Mama's Words... my own thoughts, and the state of the blog.

I've found it amusing when people ask, "So how was your trip home?…", or "How are you enjoying being home? What is it like?" ... Dear people. I love them to the hilt, but I never can decide how to answer. My verbal thoughts point blank would be along the lines of, "Home…feel…how do I feel…well…uh, you mean this burning of my throat? the heaviness inside and feeling of choking? The sudden bursts of crying - and then wondering why I'm doing that at all, because I'm so ridiculously happy being married to my amazing man…? That's how I feel."
But of course, you don't say that. I reply in terms that can be understood "Great! Good to see everyone. Sure - kind of strange after such a big change."
Every bride who's moved from a wonderful home has felt a little this way, I think.
 It's been two months - two wonderful months that I've been married. Two months of discovering how much laughter, pleasure, sweetness, mixtures of joy and sorrow, adventure, comforting companionship and beauty there is in marriage. Two months of change. Two months of unpacking, meeting new people, seeing new places, figuring out how to thrive 1200 miles and 20 hours away from what I've always known as home.  I feel raw. Raw from change. It's unrealistic to say I don't miss home; but I also see, plain as day that I've been given the beautiful beginnings of a home, a family, a new life.

She was sitting across from me at the booth. I'd had a lump in my throat all week. Now was my last day home, and Mama had set aside some time for "Real Talk". She was saying,
"...Sort of like what I've said, 'Don't wait for normal,' well,  Don't wait for tomorrow to settle your home and make it what you want. Another big thing to remember is that we are not promised tomorrow. You have to Endeavor today.




These two months I've gone back and read every scrap of advice I could find from Mama and others, but especially Mama.
"It's time to get your hammer'n nails out and get busy.  Get busy on what you can do."
So here's to a new phase of life, and doing what I can, today.

This morning I heard the sink running, plates and pots clanging. JB was washing my three day pile up of dirty dishes. I've been blessed. No matter what, I've already been blessed.
A man like that comes straight from the windows of heaven.

Mama and Abe

i know our cats just gotta wonder sometimes.

our band, of one night in which Abrum played his favorite Ranchero music, and we three girls danced around for half an hour, then followed Abe outside with yips and howls.  

yes, law. Mama's peach cobbler. 

JB, my Man. 

my gift and husband and best friend.

{While this blog will remain mostly for entries concerning Stories of the Grey Submarine, I will, as I have been wont to do in the past, enter my own thoughts and updates, when the notion takes me.}

a very tall mama

The freezer seemed very tall, and so did Mama, which is how I know I must have been quite young.  She was rummaging through the icy insides of that freezer, trying to find cool whip for a special treat she was making. I consider my childhood, for the most part, to be a sunny one. It was adventurous and bright and full of freedom - until school, that is, and even that was something Mama tried to make enjoyable.  Learning to read under her was an experience she guided so that words came alive and wriggly under my fingers. When spring came we got itchy and excited and Mama knew we had cabin fever, so she'd let us out of school for a few minutes to clear our minds in the air and sunshine.  But May First was the day we waited for with bouncing excitement, for on May First and not a day sooner, we could go barefoot at last. This we'd do as soon as we woke up, running outside in dewy grass and poking our toes in moss that grew under the Maple tree.

That is what most readily comes to mind when thinking of my childhood. Sunshine and adventure.
But this day, as I stood looking up at my very tall Mama and the even taller freezer she was rearranging in her search, there was a little cloud that hovered over my bright sky and quaked and threatened with a feeling I'd seldom known before. There were three teenage boys and lots of little mouths to feed and clothe and pay life's way for. Believe it or not, there were some days of concern with nine kids to raise. Perhaps I sensed this, or heard something, but whatever the case, I'd gotten the idea into my head that there would not be enough money or food for all of us. And this was terrible. { I'd learned not too much earlier that money was some strange thing that everyone who wanted to live must have.  Therefore It was the most terrible thing I could imagine, for if there were no money, there must be no food and I was sure we'd all die.}  This was the only rational reasoning I could put to my dark little cloud, at least. What filled my cloud most with fear, however, was the sense that Mama herself was worried about it and that she might not be able to fix it.  What a foreign idea, "…..Mama, not fix it?"  She'd fixed everything in life, from scraped knees, to belly aches, to fevers and colds to nightmares and bad attitudes - I was absolutely confident that there was't a thing she couldn't fix.  You could bruise up life any which way you pleased and I'd be fine with that, because I'd be sitting right in her lap as I watched her patch it up again.  But I wondered, with a slow dread, "…Could it be that Mama is worried?…." And that is when I felt the pit in my stomach - a tight little knot, right in the middle somewhere - because I knew at that moment, she was worried and she couldn't fix it. To this day, when I recall that image to my mind and the moment it dawned on me that all might not be well - that Mama herself might be upset and worried with life, and that she could not help or fix it, or make it better - I can still feel that knot in my stomach.

