My BFF's

Day 15 of thanksgiving moments will be about my dear friends.  Some have said that if you can say you've had one good friend in your lifetime then you can consider yourself blessed.  Well, I've been blessed a few times.  I have had lots of friends, but there are a few in there that have shared my heart.

My closest childhood friend and I were inseparable. I'll call her K.  We giggled through the nights, played through the days, and barely took time to eat before we were off on another adventure.  We kept the roads hot between our houses riding our bicycles.  We loved climbing the surrounding mountains together, taking our little lunch boxes with us (which by the way, on one of the mountains there are still two little boxes we left behind when we were scared and left in a flurry of screams, giggles and sliding down the mountain side). 

We had weddings in the front yard, complete with my sisters old prom dresses, we climbed monkey bars in the schoolyard and we whispered through the night about cute boys in the neighborhood.  There was no end to our imagination and where it would take us during our pretend excursions.

She could play the piano like a professional, so we talked my mom into letting her be the one to give me piano lessons instead of the lady down the street.  I hated piano lessons.  When it was time for her to come to the house for the lessons, we'd sit down on the bench, and it would be my turn to start playing all the little songs that I was supposed to have practiced that week.  Since I spent all my time playing and running around with her, I had no time for such a menial thing as piano practice, so while mom was out of the room, listening to "my" recital, K would playing the music herself.  We felt so clever for that little deception.

Halloween was fun for us.  It was back in the day when parents could let their children go throughout the neighborhood by themselves and not fear for harm.  Everyone watched out for each other's kids.  One particular halloween, we decided to dress as a two headed person.  We took a pair of pants and a shirt from my stepdad, we were so tiny we could each get into a leg of the pants, and we buttoned the shirt up around us with both our heads popping out the top.

You have to remember that this was back when the men's pants were pegged, or for those of you who have no idea what pegged is, they were sewn super small to just fit around the ankles of the men. So, instead of actually walking down the road, we were shuffling.

We were on a section of road, after dark, that was kind of secluded and we heard someone walking behind us.  We struggled to turn our two heads around to see who was behind us, only to see that it was the boy who had dropped out of school, wore cigarettes rolled up in his sleeve, had his hair greased back, and was rumored to have hurt a girl.  Why does fright cause little girls to giggle uncontrollably? Our hearts were beating out of our chests, we were whisper giggling , and shuffling so fast I think we were causing sparks! 

It's funny how I met my next special friend, R.   K introduced us.  K was a year older than me, so she was in high school and was moving on in her life to things that included other friends.  Our friendship never changed, just the time that we were able to be together.  From the moment R and I were introduced, it was nonstop laughter.  I mean the can't catch your breath kind of laughter.

My high school days included my new friend R.  We became inseparable, too.  We were at that "I'm in high school now, so I'm pretty sure I'm grown" stage.  We had classes together, we were cheerleaders together, and we were best buds.  Boys were our main topic of discussion.  Music was almost as important.

There were many times that after dark and time to go to bed, one of us would call the other and say, "Can I come over" so we'd meet half way between our houses, in our pajamas and laugh ourselves to sleep that night. 

Everywhere we went, we were accompanied by my german shepherd, who was about as goofy as we were.  I can recall many times when my dog would peel up some road kill and chase us down the road with it, while we were screaming and squealing.

Our daily escapades at school were even better when we'd rush home to tell her mother everything that had happened.  Her mom would laugh and giggle as hard as we would.  She loved hearing our stories and I loved telling her.  R and I would listen to the popular music of the day and would dance through her house and out the door.  There were nights of us dancing down her steps and onto her sidewalk, while we were clad in our pajamas.  I will never forget those carefree days.

Later on in life, after I had my own family, I met another lady at our new church.  Her name is S.  It probably wasn't a good idea for us to get together, because we fed off each other.  We also became inseparable.  Our families ate together, went to church together and hung out together, but it was when she and I were alone that it became borderline insanity.

Our favorite thing was driving around and looking at homes for sale. That's not so bad is it?  Well...it depends...and I'm not saying that we would do such a thing, but it has been noted that if the house is empty and the door is unlocked that some people might just go in and look around.  Just sayin'.

