Wordless Wednesday: Pollywogs

Go ahead, click on the picture.

Destruction

These pictures are from a fire that started in a car in garage and quickly spread to the surrounding apartment building. This burned building is located behind the parking lot at our church. I am amazed how quickly the fire moved from the car to the building essentially destroying both. Luckily, no one was injured in this particular fire. However, the damage to the property is great.

Bane or Blessing

Oh the sweet smelling Lily-of-the-Valley, a blessing yes, but how can this diminutive spring flower be a bane to anyone? The fragrant little bells grow easily and come up every year. Furthermore, Lily-of-the-Valley is sold as ground cover, which means the plants will fill-in a barren place in your yard. This plant is a virtual homeowners delight. However, there is another aspect to this lovely plant. You may already know that the plant produces berries, and these berries are reportedly poisonous.

Unfortunately, I know about the toxicity problem personally. When our oldest son, Dean, was young, maybe about three or perhaps four, he came into the house to tell me that the neighborhood children had feasted on the fruit of the Lily-of-the Valley. Young Dean like the adult Dean is a source of truthfulness. So when my son said that the children were eating poison berries, there was no doubt in my mind that this was the case. Immediately, the parents of the two families were notified. Two preschool sisters were rushed to the hospital to have their stomachs pumped. The older daughter denied eating the berries in question. However, her stomach contents revealed that she had consumed a handful of the fruit. The emergency room doctor said that we should have brought Dean in for this procedure too as children of this age may not tell the truth. A fourth child had left for kindergarten, when his mother called the doctor. The doctor told her that it was too late for stomach pumping. He recommended that Mickey drink milk. The good news is that all four children are now adults in their thirties.

After this frightening life-threatening event, in fear and anger, I pulled up every single Lily-of-the-Valley plant and tossed all of these offensive plants in the trash. Those of you that have a greater understanding of gardening than me know that the next spring the hardy little plants returned even though each and every offending plant had been removed the previous autumn.

Somebody suggested to me that I could alleviate the poisonous berry problem by simply removing the dead flowers and any berries that might survive to maturity. This was wonderful advice. I now carefully remove the the dead flowers in the spring and any berries that might make it through the summer. I am grateful that the results of this episode in my young motherhood did not end tragically. However, I try to be vigilant when young children visit, and I will always, always remove the berries from this plant.

Wordless Wednesday: Where Bluebirds Fly

All Together in a Hand Basket

Disclaimer: I confess that this post appeared in my former blog Spring of the White Robin. Forgive me for plagiarizing myself. I have probably broken one of the cardinal rules of blogging. I like this post and wanted share it with my new readers. Of course, you realize that posting old stuff is much easier than composing new thoughts. Maybe the rest of you would like to check out this week's Fun Monday offering. The participants are writing poems. Hurry over to Nikki's blog to sign-up or to read the verses created by our blogworld friends.

I am one of many people that detest receiving calls from telemarketers. My husband and I put our number on the “no call” list to avoid dealing with salespeople offering aluminum siding, subscriptions to Southern Living, and books about the lovely and tragic Princess Di. However, apparently, some solicitors can still call and interrupt whatever you are doing, which you probably would like to continue doing even if you are de-fuzzing your wool socks. We still have charities calling our home, and companies calling to conduct surveys. Evidently, charities and people conducting surveys are still allowed to disrupt America at mealtime or anytime.

Now, I am hard-hearted when it comes to forking out dollars over the telephone wire. When the poor telemarketer pronounces those first words, “my name is Horace and I am calling for the Policeman’s Mother’s Donut Provision,”I am quick to respond that “we do not make donations over the phone,” as I efficiently place the receiver on the cradle. However, for some reason, I am seduced in to responding to surveys. Maybe I feel this way because this kind of telemarketing is designed to make the respondent important. After all, The American Society of Wonderful and Courageous People is asking ME for MY opinion about some critical matter.

A few weeks ago, I received a call that began with the woman identifying herself and her organization. (I do not remember her name or the organization probably because I was not paying close attention.) She requested that I participate in a survey about American trends. Why yes, of course, you want MY opinion about American trends. Then, she started her spiel that implied that the moral integrity of today’s society is degenerate and decadent. When the telemarketer asked if I agreed with this implication and I replied “No.” She actually did not know how to respond to my reply; her carefully worded speech was supposed to lead me to shout, “Yes, the world is going to Hell in hand basket.” After stammering for a few moments, she continued with questions. The next question was something like, “Do you think blah, blah, blah family values? At this point, it was clear to me that this survey was designed to elicit specific answers to fit a specific agenda. I felt that I was carefully being guided to reply to the questions in a certain way. This survey was no survey at all but attempt to steer answers to a foregone conclusion.

