Those 70ish Girls

“I want to have a small wedding.”

“Good,” Dad said…”That’s all you’re getting.”

He went online and found a venue,

Picked the flowers and chose the menu.

His budget was now getting slim

He asked Aunt Sue to sing the hymn.

Who would play, “Here comes the bride?”

(The wedding was to be outside.)

He had to buy a wedding dress.

Where could he find her one for less?

Finally, all the plans were made.

The date was set, the bills were paid.

“Daughter, all you have to do is show!

Just say your vows. You’re good to go!”

She said, “I don’t think you understand.

I still have to find a man.”

Snapped this picture while walking with a friend. It needed a story.

If you’re interested in this venue, please call,

nine-nine-nine…nine-nine-nine-nine.

(Butt can is extra.)

Photograph by Dianna Kenobbie Diehm

This is my favorite picture of the old. country church

It didn’t look much better in it’s day.

It was a real good place for those who came to search

For their Higher Power and to pray

We sang Amazing Grace and It is well with my soul.

In the Garden was my Grandma’s favorite hymn

We saw babies being baptized and had widows to console

But mostly I liked watching Grandpa Jim.

When they passed the wafers he was whittling.

Grandma elbowed him real hard in his side.

He threw his offering in with the wafers. It was piddling.

I think that second elbow hurt his pride.

The quarters in the wafer plate made a lot of noise

Grandpa got no wafer with his wine.

I know whittling on a stick is something he enjoys.

Grandma thinks a knife in church is out of line.

When she takes his stick away he falls asleep.

Soon everyone in church can hear him snore.

Then the elbow in his side goes pretty deep.

Grandpa yells “Judas Priest!” and he’s done for.

You might think our bell and steeple are too large.

Or the church it sits on top of is too wide.

Grandpa rings the bell now. He’s happily in charge

Because Grandma and her elbow stay inside.

Redecorating is sure a lot of work. Especially if you’re doing it on a shoestring or I’m my case neckties. (I’ll explain more, later.)

I was inspired to add a little 4th of July color to the cottage so I took down the outside grapevine and foo foo that I have enjoyed since Yolie and I decorated the posts last year, and painstakingly transformed those same poles into what now resemble what you might see in front of a first rate barbershop. They are rather pretty at night with the lights on. Don’t forget to notice the blue footies.

I also made some changes on the inside to lose the winter and embrace the summer. I think it may be time to remove the curtains from the air conditioner.

Before looks junkie…

After…A little less congested

I love all three of our abodes… our not so tiny home, our motor home and the cottage. I have really become attached to the least of these…my cottage/clubhouse. Kip loves his garage.

I decided to add a couple of pics of his flowering cactus.

I almost forgot to shoe you what I’m purchasing ($5) to add a bit of color to the porch. Do you think it will tie into everything else?

The following is a never before told story….

Lav and I were commenting back and forth on a previous blog about crowns and hats. As far as I’m concerned, Her Highness, Queen Elizabeth made it possible for all persons of royalty to, on occassion, replace the pomp and circumstance of a bejeweled crown with the class and dignity of the perfectly styled hat. Queen E is no less the Queen in the exquisite hat designed for whatever “duty calls” appearance she graces with her magistry … She still dons the full regalia for the occassions requiring more elegance and perhaps regal distinction from her beloved commoners.

Anyway, I have crowns and what I call crown-hats. I have never before told you the back story to my royal connections. You know my mother was the Queen of Highway 16 when she was eighteen. She didn’t wear a crown. She wore a crown-hat. Her Palace was the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota. She looked the part of royalty through and through.

My story is more of a Cinderella story. It all began when I was seven. Kitty Reynolds, who was the most sought after seamstress in Murdo, called my mother with some exciting news. Her granddaughter, Judy, was getting married in Vernal, Utah and I was chosen to be the flower girl. Kitty was going to immediately fit me with a beautiful yellow gown and we were going to buy me some white patent leather shoes. Best of all, Kitty was going to make me a beautiful hat. One fitting for a beautiful southern belle. It was to be my first crown-hat.

It really pains me to tell you about the ugly twist this story took. Something came up and Mom and I weren’t going to be able to make it. I was appropriately devastated. I don’t think I have ever fully recovered. Well, not quite, but you will have to agree it’s not from lack of trying. The only thing that stopped the tears, was Mom told me I could wear my white patent leather shoes anytime I wanted to. I put them on and ran across Tuffy Gilbert’s yard and across Main Street to my friend Sandra’s house. (I was so besott, I doubt I had the presence of mind to look both ways.) I proceeded to show my shoes off to Sandra’s whole family. I wasn’t able to come forth with the knowledge that I was not going to be the princess at the wedding. I just couldn’t stop Sandra’s family, which happened to include my 2nd grade teacher, who was also Sandra’s mother, from saying how they couldn’t wait to see the wedding pictures of me dropping flowers from my basket as the light flashed brilliantly off the shiny leather of my shoes.
Guess what happened next? The event that was so bittersweet it was just about too much for the (dying for a crown-hat) kid that was me, to take! Mom decided we could go after all. Do you want to hear the kicker? My best friend Lois Lillibridge had already been told she was to be the royal flower girl and Kitty had turned my gown into Lois Lillibridge’s gown. I went to Vernal, Utah with Kitty and Mom and Lois and her mom and her sister, Cheryl. I wore my white shoes with everything. I never took them off. I didn’t act out either. I showed what I was made of. I didn’t shed a tear as I watched Lois in my gown walk regally down the isle at the coronation…I mean wedding.

I think that is why Kitty did what she did. When we got back to Murdo, Kitty made me…yes me…the most beautiful red gown I had ever seen.

And the rest is history.

Queen Elizabeth symbolically looking at me. My cousin, Mark, to right of me, was the parade manager. He designed and made my first tinfoil crown.

Let it be known that I have a picture of all of us in Vernal for the wedding, but it’s down in the cottage and it’s too early to walk down there.

As most of you know, my mom and Lav’s mom were sisters and extremely close friends, which is why Lav and I are cousins and extremely close friends. Lav fills in for Queen Elizabeth when she can’t get across the pond to some of my more pressing functions. I consider Lav, my sometimes co-queen. You are welcome, Lav, aka, Valerie.

I know you must be impressed by the humility I have shown considering what I have been through in my endeavor to let the past control my life. I don’t think that came out right. I hope you know what I mean because I don’t.

Have a wonderful day all of you beautiful commoners.