Monthly Archives: January 2011

And Yet…My Husband Still Loves Me, Pt. 1

 

I’m conducting a poll. How many of you ladies pack your husband’s clothes before a trip? Ever since Motor Man and I have been married, I’ve  packed for him.

There have been a couple of times that I’ve forgotten a small essential, but we’ve realized it in time to stop at a Walmart or a department store to purchase the forgotten item.

Last week, we took a trip to Dearborn, Michigan for an awards banquet. More about that in days to come. But on the way, we stopped in Pennsylvania for a sleigh ride.

The location for the sleigh ride was, naturally, in a very rural area. The nearest small town was made up of a church, a funeral home and a post office. We were probably an hour away from any retail establishment.

Bear with me; this requires a bit of explanation.

Motor Man rarely wears a winter coat. He just doesn’t care for them. But, of course, he would need one for this trip. There was a heavy beige coat with a hood in his closet, but his mother had recently given him a new coat. And the lining of the new one just looked so warm, I thought it would be perfect for the sleigh ride. I even asked him what he thought about taking this new coat on the trip.  And he agreed.

Back to the sleigh ride. We’re about 10 minutes from the farm where we’re going to ride. The weather is perfect. Temperature in the low 30’s, a few snow flakes falling. Perfect.

Until I look at Motor Man’s coat and realize that it doesn’t have a hood. And we didn’t bring a hat for him. Or ear muffs. Or scarf. He was going to have to go on this sleigh ride bare-headed.

Being the trouper that he is, he didn’t complain at all. I enjoyed the ride, but kept thinking about him and his poor, cold bare head.  He was fine. Until the wind picked up, and it started to snow harder.

Then he switched to McGuyver mode:

I just love that little curl on top.

Tomorrow: Part Two (yes, there’s another incident) of And Yet…My Husband Still Loves Me”. You don’t want to miss that one.

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Got Shades?

 

First of all, let me say that unless it’s night-time or the dreariest, darkest of days, I really have to wear sunglasses everytime I go outside.

But let me also say that I do not buy expensive sunglasses. Mine all come from the Dollar General, where I pay from $3 – $5 per pair. I do this because I’m really not careful with my sunglasses and usually just toss them in my purse, unprotected. Soon they’re covered with scratches, and I go to Dollar General and buy another pair.

That being said, a couple of days ago, Motor Man and I went in search of the little USB cable for our handheld GPS. Our search led us to the console and glove compartment of my car. Where we uncovered this:

No less than seven pair of sunglasses, with varying degrees of scratches. This didn’t include the pair in the sunglass holder above the rearview mirror, or the pair in my purse, or the two pair in Motor Man’s pick-up.

Upon finding all these sunglasses, Motor Man made the comment that had we been involved in an auto accident, emergency personnel would have been frantically searching for the other eight people in the vehicle.

We never did find the USB cable.

Smile Photo- Prissy & Prissier

 

The last couple of weeks, I’ve been sharing some photos that always make me smile.

Here’s another.

It’s a picture of my cousin, Lona, (on the left) and me. We were probably around two years old when this was taken. One of us is about six weeks older than the other; mum’s the word on who’s older.

This was taken in the yard at my Grandma’s little store in Bacon’s Castle. That’s Grandma’s car in the background. I’m guessing that my Daddy made the adirondack chair we’re standing in; he was famous for those chairs.

These are things I wonder about when I look at this picture and smile:

Why is there a towel or some sort of cloth in the chair under our feet? Maybe to keep our shoes from scratching the paint? I can’t imagine that Grandma or either of our Mamas were that particular about the chair.

And what in the world do you suppose we were laughing at?

I wonder who took the photo. Definitely someone in the family. And I wonder if they posed us with our hands and arms in the same position, or if that was happenstance?

I won’t ever know those answers.  I just know that Lona and I are still sharing laughs all these years later.

Just another picture that makes me smile. Every time.

Handwritten

 

Once again, today I’m playing along in the 365 Words in Photos challenge.  Today’s word was a nice fit with an item I found recently.

The word for today is graphite:
noun: a very common mineral, soft native carbon, …. used for pencil leads…black lead.

Just last week, I uncovered an old journal, and within the pages of the journal was this “bill of sale”, written in pencil (graphite).

This was quite a find for me, considering, for one thing,  that I recognize the initials as those of the man who lived next door to my family for many years.  I’m fairly certain that the “B.C.” under his initials is an abbreviation for our little town, Bacon’s Castle.

Another reason I think this is interesting is the age of the document, and the perfect condition that it’s in. Being tucked in that journal has protected it from the light and other elements that would have damaged the writing and paper.

I was also surprised that it was written in pencil, rather than ink.

Last Dairy

 

You may recall that in previous posts I mentioned growing up across the highway from a dairy barn. This dairy barn.

As a young girl, I spent quite a bit of time on this side of the highway. It was an interesting place with lots of activity.

Recently, the owners stopped operations here, the last remaining dairy in the county. They still have a few cows, waiting to be sold.  I visited last week to take  some pictures. And Marshall went with me to see where his mom hung out when she was a little girl.

Actually, Marshall had visited the dairy years ago on a field trip during Vacation Bible School. He was probably two or three years old. That’s when he discovered that milk comes from cows. And he hasn’t drunk a drop of milk since then.  True story.

Back to our visit last week. The cows were once brought into this part of the barn to be milked. This was where I spent the majority of my dairy barn time. And included for your viewing pleasure, the south end of a north-bound cow.

Hey, who gave you permission to take a picture of my south end?

It was feeding time for some of the newly weaned calves. Can you guess which direction the guy was coming from that had their feed?

Chow time.

And why is this one glaring at me? It wasn’t her south end in the picture.

The bovine sisterhood.

Camouflaged

 

One afternoon last week, Motor Man and I were going out, and noticed these deer in our side yard. I realize they could be girl deer (does), but for this post, we’ll call ’em guys.

And there was no doubt that they had noticed us.

 I had seen the one with the injured leg in our yard back in September. It makes me sad to know he’s hurt, but he’s apparently been successful- so far – in avoiding predators.  Hopefully our yard and the surrounding marsh grass will continue to provide him the protection he needs.

When I uploaded these pictures to the computer, I happened to notice that little guy on the right. He blended into the shrubbery so well in the first picture that he was easy to miss.  I cropped that photo and lightened it just a bit.

Revealed. Beautiful.

Maybe no longer camouflaged. But safe nonetheless.

Distressed. Sweet. Timeless.

 

Today’s word in the 365 Words in Photos challenge is distress.

1. great pain, anxiety, or sorrow; acute physical or mental suffering; affliction; trouble
2. a state of extreme necessity or misfortune
3. to dent, scratch, or stain (furniture, lumber, or the like) so as to give an appearance of age

This is a portion of a door in the attic of Bacon’s Castle, built in 1665, and home to my mother’s family in the 1920’s and 30’s.

My uncle carved (scratched) his and his future wife’s initials,  ABE + MVB, in the woodwork, sometime prior to their wedding day –  January 26, 1935.    The initials are still visible – over 75 years later.

The “definition” police may get me on this one.  I’m pretty sure his actions were not intended to give this door an appearance of age.