My Mother, The Glamorous Model

After years and years of begging and prodding, my mother finally gave in...

When Mom turned fifty years old in 1994, she surprised my sister and I with updated photos of herself. We were both thrilled because truth be told, I think Mom is beautiful and defies all rules of aging and gravity. I believe she drinks a magic potion or something like formaldehyde (tissue fixative and embalming agent) each night that slows down her aging process, but she still insists it is untrue.

Mom's genes are also very prevalent in her offspring, particularly in her granddaughter (my daughter), Alyssa. In many ways, Alyssa is exactly like Mom. Of course, they look a lot alike, but they both hate numbers, think knowing how to spell is pointless, enjoy a grilled steak more than any other food and are pleasing to the eye.




Of course, they both have big brown eyes and the same face shape. So if my sister would dye her hair blonde, the three of them would look even more much alike!!! (My sister is in the right photo, peeking around Alyssa)





I have always believed that Mom not only ages gracefully (see the dates on the photos for proof and compare to the 1994 photos!), but she looks elegantly glamorous. As you could tell from the photos of the dinner get together in December, Mom has a natural knack for making things beautiful, soft and elegant. That's how I think she looks...beautiful, soft and elegant.

Mom, I feel very thankful that you have reached another birthday!

Woohoo!

Lucille Ball said, "The secret to staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age." I don't know how you stay young, Mom, because you don't eat slowly and I just announced to everyone your age. I guess that living honestly must be the key!

Did I just discover the secret to your youthful appearance?

Happy Birthday Mom!

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The Private Comment By My Mother

I wasn't going to blog tonight and by the time I get to the end of this post, I may change my mind about publishing it.

Because my mother knows that I approve my comments before they post, she often writes me notes that end with a request that I delete it after reading. Basically, it is for my eyes only.

I always comply.

Almost always.

Actually, there has only been one comment that I have not deleted.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

It is quickly approaching the end of 2011 which will end without drama. If you've read my blog for awhile, you know about what happened to Alyssa and the trauma I suffered afterwards. This has not been an easy two years for me.



With the holidays looming ever closer, I still feel zero spirit. Actually, I feel great sadness. I feel like I lost two years of my life and upon awakening, I find myself alone and older.

I don't want to seem ungrateful because no words can describe my gratitude for no longer having any flashbacks and that both Alyssa and I are alive. I also am getting back my memory and can "think" again, so I am very thankful that my life is returning albeit slowly.

The holidays are hard for some people for many reasons such as:

• Unpleasant holiday memories.
• Missing people that you can not be with or who have passed.
• Not getting enough sleep and become fatigued.
• Skipping meals or eating too much.
• Financial pressures exacerbated by unrealistic expectations.
• Family discord cause by unresolved issues and/or expectations.
• Trying to be perfect or have everything perfect.
• Too much booze.

At least I know that I'm not the only one suffering today from several of the things on the list. However, knowing that other people feel the same way as I do didn't really make it easier.



When I finally woke up this morning with the black cloud that followed me around all day, I sat down to see if there were any comments to approve on my blog. There were a couple, but along with them was my mother's comment from over a month ago....so I reread it....again.

Do you remember my sexy post about plums? If not, it was some of my best photography and one of the sexiest posts I have published. Anyway, that is the post where my mother left the private comment.

Today I read her comment several times trying to help myself feel happier. Yes, it is a private comment that I am going to share. I don't really think my mother will mind too much if I post it because it is filled with so many of the memories that I hold dear to my heart too. Besides, I don't want to ever forget all the love she packed into her message to me.

Since no introduction is needed, I will now share the private comment by my mother...

"When you are old and your life seems to stall,
you have to go where the rainbow snow falls.
Where memories of tiny feet,
little red curls,
long silky hair and
busy little hands touch your heart.
Go where the rainbow snow falls all around your feet.
Where love is sweet and tiny lips touch your cheek.
Where tiny lashes lay on china faces and
the rainbow snow falls all around your feet.
Life there is calm,
no heartache is allowed,
no sorrow abounds...
just the sound of laughter with tea parties.
Coke in backpacks,
bags of coke dragged across the floor,
giggles and sweetness drowns you,
where rainbow snow falls all around your feet.
Pooh bear and Robin,
M&M's, pretzels, chips and cookies consumed by little mouths.
There are Nutcrackers and Clara all dressed in red,
and ironing board offices with timeless chatter.
Chicken fingers and ham,
long blond hair, big brown eyes
and tender words bring joy in the heart
where rainbow snow falls all around my feet
in a place that is mine to keep.
I thank the Lord for the place
where the rainbow snow falls all around my feet.
Where life's memories are ever so sweet
and no one goes there but me.
Four tiny girls,
red curls and blond lengths,
china skin and smiles of angels.
They live in my heart
where the rainbow snow falls all around my feet.

