Have you bought your Girl Scout Cookies yet?

Q:  What’s green and yellow, green and yellow, green and yellow and covered with cookie crumbs? 
A:  A Girl Scout rolling over a cliff.  Old joke.

            It’s time to buy Girl Scout Cookies, a tradition throughout the USA at this time of year.  Today’s a new day in scouting and in cookie sales, though. All kinds of new cookies are currently for sale, including the traditional thin mints and butter cookies. Try the new favorites like tag-a-longs, samoas, do-si-does. Marvin loves the samoas and bought two boxes outside Belk’s yesterday.  (Just so you’ll rest comfortably:  Belk’s is next door to Lowe’s and he was dropping me off at the Clinique counter while he bought shower fittings!)

Not Girl Scout Cookies

               Girl Scout Cookie Time takes me reeling backward in time to my unfortunate experiences with scouting. Dear friends loved the program, the bike trips around town, the hiking adventures, and the close friendships forged at Girl Scout Camp. I wrote them letters while they were away, but I did not attend camp.  It’s a good thing that we’re all different and cherish those different passions in our girlfriends.



Goldfish/Koi Pond where FISH sleep.

 Fortunately my mother understood how uncomfortable I was in the scouting arena. One of the things I learned about myself:  I prefer comfort and conditioned air. I will enjoy invigorating outdoor air during the day, but want a comfortable bed and climate-control at night. And bugs, anywhere, it’s a no-go.

                   Please read my story about how I became a Girl Scout Drop-Out. Titled "Brownie Drops Out," the story had nothing to do with cookies.

A Day for Hearts; A Day for Home

             Something there is that defines a home, that craves a mommy and daddy, children growing up, family suppers and memories of special times.
              The generational home at 134 Harrison, the family home at 980 Truman, the one created for many years at 8124 Cairn Drive, the home wherein we sleep in security and awake to the sunrise of possibilities…the images contained therein are reflections of  “home.”
               In March of 2004, it was just a house. It did a great job, sheltered us all, and met my expectations. Cheerful, warm, inviting…it welcomed friends and family. We laughed there and enjoyed plenty of good times. There are pictures to prove it.
               The house had it all – as in everything I designed. Rich had his own requirements: “upstairs,” a game room with pool table and big tv.  Check, Check, Check.  A place for friends. Check.  David moved home from Knoxville to finish college, and there was room.

Plenty of room, so Mother could live with us after Daddy died.Then, Mother’s COPD and congestive heart failure worsened. Mother died, there in the den, on the chaise-lounge…with Hershey and me. 

Marvin and I held our wedding and reception in that house with many friends and family joining us.  The house was a great host for that happy occasion.

            Soon, David moved out, rented a house with friends and finished college.  Richard graduated and went to college in Chattanooga, living now in Charleston, SC.  Marvin and I spiritually moved our “home” to Arkansas, 2009, but we maintained 6406 W Forked River Cove as our hub of operations until we retired, January, 2012.  

It’s a great house: everything I designed.

            A house, though, craves a family at its heart.
             A family’s heart pumps life throughout the rooms. The house reflects the family’s love and becomes “home.”
             We sold the house on Thursday, to a mommy and daddy with 3 sons, a family with plenty of memories to make. Thursday was a day for hearts, a day for Home - Valentine’s Day, 2013.

An Afternoon with Ben Affleck

                Spending several hours with Ben Affleck on a Saturday afternoon was not priceless– it cost $12.00.  Afternoon prices dip a few dollars and we like to take advantage of any chance to save a couple of bucks when we go to the movies.  ARGO had been on the marque for only a short time at the Cinema 8, but the Oscar nominated film returned for a few afternoon showings.  We were excited to get to see it since the reviews had been excellent.
               While I’m not sure all the areas for the Oscar nominations, I’ll just say that the close-ups and opportunities to view Ben Affleck with a beard were Oscar worthy.  He is one fine looking gent,and a great actor, too.   He and George Clooney produced the movie.
              Interspersed with background shots of 1980’s television reports, including shots of Walter Cronkite, Tom Brokow, and Mike Wallace, the Iran Hostage Crisis came to life again.  We were somewhat privy to how it happened in the first place with footage almost documentary in nature. At the conclusion of the feature, similar “real-life” pictures, comparison shots, and statements about the 6 hostages rescued in this mission and the hostages who remained imprisoned for 444 days in the American Embassy in Iran flashed on the screen.  Jimmy Carter was seen in television clips and his Chief of Staff was depicted in the film. We’re really lucky that brave and determined Americans often forced the hand of administrative operatives, and our men and women on the ground, the ones with the real intelligence and the fortitude to carry out the plans, won the day.
                 The Eastern world of Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, Turkey, and Egypt was depicted as totally chaotic, loud, aggressive, full of hate, and quite unnerving. I knew the hostages got out, but my nerves were shot by the time it actually happened.  Even if you are hesitant about seeing and sensing the Middle-East of the 1980’s, go see the film because of its Oscar merit, and because you will enjoy experiencing Ben Affleck, “up close and personal.”