Yes, I know that horrific things happen today, but I truly believe that society has some huge strides since the days of my youth. In the 1950’s, not every citizen of the United States was afforded the same rights. Not all people were guaranteed the right to vote, not all children were allowed to attend schools with adequate facilities, not all people were allowed to live in homes throughout the cities, and not all people had the same access to gainful employment. Although today’s world is far from perfect, our democracy has made significant gains in offering more rights to more people. In turn these improved standards increase the moral fabric of our society not diminish it. I know that my telemarketing surveyor does not agree with me, but I do not think that she really wanted MY opinion.

Decadence

Maybe you will not be able to ascertain, but to the left is a picture of decadence. Until Luke and Frema's wedding, I had experienced one professional manicure. When Luke and Frema were married last May, I had my nails manicured for the second time in my almost sixty years. Last November, I had another manicure and my first pedicure. You see, once you start down the path of destruction there is no stopping along the way.

In December, Luke and Frema generously provided a gift certificate for the State of Mind Salon and Day Spa. I used the gift to have another pedicure and ...acrylic nails. Now, you are realizing how my demise continues. After years of sporting broken, uneven, and colorless nails, I am setting aside hours to have acrylic fills with sordid colors like I am Really Not A Waitress, 25 Colorful Years, Smokin' in Havana, and Jewel of India. I loved everything about these phony nails. I liked the exotic colors, the clicking sound of the falsies on my keyboard, and the lovely shape of each nail created by the expert manicurist. However, as summer looms in the future, I decided that it was time to go natural. Additionally, I have had a few accidents with the fake nails. Finally for summer, my decadent self yearns to have painted toenails and the luxurious foot massages that is an integral of each pedicure. My problem is although I can afford to have both manicures and pedicures, my frugal (cheap) self does not easily spend money on such frivolities.

Perhaps, you thinking what a crazy old lady. The picture does not show acrylic nails or a finely pedicured foot. However, those plain, colorless, and stubby nails cost $102.00. Granted that amount includes an eyebrow waxing (another decadence), Nail Envy, a nail strenghtener, Solar Oil, a cuticle revitalizer, as well as tips for the manicurist and the eyebrow wax technician. Most of cost was dedicated for the soaking, scraping, and removing the fake nails. So you see this is a picture of decadence; decadence I tell you.

All That Glitters on Wordless Wednesday

Fun Monday - My Cup Runneth Over

Willowtree has offered this assignment for the Fun Monday of May 14, 2007.
So here it is, I would like to see your favourite Coffee Mug. But wait there's more, I'd also like to see your favourite glasses for a) non alcoholic drinks and b) alcoholic drinks. If you want extra credit you could also post your favourite plate. Note I said favourite, not best.

Alas, my favorite coffee cup of all-time is broken. The cup featured artwork of Sandra Boynton. There were cute little mice all over the cup with a cheerful saying "Never Too Many Friends." I do have a substitute coffee cup that is pictured here. This cup is not only pleasing because of the friendly pun inside the rim and the endearing hedgehogs featured in the picture, but the cup keeps my coffee at hot for a long period of time. More massive cups tend to rob the heat from the coffee.

My favorite glass for non-alcoholic drinks is not a glass at all; it is a plastic or if you prefer a plastic drinking glass. In the Daddy D/MJD household, we tend to break things. When we found these glass-looking plastic glasses, a need was filled. We have eight durable drinking glasses that go with our dark blue Fiestaware plates and our bright blue kitchen.

Although I do not drink alcoholic beverages, I do have a favorite wine glass. Daddy D and I won a pair of these tulip-shaped wine glasses in a Romantic Weekend basket at fundraiser for our school corporation. Here is one of our wine glasses with a little nip of fine Australian wine for Daddy D. Finally, the last part of the assignment, is to feature our favorite but not necessarily our best plate. My plate is one that belonged to my mother. She in turn inherited from some relative, or actually I think that she talked a relative out of the plate. Thus, the plate is an antique. I think that this plate is beautiful with the "Flow Blue"delicate blue brambleberries. I like the plate because of the beauty of the design and lovely flowing blue and because my mother left this beauty to me.