This is just for you, my little girl all grown up, my Sherry."

Obviously, my mother loves her two daughters and two granddaughters. Like her, I remember all those special times and the innocence of youth.

So much time has slipped through my fingers. Although I have lost much and failed often, there have been far more happy than sad moments in my life.

Now I've reached the end of my post and I must decide to publish or not publish.

---------------------------------------(2 hour pause)---------------------------------------

I'm going to publish.

Here's to wonderful memories in the past and hopefully many more in the future.



"People are never perfect,
but love can be.~Tom Robbins

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Brain And Heart Connection During The Storm

One beats while the other thinks. Two totally different functions, but surely there must be a connection between the brain and heart. Have you ever had your heart hurt so badly that you get a headache or your brain thinks so much that your heart starts to feel numb?

The Heart's Brain

In 1991, neurocardiologist, Dr. J. Andrew Armour's research showed that there is a sophisticated and functional nervous system that qualifies as a "little brain" within the heart. That means the heart can learn, remember, feel and sense, independent of the cranial brain.

Most of the time the communication between the heart and brain work great, but it is not always necessary for the two to share information. For instance, when someone receives a heart transplant, the nerve fibers running through the vagus nerve and spinal column do not reconnect for quite a while and sometimes, they never reconnect. However, since the heart has its own intrinsic nervous system, the heart transplant will still be successful. The brain and the heart can act independently, yet together. Obviously, the 40,000 neurons in the heart's nervous system are quite smart collectively.

The other night, I was sitting at the computer when I heard a HUGE sound of thunder and looked out the window just in time to see a big flash of lightning followed by more thunder. My first thought was to turn off the computer and television. I was in the middle of watching The Notebook and typing a blog post, so I did not really want to stop just for a storm. It was a short lived storm and was soon completely gone with no ill effects to the computer or television.



The storm passed.

My brain understood it.

My heart was happy since it was very involved in the love between the two characters in The Notebook.

The brain and heart were talking to each other without any problem.

The Brain and Heart Walk In The Storm

Sometimes the brain and heart share an experience that totally messes up their communication. I only saw my parents have one argument and that was shortly before they were divorced. I was only eight years old and totally oblivious to any problems between my parents. The three of us were standing in the kitchen one early evening and I suddenly realized that Dad was very angry. He reached for the dishwashing liquid and started squirting it all over Mom. She did not scream or try to reciprocate against him, but just stood there as he dumped the soap on her.



I freaked out.

Seriously, I totally freaked out.

I saw Dad doing something mean to Mom and since I did not understand what was happening, I was very frightened. I was so scared that I started screaming.

Uncontrollable screaming.

Screaming at the top of my lungs.

I could not stop.

My parents had stopped fighting because they realized that I was freaking out. I remember they were both speaking to me because their lips were moving, but I did not hear anything. All I knew was that this loud screaming noise was coming out of me and I had no control of my voice or my shaking body.

As I recall, Mom had to slap my face (not hard) to get my attention and snap me out of the screaming fit. After the screaming stopped, I collapsed in my mother's arms and sobbed. I had witnessed Dad's terrible storm of emotions. My young mind did not understand it and since I loved them both, my heart ached.

Shortly thereafter, Dad moved, the house was put up for sale, Mom went to work and I became a latchkey child. Each afternoon, after I got off the bus, I took the silver key that hung around my neck on a pink piece of yarn and babysat myself until Mom got home. Dad had taken most of the furniture, so the house felt very empty. As a matter of fact, the master bedroom was completely empty which really made the whole experience very sad.

