistry set to me one year.  Jackpot!  I could make all kinds of interesting combinations - until I burned a hole in a table.  Hey, why follow the directions when you can "make something fabulous?"  By the time I got to 7th grade, sewing was a school requirement.  I loved it.  We made triangular scarves and skirts - using no pattern!!!  Wow!  I don't remember the skirt, but I remember the scarf I made was turquoise with white pompoms around the edges. I was soooo cool - in my head.  I don't remember actually wearing the scarf.  Then I moved on to dresses and robes and prom dresses and embroidery.  After I got married, I made my clothes and most of the daughter's clothes.  Not the jeans, but almost everything else - even tees and coats.  I was sooo good at sewing, I was sewing for friends and neighbors.  I loved it.  It was relaxing.  Roaming through fabric stores and sorting through patterns was like a drug for me.  I would just about space out touching exquisite cottons and choosing fantastic buttons.  Looking at trims would take another half hour of time.  Sooo many choices.  It was intoxicating.  I would finally bring home the goods and set to work.  I was one of those freak sewers who would stay up all hours of the night working until the project was at the finish line.  I could hold off on the hand sewing until the next day.  Those were the good old days.  My sewing skills now are mainly repairing this and that because I think I may have fried myself on so much sewing. These days, knitting is very calming for me.  As is painting and drawing.  And as I sit in this sleet globe, I find myself wanting to be in this painting.  It looks warm there.  Better weather days are ahead.  That's a promise.

NO TRIP FOR YOU!!!

It's frigid outside.  FRIGID!  As you may have gathered, I'm not a fan of cold weather, but this is absurd.  This is beyond cold.  This is Mother Nature farting in our faces.  She can be a very nasty mother and these past few weeks have proven that.  We were supposed to make an escape to warm, sunny southern California to see the daughter and son in law this weekend.  Guess who's still under the weather?  Graham.  Graham doesn't want us to leave him in Mother Nature's freezer, so he decided to continue coughing so we wouldn't leave.  Also, the vet said the stress on leaving him in his hour of need would further complicate matters - something we don't need.  And because he's a Standard Poodle with a tremendous sense of humor, if we left him in his hour of need, he would probably eat all our shoes, raid the pantry, and maybe even steal the car.  Poodles do things like that.  They're like bad teenagers.  Neither do I want to upset the balance of his recovery.  His recovery has been a very delicate path to negotiate, and I need him to stay on that path.  So I'm happy to stay stuck inside my house in frozen Charlottesville.   That's another lie I'm telling.  I really wanted to go to LA.  I love that place.  After the daughter moved there and before we visited, friends kept telling us we would hate it.  Too big, too crazy, too much traffic, too whatever.  I love it.  Yes, it's big and crazy and traffic heavy, but the tradeoff's are fabulous.  The lovely year round weather, the flowers that grow as big as dinner plates, the fantastic people watching, the airplanes overhead.  I bet you didn't know the huzbin and I are airplane spotters.  Yep, we're the freaks identifying airplanes.  Back in the old days, before 9/11, you could sit at the end of runways and watch them fly over your head.  If you're from my home town, did you ever lay on the end of the runway and watch the planes come in?  We must have been out of our minds.  At least the huzbin and I sit NEAR the ends of runways, not on them.  We now have to park a good distance away from the runways.  However, we're quite lucky that we have kids living in large metro areas with large airports that allow us to see fantastic airplanes while we sit in the comfort of a yard or back porch.  We spot when we drive or while we're taking walks.  We're very good at stopping what we're doing to look up and identify the airplane going over.  The son in law mocks us.  The daughter rolls her eyes.  The son pretends he doesn't know us.  The daughter in law thinks we're nuts.  But the grandchild??  He loves airplanes!!!  And he loves to have his mommy and daddy take him to the airport to watch the airplanes!  Could this be genetic?  A freak "watch the airplane" gene??  Actually, I'm feeling the pull right now.  Time to get the binoculars and hit the window. I'm leaving you with a doodle painting.  This is what I do when I'm lying talking to my mother.

Love is in the Air!