Shopping was always an adventure that ended up at our favorite restaurants...thus, the expanding waistline.  Thanks, S.  We travelled a few times together on mini vacations, and I won't go into details.  We'll just leave it at that.

S finally moved away to be nearer her children, and it's probably a good thing.  There was nothing but trouble when we were together, but, boy, it sure was fun.

I still have so many friends and I consider myself blessed.  But, those friendships were more than that.  They were sisterhood.  They were two people sharing the same heart and I still love my dearest friends and when we get together, it's like no time has passed. 

Aristotle said, "What is a friend?  A single soul dwelling in two bodies."  These were my friends, and I am so thankful that they gave me a part of their lives.

Proverbs 18:24  A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.

My Sister My Friend

Day 14 is a day of thanksgiving memories of my sister.  I don't know how I'm going to condense my sister down to one page, because she deserves a book.

She was nine years older than me, so there are no memories of playing dolls together, or wearing each other's clothes, but there are stories of admiration, laughter and love.

My sister took care of me from the time I was born.  I guess I was her real life baby doll.  Our parents divorced when I was three, so Daddy wasn't around and Mom worked everyday, so we didn't see alot of her.  We were very poor, but I didn't know it because my sister helped make my life happy.

My brother, my sister, and I slept in one room, and I usually slept with my sister.  We had an old radio sitting at the head of the bed, and we'd go to sleep with songs from The Beatles and Elvis filling the room.  If we didn't have the radio on, then my sister would sing songs for me until I went to sleep.

Every morning when we would be getting ready for school, I would think how beautiful she was and always would ask her to twirl around so I could see if her skirt would spiral out like a ballerina's.  I don't remember her ever getting tired of that game. 

There were many times when she would take me on dates with her. I'm sure the boys just loved this idea...said with much sarcasm, but with a grin on my face.

On Saturdays, we would catch the bus to town, and we would window shop and occasionally go see an old Bob Hope movie at the Bijou.  When I graduated from kindergarten, I was in a play and mom said I needed a new dress.  It didn't occur to me that anyone but my sister would take me on this special day, so my sister took me uptown to shop for the perfect dress.  Since, basically everything I wore was hand me downs, this day was  wonderful.  I was "Mary, Mary ...how does your garden grow?" 

 We found the perfect little dress!  It was green with little, different colored flowers embroidered around the bottom of the skirt.  I felt like a princess.

When she would have a girlfriend over for the night, the girls got kind of aggitated at this little red headed intrusion into their discussions of boyfriends, school and teenage drama.  However, my sister saw no problem with it, and didn't hesitate to say so.  I admired her so.

When she got married and moved away, I felt so alone.  She was my sister/mom and I missed her.  But,  I think she missed me, too, and she would have me come and stay with her for days and days. 

My mom remarried and we moved to another state and my visits to my sister weren't as often.  However, during the summer, I would stay for weeks with her.  By this time, she had given me a little nephew.  He was my best little buddy.  I held him, fed him and played with him.  She never made me feel like I was an intrusion, or any trouble.  I was still her little sister and we had good times.

After I married and had my own family, we still made time for each other.  I would take my kids and go stay at her house, or she would come to mine.  This time of year always brings a flood of memories because she would bring her family to my house for Thanksgiving.

They would arrive on Wednesday evening.  My husband and her husband would settle down for some tv, while our boys would gather for some games and goofiness.  She and I would go to the kitchen, turn on the Christmas music, and the cooking would begin. We made homemade pumpkin pies, homemade stuffing, potato salads, macaroni salads, and jello salad.  We always traditionally made a green jello salad, with nuts, fruit, and cream cheese that got the name "puke salad" that everyone gagged at, but my sister and I loved it and we'd make it just to get that reaction. 

Usually, the day after Thanksgiving, after we'd stuffed ourselves like the Thanksgiving turker, we'd go on an outing.  We had an extended cab truck with a camper top on it.  We'd throw the boys in the back with sleeping bags and snacks while the adults would get in the front, and off we'd go to who knows where.  We made many movies of our outings and they are all filled with laughter.