During the time when my brain was trying to understand the whole concept of divorce, my heart was aching. No matter how many times my mother would say that everything was going to be alright, the message just did not seem to get to my heart. I missed Mom being home all day and I missed Dad coming home each evening. I longed for the life that "used to be" and was scared of the unknown future that loomed ahead.

It took years for me to understand my parents stormy divorce and even longer for my heart to heal from the pain and loss. The important thing to remember is that I did heal. The storm may have lasted for many years, but eventually the clouds broke and the sun shined brightly again.

No Brain or Heart Is Exempt

Everyone has experiences that are not very pleasant as well as those that are extremely joyful. No heart or brain is exempt from learning to cope with the hard times. Life is filled with opportunities for us to experience every sensation known to the human body. No two people have the same set of experiences nor do they react exactly the same as another human being. Each person that walks on this planet is completely unique and that makes our co-existence even more interesting.

Often, people do not have the capacity or desire to understand things that they have not personally experienced. I have found that people have several reactions to other people's trials and bad experiences. They either:

• ignore it
• make a joke out of it
• act like it is not such a big deal
• have compassion, but no understanding of the problem
• totally comprehend the pain of the situation because they have lived through a similar circumstance
  

My storms have taught me that it is always best to be compassionate even if I have no understanding of another person's dilemma. It is the humane thing to do. It is the right thing to do. No heart or brain is exempt from the trials of life. Mom always said that everyone will eventually meet their Waterloo.

Mom was right.

After every storm the sun will smile;
for every problem there is a solution,
and the soul's indefeasible duty
is to be of good cheer.
~William R. Alger~

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The Gumball Tree

The melodic creaking from the porch swing was peaceful as I sat next to Mama Minnie in silence. My little legs were so short that my feet barely hung off the seat as we glided forward and backward. Wind whistled through the screened open windows and occasionally the wooden door rattled just a little.

Mama Minnie and Daddy Cecil lived on a farm in a typical farm house with crops, animals and lots of interesting things that I never saw in the suburbs at our home. My great grandparents were the oldest people I knew and when they smiled, their eyes twinkled. Visiting them was always a thrill.

Dad walked onto the porch and asked, "Do you want to get some gumballs?"

Mama Minnie stopped the double wide porch swing and Dad helped me jump down onto the floor. My black patent leather shoes clacked against the wood of the porch floor. I always thought that they made me a "big girl" because they made the sound of women's high heel shoes.

The Gumball tree, planted directly in front of the house, was very tall and big around. A mature gumball tree can reach heights of more than one hundred feet and as much as sixty feet wide. The proper name for this tree is an American Sweetgum, but it is also called a Redgum, Star-Leafed Gum or just a Gum tree. To me, however, it was the Gumball tree.



The seeds of the Gumball tree are found in a pointed, spike shaped ball that is green in color. In time, the balls fall to the ground, dry up and turn brown. That is when the fun begins!

Leaning over, inspecting one small brown gumball at a time, I searched for the "good" ones which meant that none of the spikes had been crushed or broken. Dad grabbed a couple and started throwing them out into the yard so far that I could not see them hit the ground.

I thought Dad was as strong as Superman.



Getting dirty was not an option for such a prissy little girl, so I held a gumball in one hand and searched for another one with the other hand. As I happily explored, Mom had joined Mama Minnie on the porch swing, talking and laughing as the creaking continued.

Squatting down to look closer at the gumballs, I continued my search. This one was bent. That one had a bug on it. While yet another one did not have enough spikes. Finally, I saw the perfect gumball. I carefully inspected it for oddities, but it was truly perfect.

I stood up and walked over to Dad. "Look Dad," I said, holding the gumball up and squinting in the bright sunlight, "this is a good gumball."

Dad reached over and tousled my curls, chuckling a little bit.

I tiptoed through the grass to the steps of the porch. Eagerly I went in and showed Mama Minnie and Mom my prized gumball. They smiled and Mom acted like it was the first time she had ever seen a gumball. I obviously was very proud of this great find.

On the two hour trip back home, my gumball was either held or lovingly placed on the seat next to me. I stared it because it held a magic power...memories. The gumball could take me back to Mama Minnie and Daddy Cecil's front porch. It made me feel special because Mom was so proud that I had found the perfect gumball in the middle of thousands that lay on the ground under that huge tree. One prickly, brown gumball could have me standing next to my Dad who was better than Superman.