She must have heard the groans coming from the thumb-sucking figure lying on my bed, for she came in and sat beside me.  She said I was having growing pains in my leg, so she held my hand and sang me the songs she'd sung to me for years: "Angels Watching Over Me", "God's Gift To Us", and "He's Got the Whole World In His Hands".  I guess I'd thought growing pains were just that: things you grow out of once you get old. But I'm realizing more and more, they're pains you grow into. They do help you grow. That day, standing there watching Mama by the freezer, a growing pain took hold and stretched me a little bit. And while it was stretching my childish mind, Mama gave me some advice I guess I'll never forget. I stood there and spilled the beans,
"Mama, I'm afraid…is there enough food?  What if we run out of food?  What if we don't have enough money?" She looked down at me for a moment then said,
"Darlin' don't worry about that. We don't always know how God will provide, but He's promised He will take care of all His children. That means, even if things look bad, you still trust in your Heavenly Father and ask Him to give you what you need.  But while you're waiting on Him to answer, you remember to have a calm and quiet spirit because He says that is of highest price to Him."

That day I saw a ripple in what has long been a Calm and Quiet Spirit.  Mama doesn't lead by word. She leads by example and reinforces that example with her words. Since that time I've seen her deal with circumstances she could have easily yelled at or said cutting, biting words in response to.  But she follows examples of Great Women like Mary who "pondered all these things in her heart".  Whether dealing with circumstances inside or outside of the home, she has strived to have that calm and quiet spirit.  She does this by directly handing over her concerns, hurts, fears, dreams and heart to God, instead of reacting to those words or threats, people or situations of life.  "Anything that is enough to take up your time worrying or hoping, dreading or desiring it, is enough of a reason to pray about it," she's told me.  "Don't react to people; give it over to God and He'll handle it for you."

Though we're about the same height, Mama is taller now than she ever was that day by the freezer.  Taller in wisdom and kindness and maturity and in knowing how to love people and in understanding life itself.  I can't be thankful enough to my Very Tall Mama…

p.s. she's 5'3"

home fires

One of the things that has made me smile today was waking up to the clatter of dishes, the shuffle of feet and daddy singing "Count Your Blessings" in a bearish growl, all by himself in the kitchen. Daddy cooks breakfast during the week, most times, and he and I are breakfast buddies. He does a bang up job of doing it all just so.  He fries bacon first, in the large skillet and turns them only once.  Then, when the bacon is perfectly brown and crispy, but not too crispy, he forks it onto a plate lined with a paper towel so that it soaks up the extra grease. When the skillet has cooled a little, Daddy cracks an egg on the counter with one hand and eases it into the pan with the remaining bacon grease.  The edges of the egg crackle a little and bubble, and when daddy flips them, he does so gently.
"A leedle crahhcks tooo de ehgg ahhnd theen intoo deh pahn, mahn, ahnd eez' een' thehhre' mahn," he says and hums and sings to the stove.
 We sit at his end of the table to the predictable goodness and, depending on who's up, there will sometimes be a third or fifth to join, but however many are present, we join hands and daddy prays over the food and the day.

