Thank God It’s Friday is an acronym that people began to use at least thirty years ago to express the relief of making it through the work week. We could look forward to the weekend. I think I’m the only one who said ONIM. (Oh No It’s Monday.)
Now, when I wake up in the morning, I say IDR (I Don’t Remember.) Not only that, but by Friday, I can’t remember what I did Monday and Tuesday…unless I have pictures.
On Wednesday, it seemed like a good idea. On Thursday I carried out the plan, and by Thursday evening, I had horrified myself. Here’s a hint. I wore a hat to bed.
I don’t look good with gray hair. I tried it once and I looked like Whistler’s Mother…part gray and part dark brown.
I wonder if she knows her hair has turned white in the back.
I’m tired of having to color my roots every month. My Wednesday tea party guests suggested high/low lights. I know a salon charges a couple hundred bucks for the process, and even though you only need to have it done once every three months, it still seemed like a lot of money to me.
I talked myself into thinking I could do it myself.
You pull strands of hair through holes in the cap with a knitting needle. Then you bleach the color out.
I couldn’t get the hang of pulling hair through the holes in the cap, so I took the cap off and picked up little sections of hair and bleached them. It sort of spread.
I don’t think this is what they meant by high lights/low lights.Hang onto your hats ladies. I might need to borrow them.“Do you want to borrow my hat. MG?”
I think I can fix it…We shall see what we shall see.
I know I’ve written about the creative tips my mother gave me to help get through awkward situations or avoid them all together. I’ve been trying to remember some of them.
I invited some ladies over for tea in the cottage today and one of them is new. We don’t know each other and she doesn’t know the history of the cottage and she probably doesn’t know anything about Murdo Girl.
Can you tell that’s a TV tray? I need extra seating for tomorrow.
I love my little cottage, but let’s face it, sometimes I oversell things. Today, I saw everything through someone else’s eyes and not just any someone else…a newbie.
No…not to tea
On top of everything else, I told them they had to wear hats. I learned yesterday that they had their hats all ready. What does that mean? I don’t even know for sure what kind of hat you’re supposed to wear to tea. Is it supposed to be floppy? The only floppy hat I have is straw and it’s winter so I doubt it would be appropriate. I worked for hours today trying to make the Stetson hat my friend gave me into a tea hat. Can you imagine? Queen E wouldn’t wear anything like that to tea. I’ll take a picture of it later.
A crown to tea? Maybe…Please noWhat do you think?That’s my floppy straw hat. Should I decorate it?
I have this picture in my head of serving tea with milk, and a little china sugar cube server with little tiny tongs. Don’t bother to look for them around here because nobody has them.
I meant to get a guest book today. I’m beginning to forget who has been here and who hasn’t. The newbie might think that’s pretty weird.
I have a few china cups and saucers, but they don’t match and everytime I try to use them I break one. My little teaspoons are just silver plated.
It will be just fine. I remembered something Mom used to tell people “All of my good things are in storage.”
My senior tea. I’m the one using Josephine Jost’s back to write something.
I can’t remember when there was a day… not even one
When I went off to bed thinking everything was done.
Picture taken from our back steps
I either fill life’s plate too full or don’t eat fast enough
If I cut the sweet part out, then life will be too tough
I always want to get a really big slice of the pie
The time I caught the big fish I was at a catfish fry
When I get to the meat of this I’ll trim a little fat
Maybe I’ll resemble Mother Goose’s lean Jack Sprat.
Life will hand me lemons with a cherry on the top
I try to be a good egg if I get fried …or not.
I can’t have my chocolate cake and always eat it too
I’m so hungry I could eat a horse. What am I to do?
I’m trying a new diet. It’s not going very well.
I think I’m going peanuts and I’m under sugar’s spell.
If I didn’t vegetate, I just might get my footing
You know what they always say. “The proof is in the pudding”
As you can probably tell from reading the first few lines, this poem was supposed to be about something else. I can’t remember what because my brain is mush…fried crispy with syrup on it.
This is a friendly reminder that the last day to submit your photographs of interesting vacant barns and buildings is February 15th. I have purposefully not featured many of the entries on the blog, but I must say they are all pretty awesome.
Keep them coming. Remember, all entries will be in the book as will their stories if I know them. I will confirm all submissions and locations before publication.
I notice these treasures more now and find myself wanting to know about their history. I snapped this one from the car window when we were driving to Dallas last week.