Yes, the gumball was magical.

I walked through the park as the sun was setting a couple weeks ago, just looking at the beauty of nature around me and soaking in peace. At the edge of the clump of trees, there were honeysuckles, buttercups, butterflies and...

Then I saw it.



Laying on the dried leaves was the magical gumball and I was immediately thrown back to being a dainty three year old surrounded by people who loved me. Much to my embarrassment and without warning, I burst into tears. At first, it was tears of sadness because Mama Minnie, Daddy Cecil and Dad have passed away. The memories of each of them weighed heavy on my heart, but soon the pain subsided and was replaced with thankfulness.



I was abundantly grateful that my mother is still alive and that I was loved, cherished and nurtured as a child. As I took pictures of the gumballs, it was almost as if my loving family was there with me.

A familiar feeling of safety and well-being washed over me.

Life may be hard, but I have people that are rooting for me to win this awesome challenge. They want me to succeed and experience happiness. I felt so loved in the middle of the park taking pictures of gumballs and the wonderful feelings softly surrounded me as I walked back to the car.

Yes, the small, spiky, brown gumball still held the same magical powers.




"What matters in life
is not what happens to you
but what you remember
and how you remember it."~Gabriel García Márquez~

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Grow Where You Are Planted

At one point of my life, I was extremely poor, but I was too young and broken-hearted to realize it. My dad had just divorced my mother and moved into a very posh, adult only apartment complex. He paid very little child support and only had visitation on Saturday. Dad had tons of girlfriends, fancy jewelry and clothes, ate whatever he wanted - whenever he wanted it, and eventually being a father got in the way of his fun.

My sister and I lived with my mother in a non-posh apartment complex. Actually, we did not leave at night because it was too dangerous. Mom worked three jobs to support us and sewed all of our clothes. We were on a tight budget...a very tight budget. At the ripe old age of ten, I was the accountant and balanced the checkbook. Although we did not have everything we needed and definitely not what we wanted, my sister and I had the most important thing of all - a mother who loved, sacrificed and taught us how to be good people.







I love my parents; both of them. I also totally understand the human aspect of why they made the decisions and choices that led their paths in different directions. Even as a young child, I recognized the dramatic difference between the lifestyles, beliefs and values of my parents.

One was selfish and the other was not.

One told lies and the other did not.

One loved us when it was convenient and the other loved us with every action, unconditionally.







Some portions of my life have been happier than other times which is normal. The life experience can not be 100 percent euphoric no matter how hard we wish.

Time, life experience, good teachers, a loving mother, therapy and prayer finally helped me to have a forgiving heart. It also allowed me to reach out and enjoy a relationship with my dad without expectations.







Driving from Williamsburg to Richmond, I passed a beautiful bunch of flowers. To my amazement, they were surrounded by nothing except rocks. Dry, hard, lifeless rocks.

These beautiful flowers were growing where they had been planted and not half-heartedly. The flowers were vibrant, large, healthy and absolutely gorgeous.

This plant probably had to fight the rocks to grow which was not a small task. However, regardless of the hardships, this plant has hundreds of gorgeous blossoms.

I have "thrived" in life even though there have been many "rocks" in my path. From my humble beginning where there was so much love that the walls could hardly contain it, but not enough food and money, to the very busy day I had today, the main lesson I needed to learn was...Grow Where You Are Planted.







There will be rocks and sometimes boulders, but just keep growing.

Bloom with all your might and strength.

Bask in the sunshine and drink in the rain.







Reach upward to new heights and experiences with a fiery passion.

No matter where you are, who you share your life with, what your age is or how you do it, just do it...







Grow, bloom and flourish where you are planted.

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Two Big Eyes In The Window

My mother's childhood was completely different than mine, so I wanted to share a story that I love hearing Mom tell over and over again...

I could hear little green frogs, bull frogs, and crickets outside the bedroom window where I was laying on the bed with my new baby sister, Ann. The smell of corn growing in the fields next to the little farm house we lived came in the open window. It had a sweet smell mixed with the honeysuckle vines on the fence.

I held Ann's bottle while she drank her milk like a hungry piglet. We lay on a mattress with no sheets because we were too poor for them. I can still see the black and white ticking that the mattress was covered in.