Thinking Honor

Gawilli of Back in the Day graciously selected me for a Thinking Blogger Award in her entry of April 30th. Molly of The Molly Bawn Chronicles also honored me with the Thinking Blogger Award in her post on April 28th titled "Where Did I Put My Thinking Cap?" I am honored to be recognized by these two women, who are both fabulous writers. I am probably not worthy for this award; much of my blogging seems to be playing games. Since returning to the blogosphere, I have enjoyed playing the Fun Monday challenge, and then last week Daddy D and I attended Sunshine's Blog Prom. These are blogging events are fun, but usually do not require any of the higher level thinking skills. Maybe a major thrust or intent of my blogging expeditions has been to communicate with people throughout the world. I love getting comments and enjoy visiting other blogs.

Still, I have great respect and awe for many in the blogging world for their ability to make us think. I would like to recognize some of the blogs that encourage me to think. Here are the guidelines for selecting award winners.

The participation rules are simple:
1. If you are tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote.

1. Frema of What’re you lookin’ at is my lovely daughter-in-law. Frema, a crown princess of blogging, not only encourages us to think, but actually has encouraged so many of us to start blogging. Frema is so accomplished that she has been asked to teach a class on Internet writing at her Alma Mater, Saint Joseph's College.

2. PT, the pastor of my church, has a blog called Thinking About . In his blog, he encourages his readers to think about a variety of topics from Thinking about Vows to The Truth about Waco .

3. Cazzie of I Don't Do Mornings teaches the rest of the world about Australia's history in her fun Friday history lessons.

4. Margaret of Stargazer is an active blogger and fellow teacher from the state of Washington. She writes with grace about her family, her school, and many other topics.

5. PJ Librarian of The Magic of Books writes masterfully about children's books and occasional glimpses into her life.

Wordless Wednesday

Those Were the Days My Friend

My real proms in high school were all right events, but not the kind of night that a girl dreams about. Our high school had two proms, one for juniors and their dates and one for seniors and their dates. I attended the junior prom with a friend; we had a double date with another couple that were also friends. The dance was fine and I wore a lovely coral colored tea-length spaghetti-strapped dress. My senior prom was with a mere acquaintance; we attended with another couple. I ended up dating the other guy for about a month after the prom. The senior prom dress was strapless aqua taffeta dress with chiffon overlaying the skirt part, which was street length in front and dipped to floor length in the back. The dresses were actually lovely and hand-me-downs from my sisters. I wish that I had a picture to show you the beautiful dresses.

After graduation, I met my husband-to-be, Daddy D, on July 1, 1964. Thus, we never attended a prom together other than as chaperones sometime in the eighties. Sunshine at and the pursuit of happiness has picture on her blog of our prom date as chaperones. Since we like to dance and missed prom, I was excited to learn of Sunshine's venture. I am sure that everyone will have a fabulous time.

Daddy D and I do enjoy dancing, and we have attended a variety of dances together. The picture shows us dressed to attend a Christmas Dance when I was a freshman in college and he was a junior. My dress is another hand-me-down. Note the long white gloves. Women often wore long white gloves to dances in those years. Those were the days my friend.

Going to the Prom

Sunshine at and the pursuit of happiness is sponsoring a Blog prom. Daddy D and I are going to the prom together. If you want to go to the Prom too, visit Sunshine and tell her that you want to go to the Prom. Send Sunshine a picture of you in your prettiest formal or finest tuxedo.

Like any memorable event, Sunshine has organized the following schedule. Hopefully, you will show up to make the tissue paper flowers and blow up the balloons. We will all have a grand time at the prom.

• Friday, April 27 - we'll be reminiscing about prom theme songs
• Tuesday, May 1 - we'll be sharing the lovely or horrible or tragic or hilarious prom memories
• Monday, May 7 - submitted prom photos will be posted with links to participating bloggers
• Tuesday, May 8 - PROM

Daddy D attended the Junior Prom with Becki B, who actually was a classmate of mine. According to Daddy D, Becki was a beautiful blonde, but not a exactly a fun date. Strangely, although I did not meet Daddy D until a month after high school graduation, Becki and I knew each other and attended the same high school, and we were in the same grade. One unsual characteristic about Becki is that she always was chewing gum and apparently enjoyed playing with her gum with her long fingernails. On prom night, Becki's ubiquitous gum fell out her mouth and landed on her, well, on the chest of her fashionable black formal. Since the gum landed on Becki's chest, Daddy D was in a quandary of what to do next. Obviously, he could not offer to remove the fallen gum. Should he tell her? "Ah, Becki hon, you have gum on your cleavage." Brave man that he is our hero tells the lass that she has gum on the front of her dress. Now, Daddy D may not know this but Becki was in my gym class, and all that glitters is not gold...if you know what I mean.