Oh my...

{hand on forehead}
I have been under the weather and I’m still not my wonderful self yet …will post again soon…I hope…someday…if you dare to care.



Top 10 things I have learned from 4 days in bed.

1. You might just have a friend or two.
2. You have a great new boss.
3. Waiting on rural medicine (or is it all things medical) is ridiculous.
4. Lounging all day is not a dream job.
5. TV commercials seem to be 95% food.
6. Not knowing only creates more of what you don’t know.
7. Rumors about your illness may be different than the truth (small town talk).
8. When you finally slow down and find that time to write, you may not feel like writing at all.
9. Taking care of oneself should be a priority.
10.Last but first, daughters are wonderful helpers and friends.

And I may be in trouble, be sent to my room, when my Mum finds out I have been sick and didn’t tell her. I’m just saying…

Seeing Through a Glass Darkly

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.

If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames,but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient,

love is kind.

It does not envy,

it does not boast,

it is not proud.

It is not rude,

it is not self-seeking,

it is not easily angered,

it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects,

always trusts,

always hopes,

always perseveres.

Love never fails.

But where there are prophecies, they will cease;

where there are tongues, they will be stilled;

where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

For we know in part and we prophesy in part,

but when perfection comes,

the imperfect disappears.

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.

Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror;

then we shall see face to face.

Now I know in part;

then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain:

faith,

hope

and love.

But the greatest of these is love.

I Corinthians 13

Silver Lady

I got up this morning feeling chilly. Where is my friend Summer? You were here three days ago. Are you going to let Fall shove you out and Old Man Winter take control?

Then I went to my car to go to work and could not believe my eyes. Leaves from my Silver Poplar lay at her feet…at my feet. My heart fluttered, skipped a beat or two. What was happening? My eyes looked up at the large trunk of my Silver Lady and saw her leafy but thinning canopy.

(This is how our conversation went.)

"When did this happen?" I cried out, “You have let go of your leaves behind my back. I think that is just bad manners.”

“It’s time for me drop my leaves.” Silver Lady said, “It’s unhealthy to hang onto … you know dead things.”

“But why now with everything that is going on in the world, why now?” I asked, “Must you be like every other tree in this world? What if every tree decided to drop their leaves just because its time. What good would that do?”

“They will you know, in their own time.” She said, “Would you prefer me to lick and stick them back on with my own sap, the blood of my veins?”

“Yes,” I said quietly, but selfishly. “The bottom line is, you have been sneaking around behind my back, making decisions that also affect me greatly, with-out-my-knowl-edge.” I looked up at her barren arms stretched out in the morning sun. “You have bird nests in the crook of your limbs, I’ve never seen that before.”

“That is a bother- the birds.” Her bark glittered in its silvery glow. “You do know I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t want this to happen.” I pouted. “Sure I have been too busy to notice your leaves falling. Yesterday, I did notice something on the way home...one tree...only one...with leaves threatening...but only threatening to change to golden hues and crimson colors. At first, I put it out of my mind I didn’t want to think about it. Then I thought to myself, my good trees are waiting, not hurrying it along. They know how I feel about summer, about winter. They won’t let me down.” Then I looked straight into her bark-n-limbs and boldly said, “It’s just plain rude to flutter your leaves to the ground without my knowledge or my permission. Look at everything I have done for you all these years.”

Silver Lady's limbs waved ever so slightly to release a bit more of her burden. “Sometimes, Journaling Woman, you try even the patience of a tree.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“You have to let go, just like I am letting go.” Then Silver Lady sighed. “Okay... may I please be excused for the summer?”

I smiled at my friend the Silver Poplar tree. “That’s all I ask, that I be considered and consulted. Yes, but hurry back soon. I’ll be waiting.”

The Silver Lady in Summer, Center Stage

Stress Rears Its Ugly Head

Yesterday, I visited the doctor.

Reasons:

Blood workup (had to Fast)
renew a script
address an ongoing issue

What issue you ask? I will tell you and hope I don't gross you out. Consider yourself warned.