The sounds were peaceful until I heard what I thought was a pig that had gotten out of the pen. The groaning got closer and closer to the window along with some deep snorting. I was only three, so I was oblivious to all of the danger ahead.

The moon was brightly shining and helped the lit kerosene lamp make the room brighter. We did not have electric lights, running water or any of the conveniences that are normal today. We didn't have a phone and I had never even seen one. We also did not have a television because it hadn't been sold yet!

I looked out the window which wasn't hard to do because our heads, baby Ann's and mine, were right by the window sill. Suddenly, I saw the two big eyes of a bear! His head filled the opening of the window because he was so large.

The bear roared loudly.

I screamed!!!!

Mom said, "Shhhhhhhhhhh."

She blew out the lamp, took the pillows off the bed, soaked them in kerosene and lit them on fire.

As she walked out of the the room, she reached up and took the only new dress I had ever had up to that point in my life. It was polka dotted with a red sash and black top. The sash had a little red velvet flower pinned to it. I loved the dress.

Mom went out the front door and threw the pillows and the dress at the end of the walkway where the big bear was standing on his hind feet!

When he saw the fire, the farmer across the field came with his sons to help. They tracked the bear with dogs and killed him because he had become a threat. He was getting too close to homes and was dangerous.

The ironic part of the whole night was that my dad and uncle had left to go hunting bear! If he had just stayed home and rested on his bed, he could have shot a big brown bear!

I am 67 years old and the memory of that night is as vivid in my mind as is my memory of breakfast this morning. The scene is still sharply etched in all my senses.

I have never forgotten my little dress. I think that is why polka dots always catch my attention. Sometimes I even feel the fear of the moment when I looked into the face of that bear who was only about twenty inches from tiny little form.

I can see the brass bed, barren mattress without sheets, no pillow cases, no curtains, no dressers and no closets. Instead there were just nails in the walls to hang clothes. I also can remember my pretty mom. She was beautiful with bright red hair, a smile that lit up a room, and skin as fair as a lily.

Wow, life is so funny. Thank goodness I know the purpose of it all.

Thank you Mom for sharing this spine tingling story with us and I look forward to many more.

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The Control Shift In The Pouring Rain

This evening at work, almost at once, everyone started texting, instant messaging and calling me on two different phones. I thought it must be the end of the world for sure and either we finally pushed the button to set off a full fledged nuclear attack or Jesus was descending from the clouds.

It was the same message coming through loud and clear...Get out of the building and go home!

Evidently there was a huge storm coming with all kinds of terrible weather forecasts and warnings. Apparently I work so hard, it requires others to tell me that it is going to storm because I'm so oblivious to the outside world.

Anyway, I shut down my computer, locked down the place just in case it would still be there in the morning and headed out the door. Of course, I have to park very far away from my office. No really, I have to park nearly in California and I live in Virginia. Maybe I exaggerate a little bit, but it really is a long walk.

By the time I was about a third of the way to my car, the deluge of water started. At first, my umbrella was doing pretty good, but then the wind got it. I have no idea where the wind even came from, but it started whipping pretty hard.

At this point I was half way to my car without the aid of an umbrella. I was wearing a coat with a hood, so I turned back to the wind and reached up to yank the hood over my head.

I knew that by now the backpack strapped to my back was probably getting soaked. My shoes and slacks were as wet as if I had just waded through the swimming pool and I was having a heck of a time keeping my hood in place because the wind wanted to whip it down.

Just in case you've forgotten or don't know, I'm a bit...hmmmm...neat and orderly without a hair out of place and my makeup on every time I step foot outside of my house. I iron my clothes each morning and my slacks have a stiff, starched pleat. Now you get the picture?!

I don't know if it was the roaring wind in my ears, the rain beating down on my face and getting in my eyes or my PTSD, but I got a little scared and disoriented. I couldn't find my car and I couldn't remember where I had parked.

I felt like crying and then something in my head - a voice said, "Be calm. It is just rain," and so I stood still and closed my eyes in the pouring rain with my hood barely covering my head, my backpack on my back and my shoes underwater in the flooded parking lot. The weather was out of my control and so I needed to shift my attention to taking care of just what I had the power to control and change.

My car was just a few rows over and after my brief moment of gathering my wits, I was able to quickly find it and get inside where it was safe and dry.