This week I've been thinking about the blessing of having parents who love God and me. They love all their children, but I have personally tested their love - sometimes sorely - and have found it true and enduring.  I was not a nice child. I was temperamental and moody and pitched fits about anything I didn't like.  There seemed to be an anger that had a grip on me and as I became a teenager, this only grew worse.  Though I didn't pitch tantrums in the same fashion I had, that rebellion knew how to manifest itself in hurtful ways. Mama would put an arm around me, or ask how I was, or do any number of things she could to show that she was interested in my life and that she cared about me. I'd say terrible, mean things to her and as soon as I said it I could see in her eyes that my arrows had struck their target.  It's a horrible and wretched thing to see your mother's eyes full of pain that you've just inflicted. And yet, she has always reacted in a calm, quiet way, still reassuring me that she loves me more than I could ever know.  I can still be moody.  Can still pitch fits inside and deal with that dreaded Old Man.  But by God's grace I've seen love in action in a consistent way and it has done much to shape the person I've grown into. Thank goodness, I am still learning from the example of parents God has given me.

I think perhaps one of the saddest losses of character we have experienced society at large, over the past several years, is that of Shame. Shame is an agent of that Noble and Blessed thing we call Conscience, I think. It is a tool of sorts that picks at the Dam of Pride and helps us realize we're wrong. It is the thing that gnaws at my thoughts as I lie in bed, knowing I've not acted right or kind to someone and it prods me to get up and set things right, not letting the sun go down on my wrath.  I've done that before, by the way - gone to bed having said words in anger to someone I love and while lying there, I've known that if I didn't get up and apologize and ask forgiveness, that it would trouble me all night. But being stubborn, I'd not get up. I'd lie back down and go to sleep.  Not only have I been troubled by dreams, but by the way I felt on waking.  It's a sense of tension, embarrassment, then pride - not wanting any of that to show.  Often, the fact that I hadn't made things right the night before would carry over into the whole of the day and I'd go about sulking and moody, smoldering like coals doused with water. How silly! Pride hurts to step on, but it's always on the other side of pride that we'll find a sense of peace and resolve, even if we have to make a fool out of ourselves to do it.

Mama says "Family is worth 'It.' .  Whatever that 'It' is in your life, it's worth it. It's worth the hurt you feel when raising your kids. It's worth the nights of caring for sick children and exhaustion and homesickness you will feel; it's worth the work it takes to feed and love and make a home for your family. You'll never regret the love you put into your them. But Satan hates the family, so of course it won't be easy to have one, or to be consistent or to be loving all the time. But the thing that counts is that you keep trying, and you keep doing and you get back up again when you feel like a failure. There will be days that you know all of your time and work, blood, sweat and tears have been Worth It."

A Book We Should All Have On Our Shelves

Perils of the World: Survey of World History And The Classic Struggles of Mankind Hardcover

Author: A. Brum Fulmer

    About the Author

Brum Fulmer was born in Lawsonville, Georgia, in 1982. He entered Dekalb Technical College at age 13 and graduated with a B.A. at age 15. He received his master's at 18 From Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College, and was appointed proctor of the college. He Continued his education at the University of Georgia earning a degree in soil sciences.  He continued there, finishing with a PhD in Agricultural Taxonomy.  He became Professor of Taxonomy at age 36. An expert in Audio Book Production, Reading And Technique, he was appointed to Audible.com's Board of Directors in 2042. He wrote much literature, of which his Perils remains the most famous. When he died in 2083, Prof. Gaute Brown Jr. held a magnificent state funeral for him and had him buried on North Campus. Brown took great pains to make sure the writings and library of Brum Fulmer were preserved.

Product Details

• Paperback: 960 pages
• Publisher: Master Books; imprint (March 1, 2097)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 9780890515105
• ISBN-13: 978-0890515105
• ASIN: 0890515107
• Product Dimensions: 1.9 x 8.3 x 10.7 inches
• Shipping Weight: 4.6 pounds
• Average Customer Review:
• Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #157,215 in Books
• #97 in Books > History > Ancient 

Editorial Reviews

Review

A most remarkable and outstanding piece of literature. A must-have for any lover of knowledge and history, which would include the perils that have challenged man down through the ages. -- Roger Howerton, Acquisitions Editor, New Leaf Press and Master Books, October 21, 2003 --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.