Here we are, a few days before VD.  Yep, VD is everywhere.  Every big box store, every drugstore,  and of course all the flower shops and the chocolate shops in my town are pushing VD.  VD can be evil.  It begins the day after Christmas and builds and builds and builds and God pity the man who doesn't produce something edible, fragrant, or sparkly on VD!  As a matter of fact, VD is our wedding anniversary.  Very special day.  Mind you, I don't expect edible, fragrant or sparkly on my anniversary (even though I received a beautiful bouquet of my favorite flowers yesterday).  The huzbin and I swing a different way.  We're more into trips to see the kids and grandchild or replacing a dead appliance or paying $3,000 to the vet for poodle pneumonia recovery or somesuch fun thing.  Our life is so exciting.  We did take the plunge and purchase a new king mattress for the new king bed.  Yep, here we are approaching our mid-60's and we're finally marching into the 70's.  And the only reason we decided to make this change is because above named poodle is sleeping in the bed with us and running someone out of the bed.  The huzbin and I are cuddlers - something was going to have to give.  The poodle was beginning to give me the fish eye and I knew my time in the old bed wasn't long.  We've now become "those" people.  People who obey the dog.  People who allow the dog to run the household.  His illness has been horrible for the past three weeks and we've let him forget every bit of training because he was too sick to function.  He spent 4 days and 3 nights at the hospital because he had to be med monitored round the clock. We weren't sure he was going to come through this illness.  After he came off IV meds and fluids, his vet said in order to get him to eat, allow him to eat anything.  HA!  Now he's snubbing dog food.  Who would want to eat dog food after eating scrambled eggs, cooked chicken, peanut butter, lunch meat, ground beef and steak???  He's now turned the corner of his illness and is on the road to happy health.  Of course, he's snobby and untrained now, much like the huzbin was back in the day.  But I broke him and I'll break the poodle, too.  The huzbin had an excellent trainer and the poodle has an excellent trainer.  We'll be back to normal quite soon.  It will involve lots of love.  The timing of this event has been very appropriate - right around VD.  There won't be candy or flowers or sparklies, but there will be loads of love.  And when you're a poodle, what else could you possibly want??

Valentine's Day

Here we are in February.  It's a cruel month.  We're in the depths of winter and it's cold, dark, cold, often wet, frosty, cold, icy, just blah.  It's one of those months we just want to get through.  That's what adult me thinks.  Little girl me loved one particular February day - Valentine's Day.  I just loved the classroom Valentine's Day parties that were held in my elementary school.  Before we could have the party, we had to create the large Valentine "mailbox" from which all the Valentines could be "mailed," retrieved and passed out among the classmates.  This creation usually occurred the day or so before Valentine's Day during art class.  We were fortunate enough then to have an art teacher come and help us make our mailbox.  And to add to the fun, each student would bring a shoebox and make his or her own small personal Valentine box to take home.  This box would be full of the Valentines we would receive.  Making the Valentine mailbox and smaller box was my favorite activity of the celebration.  Mrs. Perry, our art teacher, would bring lots of art supplies from which we could create the most beautiful boxes.  The larger mailbox was always a team effort.  It was always completely covered with tissue paper, doilies, different sized red construction paper hearts, and other tidbits Mrs. Perry had brought for us.  After we tackled the large mailbox, we would work on our personal boxes.  Of course, glue ended up everywhere - no glue sticks then, and there would always be a kid or two who felt the need to eat a little glue along the way.  We could decorate our boxes as much or as little as we wanted.  I was always so proud of my box and loved to admire my handwork.  Next came the mailing of Valentines.  Each kid would go up front and put his/her Valentines into the large mailbox.  There would be assigned "mailmen" to pass them out later.  We would then have a foodfest.  Some of the room mothers would bring in fantastic treats - heart shaped pink cakes and red Kool-Ade. Whoa!!!!!  A kid's dream!!!!  After we feasted, the Valentine's were passed out.  I remember one particular year I sat in my seat, excitedly collecting Valentines from my classmates and I opened one envelope.  BAM!!!!!!  WHAT THE WHAT????  Some jackass kid had dared to print "I love you" on the back of the Valentine!!!!  The shock!!  The horror!!  The anger!!!  My face blazing, I took that card and stuffed it in my box.   My mother always enjoyed going through the Valentines with me when I got home and seeing that little message would have brought forth a bombardment of misery from her, her friends and our relatives. I had spent the previous Saturday afternoon choosing the perfect Valentine for each kid - the girls got the pretty, sparkly ones and the boys got the lower tiered, blah cards and I was NOT going to let this stupid boy upset the societal balance I had fabricated.  I realized I needed to act quickly.  I looked all around and saw that each kid was completely absorbed in his/her own sugar fueled heart shaped madness.  I was safe.  I took that card and tore it to pieces.  Better safe than sorry.  Better to break one boy's heart than to endure any mention of this "love" by an adult.  Times were tough.  He should have used chocolate, not words.