Looking in the rear view mirror, I laughed at my reflection. My hair was plastered to my head, mascara ran down my cheeks and water dripped off my nose and chin. Tiny rivers of water flowed from my shoes and a splash of water sprayed when I patted my water logged slacks.

I don't ever remember being that soaked in "good" clothes. The smell of my rain soaked clothes reminded me of something. What was it? It was right on the tip of my tongue. Then I remembered being a bathing suit clad, fair skinned little girl running through the sprinkler in our front yard. My sister, Audrey, with her chubby little legs and ruffled bootie bathing suit kept trying to sit on the sprinkler. The cold water would shoot out of the tiny holes and spray her face. She would suck in her breath, run away laughing, then turn around to come back and do it again. My very young, golden brown tanned mother stood laughing and smiling at us both. That look in her eyes, I realize now, was unmasked love of a mother for her children.

How did that much time pass already?

Life is going to happen every day. We often have the illusion of control and power over everything around us, however, it simply isn't true. I can control me and you can control you. We can't control the weather, sky, the billions of people in China, the little fish in the sea, our friends, parents, children or spouse.

Our experiences will include the happy, exciting, fun, good, indifferent, sad, unpleasant, devastating, traumatizing and soul wrenching times. Through it all, we have to take a moment to relinquish control and shift our attitude.

It is not easy or even pleasant, but it is entirely necessary to our progression and sanity to take time for introspective meditation and positive self-talk.

Today my control was washed away in a parking lot where I was soaked to the skin with fresh rain, and I sat in a cold car remembering the innocent time of youth, love for my little sister and the joy of being my mother's child.

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Tell Me Something Good

If you are at least my age or you listen to the oldies music station on the radio, you've probably heard the song by Rufus and Chaka Khan entitled "Tell Me Something Good" which has a tune that sticks in my head and won't go away! Of course, the whole song doesn't go through my mind, just a part of it. It is the first line of the chorus.

"Tell me something good" and then that really deep voice sings "Tell me, tell me, tell me."

You know exactly what I'm talking about now, don't you?

Anyway, if you have followed my life since last year, it has been filled with tragedy, pain, death, fear, anger and trauma. Through it all, I have blogged and written inspirational posts that helped even me feel better, but I have suffered and complained.

Not very long ago I mentioned that my mother was having tests done because she has been really sick. It has been months and months of doctor visits filled with terms that I could not pronounce, spell or even understand at times.

Honestly, I have felt helpless.

I haven't even been in my right mind because I can't imagine life without my mother. She has always been there and is an excellent mother. Not good. Excellent. Mom has loved her two grandchildren as much as she loves her two daughters.

On top of it all, I have been trying to cope with this horror while trying to exist with PTSD. I can not even tell you the Hell that exists in my brain from this affliction. So if we take my malfunctioning brain and throw in the terror of my mother passing away in the mix, it has literally been too much for my present coping skills to handle.

I knew Mom had a doctor's appointment today and I was scared to even answer the phone when she called me at work. I had visions of throwing myself in the floor and screaming which wouldn't have been too cool. So this morning I got up and put on a purple blazer that Mom gave me which still had the faint scent of her perfume.

I thought about her all day and "Tell Me Something Good" kept repeating in my head. Eventually the phone rang and it was her voice. For a few minutes my insides just froze and I felt like I was going to throw up. I could hear her talking, but nothing was registering. I know I sounded like a babbling idiot, but I don't even remember what I said. Mom talked long enough for me to hear, "I'm not dying of bone cancer." She has benign cancer cells that aren't sticking together or growing, so the doctors are going to watch them a few times a year just to make sure nothing turns ugly.

I remember saying, "I love you" and hanging up at the end of the call, but my mind was a bit fuzzy. I closed my office door while tears of relief destroyed my makeup.

They still don't know why she's feeling so unhealthy and tired, but the major diseases are off the board. She also has a new attitude and just might now admit that she's not 25 years old any more! Mom, just repeat after me, "I'm allowed to get tired and take naps." (wink)

Finally, Mom was able to "Tell Me Something Good."

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Comments Don't Lie and Mental Telepathy

Surfing.

Commenting.

Surfing some more.

Commenting over and over again.