Oh, and did I mention the laughter?  When she and I would get together, it became a contagion.  Everything made us laugh.  We'd laugh at everything that moved.  I can remember laughing so hard and thinking to myself "can someone actually die from laughing" because we couldn't stop and we couldn't get our breath.  I remember a time when we were sitting on my front porch of an apartment I lived in and the lady across the street was so nosy that she'd pretend like she was washing the window on her storm door just so she could see what we were doing.  After days of this, my sister and I decided we'd put our hands up to our eyes, like binoculars, and look back at her.  We did this and then we nearly fell off the porch laughing at ourselves.  We always cracked ourselves up.

A quote I read that is us, "Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer."-Louis Gluck.  She

was my watcher as I danced through life.

I love my sister.  She's been everything to me my whole life.  She's been mom, sister, and best friend, and I'm so thankful God put her in my life.

1 Thessalonians 5:11  Wherefore comfort yourselves together, and

edify one another, even as also ye do.

Proverbs 17:22  A merry heart doeth good like a medicine,

Wife, Mom...Me

Day 13 of thankfulness is going to be centered around me.  Yep, you heard it...me.  Today, I'm going to be thankful for being able to be Mom and a wife.

I have had many titles throughout my life...daughter, sister, cheerleader, secretary, student, office manager, billing clerk, and on and on, but my favorites are mom and wife.

When I first started this "wife" thing, I pretty much sucked at it.  I couldn't cook anything but eggs, toast, boxed pizza, and brownies.  I remember calling mom to get a recipe for her buttermilk biscuits.  So, I went out to the store and bought the milk, flour, and shortening.  Ohhh.  When one says flour, it needs to be specifically spelled out "self-rising flour."

I made these little flattened patties that could have been used to knock out a cow.  When my husband cracked one on the edge of the table, I didn't find it humorous.  Shortly thereafter, my mother in law bought me a cookbook. 

Housekeeping? Ha!  My mom wasn't much on me helping out when I was home other than making my bed.  She would rather do it herself, so that left me in a quandry.  For some reason, when I came home, my house wasn't magically cleaned.  And now, not only did I have to clean my own messes, I had to clean someone elses.  Well, I didn't sign up for this.

After thirty six years of marriage, I'm doing better.  I'm a really good cook.  Housekeeping? Nya.  I do okay but it's not one of my favorite things about being married.  As a matter of fact, it's so much more fun to be writing a blog than mopping floors.

Sometimes when I grumble about picking up socks, or putting away dishes, I'm reminded of a ladies group meeting I attended one time.  We were talking about these very things...dirty socks, dirty dishes, dirty house.  One elderly widow lady quietly replied, "I just wish I had someone's socks to pick up." 

Kind of puts a new perspective on this cleaning thing.  So, now when I find myself grumbling, I remember her statement and am so thankful that I have a husband (not the socks, so much).  I'm thankful that I have a husband who loves me above all others.  It's such a good feeling to know someone wants me to be happy, someone who, when he sees me smile, makes him smile.  It's good to know that I'm the most important thing in his life. 

Yes, he spoils me pitifully and I enjoy the spoiling.  It's not the things he gives me, but it's the reason he gives to me that spoils me.  Everytime he brings me home a moonpie (my weakness), it says to me, "I was thinking of you today."  He's so funny at Christmas time.  He's always grinning and telling me he saw "ole Santy" at the store.  I get so tickled at how much fun he has giving to me and it's fun to him because he loves me.  And I love that.

I love being his wife.  I love being introduced as his wife. I love that he wants to take me to his conferences and dinners.  I love that he loves being with me.  I love being his best friend.

Being a wife is like having this huge chocolate cake and you can eat it all without gaining any weight.  Happiness.  And being a mom is like smearing chocolate frosting all over it.  Ecstasy.

I never knew happiness or love existed in such intensity, until I held my first child.  My goodness, it makes your heart swell because there is so much love in there.

Being Mom has been the most satisfying experience of my life.  I cannot comprehend how anyone could ever even contemplate harming those little souls, or leaving them, or putting my own wants ahead of theirs. 

The job is demanding, exhausting, frustrating, aggravating, and overwhelming.  It's also fulfilling, heartwarming, joyful, hilarious, and extremely rewarding.  I wouldn't trade it for any amount of selfishness in the world.  My children's lives are much more important than anything I could want, more important than anyplace I could go, more important than any selfish desires I could have.  They are my life.  And I love my life.

My children are all grown.  I have a son in law and daughters in law.  They all have their own lives, but the "mom" feeling is just the same.  It never changes. 

I'm so thankful that the Lord allowed me to be a wife and mother.  I'm so thankful for my husband.  I'm so thankful for my children. Oh!.... and did I tell you about my grandchildren....

Proverbs 18:22  Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor of the Lord.

Ephesians 5:25  Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave his life for it.

Grandma and Papa

Day 12 of thanksgiving moments is for my grandparents.  Grandma and Papa Tipton.  They have been on my mind so much lately.  They were humble people.  They lived in the same home most of their married lives, there were very few updates to the home over the years.

 I can remember when they finally got indoor plumbing.  It sure was nicer than going outside to the outhouse when nature called.  And I can remember taking a bath in the big, galvenized wash tub in the middle of the kitchen floor. Brrr.

Their heating unit was just a big coal/wood burning stove in the living room, so by the time you went through the kitchen to the bedroom, it got cooler and cooler, until you could almost see you breath in the middle of winter.

Grandma's beds were covered with the quilts she had made.  In the winter, there were several piled on top of another and they were so heavy that it made your toes curl up, but we would snuggle down under those quilts and get so snuggly warm.

I can't remember a time that I went to Grandma's that she didn't have a plate of homemade, buttermilk biscuits sitting on the stove.  As soon as we would arrive, me and my brother would dash out of the car, race to the kitchen, grab a biscuit, and out the old, screen door we'd go with a bang.

Grandma was a conniseur of breakfast.  She made biscuits, bacon, sausage, eggs, and oatmeal every morning we stayed there.  And then there'd be jars of jellies, apple butter and molasses that she'd make herself sitting all over the red checkered table cloth.  After we had eaten until we could pop, I'd wait for the finale...Papa would take his coffee, pour a little into a saucer, and slurp it.  That fascinated me.

My brother and I would head out the door as soon as breakfast was over, usually going to the barn, or sometimes to the woods with the Great Smoky Mountains as the backdrop.  We'd play through the fields, climb through barbed wire fence into the cow pasture, run around the pond (I remember my cousin and I taking this trip and getting chased around the pond by some cows!), and end up at the spring house to check it out to see if there were any snakes inside.  After playing all over the place, we'd hear Grandma shouting, "LUNCH TIME!"

My grandma was always busy, cleaning, canning, snapping beans and taking care of her flowers.  But, somewhere in her busy days, she'd let her hair down out of it's everpresent bun, and let me brush it.  My grandma had never had her hair cut in her lifetime, and it would flow over the arm of her little rocking chair almost to the floor.  It was all gray and silver, with some streaks of black that refused to let go of the beauty it held in her younger days.  Grandma had some Cherokee blood in her, so her coloring was beautiful and she had the proud nose of her ancestors which was passed onto my mama.  Grandma used to sit down with me and color pictures in my coloring book.  I kept those colorings for years and years, but somewhere along the way they were lost, but I'll always keep them in my heart.

My papa was the gentlest, yet grandest man I knew.  He never had a harsh word for anyone.  To me, he was a tall, gentle giant.  Papa was tall and lanky, with arms that hung a little too far passed his sleeves.  He had an everpresent hat on his head, that had been darkened by his sweat when he worked. 

Papa had a thinning head of hair, but it wouldn't stop me from creating all kinds of hairdos on his head.  He'd let me sit on the back of the couch with my legs draped over his shoulders, while I worked away with bobby pins, rubberbands, brushes and combs.  I always made him hold a mirror so he could admire my creations.

Papa was a man of integrity.  Papa was a man of God.  Papa preached all over Blount County, Tennessee, and was known as "Uncle Johnny" to everyone.  He never drove a car.  Anywhere he went, he walked, or sometimes a kindly soul would pick "Uncle Johnny" up and take him where he needed to go.  Papa started a church in Maryville, Tennessee known as Cades Cove Baptist Church.  It was named for all the people that lived in Cades Cove, but relocated because the government bought the Cove out.  The church had hardened wood benches and  two outhouses...one for females and one for males.  The ladies' outhouse was a three seater with a tiny seat for little ones. haha

I loved holding my papa's hand and walking to get the mail, then on to the local store.  He would always buy me candy canes to munch on, while we walked chatting away.  Papa never got irritated at all my little girl questions.

Those were happy days, and Grandma and Papa were such a force in my childhood.  They're no longer here, but I know someday I'm gonna sit down with them again and talk about the good ole days.

Proverbs 13:22  A good man leaveth an inheritance to his children's children

Luvy

Day 10 thanksgiving moment is for my last, but not least, granddaughter.  She's granddaughter #3 and she had a very difficult time arriving here. 

The doctors were trying to tell her it was time but she was going to do things her own way.  It was all so scary because when she finally arrived, she was breach and she wasn't ready, so they had to do a C on her mommy.

Her daddy had quite a fright because she tried to tell everyone she wasn't ready, so she wasn't breathing when they were introduced to each other, but after some quick work by the doctors, everything worked out.  She began letting everyone know, quite loudly I might add, that she was not happy about the situation.

It didn't take long for her to let everyone know who was in charge of everything now.  Mommy and daddy dragged themselves through sleepless nights and demanding days.  But who cared, she was absolutely beautiful.  She was our little angel here on earth.  She was my luvy.

She looks alot like her daddy, but she has a personality all her own.  She likes to sing.  She only has one note, but she sings it so well.  She has a little bear blanket, about the size of a wash cloth, that she covers her face with when it's time to shut out the world and go to that happy dreamland all little cherubs have. 

She's afraid of nothing.  She loves my dogs that are big enough to ride.  She smiles and tries her best to hug them.  She loves the swing in Gram's tree outside.  And she loves Gram.

When she sees me now, she grins so big I can see every tooth in her head...well, it's only two teeth, but if there were more, I could see them.  She starts breathing weird and reaching her arms out, and I can hardly wait to get her in my arms.  I grab her up and she gives me real hugs now, and slobbers all over my face with her little baby kisses.  After all that emotion, then she tries to act a little shy and lay her head down on my shoulder, all the while looking at me with those beautiful eyes, with eyelashes so long they touch her eyebrows.

She eats everything.  That includes non food items....strings, dust bunnies, bugs, leaves. I usually sweep and mop my floors twice before she comes over so there are no surprise snacks laying around. 

It took her no time to learn to crawl, and now she's everywhere.  We kept her one day and we had barriers all over the living room to try and contain her to one room.

She thinks she can walk.  She'll pull herself up to a table or something, let go, and is constantly surprised that she falls over.  She always gets this shocked look on her face like she's thinking, "I thought I could walk!"

When I call her mommy or daddy, I always have them put the phone on speaker so I can talk to her, and I'm pretty sure I can actually hear her smiling.  I can definitely hear the little grunts and noises as she tries to put Grammy in her mouth.

She's already a joy to our lives and I have to have my "luvy fix" quite often now.  She lives closer to Gram now, so I get to see her a lot more often, and I think we're both pretty happy about that situation.

She's like a cuddly ball of hugs, kisses and energy and I love her.  I'm so thankful that God blessed us with her.

Psalms 127:3  Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord

Boo

Day 9 of thanksgiving moments will be about my granddaughter #2.  She was quite the surprise to all of us.  Her mommy is half Philippino, so having a little Philippino baby doll was the plan.  Well, it was everyone's plan, but hers.

When our son walked out carrying the little bundle all wrapped up, he pulled the blanket back, and her cute, little Phillipino grandma yelled, "She's white!"

It was like the paparazzi had hit town, people crowding to see, cameras flashing, everyone gushing.  But she was having none of it, she was wailing and demanding that all this chaos stop this minute.

It really doesn't seem fair that she was such a good baby.  I mean, every parent should have to go through the sleepless nights and days of walking zombie-like throughout the day, but she was a princess, and she had to have her beauty sleep. 

She smiled at everyone who came into her presence.  She didn't care who you were, or why you were there, she would present you with one of her sweet smiles and you instantly became one of her most loyal subjects.

I had the privilege of keeping her for three or four days while her mommy and daddy went away for some together time.  I had a little Moses basket that she slept in and I would just take the basket and put it in bed with me so I could peep at her all through the night. (yes, I was doing the whole "put your hand near their face to make sure they're still breathing" thing)  One night I was laying there, and I heard her rustling around, so I peeped over the edge only to see her looking back at me with a big smile on that precious face.

She's all eyes and smiles...big, beautiful, blue eyes and a cute, dimpled smile.  She has Grammy's heart, and I do believe she's kinda partial to me.  We like to play together, read books, and munch on gold fish crackers.  She likes my lap and I like her on my lap.

Her favorite word has always been "boo."  It always gets a smile and now that she's older, she likes to say it and see the terrified response we have when we hear that little voice say, "boo."  She walks by, looks at us with a smile, says "boo" and we shutter and pretend we're a moment away from passing out from fright.

She is starting to use her imagination and it's so fun to watch.  Her favorite toy is an old butter bowl with a lid and a plastic spoon.  She stirs and stirs, then feeds her little baby doll. 

The last time Papa and I went to visit, we got out of the car and immediately heard squealing and some little voice yelling, "Pa-pa!"  We looked up to see her mommy holding her, looking out the glass door.  She could hardly be contained she was so excited. 

She loves dragging out all her toys for us to look at, crawling up on our laps looking at the same book over and over, and she especially loves the "I'm gonna get you" game.

I don't know what it is about these little souls that completely capture our hearts and our devotion, but I sure love my little Boo, and I'm so thankful she's in our lives.

Philippians 1:3  I thank my God upon every remembrance of you,

Mini Me

Day 8 of thanksgiving moments is dedicated to my little mini me, my first granddaughter.  She was a beauty when she was born, a headful of dark hair and huge brown eyes, and it was love at first sight.

When she and her family lived with us for a few months, she would get her Poppy's hat and balance it on her head while she walked around saying, "petty, petty."  Even she thought she was pretty.

She loves to dress up...me.  She loves to read...me.  She loves to wear bling...me. She loves to shop...me.   She loves cheerleading...used to be me.

I have a chest full of dress up clothes at my house, so when she came over with a couple of her friends, they ravaged the chest.  They had a runway show for me and they had broadway shows for me.  I've never heard such whispering as they prepared for their opening program.  There was talking, whispering and giggling, and then such drama.

We made pancakes, cookies and Christmas ornaments.  So there was lots of dishes and lots of glitter, and lots of fun.

In the summertime, when she stays with me, we get our favorite books, go out on the swing, and read.  And read.  And read.  My husband laughs at us because it's complete silence, but there we are enjoying what we do.

She loves clothes.  I love clothes.  She loves for me to get her clothes from one particular shop that specializes in young girls clothing and the reason she likes for me to shop there is because everything they have is covered in sparkles.  Jeans-sparkles.  T shirts-sparkles.  Skirts-sparkles.  Shoes-sparkles.  Why don't they have one of these stores for grandmas?

And talk!  Lordy, that girl can talk.  We talk and talk and talk.  We were up to see her brother, who is staying at a home for autistic children for awhile, and it's about a four hour drive.  She road home with me and it was four hours of non stop talking.  We talked about serious things, we giggled through silly things, and we talked about everyday things.  When we got home, we sat down in the living room and I asked her if she wanted me to find something on tv for her to watch, and she said, no, she just wanted to talk.  So, talk we did.

Cheerleading is her world, as it was mine back in the day. And, might I say, she is very good at it.  She expects everyone to keep their arms straight (no noodle arms) and expects them to take it as seriously as she does.  She's so tiny, so she's the one that is way up on top of the pyramids, and the one that is tossed everywhere.  She's quite dramatic, so when she's cheering, she knows exactly when to smile, when to toss that head, and when to give the little surprised cheerleading face.  She can do the hand springs and the back flips. Basically....she's awesome. 

I never knew how awesome she was until I went to her first competition.  They had to do a routine that lasted for several minutes and it was complete with cheers, tosses, flips and dance.  When I saw that teeny, little thing out there cheering her little heart out, keeping time and keeping everyone mesmerized, it brought tears to my eyes.  Yep.  There I was in the middle of a cheering competition, crying.  So, obviously, I guess she gets the drama from me too.

I hope me and my little mini me always have a good relationship and always can enjoy each other's company, even when we don't talk or when we talk each other's ears off, I pray it's always good.

I am so thankful for my granddaughter and I love her dearly.

Proverbs 17:6   Children's children are the crown of old men; and the glory of children are their fathers.