This is a blog I wrote when we were in the middle of turning a shed in our back yard into what I finally named, “The Cottage.” My sister-in-law even gave us a really cool sign. I know Kip will soon get around to putting it up.
Even though Dollie has become Covid Cat pudgy, she still sleeps in the same basket. Here is a picture I just took this morning. (Her love of baskets is referred to later in the bog.)
I’m busing having one or two guests at a time over for tea parties in the cottage and Kip is preparing the motor home for a trip to Rockport in late February.
We’re missing our little Sammie bunches, but we take comfort in the fact that she had a good life with us.
I’m trying to follow the Nutrisystem diet. At the rate I’m going, I’ll reach my goal…um…I wouldn’t take any bets on it.
Have a wonderful Sunday. I have to go look in my closet for something that fits. As always. I’m looking forward to going to church this morning.
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I haven’t been ignoring my blog. Well, yes I have. The truth is, I’ve been working on a project and it takes me multiple times of trying to get things right before I come reasonably close or give up. I get really frustrated sometimes. I try to read instructions, but beyond the 3rd step, I’m usually lost, which frustrates me even more.
This knowledge of myself only reinforces how important it is for me to live the simple life. I have made a little headway there. I’ve designed a mudroom for my almost tiny home.
Kip loves it! He has four pairs of shoes plus dress shoes and he’s always wearing one pair, so they all fit in the basket.
I’m a real basket person. Everytime I walk through the door with a new basket, Kip groans. “Where are you going to put that?” He asks.” If you put one more under the bed, it will raise it off the floor!”
“The cat outgrew hers.”
“Besides, I’ll need several for my she shed. (My she shed is currently on hold while Kip finishes making a rock walk in the backyard and fixes some things in the motor home. Plus, I upset him a little and Mary’s Manor went from #2 to #8 on his priority list.
Meanwhile, my plans are getting more elaborate and my treasures remain in his way in the garage. In a couple of weeks, I’ll start pounding nails in the shed and that’s sure to move me up a little on the list.
I’m not really manipulative. I prefer the word, motivator. And I don’t nag. I make suggestions. I never whine, either. I’ll manipulate or nag before I’ll whine.
I have added onto this story I wrote about Mom a couple of years ago. What a character. I’m a little bit like her…
You have to see what I found today. I won’t enter it in the water tower contest, but coincidinks are things meant to be appreciated. Just look..
All of you know how many thousands of pictures I have accumulated since I started writing Murdo Girl. Tonight, I picked up a small photo album that Gus brought when he came for Christmas. This photo was among several more recent snapshots, most of which I had already seen.
The beautiful young woman wearing the fur coat is my Mother. She is holding Billy. This picture is over 70 years old. Maybe one of you Murdo readers will be able to tell me where it was taken. The Murdo water tower is in the reflection of the window, and in Mom’s handwriting on the back it says…Doc Murphy said this is a good picture of the water tower.
This is amazing for several reasons.
1) To state the obvious, I’m collecting photos of water towers. It delighted me to find this one.
2) We lost many of our older family photos when the storage unit Mom and Gus had the pictures stored in flooded.
3) Mom was not a preserver of anything. I can tell this photo barely made the cut. It looks like she spilled her coffee while she was writing the description. I also have a nice 5 x 7 picture of Mom’s very dear friend Sugar and her husband George taken on one of their special anniversaries. Mom wrote her grocery list on the back of it.
I have all of Mom’s old recipe books. Two Methodist Church, and one Jones County Cookbook. Mom’s favorite recipes are dog-eared, but it’s not the recipes I treasure, it’s the entertainment. Mom had all kinds of notes, newspaper clippings and letters tucked between the pages. I found a two page handwritten recipe for soft oatmeal cookies. I purchased all the ingredients, mixed the batter, and was down to the last bit of instructions on how to bake them, when I noticed on the bottom of the second page, she had written, “Emily’s on page ? of the Jones County Cookbook are much better.”
In all fairness, I’m not any better. Inside my Jones County Cookbook, I found a newspaper clipping that Mom had cut out and sent to my son. It was an Ann Lander’s column describing the best way to get rid of blackheads. At the top Mom wrote, “I noticed last time I saw you, you had some breakouts…Try this.”
In the same cookbook, I found another newspaper clipping telling me If I was going to move to Texas, I would need to know how to kill cockroaches. The advice was to place oranges all over the house. Fortunately, I never had the need to try that particular remedy.