Michelle the nurse is an expert. She knows how to fish for my floating veins with little bruising or pain. So, she drew my blood. Yes Sir, Yes Sir, three vials full. One for non-clotting, one for clotting, the other I don't remember why.

Did you know there is a shortage of physicians in rural America? Well there is, and so we have another new doctor. He taps on the door and walks in. He greets me hand extended. Is he 20, I thought feeling very old. Yep, there he was, a very tall good looking young doctor (who reminds me of my handsome brother). But what about his being 20 years old?

That brings me to the "issue". My digestive system is royally messed up. And the stress of my job right now is not helping. So here's a snapshot of the conversation between doctor and patient.

"Besides the blood work and renewing your prescription, why are here?" the doctor asked.

"Well, I've had a problem for weeks now." I paused. "And I am not getting any better."


He waits, nodding.

"Um.. loose stools, and a gurgling gut- and pain." I whispered.

"diarrhea?"

"I don't like to say that word." I smile. (Hey, don't call me a prude! Sometime, I will share my list of words that I don't like to say and don't know why either.)

"I'm use to it." he said.

"Your line of work?" I said in jest.

He nods. "Tell me what's been going on."

So I told him how I can't eat much of anything and how the stress at work is making it worse. I told him that this whole thing is draining me.

He chuckled. (I think it was my honest use of "draining me") "How long have you felt this way?"

"Do you mind if I read from my list?" I said while pulling out a large piece of notebook paper.

"No." he grinned and then rolls over to me on his dr. stool and looks at my list. "Wow, I'm not sure I have allowed enough time for your list."

So I read my list.

1. It started about three weeks
2. I ate a sandwich (only part of it) and felt like it might have been spoiled.
3. After that lots of cramping
4. Little or no appetite
5. Work is stressful
6. Ate bland food to soothe the beast
7. Tried over the counter meds
8. No changes
9. Did I mention work is too stressful?

He addresses the items on my list. He prescribes medication. He punches my stomach (not really just felt my stomach). Then he says, "What's next on your list. "

I say, "That's it. I just needed help remembering the particulars."

"This is what we are going to do, (meaning me, not we). I don't think it was what you ate. I want you to take a prescription I am going to write you and come back in 4-6 weeks." He paused, "And if the medication doesn't work, in the meantime, I want you to bring in a stool sample."

I said absolutely nothing for at least thirty seconds. I just stared. "What?" I finally said.

"I know it doesn't sound pleasant, but if nothing changes, I want you to bring in a sample." He said, "I'll send in Michelle with a kit."

Then we shook hands again and he left the room.

Enters Michelle the nurse "The doctor wants you to collect a stool sample. I have brought you what you need to collect it."

My head is spinning (not Exorcist spin just mental spinning) and all the while I am demanding, in my spinning head, for my intestines to heal immediately.

Michelle tells me how much of the sample needs to be in the vials and emphasizes how I need to write my name and date of collection on each vial.

I looked her in the eye and said, "Really, to that line aye?"

"And this is the hat." Seriously folks she called it a hat,but it looks like a large tray. "This is used to collect a sample in. Be sure to line it with plastic for easy cleaning."

"You want this back?"

She laughed then said, "Nope, it's all yours. Just in case you need to collect more than one time. And here is a handful of tongue depressors. They're not just for tongues anymore." She smiled.

Seriously, does everyone think they are a comedian?

"I will put everything in this bag for you."

"Good," I say, "I do have my dignity to consider."

Then I left carrying my bag of goodies.

Stress... I am pretty sure is my enemy.

Stress is Dangerous

...and not worth the damage it can do...to you... oh yeah.

I am stressed. I am super stressed. And we all know stress is life changing. It probably had a more practical application in early civilization than it does today. Stress today is not a good thing. It is common knowledge that stress most likely affects our mind, soul and body and consequently affects the health of our hearts-literally.

