“As soon as we hang up, I’ll call and see how soon I can get a flight out. Will you be able to pick me up at the airport, or should I rent a car? I know it’s a long drive.”

I was talking to my cousin, Tara, who had just phoned to tell me our Aunt Marti had suffered a stroke. She was at the ripe old age of 99 and things weren’t looking good.

I knew without a doubt that I wanted to go there. I had to say goodbye to the last of my mother’s siblings.

“What?” Tara sounded incredulous.”I never thought for a moment that you would want to come. You haven’t been home in twenty years!”

“Can you pick me up or not?” I asked, a little too impatiently.

“Of course, Dee. Just let me know when you’ll be arriving. I can’t wait to see you, and the long drive back to Pleasant Run will give me a chance to bring you up to date on everything. Small town or not, you’ve missed a lot.”

“Okay, I’ll make arrangements and call you back either this evening or first thing tomorrow…and Tara, thank you for calling me with the news. Give Aunt Marti my love.

One day later, I was on my way. It wasn’t until I had boarded the plane that I finally asked myself the question that Tara hadn’t asked. Why was I going? It wasn’t as if I had ever been especially close to Aunt Marti or anyone else in that town except for Tara. Still, I knew I wanted to be there.

I had asked Tara to make a reservation for me at the local hotel, but she informed me that I would be staying at Aunt Marti’s rambling old house. “It’s just a few blocks off Main Street and within walking distance from where Tom and I live,” Tara had reminded me. “Aunt Marti very well may not be coming home, but regardless, she has plenty of room.

Commerce City was much larger than Pleasant Run, but the airport was small. I had no problem recognizing my cousin Tara, who was standing inside near the little baggage area. She was a fabulous older version of her fabulous younger self. Suddenly, I felt frumpy, but it was a little late to worry about that. As it was, I was trying to stop thinking about the half-eaten bag of sour cream cheddar cheese chips stuffed away in my handbag.

The years melted away as I returned Tara’s smile. It was hard to believe we were both 70. We had gone through twelve years of school together, and then I left Pleasant Run and Tara stayed. I had been back a few times to attend class or family reunions and my parent’s funerals, but all counted, I hadn’t been there more than 20 days in 50 years. And as Tara had mentioned, it had been twenty years since I had been back to my hometown at all.

“Good grief.” Tara said when she saw my bags. “You must have been rather indecisive when you packed. If I’d have known you were bringing this much stuff, I would have tried harder to get my grandson, Jeremy, to come with me.”

“Oh, come on,” I teased. “We can get it all in one trip. How much time do we have for you to catch me up on things in Pleasant Run.

“It’s a two hour drive,” Tara said as she slipped into the driver’s seat. I’m so glad you’re here, Dee,” Tara said as she drove down the desolate highway toward Pleasant Run.

By the time we pulled into Aunt Marti’s drive, my head was spinning. I probably wouldn’t remember half of what Tara had told me, and in a small town, people expect you to remember names and faces not to mention which gossip was okay to repeat and which was not.

I’ll come in and show you where your room is.” Tara said when we arrived. “This is an old house, but I think you’ll be very comfortable. Remember how we loved coming here when we were little?”

My room was lovely. I took the time to hang up my things in the very generous armoire. I was glad I came. This was exactly where I needed to be. I prayed that Aunt Marti would be able to come home. I needed to spend some time with my mother’s sister.

First, I want to let everybody know that I brought Kip home from the hospital today. His back surgery yesterday went well. Now comes the hard part. Rehab and healing. Thanks, everyone, for your thoughtfulness and prayers. Keep them coming.

I made an important life decision. I’m going with my gray. I’ve been gray for decades, but only my hairdresser knew exactly how gray. I’m the old hair color stylist, but I’m done with the dye and down with the gray. I had the color lifted out – thanks Amanda at A Touch of Grace Salon in Ben Wheeler. You are the best. Heather knows her stuff, too. I watched her color and cut a lady’s hair while Amanda worked on me.

I highly recommend A Touch of Grace Salon. It was a fun experience, and I love the results. No more dying my roots every few weeks. I’m very excited about that! Though I tried to only dye the roots, the ends were getting really dark and dry.

I’ve included some before and after pics of my new do as well as some other local Ben Wheeler color.

I stopped by the Goodwill store to see what was newly old or oddly new. My eyes went straight to a ceramic pig. She was a bank, I think. Anyway, she was purple and she was wearing a little tutu….And..a shiny crown.