Richard III and Maud Crawford: Who'da Thunk It !?!

British history plus William Shakespeare, and my attention is riveted.

         Seems archeologists and historians have barely slept while they researched potential burial sites for the evil hunchback king of England, Richard III. Their sleepless nights yielded fantasmagoric results:  He’s under a parking lot in a small English town.  Well, who’da thunk it.

        I read with great interest the article about the discovery and the DNA testing, the radiocarbon dating, and the assembling and private display of the king’s skeletal remains. Fascinating. Richard III was the last Plantagenet King of England,  dying in ruthless battle with the war's victor Henry VII (Tudor) ascending the English throne.  You’ll remember the Tudors for King Henry VIII and his long desire for the male heir. His beheaded wives would be interested to know that the law has now changed to allow the first born (male OR female) to claim the direct line to the throne. Rudyard Kipling encourages us to “keep our heads when all about us are losing theirs…”  Hmmmm.
                                      Enough of that.

Let’s get on to the real business, the real interest in unearthing Richard III’s bones. 

               If Richard III could be found under a parking lot in England, does it not follow that the remains of Maud Crawford, who has been notoriously missing since 1957, could now be discovered under the Safeway parking lot in Camden, Arkansas? If she’s not there, check the sealed up well near Berg Lake. www.charleyproject.org/cases/c/crawford_maud.html

                Let’s get busy!  Miss Maud is waiting.

To read more about Maud Crawford, see my Journey’s entry:  Bedtime Stories with Miss Maud.

Around the Corner and Down the Street

        “Early Spring,” says the Groundhog!  Oh, how my thighs hope he is right!  My walking routine has been severely disrupted due to bad weather, cold weather, rainy weather, cloudy weather, and occasional sunshine!
         The outdoors and I have a long-established a love/hate relationship.  It dates back to the moment Mother Nature determined to exact revenge on me for being a “Girl Scout Dropout.”  Try as I may to be a good sport, I just cannot get past spiders, bugs, and mosquitos. The aversion to the camping-out routine began when I was scolded for making a production of slapping mosquitos while sitting around a campfire – on a log, mind you! The Scout Leader told me to “quit, or just go inside!”  Oh, thank you, Jesus.  I thought she’d never exile me!  At a day-trip I ended my scouting career with subtle rebellion as I wondered aloud, “Why would anyone want to cook a baked potato in the ground when you have a perfectly good stove?????”

         Visiting out of town friends for weeks during the summer sometimes meant sucking it up and going with the group for an overnight at Girl Scout Camp.  I did not sleep a wink that one night, keeping watch for creeping spiders that could, if they had a mind to, climb up the leg of the cot and creep under the sheet onto my foot, or they could stealthily fall from the porch ceiling and perch upon my hand, or shoulder, or OMG, My Face!  How could anyone sleep under those creepy conditions?
        But, I do love breathing fresh air, taking in the scenes of pretty flowers and shrubs, shy jonquils, and landscaped lawns. I adore noticing how the seasons are changing.  Walking the 2+ miles daily I have enjoyed the tone my thighs and booty have achieved, and I also know I have lost some poundage, some fluffiness. Some ladies prefer the treadmill and the stationary bicycle.  Not me….even with TV, I grow tired of the same-ole scenery afforded by the indoor treadmill, and my knees can’t take the stationary bicycle nor the elliptical thing.  It’s that old cheerleader injury that I credit for every physical limitation.
        Friends recommend Yoga and Zumba, the golden oldies version.  Oh, how I wish there were classes here without having to drive to Kennett or Piggott.  I’ve gotten spoiled and don’t even like to drive 15 miles, unless I am shopping for a new outfit.  I prefer “just around the corner” and “down the street.”  And that's how I walk...around the corner and down the street.
        For now, I’ll build up my resolve to take up the Walking Routine again, just as soon as a few more buttercups decide to wave in the Early Spring breeze! I’ll gladly lace up my walking shoes for the pilgrimage, being sure to avoid spiders, bugs, and anything else creeping onto my path.