Those who know me, know I am a nerd and love love love to watch PBS. Last evening I watched a documentary on PBS highlighting the study of stress in baboons over many years by scientist Robert Sapolsky. He is also a professor at Stanford, an author and a research assistant at the Institute of Primate Research in Kenya. National Geographic teamed up with Sapolsky to create a documentary of his studies and findings to help this modern girl (and you too) understand better the affect of stress on the all of me (and you too).

If you didn’t see it and have a desire to watch the show, you can find information on its next showing and read a blurb about the documentary at PBS. http://www.pbs.org/stress/

Now to a few interesting facts and points of interest that I remember from the documentary. Did you know?

•Extensive exposure to stress in baboons and humans is a killer (on my last life guys)
•Stress eventually shuts down the immune system making us vulnerable to disease (hacking...)
•Stress shrinks our brains (so that’s what happened)
•Stress adds belly fat (no comment)
•Stress rearranges some of our cells -our very own DNA... until we are unidentifiable (not really)

In case you are interested, Robert Sapolsky has authored the following books: Why Zebras Don't Get Ulcers: Stress, Disease and Coping, Monkeyluv, A Primate's Memoir and The Trouble with Testosterone. (I would like to read the first book please.)

This photo of baboon youngsters eating this car is very stressful, to me. Wait a minute, who cares, it's not my car.

To learn more about stress and Sapolsky you can visit the Stanford University website: http://killerstress.stanford.edu/

A Stress Quiz- if you would like to see how much you know about “killer stress” there is quiz at the PBS website. http://science.nationalgeographic.com/science/health-and-human-body/human-body/stress-quiz.html I made a 5 out 10 score- not a good score – but considering my brain shrinkage with stress and all… I am just saying.

Source: www.pbs.org/stress

It's done, It's finished.

It is this time of year... as fall begins to wiggle in, that I begin thinking of...cups of hot cocoa... of being warm...of crocheting again.

The days get cooler.

Ok not that cool - yet

But, I think about yarn, that wonderful fiber. No wonder my sister chose to raise sheep. Sheep must be very happy critters wrapped in that wonderful fiber...well except for summertime...and maybe rainy days.

It is this time of year, I look for my yarn stash, but am never satisfied... with the remnants.

So I look and purchase new yarn...lovely yarn...from various stores.

...new beautiful untouched yarn. Yarn that whispers make me...make me into something beautiful. Yes, I agree that is corny.

This year I had something already started from last year. Normally, I make things and give them away, but last year I decided I needed an afghan in a shade of green that matches the bits of green in my bedroom. It doesn't normally take me this long to finish an afghan. Why did it take so long, you might ask? Am I a beginner? Am I a perfectionist? NO...well yes I am a perfectionist, but that has nothing to do with this story. It took me this long because after I started making my afghan, I stopped and tucked it away (in October 2008) to make a Christmas afghan for my neighbor. And then I didn't pick mine back up until a month ago. I actually forgot about it.

But now, it's done. It's finished!!!

So I thought I would share. And here it is. A lacy, warm afghan in the color Frosty Green #0661. Off the top of my head, I can remember making this in off white, white, tan with speckles, pink (for a darling niece) and now green.

I found this pattern on a yarn package about 5 or 6 years ago.

It has an open lacy look, but still keeps you warm.

If you would like to make one from this pattern, here it is. The directions are hard to see, so if you email me I will send you a copy that will (hopefully) print.

I don't know why I wrote "5 skeins" on the pattern because it takes around six. And IF you use a size J crochet hook as indicated, the afghan is larger than the estimated dimensions stated. So I used an H hook for all but one afghan.

So now I am ready. I have my new afghan draped over the chair in my bedroom. Where is that book I have been meaning to read?

I am wondering, do you like to crochet with plastic, wood or metal hooks? And do you have a favorite size?



Brrrr is that a cool breeze I feel?

Monday Blues, do wa, do wa

This is all I have to say about Monday...I promise...maybe.

Behold... The Throne of Heaven

After this I looked, and there before me was a door standing open in heaven. And the voice I had first heard speaking to me like a trumpet said, "Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this."