Reporter and Acclaimed Reviewer Of Books, Ole' Mr. Fulmer.  In a private interview with Mr. Fulmer yesterday, we learned that he has traveled the world, observing the lives and lifestyles of many cultures. He has served in undercover missions across the globe to study mankind and analyze the workings of the human mind. Though it is only one of the many hats he wears, Mr. Fulmer continues to give insight, not only on Books but on his own observations of Life In General at A Closer Look.
Please schedule A Conversation of Thought with Mr. C.E. Fulmer for a richer outlook on life and books.
to schedule, please call 770.787.4039

 ~ //\\//\\//\\//\\ ~

The e-mail above is one I received a few days ago, with the note:

…."Here's a book we should all have on our shelves…"

The boys are always floating down The Amazon on their raft in search of some sort of treasures or other. Chris, especially goes frequently to the Amazon and receives all manner of mysterious looking brown packages that he says he picked up along his adventures.
He must have been rafting a few days ago, for I was part of a group who received this e-mail concerning a book he'd found on The Amazon.

   Mama had to stay home from church yesterday,  because she was sick.  She was lying on the couch as all of us came in from from Sunday morning service. A round of "Hey Mama, feeling better? Get some sleep? Do you have the fevers? " was said several times as various kids walked in the door.
"Yes, some better. Thanks, darlin.  No, no fever right now, just tired. Yes, I've slept lots, thank goodness."
"Hey Hun, you feelin' better?" Daddy asked as he came in the door.
"Yes, dear, some.  How was church?"
"Well, they didn't stone me so it must have been fair." said Daddy as he put down his books.
"What'd'ya preach on?"
"Bible and the pulpit," he said, pulling loose the fashionable noose around his neck and unbuttoning the top of his collar.  He said that in his silly voice and his eyes flashed a sparkle as we fired back in smiling groans, "Oh daaaddddyy…."
The general distress of the kitchen was what to make and someone hollered from that direction, "What are we supposed to be fixin' for lunch??"
 Mama's Sunday dinners are like none other, complete with every good thing; but since she was not well, it fell to the hands of the kids and Daddy to scare up a meal. Anne suggested cabbage heads for all of us to share. Daddy was more in mind of wings, or soup and sandwiches.
In the end it was a hodge podge of grilled cheese, mine and Dawn's first batch of caramel popcorn, soup, raw cabbage, nachos, cereal and collard leaves from the garden.  As we set about constructing this  meal some how the matter of Abe and books came into the general ruckus of mismatched conversation.
One snippet that rose above the rest of the clatter began the following exchange:
"Didn't you know there was a man named A. Brum Fulmer who wrote a book called " Perils of the World?" said Chris, peering over the shoulders of girls who were fixing lunch and reaching between them to the platters of food to take some.  A general exclamation of "WHAT?" followed, but especially by Mama, who said,
 "I think that's just crazy that someone with that same name would write a book called 'Perils of The World'. "
{As a helpful side note, Abrum is responsible for much of our stranger vocabulary, and over the past year, the word "Perilous" has come to play a considerable part in our speech.}

"Mama, you read that e-mail about the book I recommended?" asked Chris.
"Ah, no, hun. Well, I skimmed over it."
"You should read it again, carefully," said Chris, taking a chip.  Daddy took four slices of bread and cut  two slabs of cheese to put between each pair for his grilled cheese sandwich and mine and said,
"Well, you know, there was a Chris Fullmer in Swan Valley, Idaho, but he spelled his name with two L's. "
Mama had pulled her computer to the arm of the couch and was absorbed in the e-mail. Soon she was smiling and then she was laughing and after a fair amount of laughing with no explanation, several pairs of curious feet pattered over to the couch and hovered around the screen. We were laughing too after reading it. I especially like that A. Brum lived until he was One hundred and One. I thought that was very fitting and generous of the author to include.
"Chris, did you make this up?" asked Mama, smiling.
"Me, make it up?" Chris was tilting his head back and grinning mischievously as he popped an olive in his mouth.
"Oh, Christopher, you sly thing. You DID make it up! It looks just like an amazon article though!"
The boys should know, if anyone does, what a book description and review on Amazon looks like; they've ordered enough of them to be experts on the matter.

The idea of some mysterious A.Brum Fulmer and the Reporter who supplied the information on him, was enough to set my imagination spinning, so I drug the boys outside with the sweetest of requests to humor me.  They did - those excellent chums. Champs of a sport they are. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon to be outside and I will say that it was a rather fun project. All the photos were taken outside with no flash - all natural light. Dawn was my undercover reporter/assistant who helped me with the reflector.
I was pleased with the results.  Not only was it enjoyable to experiment with channeling the natural light and testing its powers with the aid of the reflector, but also getting to spend time with two fellows that I think are pretty down-right good-looking.
Wish Jeremy hadn't had to go back.  He would have made the perfect addition to our party.
Also, Milly's birthday is coming up in just a few days, and as there was no reason not to, I included a couple of the upcoming birthday girl.

^Dawn and Brum and  the Trusty reflector.  Oh what a difference in the world they make! 

^  gotta love a man with a pair of boots  ^

^it was much too soft in the garden to take photos with shoes on^

^we've made good use of daddy's old hat. it's seen many years of wear.^

 ^this is what I see and hear coming into a room. don't ask me. I have no idea, it's just milly and dawn being milly and dawnish.

i tried not to cry and so did she. but when i wrapped her up in a hug neither of us could help the tears that came down our cheeks.  it takes a lot of strength to leave the safest place a girl knows and the people that you love to walk back into the world. here we have a quiet place away from the current that constantly pulls downward and the wind that beats without relenting against heart and spirit and mind.

yesterday was especially sad because A.G was sick and tired already and seeing her have to leave and go back to books and late nights and early mornings without sleep and stress and being alone was a hard thing to take. 

"man, change and separation stinks, a.g." i'd told her. 

"i know, ray. but it helps us grow and we become better people by it. it hurts and is sad, but why have people done it throughout all history?…because even though we love our lives we can't stay stagnant. change brings growth and we need that."

Jay's left. Anne's left. I guess they've both taken a little of our hearts with them too.  Still, I remember what Mama says.
"Every day is an adventure, and little moments are worth celebrating. Take time to stop and smell the roses and when you feel sad, think and plan and pray and do for someone else besides yourself.  It's the best aid for the blues, and you'll find yourself happier and more cheery in no time."

home is a good place to be

"D'you get a hair cut, Brille?"
"Oh Abrum, you noticed!!!"
Chris looked up from his seat at the table as I flourished over to where Abe was sitting on the couch.  In typical fashion he was absorbed in reading an article.  I did a jig, partly in celebration of his keen observation and partly to see if I could  amuse him enough to get a smile out of him. I did get the smile and he said,
"Go on, kid, you're a nut."
"Tell me, Brumly, how could you tell?"  I sat on the cushion and looked inquiringly at him.
 "Well, they generally iron out your hair real good at those places once they've lopped off the hair."
"Dried it. Blow dried it," I told him. "It always makes my hair straight."

This morning Mama made breakfast. Her buttermilk biscuits and thick slices of bacon and daddy's fried eggs, gravy, homemade jellies and jams and - oh lands. It's good. The best part though was having ten people sitting around our table. Ten people that were very glad to be home and together. Daddy says we don't value peace like we ought to until we don't have it, or we see people who don't have it. Then we tend to be thankful again.  I want to be thankful for that peace all the time. Peace between God and me and between the people I love.  Daddy says it can't be taken for granted. We strive for it every day and hold it Precious and Valuable in our lives; we pray for it and live it, even when it's not easy to retain.
 I hope I can do that more.
That old septic tank, poor thing. It's been its lot in life to deal with the hard blows we give it. Well, it decided it'd had enough this weekend. So it stopped. Just plumb quit working, at least for a while. Thus, we washed dishes outside tonight. Anne handed me the water hose while she toted dishes in and out of the house. Jay came too with pots, whistling "Got A Whale of a Tale to Tell Ya Lads" and opening the door for Chris who toted more dishes in and more dishes out.

{Legend = Melody}
"I don't know why I've always liked putting things up my nose," Dawn said as we cleaned up the table tonight. "I just always have. Even when I was really little."
"Would you like having a nose ring, do you think, Dawn?" Chris asked.
"No.  There's a thought that Legend  put into my head not too long ago, that if you took the ring out and needed to blow your nose then the hole where the ring is would be like a whale when it blows water. That decided the issues of nose rings for me."
Chris' dark beard was spread all across his face in a large grin and his eyes weren't showing very much because they squint almost to closing when he laughs.

          ~ ^^ poor ole' Maple. may very well be the last spring she's with us, good ole' tree.^^~

        ^^ A.G and I are going to recreate Senior Photos with these new and improved poses. ^^

 ^the girls put a diaper on Jean Val Jean on account of the rain and him having been dropped into a puddle. by the way, these puddles have been around as long as our house and all of us have been alive. every rain they appear in our yard, and every rain we appear in them.

                             ^^ Jay's last night to be home…Gonna miss that boy.^^

"Loud sounds pups make," was 1. Across, Chris said. Merry and Jay huddled on the floor beside him as he read off clues for the crossword puzzle.
"Yips," I say from the couch between writing in the journal. Someone else offers "Yaps".
"Yep, Chris says. I think it's yaps. "Much trouble or confusion," he says.
From her room where Mama is in bed she says "Ado".
"Ah good one, Mama. That works.  I tell you what, ain't nothin' like a crossword puzzle to make you feel dumb."
"Man, I tell you what! I can't stand those things," said Daddy. "Make me see how daft I am right quick."
Something light rubbed my face as I was writing and something sounding like a cat was right at my ear. I turned and saw Jeremy in a white wig looking very much like a colonial redneck in a full cammo suit and that wig.  He spoke chinese about Oolong tea and sipped a little from his clay mug.
"Reads fast," Chris said.
"Pigs," Daddy rumbled from his chair.  Merry looked up at him like he was teasing and laughed.
"Oh Daddy, you're funny."
" Not enough space for rabbits, so it'd have to be pigs."
Merry looked very confused. "What daddy? Neither of those can read."
Now Daddy was the one who looked confused and said
"Well…he did say Breeds Fast, right?"
Merry's "Reads Fast" back to daddy was nearly swallowed in the burst of laughing that followed.  Daddy's face was his deep, hard laughing color again and, well, very few eyes of us were showing at all.

Tuesday Musings

He says to pick up where I am. So I do, because he says.

                                                                                                     Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Daddy sounds positively like a pirate when he sings in the shower.  

Getting ready for school this morning, Anna Gette scurried into my room and said,

"Rey-Moose, your room always smells like what I imagine an Israelite room to smell like."

"Oh really?" 

"Yeah," as she spread on lotion.  "With all the oils and such.  Tootles, Rey."  And away she scampered to carry all her portable property to the car.  Anna Gette carries more portable property to school with her than anyone I know.  Today we made 4 trips to the car loading it down, nook and cranny.  As always, she had two coffee cups and two straws and celery by her side. 

Chris' text to me yesterday: 'Just wanna say i think you're a swell sister and friend.  Let's get a boat and raincoats and wait for the water to rise enough that we can float away into the Hundred Acre Wood."

  Sweet Brother. 

It's dark and wet and dreary again this morning, but the coffee is perking and the early grey light even has some promise of goodness.  I can hear Mama and Daddy laughing in the living room.  Daddy's laugh in the morning is more like a great rolling thunder, low and rumbling.  He is fitly called Papa Bear.

 Last night Dawn stood at the foot of my bed in her usual place, rubbing my feet, the dear soul.  It had been a while since I'd been here to take part in this evening ritual of foot rubs and deep thoughts by Dawn. 

"Of all my fears when I was a little kid," she said, her long, golden brown hair tumbling over her shoulders and shadowing her bright, sober eyes, "Because, you know,  every kid has fears - of all my fears - my greatest fear was growing up.  I used to pitch tantrums in Mama's room and scream and kick my legs, I feared it so much.  I think I was more afraid of growing up than I was of the dark."

Oh, Childhood, you were a wonder and a terrible thing to leave. 

What is it that we fear so much in leaving it?  And what is it that we so long for when it's gone?

  For days like this Abe says to take it by the horns and make it what you want it to be.  'Roll with the punches or get rolled on', he reminds me of the old  adage, 'But in any case, shake off dull sloth, and gird up your loins, kid.'

Dawn is my 

daily inspiration. 

Don't ask why if 

you don't know.

For answers, please make your reservation for 

Thoughts With Dawn.

Call 770.787.4039 

and someone should answer the Land Line.

full moon, mama's home, world is right, life is good.

just the way an early morning should be enjoyed.





::note::

milly = my term for melody

margaret = melody's term for Dawn
broge= dawn's term for me.

maher is our cat 

whose full name is

 Mahershalalhashbaz Spurgeon 

and

 who also

may have worms and

 who, furthermore, we have 
suspected of dying on us for some time now.

~~~~

This day {thank God} ends nearly a week of the Grey Submarine being emptied of some of its key ingredients: Merry, Mama and Melody.  Amazing what a hole one person can make in a family, let alone three!!!  Don't get me wrong, the remainder has survived considerably well: we had coffee brewing all week, Clyde and Sherri work to do, baked pumpkin cupcakes, went shopping {kroger, not clothes} and settled into our routine of threesomeness. But this is sure, there is just not the same atmosphere when Mama's not home. It's as true as all get out that she's the heart and life and vibrance of this home.

We don't get cell phones around here when we're infants.  We usually don't get them in our teens. We get them when the circumstances fall out that way.  The circumstances fell out that way for Anne and me to get ours last year, so we got them. Along with them, the fabled texting. That first night Mama, Daddy, Anne and I all sat in the living room sending texts to each other and laughing.   As it is, the other three girls use A.G and my phone interchangeably. Milly was coming home on the trip today and from Mama's phone she said:
"Is Marge around?  Is she able to be communicated with?"  Took the phone to Dawn who was shinnied up a tree.
 'Ah, Broge," she tilted her head and squinted her eyes, "Do I have to take that?  I'd have to get down and I've only been up a minute."
"Milly says she wants to talk to you.  So she swung down, took the phone, and when I got it back there was this conversation:

Milly:: Did anything come from Anthro for Mama?
Dawn:: Yes but I don,t know why were doing this infurnal texting bussieness
Milly:: Cause i didnt want to ask in front of the girls cause we're in the car. Can you put the box beside my chest and put the old cup in my top drawer?
Dawn:: ohta, anything else?
Milly:: you're a pal margaret thanks see you on a few hours. Are y'all going to 6 flag today?
Dawn:: Nope
Milly:: Ok has Maher died?
Dawn:: No
Milly:: Are the people coming tonight?
Milly:: Im glad Maher's not dead
Dawn:: I don,t know
Milly:: Ok see you in a while
Dawn:: Sure can I get back in me tree now?
Milly: Certainly Margaret go right ahead!

Anne and I read over Dawn's shoulder and Anne said matter of factly,
"Maher has been happy this week!"
"No he hasn't! He's been so dismal. Have you heard his meow lately? It's so raspy and he can barely croak one out."
Yes, Maher was dismal, and so were we, to some extent; but the fam's home, and this means that the world is set right again.

noah!!!

.take a lesson from this little man on the right way to eat a pumpkin spice cupcake.

^check out daddy's cauldron of chili…Ah!!! so good. nobody makes it like he does. 

and classic bro j telling fireman stories :)

happy night, happy bellies, happy people,

goodnight folks.

elevensies

We had two of them, to be exact.  Friday morning was spent shaking rugs, vacuuming, washing clothes, dishes and bathtubs, sweeping, and dusting until near eleven, at which time we abandoned all and rushed to the kitchen for tea pots, biscuits, whipped cream, coffee, and jams. At eleven we played the shire theme, Dawn read a passage from Tolkein's Fellowship of The Ring and Mama stopped her work, and Natalie came so we talked about Georgia islands, wild beasts and babies. {the latter being an inevitable necessity being in the world of midwives.}
   But then the other crew came and we lamented to them that they'd missed elevensies, so it was suggested that we just have it again at the next hour of eleven, which we did.  We stood by the kitchen clock and counted down, and when it was eleven sharp, we rang a bell and shouted and commenced promptly. Again, we had coffee, whole cream, shire music and reading from J.R.R., but this time it was read by Matt (for which Mama especially made a point to come hear, as we all like to hear him read aloud, especially from Jeeves and Wooster, but really anything). Also, it was Baby Beauchamp's first Elevenies and Androph tried to feed her coffee and pie, but couldn't quite figure how to get it to her, so he patted her instead and we all wished her a most hearty happy first celebration of Elevensies. Mrs. Sherri had brought a peanut butter pie that day, so we saved it and had it that night (oh my…it was DIVINE).  And that day was divine and so was the whole weekend. So what more can be said?

first elevensies 

second elevensies.

goodnight.