BUSTED!!! (part two of Money!Money!Money!)

"Lettin' the cat out of the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in," was a sayin' heard frequently from my Pappy Walden's soft spoken voice. "Well I am no thief, but a man can go wrong when he's busted," was what Nashville Songwriter Harlan Howard wrote in 1962 for Johnny Cash but the song "Busted" wasn't a smash hit 'till Ray Charles sang the soul version in 1963. Yep, that Charles was known for havin' a lot of fun with his songs and sang it from the prospective of a dirt poor farmer who could really use a government bailout. The floundering farmer couldn't borrow any cash 'cause everyone else was busted too! Sound familiar??? This song might have had a whole different meaning if Granny Walden had a hold of it. Ya'll did not want to be the one to fall in the wrath of my Granny Walden. Everyone in the county knew who ruled that roost and poor Uncle Wilbert was about to be busted as Dolly Parton.

When we pulled in the drive from our Albuquerque trip Mama saw her beautifully open back porch completely encased by lush gourd vines, the woman went off like a cannon during the Civil War. Well, poor Daddy thought he had done a good deed by stringing the invasive seedlings up and keeping them alive all summer. The Battle of You Did~~Who Did was on as we pushed our way with suitcases in tow through the dense green forage into the house. That's when this prosperous independent little farm chicklet had the let that wild kitty out of the bag and divulge my plans of attaining the affluent life of a three year old and how it came to be. I can remember Mama and Daddy shoutin' in unison, "you Uncle Wilbert told you WHAT???" I knew right then and there my bachelor uncle was as busted as a can of biscuits whacked hard against a sharp edged counter and my little heart sank as faster then a horseshoe tossed in a pond.

I had dreams of that new toy Singer sewing machine or a Mickey Mouse doll. I was quite smitten with that Annette never missin' an episode of the Mickey Mouse Club. Maybe I'd buy a bunch of socks so Mama could make sock monkeys for all my friends. My plans for adding some new red vinyl 45's to spin on the old turn table went out the window along with keepin' Mama in those Toni Home wave kits so I could have the curls of Shirley Temple she wished upon my board straight hair. Yes, the dreams of endless cream soda and nickel chocolate bars were no longer in my grasp......so I thought.

Swanked by my Granny Walden and trapped as a southern gal in a six~tier skirt, Uncle Wilbert was ordered to purchase my gourd harvest at the market price of five cents apiece. Nobody ever argued when the verdict came down from Granny. All's well that ends well. It was a rich harvest, rich as the black soil that propagated the seeds planted by my young enterprising fingers. This little Ozark chicklet laughed and danced on the porch that crisp autumn day as my cash crop was harvested and purchased by my Uncle Wilbert who was just soooo "Busted!!!"

(PUT ANOTHER NICKEL IN) MUSIC! MUSIC! MUSIC!

 

Gourd is the name given to the hollowed arid covering of the fruit in the Cururbitaceae family. This native curious looking African plant may just be the oldest plant domesticated by two legged mortals. The uniquely peculiar pumpkins were said to be the inspiration for the shape of current contemporary clay pottery. Ha, say that quickly three times! The dried fruit can be used for bowls, bottles and instruments both stringed and drums that are typically found in the Caribbean. Birdhouse gourds can be seen scattered all over the USA accommodating the lodging requirements of the royal Purple Martins. To this young Ozarks farm chicklett a nice crop of gourds only meant money in the bank!

My Granny and Pappy's farm was a short distance from ours so I spent many hours there. Being a most inquisitive child, Mama would frequently say if I asked just one more question she'd go completely nuts and be put in a straitjacket. Soon after such statements I'd be carted off to spend some 'quality' time with Granny Walden. One of my daddy's twin brothers was a bona~fide eternal bachelor who lived in the old farmhouse with my grandparents. Uncle Wilford was the more serious family man and Uncle Wilbert was the joke lovin' prankster of the two. They looked enough alike that I often said I had two Uncle Wilberts 'cause they'd have this perplexed three year old mixed up more than a movin' truckload of cement.

Toward the end of growin' season I was admiring the wonderful shapes and colors of Granny's gourds reaching up toward the heavens clinging to her white picket trellis. That's when Uncle Wilbert approached this gullible juvenile gal announcing that, "ya know,them gourds grow money inside 'em." Even though I always was and am an easy mark, I AM from the Show~Me~State and I desired, requested and demanded proof stomping my tiny feet and jumpin' up and down with excitement of a pirate who has just found a treasure. Uncle Wilbert slowly pulled out his trusty pocket knife that castrated calves, scraped manure from his boots then used to split a candy bar and gently carved the gourd in his hand revealing a bright shinny nickel. Ahhh, there is was shinnin' in the sun! I felt the spark in my big browns, my heart pounded with excitement as I developed my plan. Granny thought nothin' about my questions concerning harvesting and preparing gourd seeds or even the inquisition of planting the dried embryos. Heck, the woman was a saint and even helped me harvest and dry the seeds at her house. This just may have been the beginning of my OCFD (Obsessive Compulsive Flower Disorder).