At once I was in the Spirit, and there before me was a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it.

And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian. A rainbow, resembling an emerald, encircled the throne.

Surrounding the throne were twenty-four other thrones, and seated on them were twenty-four elders. They were dressed in white and had crowns of gold on their heads.

From the throne came flashes of lightning, rumblings and peals of thunder. Before the throne, seven lamps were blazing. These are the seven spirits of God.

Also before the throne there was what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal. In the center, around the throne, were four living creatures, and they were covered with eyes, in front and in back.

The first living creature was like a lion, the second was like an ox, the third had a face like a man, the fourth was like a flying eagle.

Each of the four living creatures had six wings and was covered with eyes all around, even under his wings. Day and night they never stop saying: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come."

Whenever the living creatures give glory, honor and thanks to him who sits on the throne and who lives for ever and ever,

the twenty-four elders fall down before him who sits on the throne, and worship him who lives for ever and ever. They lay their crowns before the throne and say:

"You are worthy, our Lord and God,
to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things,
and by your will they were created
and have their being."

Revelations 4


From JW: God is not little. His power is big, his intent is pure and great, greater than anything on earth. I am wondering this: What could happen today if we as God's children actually believed then acted upon that belief?

Ode to the Radio

Will you sing me a song, while I dance to your tune?

Sometimes we hurry through our days and worlds and neglect to see the treasures around us. But then a sweet nearly eight-year-old grandson asks, "Do you dance to music on that old radio?" And he reminds you of the treasures right in front of you. I said, "I would if it worked and I would dance with you."

(P.S. He is the grandson that said to me not long ago, "When I grow up and am a lot - lot older and when you have died, I will bring out every picture I have of you and put them all over my house so that I won't forget you." I still tear up over that one. Wait while I blow my nose, please.)

Here are the antique radios that I own... not many... but a few. I wish I knew their stories.

I wonder who has danced to this RCA Victor's beautiful sound?

RCA Victor

Did someone listen to the war news on this tabletop Crosley radio, while thinking of their loved one who was serving?

Can't you hear the baseball game on this General Electric model?

Did sweethearts gazed into each other's eyes while listening to music on this combo music maker?

They had choices to make. Would they listen to the radio?

or

play a record on the turntable.

Sharing treasures and reminding you my fellow Journalers to notice your treasures again.


Need more info on old radios?

http://earlyradiohistory.us/

http://www.antiqueradios.com/

Parking Lot Vision, Stupid Moment

Yesterday, I had a moment. I can blame it on being ill. I can blame it on vision. Nevertheless, I will confess.

I went home early from work. I stopped at a store in my small rural town to buy white bread and rice. Everything in my house is wheat and I needed bland food. Enough said.

I had made my purchase, exited the store and was walking toward my car. It was then I saw standing next to my car, my second father (from my childhood best friend). He is 93 (I think) years old and doing well, although he doesn't think so.

A few months ago, he lost his wife who was 10 years younger. He misses her. She went fast. Please, dear Lord, let it be for me, when the time comes.

He is always glad to see me and I him. Even though technically he is old enough to be my grandfather, I have always looked to him as a father figure.

He doesn't do this anymore, but when I was a kid hanging around his house with his daughter, he would always punch me in the arm. Being a skinny little dudette, I would stagger a couple of times, rub my arm, and go about my business knowing he loved me in his own way. Tender moments - literally.

Yesterday, I stood there talking with him. He was with his two older daughters. They are taking really good care of him.

We finished talking and I said my goodbyes and turned to get in the car. The door was locked...I rarely lock my car. Then, as I was fishing for my keys, I felt embarrassed at how trashy the inside had become. Then I realized, it was not my car. In my defense it was the same color, the same make, the same model. I felt partly relieved (the inside was disgusting and made me feel better about my messy interior) and partly embarrassed (because people I know were watching).

I took a deep breath and turned back to my "second family members" and said, "Not my car, I guess I'll go find my car now."

I heard them laughing all the way to my car.

Can I not get through one week without a stupid moment?