Hen House

Cackle cackle cackle..... Who doesn't love a good chicken?  I've always wanted to have chickens in my yard.  I have a nice yard that could be a terrific host to  a really pretty chicken coop and some beautiful chickens.  I would love to watch them roam the yard.  I would love to hear their soft clucks, watch them scratching here and there, enjoy their eggs.  Alas, we live in the woods where there are lions and tigers and bears.  Those chickens wouldn't last a week.  And that would make me sad.  I'm very lucky that I have friends who do raise chickens and I'm the happy recipient of a dozen eggs every week!  They're so gorgeous - shades of brown, blue and white.  I can stare at them for the longest time and appreciate their natural beauty.  And are they ever yummy!!! 
My dad's family were dairy farmers.  And because they were dairy farmers, they didn't waste their land or energy just milking cows; they had all sorts of livestock, including chickens.  But when I was a little girl, they were the "dreaded chickens."  Way back in olden times, when I was a little girl, every time we visited our grandparents, my job was to go to the dreaded chicken house and gather eggs.  Oh geeeeeez, how I despised that job, but I would do anything my grandmother asked me to do because I loved her so much.  I would obediently walk outside, take the path to the dreaded chicken house and stand outside and feel out the lay of the land.  I could only hope the dreaded chickens would be outside the house, in the yard, but it seems they never were.  They hated me.  Every time I had to visit the chicken house, those rotten chickens were always inside the house and I knew what they were doing.  They had probably been in there for the past half hour, laughing their rotten heads off (which they were eventually going to lose anyway), planning exactly how they would lure me in by appearing uninterested in me, and then jump on me and peck me to death!  That's what happened every time I went to the dreaded chicken house.  As I became hip to their behavior, I started a new pattern.  I would stealth up to the chicken house, then start humming softly.  I would slowly hum my way into the house, and begin singing softly, "Sweet little chicken, I'm going to steal your eggs, but you don't know what I'm singing, so you won't peck my hand or arm today."  I would continue singing softly, gathering eggs in the basket, taking one from this nest, two from another next and BAM!!!!!  PECK!!!  Damn chicken!!!!!  Grrrrrrrr..... Try to be nice and get mangled by a chicken!  I know there's a life lesson in there, and it took me a while to learn it.  I hope you can dodge the chickens pecking at you.

Late Again

Who else still has the Christmas tree standing?  Don't lie to me.  Yep.  We still have a tree up.  We have a tree up for the same reason we usually put the tree up in October or November.  It goes up whenever the huzbin has a few days off to tackle the beast.  We don't just have a tree, we have a village that goes under the tree.  A very large village that takes forever to set up.  And the huzbin is the mayor, so he rules.  We were going to take the tree down last weekend, but he was on call and some of those thoughtless patients decided to get sick so no tree take down occurred here.  We were going to take it down this coming weekend, but something has come up and we cannot take it down.  If you come to my house and the tree is up, say nothing.  We use to have a Christmas tree that stayed year round.  Yes, we're freaks.  One year our Christmas tree stayed up until late February.  This tree and village is very pretty.  The tree sparkles and glistens and the village invites you to enter and become a Christmas shopper, house decorator, car salesman, truck driver, cop, taxi driver, Christmas tree salesman, basketball player, dog walker, or any of the many other fun occupations that dwell in the village.  Of course, you have to stand in place for a long time and that might not be your cup of tea.  I have a favorite house in the village.  It's a pink midcentury split level and it's fantastic!!  I can see myself moving in right after I shrink myself using my shrinking machine that I haven't yet invented. So although the tree and village are still up, they'll be coming down soon.  If you want to claim a house or occupation, come on over and we'll find one for you after I shrink you.  I would love to have a neighbor!