Gonna Have a Wild Weekend, Part II

                The first Super Bowl was played around my birthday in mid-January; that’s why I remember the hype beginning.  You mean there is something of more importance in mid-January than the festival surrounding my birth?  No Way!
                Now, it’s Super Bowl XLVII (that’s 47 for those who have forgotten Roman Numerals).  Does anyone know a sane individual who has purchased a room for 4 nights in the French Quarter, Super Seats, credentials, Bourbon-Street Bowl favors, plus credentials and lanyards for a mere $5900+ per person, double occupancy. We will simply entertain ourselves for free with Jane’s prognostication as to the winner, with no deference whatsoever to the Las Vegas line or which coaching brother is better looking.
              I have experience with brotherly conflict, but I don’t know which of the Harbaugh brothers coaches which team.  Isn’t it just crazy that Jim vs John makes the Super Bowl coaching battle Brother vs. Brother.  Reminiscent of the Mario Brothers, The Wright Brothers, Civil War and Marvin vs Garvin or even Peyton vs Eli, the Super Bowl reminds us that brothers are meant to fight. Think: Bible.
               Even leaving the Bible out of it, the clear choice for a winner is “San Francisco ‘49’ers.” Without hesitation, the “49’ers” are my favorite because that’s the year I was born (not 1849).  Second – the “49’ers” were seeking gold in California and I like gold, a lot. Then, there is the Joe Montana factor, not to be underestimated. “49’ers” 3; “Ravens” 0.
                The Ravens, such dark and dirty birds, don’t get any points for “team name.” Also, the players will not be rested as they have been kept awake, pondering weak and weary upon forgotten lore at midnight.  Without too much trouble, I can predict that “Never” will be the outcome for this team, based in EA Poe’s hometown of Baltimore. Major players may be found wandering the Bourbon Street alleyways seeking Edgar and his lost love Lenore.  That makes it “49’ers” 3 – “Ravens” minus-3.
                 “The Blind Side” is history.  Points for players whose home is Collierville, TN, or somewhere in Arkansas, or owners who have roots in Little Rock, or how many on each team once played for the SEC equal out for the teams.

                   So, my line is this:  “The 49’ers” by 6…and, that’ll do as well as any.  Enjoy your weekend! I’ll be wearing red and gold, recovering from groundhog meat loaf.

Gonna Have a Wild Weekend,PART I

               Two monumental events will occur this weekend, as the planets align to refute the Mayan Calendar prediction that we would not see another Groundhog Day or Super Bowl!
                Wooly worms crossing the road headed North or South, cows in the pasture curled on the ground or standing up, snow birds, snow clouds, and dancing inside-out pajamas seek attention as we attempt to manage the unpredictable.  But, it is dear Phil’s shenanigans, just as reliable as Doplar Radar in the wintertime, that give us our first reason to party this weekend.
               If Punxsutawney Phil lived in Arkansas, he'd be attached to a kite or flag pole for his own safety.  Winds, dangerous and threatening, are currently whipping in 72 degree January storm mode, temps heading for below freezing by the weekend.  What 's Phil got to say about that?

                   Of what significance, though, is February 2, other than an old friend’s birthday.  Punxsutawney Phil and his Pennsylvania adventure outside his den focus our attention to Weather Lore and Winter Wonderings.  Long before Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell repeated the day into lunacy, we’ve been separating ourselves into optimists and pessimists, early spring or more winter.  Since 1899, folks have prayed that Phil might comfort us with a longing look toward Spring. Eventhough Phil is the official prognosticator, we might pay homage to General Beauregard Lee, the Atlanta, GA, groundhog. Our facination with this varmit catapults the Groundhog over the Bald Eagle as the most attention-garnering animal in the United States during February.
                     Midway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox, Groundhog Day is the perfect time for celebration. I don’t need much encouragement to establish a new tradition and a new party theme.  Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe” is the perfect theme song for a party that does not require gifts, cut-down trees, or roasted 20 pound birds.  All you need is good humor and an ugly brown sweater, or not. Suit yourself.  Reminiscent of the groom’s armadillo cake in Steel Magnolia’s, I wonder what a meat loaf in the shape of a groundhog might look like? 
                  I think we’ll just devour some popcorn and watch the 1993 movie after learning on the 6 o’clock news what Phil the Groundhog predicted.  We will learn anew with Bill Murray to “make every day count.”