Did you have a stupid moment? Am I the only one????

Is it raining, little flower?

Is it raining, little flower?
Be glad of rain;
Too much sun would wither thee;
‘Twill shine again,
The clouds are very black, ’tis true;
But just behind them shines the blue.

Art thou weary, tender heart?
Be glad of pain;
In sorrow sweetest virtues grow,
As flowers in rain.
God watches, and thou wilt have sun,
When clouds their perfect work have done.

—Lucy Larcom

(Source: Streams in the Desert, copyright 1965)

Places in the heart...

Isn't this the most adorable place? I am so thrilled that this was a part of my childhood. It reminds me of Streamliner trailers. Have you ever seen those? But this was my first home, in Joliet Illinois, after living with my grandparents (and parents) in Missouri. I am told it wasn't very big, but it was our home. I wish I could remember the interior and the wonderful way my mother made it our home. You can see a fence around the perimeter? My mother told me that when I played in the yard, I would talk to all passerbys. Imagine that. This made her nervous. She was worried someone would kidnap me. Sorry about that, Mother Dear.







My folks were young and from the country. They headed for the city to make a living for their little daughter. It must have been a real culture shock. I know they missed their beloved country life and their families. They have told me so.




I was the first child. My mother was a first time mom and far from her own mama. I feel so privileged that I got to lived in that wonderful little home... from the age of six months... until around three years of age.


Then we moved back to Missouri.

We moved a few times after that, but it never really mattered where we were, as long as we were all together.

Family is in the heart.

Home is in the heart.

Places in the heart.

Where was your childhood home?

Men in Skirts

You heard me! Not Men in Black, not Men in Trees, not men in overalls, not men in tights (although that would be interesting here in the Midwest) but, this weekend I saw men in skirts. I spent some time at the annual Celtic Festival. The men were actually in kilts.

There were many different clans attending, which I know little about. I am Irish but the only clan I am aware of is my own. And I promise you I have never seen any of the men in my family wear skirts, yet. I'm just saying.

I saw Artsy Dad helping with traffic control. It was getting hot by then. Dad is a member of the Sheriff's Posse. I gave him my bottle of water then set off to find "the sister".

Shepherdess Woman set up a display with three of her Shetland Sheep. She had put together a booth with her wool products. I won't go into much detail as she will blog more professionally about it at a later date. But I will say, how excited people were about her sheep and her business. Some said, they wanted sheep. Some wondered, if they wanted sheep. Others just lived through SW's experience.

I took a photo from the outside of the pavilion. It was too dark and is not included. I took this one of the three little sheep she brought with her and it is too dark. You can't see their beauty or darling faces. They did very well.

SW really knows her business. I always enjoy listening to her share her knowledge of raising sheep with other people.

This was a long haired cow (not politically correct term) next to SW's space. He looked like a teddy bear. Very pretty. He had red hair, like many in my clan (sorry couldn't resist). You can't see him either in this too dark photo. Are you wondering if JW can take a good picture to save her life? Well here it is...

Just kidding. Not my photo. But, I think this was the breed. A picture courtesy of :

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Highland_Cattle_2.jpg Aren't they cute?

Now we are coming to my favorite part..........the Irish Wolfhounds. Come on admit it, YOU thought that Journaling Woman was going to say "Men in Skirts". These two (the dogs) were most adorable. JW has never been in the presence of such large dogs. They were even larger than Boone, SW's dog.

I should mention that the men in kilts, with law enforcement and other dignitaries marched in a small parade to this area. Then there was a ceremony. But with my attention span, I didn't stay focused on it, so I don't know what they did. (Seriously, I need to get medication for my ADD.)

I kept saying to Dr. Lovely Daughter, SW and Angel Mom that I really wanted an Irish Wolfhound. Someone in that group told me that an Irish Wolfhound would be taller than my chain link fence. Wow, what a bummer. Probably even the puppies are taller than my chain link fence. But I digress....again.