I took my remarkable find to the check-out counter where the clerk looked all over my purple pig for a sticker with the price on it. She couldn’t find one. She said the rule is…if there is no price tag, they can’t sell the item until the next day when someone prices it. I know why they do this. People take price tags off things hoping they can get a better deal. That might work at the Church garage sale, but it is a punishable offense at the GW store.

So they said….

I started to write a poem in my head about Empress the purple pig. I got so attatched to her that I actually decided to stop by and visit her after work. I would take a picture of her…yes! That was a great idea! I could show how I saved her from crashing to the floor in some little kid’s room and breaking into smithereens.

On Wednesday, I would buy her. (At this point, I was willing to pay any price..within reason.) I would take Empress home and introduce her to all of my Beasterhops and dolls and show her my crowns. But that didn’t happen.

“We sold her about 15 minutes ago,” a different clerk said.

“What?” I gasped. “Don’t you know the rules around here?” I frightened her, I think, but I had to leave anyway so she wouldn’t see me cry.

I thought it might help if I wrote a different poem about Empress.

Empress

I’m Empress the dancing pig. My agent thought he had me a gig.

But when it never did pan out, my owner kicked my pig can out.

She took me to the GW store…My price tag fell on the floor.

I fear no one will know my worth? My tutu barely fits my girth.

A real strange nice person wanted me. She said her heart was filled with glee!

‘Cause no one knew how much I cost. Another chance for me, was lost.

Couldn’t they just take a guess? Then I could be a great success!!

The stranger said not to worry, for tomorrow she would hurry.

She said, “I’ll come and buy you honey, shine your crown, and give you money to fill your empty hole inside. You’ll wear that purple crown with pride!

She said she’d take me off the shelf and teach me to self- help myself.

Well… that glorious life was not to be. Another person purchased me.

She didn’t give me a chance to show her how this pig can dance.

She took me to a real nice store. Will I stay here for ever more?

She gave me a close inspection. She wanted me for her collection.

It seems I’m worth thousands more, than the price she paid at the Goodwill store.

The above story is true..I found this pig picture on the internet.. Empress was purple. This one goes well with my Francis Plumbing and Heating ceramic commode.

You can dance without music if a tune can’t be heard.

Some cry with no tears, which to me seems absurd.

You can smile without laughing. (I can’t deny it.)

You can’t laugh without smiling. (Did you just try it?)

If we’re living the dream, then there’s nothing to fear.

Long lazy days can become a short year.

You can close your eyes tightly and see a beautiful place.

But can’t find your glasses when they’re right on your face.

You can age gracefully or chase after youth.

You can never do both. I’m telling the truth.

Friends are there for the good times, but you know they care,

When you’re going through bad times and you feel covered in prayer.

I want to wish an amazing lady and wonderful friend a very happy birthday.

 

Since we moved into our RV full-time, I try to take Rylie and Nellie on 3 brisk walks a day. I have to walk them one at a time. Kip is having back issues, so I’m the walker in chief.

In addition to the walks, we take them to a nearby field once a day to run free…no leash. It’s only a problem if there’s inclement weather. Let’s just say the rubber boots I got at Walmart 6 weeks ago have really come in handy.

Here are a few pictures I took yesterday. It was a gorgeous afternoon. The Indian Paintbrush wild flowers are in full bloom. We haven’t seen many blue bonnets, yet.

“She was the Queen of the Silver Dollar. She ruled the smoky kingdom. Her scepter was her wine glass and a barstool was her thrown.” That song, Queen of the Silver Dollar, by Dave and Sugar was a song I used to play over and over, even before I became a self-appointed, I mean self- anointed, Queen.

I may have sat on a barstool once or twice in my lifetime and I’m sure Cousin, Lav probably has too, years and years ago, but I would be willing to bet that she has not been to motorized barstool races. I got the pleasure of that experience just yesterday.

BEN WHEELER, Texas — You may be asking yourself, “So what is this crazy motorized barstool thing anyway?”

Well, it started in 1978 at The Quiet Man Bar on Knox Street in Dallas. The original circle of six barstool creators consisted of Bill Jenkins, Thomas Spangler, Johnny Gable, John Pullman, Mike Carr and Keith Blackwell. 

Each man created his own version of a motorized barstool and then they began to race them outside the bar. Soon it grew into something much bigger.

The Dallas Farmer’s Market quickly took up the event in full sponsorship along with Ben E. Keith and Budweiser to blast the race city wide. 

Last seen in 1991, the barstools have resurfaced around every St. Patrick’s Day in Ben Wheeler since 2015. This year, the annual festivities were held on Saturday.

Downtown Ben Wheeler roadway (FM 279) was closed due to the barstools racing on the streets.

It was a hoot!