Then suddenly, I was reassured that having red hair was meant to be...



Comments don't lie.

I thought it was rather funny which is why I saved it, but things like this happen to me all the time.

Back in the day when ignorance was blissful, I went to college. I was doing fine living at home, but Mom insisted that I "go away so that I could meet eligible men and get married."

Silly woman.

I was so lonely.

Really, I was miserable.

In those days, long distance costs were as much as two house payments and a tractor. Of course, the cell phone didn't exist either. Yeah, I was raised in the dinosaur era.

Anyway, when I just couldn't stand being home sick one more minute, I would sit and stare at the phone so that Mom would call me. Most of the time it was in the wee hours of the morning which meant that I would have to wake Mom up from a sound sleep by just thinking loud. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it works for us.

On one of those lonely nights at about 2:00 a.m., I sat staring at the phone willing my mother, who was a thousand miles away, to wake up.

After a few minutes, my phone rang.

"Hello?"

My mother's groggy voice on the other end said, "You just woke me up from a sound sleep. Is everything okay?"

I was thrilled that she picked up my "vibes," but I sure felt stupid for waking her up after she answered. I mean really, I was twenty years old, not five!

My point is not that I have any special powers, however, I have a very strong love for my mother and vice versa. We are "in tune" with one another and just "know" things about each other without being told.

This didn't happen overnight.

It took time. Not just a quantity of time, but also quality time. We have paid attention to each other and listened in order to know each other. As time has passed, those things have simply become a subconscious part of our relationship.

A relationship that is treasured and filled with love.

There's only one way to know each other that well...

You must make a sincere and concerted effort in the good times and the bad. This is true for any relationship not just parent-child. I think that five of the most important characteristics in obtaining this type of relationship is the desire to truly know the person, honesty, willing to listen, unselfishness and love.
.
Do I think it is worth it?

Oh yes.

I love you Mom.

No, it isn't Mother's Day or your birthday, but I thought a surprise post just for you might brighten your day. I know you are having it tough, so hang in there. Many people love and care for you. How can we help it? You are an amazing woman!






The daughter from whom there is no escape (wink),

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Happy Birthday Mom! You Are So Beautiful

My Mother, Teresa
(Lookout point at the Shenandoah Valley)

I've always known that my mother was a special woman. Perfect? No, but she doesn't have to be perfect in order to be loved. I've also thought that Mom was beautiful not only physically, but inside her heart. Mom loves the Lord and her family. Everything she does revolves around one or the other while she strives to be her own best person.

You know what?

Mom is a great person with a beautiful heart filled with love and compassion.

I have billions of memories filled with Mom as does my sister, niece and daughter. She has been there for all of us at one time or another in different capacities loving us as we grew. Seeing Mom with Brittany and Alyssa makes my heart feel so full of happiness because I can see a part of her in each of them for which I am thankful.

I have always loved you, Mom.

One small story...

I distinctly remember laying across the front seat of the car with my feet in Dad's lap and my head in Mom's. It was the weekend and we were taking the ritualistic two hour drive to my grandparents. The sun was shining really brightly and they both were talking.

They thought I was asleep.

Actually, I had been asleep and was just barely awake. It is so hard to wake up with the warm sun beating down and the hum of a moving car.

With my eyes still closed and listening to their talking, I thought about how much I loved my parents. I could feel Mom softly playing with the curls on my head. She always twirled her own hair between her fingers abstractedly. I found this habit intriguing and somewhat of an enigma. In this hazy, sleep filled thinking, I felt so much love for her.

Thankfully, I can remember being very, very young. As a matter of fact, I can remember being two years old which is how old I think I was in the car that day. My parents were very young - around 20 years old. Like I said, they were very young with dark hair and smooth, unwrinkled skin. We all grew up together in many ways and I am so grateful for such wonderful memories.

On January 23, Mom was born into this world. It is truly a blessing to my sister and I that we are the people that can call her Mom. I am also very thankful that she has loved her grandchildren and has made an effort to always be in their lives.

My Niece, Brittany and my Mother, Teresa

My Daughter, Alyssa and my Mother, Teresa
Love the green gum in you mouth Mom (hee hee)

A Sonnet for My Incomparable Mother

I often contemplate my childhood, Mom.
I am a mother now, and so I know
Hard work is mixed together with the fun;
You learned that when you raised me long ago.