The Irish Wolfhounds patiently posed for photo taking. They let anyone and everyone pat their big heads. The owner said that the younger one, now 3 years old was a rescue dog and that he had been in 5 previous homes. She had decided to keep him. I'm glad aren't you? Every person and pet should have a permanent home. (He is the one closest to you in the photo and the younger of the two.)

There were bands and bagpipes playing and Celtic dancing. Very interesting. There were vendors, booths with clan history, sword fights and men in skirts. BTW (by the way) as I walked around and viewed the product for sale, I saw a t-shirt that more or less warned against calling the kilts a skirt. Just wanted to tell you...warn you... before you made that mistake. And I want to apologize to those who take their kilts seriously and will try very hard to never call them skirts again. Some men, I must say, looked good in their kilts, but others....ummm.


Last year was my first experience attending the Celtic Festival. Community gatherings are a wonderful way to see your neighbors...people that you haven't seen in awhile. Lots of hugs and big smiles and holding babies.....small town...big in spirit.


Last year, I saw a man in a kilt bend over. OH MY!


Men in Kilts

Celtic Festival.

New Tradition.

Old Tradition.

Interesting.

Wish you had been there!

Prayer of Trust

How lovely is your dwelling place,
O Lord Almighty!

My soul yearns, even faints,
for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and my flesh cry out
for the living God.

Even the sparrow has found a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young—
a place near your altar,
O Lord Almighty, my King and my God.

Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
they are ever praising you.

Selah

Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.

As they pass through the Valley of Baca,
they make it a place of springs;
the autumn rains also cover it with pools.

They go from strength to strength,
till each appears before God in Zion.

Hear my prayer, O Lord God Almighty;
listen to me, O God of Jacob.

Selah

Look upon our shield, O God;
look with favor on your anointed one.

Better is one day in your courts
than a thousand elsewhere;
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

For the Lord God is a sun and shield;
the Lord bestows favor and honor;
no good thing does he withhold
from those whose walk is blameless.

O Lord Almighty,
blessed is the man who trusts in you. {Psalm 84: 1-12}

~IF WE COULD SEE BEYOND TODAY~

If we could see beyond today
As God can see,
If all the clouds should roll away,
The shadows flee;

O'er present grief's we would not fret,
Each sorrow we would soon forget,
For many joys are waiting yet
For you and me.

If we could know beyond today
As God doth know,
Why dearest treasures pass away,
And tears must flow;

And why the darkness leads to light,
Why dreary days will soon grow bright,
Some day life's wrong will be made right,
Faith tells us so.

If we could see, if we could know
We often say,
But God in love a veil doth throw
Across our way.

We cannot see what lies before,
And so we cling to Him the more,
He leads us till this life is o'er,
Trust and obey.

(author unknown to me)

This week, may I Invite you to slow down and be still for a moment and listen for the person's name you are to pray for? My most favorite times in life have been when I was spiritually lifted and encouraged by the prayers of others. Pray.

~ Love, JW

Give me my Cherry Mash, Baybeee...

Have you ever met someone you couldn't forget? Did they leave an impression upon your very being? Then my question is have you ever spent time with Cherry Mash?


Who is Cherry Mash you might say? Cherry Mash is another of my love affairs...my friend.

I met Cherry (if I may be so personal) in the 1970's. It was love at first sight.... a friendship that I could not turn away from and later became a yummy relationship for life.

Cherry Mash outlasted my marriage... my youth...my waistline. However, Cherry may have contributed to that expanding waist...I'm just saying.

May I introduce you to Cherry Mash, a friend since my youth, the candy bar.

The Cherry Mash candy bar is made by the Chase Candy Company, in St. Joseph, Missouri.

The company has been in business since 1876.

That was before Journaling Woman's paternal grandparents were born.

That was before JW's maternal grandparents were born.

But, the Cherry Mash was born in 1918. It is possible that both sets of grandparents were lucky enough to taste one of these delectables.

If you like cherries, nuts and chocolate, you my fellow blogger, will like the Cherry Mash. The Cherry Mash was created by Dr. George Washington Chase. He couldn't make a living on doctor's wages, as the story goes, so he decided to go into the candy business. I, for one, am glad he did.