Spring had arrived and I carefully planted my cash crop around the foundation of our large back porch using my trusty blue plastic shovel. Mama thought nothin' of my enterprising bustle as I was always diggin' in something. Later that spring Mama and I boarded the Santa Fe Red-nose train for our annual trip to visit my maternal grandmother in Albuquerque for several weeks. I can still vividly remember that astounded flabbergasted look on Mama' face upon our arrival home. The home we could barely enter due to the vines that were carefully strung up and secured to the porch roof by Daddy who was under the impression Mama must of planted 'em. The vines that were goin' to supply this youngen' with enough nickels to fulfill any farm chicklet's dreams. Fort Knox eat your heart out! I'd never need to ask Daddy for a nickel to buy a candy bar or bottle of cream soda again. Mama would not be bothered by my request for more change for the nickelodeon (early jukebox) to feed my love of a good song. Yes, this self sufficient industrious child could pick the number one hit song in 1955 and sing along with Teresa Brewer, "put another nickel in, in the nickelodeon, all I want is lovin' you and music, music, music!!!"

KNOCK THREE TIMES

 

 

 

Mario, sometimes referred to as Jumpman, is an Italian Plumber who lives in a Mushroom Kingdom battling Bowser who has captured the royal Princess Peach. While the Mario Brothers are investigating the perplexing sewers of New York dodging varmints like the Koopa Troopas they run on, jump over and slide through smelly slimy sewer pipe to rescue the fair maiden from the hands of the evil vixen. Oh, how much easier this task would of been if only they had learned to climb like a Capuchin monkey!

Born without a prehensile tail this little fella would have been a great cast for the movie Cliffhanger or Mission Impossible II. He's the one needs no harness or rope to climb straight up a wall like a long legged arachnid. Ya'll know that commercial where the parents lose the boy and he's spread out on the ceiling of their hallway as they look up and say, "we have a climber?" That's our boy! He once scaled from his bedroom at the far end of the house to the living room at the other without touching the floor strategically maneuvering corners and doors like a skilled mountain climber landing on target in my lap. The lad can shinny up a tree faster than a 'coon with a Redbone Coonhound hot on it's trail. He'd give an orangutan a run for it's money. While visiting Texas my sis was in charge of the children as she was taking a head count,"1...2...3...oops, I'm missing one." I giggled as she was tellin' her story and said, "I bet it was Joel, if ya lose Joel all ya have to do is look up." Sure enough the little repeller was up high in a tree givin' my sis a heart attack!

Joel, Hebrew Yo'el~~"Yahwel is El," is interpreted as Jehovah is God. Michael is a given name that comes from the Hebrew Mikael meaning who is like God. Joel Michael celebrated the big '1-0' in December. He has been a shining light to our family. The kids got personality! Not only can he climb but he could challenge Bob the Builder using his creative construction skills. The tenderhearted dude loves the Lord and the life he is full of. He is a master at the game of chess and is also a little prankster. This rockin' grandma is putty in his hands and he holds my heart. To most of my grandkiddos I would say, "just call me if you need me," but not to Mr. Joel. I would use the phrase out of the 1970 hit song of Tony Orlando and Dawn and say, "knock three times on the ceiling if you want me!!!"

JUST AN OLD FASHION LOVE SONG

 

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It was a time of raging turmoil and yet a time of unclouded innocence. Young men were being summoned from their familiar surroundings to fight a bloody conflict (war) in Vietnam. The bells rang out as the Dow closed above a thousand for the very first time. Even though cars were lining up at the pumps and the oil crises had made OAPEC a household word, we could still fill up the 1965 Pontiac GTO for .385 cents a gallon. Tony Orlando and Dawn were tying a Yellow Ribbon 'round the Old Oak Tree while Elvis performed his final farewell concert in Hawaii. Sherman Hemsley made his first appearance on All In the Family just a movin' on up and Police Story made its television debut. The Miami Dolphins had finished a perfect 17-0 winning the Superbowl. A kitchen could be well stocked for under ten dollars a week purchasing apples for 59 cents a pound, Ajax cleaner for 15 cents, four rolls of toilet tissue for 13 cents and ground round for 79 cents a pound. This sheltered Ozarks farm chick had packed her bags two years before leaving Tinytown behind to go to college and find herself. One warm October evening I went on my first and last blind date. It felt like I had been hit in the gut by the helmet of NFL's star quarterback runnin' full force with the ball as I walked down the stairs of the Phi Mu Sorority house. