DSP Blog Prompt: Moving on in life, as a teenager what do you feel were your greatest achievements and worse mistakes? Have these achievements and/or mistakes helped to make you a better person? Or did they hinder you as you proceeded into adulthood?
Wow....I didn't achieve much as a teen. I made lots of mistakes, actually. I wasn't into any high school clubs or groups. I was misunderstood and artsy, and fell into the wrong crowd. What most people would say is the worst mistake a teenager could make ended up being my greatest accomplishment. I ended up pregnant at 16. Unlike a lot of other teenage girls who handed their baby off to someone else to raise, though, while they go finish growing up, I kept my kid, and raised him just as I am raising them all today. I was heading down a road to certain destruction....one I have seen many of my friends from that time in my life follow. I grew up, met my challenge and responsibility head-on, and today, I have a good, strong, well-loved, intelligent son that I am proud of. I could have achieved similar results without learning things the hard way...but, also, I look around and alot of other people my age who never had things rough, and think, "Now how would they handle something really, really tough?" I am glad that I also became a stronger person from all my trials and tribulations.
So, honestly, even with all the mistakes I made, I wouldn't change a thing.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
My Childhood Pets
DSP Blog Prompt: As a child did you have any exotic (i.e. those not indigenous to your area) or unusual pets? If not, did you have any pets at all? What kind? Did you give them standard pet names or come up with unusual and unique names?
Hm. No. But snakes as pets were fashionable in our household (at least until Mom come home) when I was a kid. Dad loved snakes. And in keeping with his I-wish-I'd-had-a-little-boy-but-you'll-do-fine attitude towards having a girl, he taught me not to be afraid of snakes. He did this by catching a little grass snake, tying a string around it's neck, and giving it to me. Then after I learned I could drag it about and it wouldn't eat me, he taught me how to pick it up. He taught me how to get bit. He taught me how to tell if it was piosonous or not. Since he passed away before I was old enough to handle poisonous snakes, I am still leery of those kind and won't pick them up.
My mom was horridly, horridly afraid of snakes, so this education only existed in her absence. My sister tells me that one day I had picked up a Tonka truck out of my sandbox (no Barbies for me, I'm telling you, I was sposed to have been a boy) and a snake crawled out of it and up my arm. She said that I just picked it up (the right way) and set it off in the gress, while my mother had coniption fits.
There were racoons, in the farmhouse, great things when they are babies. Horrid as they get older....the older they get....the meaner they get. And the baby fawn caught in the combine one year. Mom would get really mad if I drug home a coyote baby from the fields. The only thing I was really allowed by Mom to have was cats.
One of these days, I'm going to be Cleopatra for Halloween, down to a live snake around my neck.
Hm. No. But snakes as pets were fashionable in our household (at least until Mom come home) when I was a kid. Dad loved snakes. And in keeping with his I-wish-I'd-had-a-little-boy-but-you'll-do-fine attitude towards having a girl, he taught me not to be afraid of snakes. He did this by catching a little grass snake, tying a string around it's neck, and giving it to me. Then after I learned I could drag it about and it wouldn't eat me, he taught me how to pick it up. He taught me how to get bit. He taught me how to tell if it was piosonous or not. Since he passed away before I was old enough to handle poisonous snakes, I am still leery of those kind and won't pick them up.
My mom was horridly, horridly afraid of snakes, so this education only existed in her absence. My sister tells me that one day I had picked up a Tonka truck out of my sandbox (no Barbies for me, I'm telling you, I was sposed to have been a boy) and a snake crawled out of it and up my arm. She said that I just picked it up (the right way) and set it off in the gress, while my mother had coniption fits.
There were racoons, in the farmhouse, great things when they are babies. Horrid as they get older....the older they get....the meaner they get. And the baby fawn caught in the combine one year. Mom would get really mad if I drug home a coyote baby from the fields. The only thing I was really allowed by Mom to have was cats.
One of these days, I'm going to be Cleopatra for Halloween, down to a live snake around my neck.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Childhood Collections
DSP Blog Prompt: Did you collect anything as a child? Why or why not? What was the significance of your collection and where did you procure it? Do you still have any or all of the collection now?
I wasn't much of a collector as a kid, but I got into collectibles a bit as I have grown older. I had a mediocre stamp collection that my grandfather helped me build as a child. It stemmed from the stamp collection my father left behind when he passed away. I kept it for years and year, but when I moved out, I left it with Mom, and I guess she spring cleaned one year and got rid of it. Amazing how you can totally forget something that was so importangt to you, then something will make you remember it. And you are left with....'wow. I'm an idiot. I'd give my left eyetooth to have that back.'
As I got older I started to collect dragons, because it seemed like an odd thing to collect, and something nobody would have much of. Then, I branched out to wizards, castles, faeries, etc. Soon dragons and fantasy figurines were everywhere so it became not-so-interesting anymore. Kameron decided he wanted the dragon collection, so I passed it to him, but he has pretty much outgrown it as well.
Now my house is littered with faeries. My computers are sprinkled with faeries, and my cubicle at work is spilling over with printed digital scrapbook pages and faerie statues.
One other thing I think it is safe to say that I collect is sewing fabric. I have boxes and boxes of fabric that I am going to sew something out of....
one of these days......
I wasn't much of a collector as a kid, but I got into collectibles a bit as I have grown older. I had a mediocre stamp collection that my grandfather helped me build as a child. It stemmed from the stamp collection my father left behind when he passed away. I kept it for years and year, but when I moved out, I left it with Mom, and I guess she spring cleaned one year and got rid of it. Amazing how you can totally forget something that was so importangt to you, then something will make you remember it. And you are left with....'wow. I'm an idiot. I'd give my left eyetooth to have that back.'
As I got older I started to collect dragons, because it seemed like an odd thing to collect, and something nobody would have much of. Then, I branched out to wizards, castles, faeries, etc. Soon dragons and fantasy figurines were everywhere so it became not-so-interesting anymore. Kameron decided he wanted the dragon collection, so I passed it to him, but he has pretty much outgrown it as well.
Now my house is littered with faeries. My computers are sprinkled with faeries, and my cubicle at work is spilling over with printed digital scrapbook pages and faerie statues.
One other thing I think it is safe to say that I collect is sewing fabric. I have boxes and boxes of fabric that I am going to sew something out of....
one of these days......
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Family Field Trip: The Graveyard
Once, when I was about 9 years old, my mom and my sister took me to this really old graveyard that was rich with old stories, history, etc etc. We went in the late afternoon, and I can remember my sister joking as we drove in, "Remember, Mom, we have to make it out by dusk, they lock the gates, you know. Don't wanna get locked in."
We got locked in.
We got out, (by, um, driving thru someone's yard, hope they didn't get mad) and unfortunately the wonderful experience of being locked in a graveyard after my mom and sister had just got through telling me about 100 ghost stories about it, well, kind of overshadowed the ghost stories thierselves.
This is a story my kids love to hear. So, since the twins are about 12 now, sis and I decided it was high time the girls got to experience what some might call a sick and twisted family tradition, and, what sis and I call.........a history lesson!
Were the girls traumatized? After three and a half hours in the graveyard, (no, we didn't get locked in this time) we adults suggested some ice cream and then home. Their prompt response was:
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
"Let's go see that one! We haven't seen that one!!! Or that one.....Mommy Aunt Janet pllllllleeeaaaaaase...........Can't we just go see a FEW more???"
So, what were some of the stories we told them?
About this lady, who died at 23, grieved to death at the loss of her lover. The story is that her gravesite statue (which has long since been vandalized, only half the statue remains) would cry tears of blood, and you can still to this day see bloodstains in the folds of the skirt. (I remember the stain being very prominent, when I was little, but today is no more than a faint line of rust color that you really have to look for.)
And about this grave marker, under which, if you sit, at night, the angel will drop cement raspberries onto your head.
And when this man died, his dog laid on his grave until it grieved itself to death. A statue of the dog was placed at the foot of the plot to honor him, but the head of the dog has since been taken off by vandals.
They got to experience the sadness of the death of a child, see whole family plots, and military graves, all formed in their small, neat and orderly rows, dating back to the Spanish-American War. They marveled at how our tributes in the form of the gravemarkers have changed over the years----from whole families buried together in mausoleums or large plots of ornate stones encased in wrought iron fences, to the open, slick, plain-fonted, simple stones of today, with no more than two or three people in an area bearing the same name.
And, hopefully, learned some valuable lessons in the meantime...
We got locked in.
We got out, (by, um, driving thru someone's yard, hope they didn't get mad) and unfortunately the wonderful experience of being locked in a graveyard after my mom and sister had just got through telling me about 100 ghost stories about it, well, kind of overshadowed the ghost stories thierselves.
This is a story my kids love to hear. So, since the twins are about 12 now, sis and I decided it was high time the girls got to experience what some might call a sick and twisted family tradition, and, what sis and I call.........a history lesson!
Were the girls traumatized? After three and a half hours in the graveyard, (no, we didn't get locked in this time) we adults suggested some ice cream and then home. Their prompt response was:
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
"Let's go see that one! We haven't seen that one!!! Or that one.....Mommy Aunt Janet pllllllleeeaaaaaase...........Can't we just go see a FEW more???"
So, what were some of the stories we told them?
About this lady, who died at 23, grieved to death at the loss of her lover. The story is that her gravesite statue (which has long since been vandalized, only half the statue remains) would cry tears of blood, and you can still to this day see bloodstains in the folds of the skirt. (I remember the stain being very prominent, when I was little, but today is no more than a faint line of rust color that you really have to look for.)
And about this grave marker, under which, if you sit, at night, the angel will drop cement raspberries onto your head.
And when this man died, his dog laid on his grave until it grieved itself to death. A statue of the dog was placed at the foot of the plot to honor him, but the head of the dog has since been taken off by vandals.
They got to experience the sadness of the death of a child, see whole family plots, and military graves, all formed in their small, neat and orderly rows, dating back to the Spanish-American War. They marveled at how our tributes in the form of the gravemarkers have changed over the years----from whole families buried together in mausoleums or large plots of ornate stones encased in wrought iron fences, to the open, slick, plain-fonted, simple stones of today, with no more than two or three people in an area bearing the same name.
And, hopefully, learned some valuable lessons in the meantime...
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
If you could be a child for one day....
Blog Prompt: If you could be child for one day, how old would you be and what would you do?
I would be six again, or seven, and go fishing with my Poppy at Miss Emmy's pond.
I'd go dig for worms in the hours before, and ride with him in his big green Ford to the baitshop to get crickets and minnows, just in case the worms weren't good enough.
We'd stop on the way home, in SOMEBODY'S corn field, and play some hide and seek. I'd scream when I saw a banana spider, then we'd steal a few ears and leave.
I'd wobble with the 6 foot tall high-tech fishing pole he'd bought 'just for me'---the glossy, dark green and black fishing pole that he suffered a tongue-lashing from my Mammy for, when she found out how much he paid for it (well, them....he had to have one too...).
Once we got there, I'd giggle when he cursed and proclaimed that he forgot the bait and left it at the house. I'd squeal when he came back with a snake wriggling in his hands, and cringe when I had to bait my own hook with a chunk of newly slain snake. (Yes, it works.)
I'd listen to his stories about when he was a little boy, and when Mammy burnt the schoolhouse down.
I'd throw my pole down, and just pull the line in with my hands, while he shouted encouragement in the background. (That pole was WAY too big for me, after all.)
Once I reeled the fish in, I'd be very, very proud, because I would have just caught THE BIGGEST fish EVER, no, it really IS, doesn't matter if it looks smaller that the other ones in the bucket. And I wouldn't have to take the fish off the hook, because they 'fin' you. And, well, finning hurts.
Then, in the twilight, I'd eat my fish dinner with my grandparents, maybe having some fried green tomatoes and corn on the cob with it. Afterwards, I'd sit with Mammy and break green beans, or shuck corn, (from our own corn field, which was probably missing a few ears because someone decided they wanted some on the way home from somewhere) for canning and blanching the next day.
Later in the night, a bad thunderstorm would blow in, and my grandparents would come over to our large farmhouse. Momma and Mammy would sit in the dining room, scared of the storm, and have coffee. Poppy and Daddy and I would be outside on the front porch swing, watching. I would fall asleep stretched out in their laps in a soft blanket.....and dream sweet dreams.
I would be six again, or seven, and go fishing with my Poppy at Miss Emmy's pond.
I'd go dig for worms in the hours before, and ride with him in his big green Ford to the baitshop to get crickets and minnows, just in case the worms weren't good enough.
We'd stop on the way home, in SOMEBODY'S corn field, and play some hide and seek. I'd scream when I saw a banana spider, then we'd steal a few ears and leave.
I'd wobble with the 6 foot tall high-tech fishing pole he'd bought 'just for me'---the glossy, dark green and black fishing pole that he suffered a tongue-lashing from my Mammy for, when she found out how much he paid for it (well, them....he had to have one too...).
Once we got there, I'd giggle when he cursed and proclaimed that he forgot the bait and left it at the house. I'd squeal when he came back with a snake wriggling in his hands, and cringe when I had to bait my own hook with a chunk of newly slain snake. (Yes, it works.)
I'd listen to his stories about when he was a little boy, and when Mammy burnt the schoolhouse down.
I'd throw my pole down, and just pull the line in with my hands, while he shouted encouragement in the background. (That pole was WAY too big for me, after all.)
Once I reeled the fish in, I'd be very, very proud, because I would have just caught THE BIGGEST fish EVER, no, it really IS, doesn't matter if it looks smaller that the other ones in the bucket. And I wouldn't have to take the fish off the hook, because they 'fin' you. And, well, finning hurts.
Then, in the twilight, I'd eat my fish dinner with my grandparents, maybe having some fried green tomatoes and corn on the cob with it. Afterwards, I'd sit with Mammy and break green beans, or shuck corn, (from our own corn field, which was probably missing a few ears because someone decided they wanted some on the way home from somewhere) for canning and blanching the next day.
Later in the night, a bad thunderstorm would blow in, and my grandparents would come over to our large farmhouse. Momma and Mammy would sit in the dining room, scared of the storm, and have coffee. Poppy and Daddy and I would be outside on the front porch swing, watching. I would fall asleep stretched out in their laps in a soft blanket.....and dream sweet dreams.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
I wish I could learn....Because....
Blog Prompt: I wish I could learn..... because.....
There are just tons of things that I wish I could learn. I think the things that I wish for the most are to be able to learn things that will keep me independent, and ways to keep my family safe, and happy. Ways to have plenty in the bank for retirement....ways to keep the car from breaking down...ways to stay safe, and sheltered, without getting spoiled. (While we are wishing, let's throw in, ways to stay looking and feeling 25 forever!)
Other than that, I wish I could learn about history, and web design, quite simply, because I love the stuff. Or ways to draw better, ways to make money doing the things I love to do. I would love to learn to play the guitar, but God would have to make my fingers grow some, first, and give me at least an ounce of musical talent. (I don't sweat this.)
I wish my DOCTORS would learn how to make my head and neck quit hurting. Because....I hurt all the damn time. (We are on 3 years & counting! Whooohoo for them!)
I would love to learn how to learn by osmosis....at least for the dry stuff I need to learn.
I HAVE learned that you should not ever pray to God for patience. He works in mysterious ways. Go ahead---pray for it. He does not send it down from the heavens in a box with a pretty pink bow. You LEARN it, the hard way, by enduring nasty people, traffic jams, and dead mouses in the walls!
There are just tons of things that I wish I could learn. I think the things that I wish for the most are to be able to learn things that will keep me independent, and ways to keep my family safe, and happy. Ways to have plenty in the bank for retirement....ways to keep the car from breaking down...ways to stay safe, and sheltered, without getting spoiled. (While we are wishing, let's throw in, ways to stay looking and feeling 25 forever!)
Other than that, I wish I could learn about history, and web design, quite simply, because I love the stuff. Or ways to draw better, ways to make money doing the things I love to do. I would love to learn to play the guitar, but God would have to make my fingers grow some, first, and give me at least an ounce of musical talent. (I don't sweat this.)
I wish my DOCTORS would learn how to make my head and neck quit hurting. Because....I hurt all the damn time. (We are on 3 years & counting! Whooohoo for them!)
I would love to learn how to learn by osmosis....at least for the dry stuff I need to learn.
I HAVE learned that you should not ever pray to God for patience. He works in mysterious ways. Go ahead---pray for it. He does not send it down from the heavens in a box with a pretty pink bow. You LEARN it, the hard way, by enduring nasty people, traffic jams, and dead mouses in the walls!
Monday, May 28, 2007
Memorial Day
DSP Blog Prompt: How does your city celebrate this day or do you do anything special? Do you know anyone who has served in the military? If so, let us know so that we can honor all of those who serve their country.
My city doesn't do anything special for Memorial Day. Most businesses do not shut down but I personally, at the moment, am lucky enough to get the holiday off.
I know several people that have served in the military. They don't talk much about it. I have been fortunate enough to hear some old war stories, first hand, from a soldier who fought on the front lines in Normandy and elsewhere in WWII. I believe the stories were told in confidence to our family at the time, so I will not repeat them here. But I will say that if ANYONE deserves the respect of the world...it is a soldier!!!!
My city doesn't do anything special for Memorial Day. Most businesses do not shut down but I personally, at the moment, am lucky enough to get the holiday off.
I know several people that have served in the military. They don't talk much about it. I have been fortunate enough to hear some old war stories, first hand, from a soldier who fought on the front lines in Normandy and elsewhere in WWII. I believe the stories were told in confidence to our family at the time, so I will not repeat them here. But I will say that if ANYONE deserves the respect of the world...it is a soldier!!!!
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