They made other candy, but JW doesn't really care.

There is even a Cherry Mash song: http://www.cherrymash.com/about/song.mp3 written and sang by award winning Jim Salestrom. Oh how I hope you can and will listen to my new favorite song (maybe not favorite). I shall sing myself to sleep tonight by the tune of Have a Cherry Mash Day. I promise if you listen to it, you will never ever get it out of your head. (smirk)

This candy is a "mound of chopped roasted peanuts blended with chocolate coating over a smooth cherry fondant center" so tasty so memorable. (source:http://www.cherrymash.com/) I really couldn't have described it any better.

Somehow over the years, JW has noticed that her beloved Cherry Mash has shrunk in size...a bit. But I still love the old sweetie.

The Cherry Mash (I think) is only sold in Missouri, but I've been wrong before...just once.

Something terrible happened as I was taking the photos for this post, someone took a bite out of the prop. hmmm I wish you could taste this delicious candy. But it is only a photo.

So until next time...

Have

a

Cherry

Mash

Day...

I know I will.

Remember September 11, 2001

Remember the people of September 11, 2001...

And appreciate our great country... USA

Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people He chose for His inheritance. Psalm 33:12 NIV

Hello, Laura, are you there?

Laura, may I come over to your house on Rocky Ridge Farm and help you take care of your chickens or write a story? But, please don't ask me to knead the bread. I don't like that feeling on my hands either.

When I wasn't trying to be Cinderella, as a child, I wanted to be Laura Ingalls... you know the prairie girl...living a simple life...doing things from scratch...uh huh... and mostly writing like Laura did. Do you see how I am? Do you see the struggle inside me?

Journaling Woman made this applique pillow from one of Laura's patterns (no not the actual pattern, silly). Are you snickering? I made not one but two and gave them away as gifts. Yes, I did.


September is the month of the Wilder Festival with remembrances and performances at Laura and Almanzo's homestead in Mansfield, Missouri. I have never been to the festival...maybe next year. But have visited the museum and houses two years in a row. This year I went with Dr. Lovely Daughter and last year with Dr. LD and Shepherdess Woman. I would pretty much go with (or beg) anyone on the street to go with me just to look at Laura Ingalls Wilder things and the houses.

One view of the House on Rocky Ridge Farm

Another view of the farmhouse.

When I visit, I marvel at the beauty of the landscape...I am amazed at the height of the kitchen cabinets in the houses and the tininess of Laura's things. I am in awe of Almanzo's creativity in bringing water into the house. I love the furniture, rugs and pillows that Almanzo made. I love the clothing and household goods Laura made. They created everything by hand with primitive tools. Now that's craft.



Most of all, I love the gift Laura gave to children - her writing- her books.

I have an entire set of Little House books that are a little worn from reading... a gift to me years ago. I call them my therapy books. When I am going through rough times, you may just find me reading Little House on the Prairie or By the Shores of Silver Lake. My favorite is The Long Winter. I am wondering what your favorite is.

On Rocky Ridge Farm is another home of the Wilders that their daughter Rose built for them. They lived in it for several years, (while she lived in the farmhouse) before returning home to their homestead- to live out their life.

The Rock House

These are two additional books I recommend for reading that will give you some insight into the Wilder family, Laura, Almanzo and Rose (their daughter).

Here is a beauty...

I was given this collector edition by my sister. See she is nice sometimes (only kidding).

Now admit it, with a face like this, don't you think Journaling Woman could have been a prairie girl...freckles and all? Come on, can't you see her in a prairie dress? Oh, are you thinking instead a Cinderella ballgown? See how I struggle?

Laura Ingalls Wilder

Queen of Journaling

Master Writer

Friend of all children.

The End.

Around the House in 7 Photographs

Ordinary sights...

loving breakfast...

loving soft towels...

loving boxers (real ones too)...

loving America...

loving blue and white (but you already knew)...

loving drama...

loving old clocks...

in seven photos.