Inside my cookbooks I found 2 report cards (Mason), immunization records (Heather), a note from our daughter (Heidi) telling us what she wanted on her hamburger, and birthday cards to various people. I’m sure I didn’t send them because I didn’t remember I put them in the cookbook. Many of the pages of my books are torn out of the binding, but I can never quite manage to put them back in the right sequence. Every time I make lemon bars, (Mom’s recipe), I have to turn the book upside down and shake the page out that has the recipe on it.
This sample packet of Morton’s Season All has been inside the Methodist Women’s Cookbook for at least 20 years. I’ve never thrown it away because…well, it must still be good. It’s still in the wrapper. I also recently found the warranty for a Rival crock-pot I haven’t had for probably 15 years.
This is the recipe file my Aunt Elna Miller gave me 50 years ago. It’s been a while since I’ve looked inside. I found a story in there that was written by my son in 1989. Maybe I saved it because he got an A+. I guess it’s not a story, but it’s a pretty good read.
Next, I found a picture of Aunt Elna, Mom and Grandma Sanderson. I haven’t seen it since around 1989. (I would guess.)
Note to cousin Valerie: I found a recipe for Ella’s rolls. Do you have it?
I also found a recipe for eggless, milkless, butterless cake. It was one of Mom’s recipes in the Methodist Women’s Cookbook. I asked my brother if he had ever tasted one of Mom’s eggless, milkless, butterless cakes. He said he had never heard of it…me neither. I’m not going to try it. At the end of the recipe she said that you could add two eggs if you wanted to. I wonder why you would do that…Oh, yes…to make the name shorter…makes sense to me.
I might try Ella’s Rolls
From Left: Mom’s sister, Helen, with daughters Sue and Trice, and sister, Ella, with daughter, Valerie
Comfort, joy, friendship, fleas, loyalty, love, vet bills, grooming, chewing, digging, barking, adoration, faithfulness, and protection are some of the blessings of loving a pet.
This little English Cocker Spaniel, and her sister, stole our hearts thirteen years ago when Kip stopped to save them from getting run over on a busy street. He brought them home and we spent the next several hours giving them baths and cutting the knots out of their hair.
We did the right thing by putting up posters, and checking with the local vets and the humane society. What were we going to do if no one claimed them? We already had one dog and a cat.
We had them groomed and later spayed. By this time, we were wondering what we were going to do if someone did claim them? Neither of us would answer the phone. We were totally attached.
All these years later, we are grateful we had little Sammie Sue in our lives. We have to accept that she is gone, but we’ll see her again at rainbow bridge, where dogs run to meet their humans in heaven.
It hurts to lose her, and it will hurt for a while, but the joy she brought us diminishes the pain. Having a pet is an awesome responsibility, but if you make a mistake, you are quickly forgiven. They ask for nothing and give everything.
“l hate it when you play around that old barn, Lizzy. It isn’t safe. I’ve told your pa there will be hell to pay if one of you kids gets trapped inside that old refrigerator.”
Momma must have said those words a million times and Daddy ignored her a million times. Twenty years later, the old barn and the much maligned refrigerator still sit in the same old spot!
We play in the hayloft and chew on a straw. Ma calls us twice. Uh oh here comes Pa.
The sun’s going down. It’s time we ate. Pa says wash up now or you’ll be late.
Another busy day comes to an end. We’ll wake up in the morning and do it all again.
Buddy feeds the chickens and I milk the cow. Buddy can’t milk til Pa shows him how.
The cat hangs around. I squirt him in the eye. Buddy thinks that’s mean and so do I.
I hide a few eggs and throw rocks in the well. Buddy says to quit it or he’s gonna tell.
I say one day I’m leavin’ this farm. No one’s gonna have to twist my arm.
Buddy looks like he does before he cries. I smile real big and roll my eyes.
Buddy says teasing is a mean thing to do, and I guess in a way, I think so too.
Ten years later Buddy goes off to war. I don’t want to live at the farm anymore.
It’s cold that winter and the ice doesn’t thaw. Momma slips and falls and so does Pa.
I write to Buddy and say I sure miss you. He writes me back…says he misses me too.
I think Ma and Pa are soon gonna leave us. That year they both go home to Jesus.
Buddy comes home but he’s not the same. He’s real quiet and one leg’s lame.
I tell him I’ll stay and teach him how, to run the farm and milk the cow.
Along comes the cat. Buddy squirts him in the eye. I say that’s mean and he says so do I.
Those 70ish Girls 