Ghost of Christmas Show and Tell

Still in the deep freeze here.  But wait - GOOD NEWS AHEAD!!!!!!  Ice on Monday!!!!!!  Isn't that fantastic???  And the huzbin is on call, so he'll be on pins and needles, dreading the call that will drag him to the hospital.  I've suggested that he spend the night there on really bad nights, but the thought of leaving me is more than he can stand.  I so understand that.....  Anyway, here we are in January.  January days mean new beginnings. The gyms are full, the diets have begun, some begin the decluttering of the house.... many new beginnings.  January  has always meant the return to school after the Christmas holiday break.  Way back in the old days, the 1950's, it was always exciting for me, because my teacher (in the younger grades) would allow us to bring in one toy we had received for Christmas for a show and tell.  I remember the year I brought in my very favorite Christmas toy of 1958, a Shirley Temple doll.  She was just gorgeous, I thought.  Blonde, curly hair and a beautiful pink and blue dress, pink slip, black shoes, lacey underpants - who wouldn't love her?  I was in the throes of watching old Shirley Temple movies around that time, so this was a perfect Christmas present from Santa Clause.  I remember taking her to show and tell, knowing she was the best present in the entire school.  Following lunch, the teacher announced that it was time to get out our beloved toys and take turns showing them to the class.  I waited patiently, playing with my doll, while each kid displayed and described his/her toy, knowing I was going to destroy them all.  Then came my turn and I sashayed to the front of the room, turned around and thrust Shirley in front of me.  "This is my favorite toy - my Shirley Temple doll!!"  Nothing.  No response.  Each kid was playing with his/her respective toy.  They weren't even looking at the best doll in the room!!!!  Of course, I can't remember any other toy displayed that year, or any year.  I only remember my fabulous dolls that I continued to take to show and tell every year.  My sister and I were remembering some great toys we received from Santa, and our favorite was a Vac-U-Form.  We can still smell the melting plastic.....  What were some of your favorite Christmas toys?

Snow Days

Brrrrr....... I bet you're freezing, too!!  Today the high was in the mid-twenties, same tomorrow; wind chill is bringing the "feels like" temp in the single digits.  ENOUGH!!!!  Sheesh!!!  I'm forced to withstand winter with it's shameless, naked trees, lack of color, lack of sunlight, lack of daytime, so come on!!  ENOUGH, I SAY!!  On the positive side, daylight savings time is only 8 weeks away, so I'm sure the time will pass quickly hardy har har.... I know I sound like a crackpot, but I would really like some snow.  It's winter, it needs to snow.  When I was a little girl in West Virginia, it seemed like it started snowing in November and the snow stayed on the ground until March.  Actually, that did happen.  It snowed all the time in those West Virginia hills.  We all had sleds and we would have so much fun sledding.  Our house was situated near the top of a small hill.  A bunch of kids would gather at our house and take turns going down the snow packed street.  We would fly down the street and, if you were lucky, turn the sled onto the next street and continue your ride.  My sister and I usually rode double decker.  I would lie stomach down on the sled and she would lie on top of me.  Of course, this allowed me to drive the sled.  Every now and then, she would carry on enough to force me to allow her to drive, but when she was very young, she didn't have the strength to make the turn onto the next street and BAM!  We would hit the snow piled on the side of the road.  There was a good side to this - the walk back up the hill was shorter than turning the street and going all the way down.  We would stay outside sledding until our hands and feet were so frozen we couldn't stand it.  Even then, our mother would have to make us come inside.  There was an inside ritual, of course.  You had to stand at the door and peel off your wet boots, 2 layers of socks, snow pants, snow jacket, wet mittens, and wet hat.  All wet items were placed over the heat vents to dry quickly.  All snow pants and coats went to the basement to dry downstairs.  And then we would find an empty heat vent and put our hands and feet over them in an attempt to encourage any feeling that might be left to please, please return.  Our mother would bring us hot chocolate.  "Don't you dare spill that!"  And usually my sister and I would start fighting because that's what kids do when they're frozen and trying to thaw.  Or we would settle down and play a game of cards or paper dolls or something to pass the time.  And as soon as the mittens, socks, etc. would dry, back outside we went!  Every time it snows, I think of those days and all the fun times we had playing in the snow for hours.  Spring will be coming.  Enjoy the tulip.