Ummmmmm....You think it's been a while??? Well...now that I have some time on my hands, I can start blogging again! This past year had been a very busy year for me. Between getting married, traveling, school activities and kids, quitting my job, etc....there just hasn't been much time for writing blogs....
So hopefully, over the next few weeks, you will start seeing more of my entries. And hopefully they it will bring you all up to date on what has been happening in my life.
For now I have a full day ahead of me. More posts to come....Current Mood:  chipper |
It's been awhile since I've blogged and I've kind of disappeared for a while. It's been a very busy and hectic year for me with very little time to sit down and scribe something that is somewhat interesting for all of you to read. My apologies to all.
My little sister just sent me a link to an article that I wanted to share. As a proud Aunt and some one who has watched this little girl grow into a mature young woman, I wanted to share this article with you on her accomplishments. She is the 2nd one to your left in the picture. If many of you who have read my blog in the past, I have shared with you some pictures of Alyssa and her soccer triumphs.
Great job Alyssa! Have a rocking year in soccer this year! As a former high school athlete...your Senior year is the time to kick it up and have some fun! You'll do great as you always do!
http://www.thisweeknews.com/thisweek.php?edition=Dublin&story=thisweeknews/071306/Dublin/Sports/071306-Sports-189537.htmlCurrent Mood:  pleased |
After the long months of cold and winter, we will soon be coming up to summer and BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory
on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking as it's the only type of cooking a real man will do, probably because there is an element of danger involved.
When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:
Routine...
1) The woman buys the food.
2) The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert.
3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.
Here comes the important part:
4) THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.
More routine....
5) The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.
6) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he deals with the situation.
Important again:
7) THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.
More routine.....
8) The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces and brings them to the table.
9) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.
And most important of all:
10) Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.
11) The man asks the woman how she enjoyed "her night off." And, upon Seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no pleasing some women...Current Mood:  amused |
The Sandpiper by Robert Peterson
She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.
"Hello," she said.
I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.
"I'm building," she said.
"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring.
"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand."
That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.
A sandpiper glided by.
"That's a joy," the child said.
"It's a what?"
"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy."
The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed completely out of balance.
"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.
"Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson
"Mine's Wendy... I'm six."
"Hi, Wendy."
She giggled. "You're funny," she said.
In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.
"Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."
The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.
The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.
"Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?"
"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.
"I don't know. You say."
"How about charades?" I asked sarcastically.
The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is."
"Then let's just walk."
Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked.
"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.
Strange, I thought, in winter.
"Where do you go to school?"
"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation."
She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.
Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.
"Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.
"Why?" she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child?
"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."
"Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!"
"Did it hurt?" she inquired.
"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.
"When she died?"
"Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.
"Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was."
"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."
"Not at all -- she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said.
"Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you."
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.
"She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days.
But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?"
I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed:
A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry,
I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I uttered over and over, and we wept together.
The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love.
A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand -- who taught me the gift of love.
NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.
Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.
This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses.
This comes from someones heart, and is read with many and now I share it with you...
May God Bless everyone who receives this! There are NO coincidences!
Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us?
I wish for you, a sandpiperCurrent Mood:  contemplative |
1. Your boss is always yelling, "I wanna see your ass in here by 8:00!"
2. Can take advantage of computer monitor radiation to work on your tan.
3. "I'd love to chip in, but I left my wallet in my pants."
4. To stop those creepy guys in Marketing from looking down your blouse.
5. You want to see if it's like the dream.
6. So that with a little help from Muzak you can add "Exotic Dancer" to your exaggerated resume.
7. People stop stealing your pens after they've seen where you keep them.
8. Diverts attention from the fact that you also came to work drunk.
9. Gives "bad hair day" a whole new meaning.
10. No one steals your chair.Current Mood: amused |
| » Sipping Vodka |
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A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he could hardly speak.
After mass he asked the monsignor how he had done.
The monsignor replied, "When I am worried about getting nervous on
the pulpit, I put a glass of vodka next to the water glass. If I start
to get nervous, I take a sip."
So next Sunday he took the monsignor's advice.
At the beginning of the sermon, he got nervous and took a drink.
He proceeded to talk up a storm.
Upon his return to his office after the mass, he found the following
note on the door:
1) Sip the vodka, don't gulp.
2) There are 10 commandments, not 12.
3) There are 12 disciples, not 10.
4) Jesus was consecrated, not constipated.
5) Jacob wagered his donkey, he did not bet his ass.
6) We do not refer to Jesus Christ as the late J.C.
7) The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are not referred to as Daddy, Junior and the spooky.
8) David slew Goliath, he did not kick the sh*t out of him.
9) When David was hit by a rock and was knocked off his donkey, don't say he was stoned off his ass.
10)We do not refer to the cross as the "Big T."
11)When Jesus broke the bread at the last supper he said, "Take this and eat it for it is my body." He did not say "Eat me".
12)The Virgin Mary is not called "Mary with the Cherry,.
13)The recommended grace before a meal is not: Rub-A-Dub-Dub thanks for the grub, Yeah God.
14)Next Sunday there will be a taffy pulling contest at ST. Peter's not a peter pulling contest at St. Taffy's.
Apr. 1st, 2006 @ 09:00 pm
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| » It's that time of year again.... |
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GO GET YOUR MAMMIES GRAMMED
For years and years they told me,
Be careful of your breasts.
Don't ever squeeze or bruise them.
And give them monthly tests.
So I heeded all their warnings,
And protected them by law.
Guarded them very carefully,
And I always wore my bra.
After 30 years of astute care,
My gyno, Dr Pruitt,
Said! I should get a Mammogram
"OK," I said, "let's do it."
"Stand up here real close" she said,
(She got my boob in line),
"And tell me when it hurts," she said,
"Ah yes! Right there, that's fine."
She stepped upon a pedal,
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate came slamming down,
My hooters in a vise!
My skin was stretched and mangled,
From underneath my chin.
My poor boob was being squashed,
To Swedish Pancake thin.
Excruciating pain I felt,
Within it's vise-like grip.
A prisoner in this vicious thing,
My poor defenseless tit!
"Take a deep breath," she said to me,
Who does she think she's kidding?!?
My chest is mashed in her machine,
And woozy I am getting.
"There, that's good," I heard her say,
(The room was slowly swaying.)
"Now, let's have a go at the other one."
Have mercy! , I was praying.
It squeezed me from both up and down,
It squeezed me from both sides.
I'll bet SHE'S never had this done,
To HER tender little hide.
Next time that they make me do this,
I will request a blindfold
I have no wish to see again,
My knockers getting steam rolled.
If I had no problem when I came in,
I surely have one now.
If there had been a cyst in there,
It would have gone "ker-pow!"
This machine was created by a man,
Of this, I have no doubt.
I'd like to stick their balls in there,
And see how they come out!!
Mar. 4th, 2006 @ 03:56 pm
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| » Sweetheart Dance #2 |
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Here is my sister's son Adam (my nephew) getting ready for his sweetheart dance. Doesn't he have a beautiful smile? Kinda of Tom Cruisish.....
Mar. 4th, 2006 @ 03:42 pm
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| » Sweetheart Dance |
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Here is a picture of my sister's daughter (my niece) getting ready for the Sweetheart dance.
Mar. 4th, 2006 @ 03:40 pm
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