I think of all the things you gave to me:
Sacrifice, devotion, love and tears,
Your heart, your mind, your energy and soul--
All these you spent on me throughout the years.

You loved me with a never-failing love
You gave me strength and sweet security,
And then you did the hardest thing of all:
You let me separate and set me free.

Every day, I try my best to be
A mother like the mom you were to me.

By Joanna Fuchs

Because I can't help but think about you when I hear this Mom, I am dedicating your favorite song by your favorite singer to you. As a side note to everyone else, Mom actually has the mannerisms and moves the same way Snow White does in the video and her beautiful voice can always be heard singing the wrong words to a song (wink). Mom even had the same hairstyle as Snow White when she was in 8th grade.

"I'm Wishing" that you have a Happy Birthday Mom!

No written word could ever express the depth of my love and thankfulness for you Mom. Thank you for being a wonderful daughter, sister, mother and grandmother. We all love you dearly and forever.

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Cow Pea Judgments

Making a quick judgment based on the way something looks or sounds is often not wise. Maybe that is why the saying, "Don't judge a book by it's cover" holds so much meaning. So if I say that I love cowpeas, do you immediately think it sounds gross because you have visions of "cow" peas?

Cooking is a peaceful and creative activity for me. Being the person that provides sustenance for the family in an enjoyable way helps to make me feel valuable in my role as a mother, sister, aunt and daughter.

I cook healthy meals most of the time, but there are a few ingredients that I just can't give up which can be found in recipes passed down through the ages in my Southern family. Cowpeas, also known as black eyed peas are one of those meals that is very simple to cook, delicious to eat, keeps the pangs of hunger away for quite a while and has one not so healthy ingredient.

Black eyed peas or cowpeas depending on your preference are white skinned, kidney shaped beans with a small black eye and very fine wrinkles. They can be cooked down to a creamy consistency or with less cooking time can be left firm in their thin skin. They are often cooked on New Year's Day to add "luck," so here's to having all the luck I can get...

Black Eyed Peas

Start by filling a pot with water and turn up
the temperature so that the water boils.



Purchase 2 lbs. of dried black eyed peas.



Throw away all dark colored beans or small rocks.
Yes, sometimes there are small rocks in a bag of dried beans.
Add all the black eyed peas to the water.



Boil for 10 minutes and cover.



Let sit for 60 minutes.
During the waiting time, cook 1 lb. bacon and retain the drippings.



After an hour,
drain the water from the beans by using a colander.
Depending on where you live, "colander" is pronounced either
"co-land-er" or "col-an-der."
I won't even argue with you if you say it wrong (wink.)



Once drained, pour the beans back into the original pot
and add water to about 2 inches above the beans.



"Life is like an onion:
You peel it off
one layer at a time,
and sometimes you weep."


Dice about 2 cups of onions and add to beans.



Add about 2 tablespoons of salt.



Add about 1 tablespoon of pepper.



Unhealthy ingredient alert: Add the drippings from 1 lb. of cooked bacon.
Reserve cooked bacon for later.
My grandmothers used fat back or salt pork.
Yummy artery cloggers!

Bring all ingredients to a boil and then cut heat back
to a slow simmer.
Cook until beans are tender.
Simmer long enough that the liquid cooks down and thickens.



Fill bowls with black eyed peas and
add the crunchy cooked bacon pieces on top.



Enjoy every bite.



I also add pickled jalapeno slices to my bowl.
It makes the beans hot and truly unforgettable!

Are you back in the "cow" peas state of mind and ready to forget ever trying this bean?

Tsk, Tsk. You just don't know what you are missing.

So to Mama Minnie, Mama Nell, Mam-Maw and the only living person of the bunch, Mom...Thank you for your loving hands that prepared innumerable meals for your families of which I am blessed to be able to count myself as a member, namely as your great grand daughter, grand daughter and daughter. These women have provided a beautiful legacy of love with their cooking!

I wonder if Mama Minnie ever felt lonely and unappreciated while standing over the hot wood stove cooking for her family on the farm? Do you equate cooking as a loving service for your family and friends? Do you ever feel that no one realizes the efforts you make to prepare delicious meals for them?

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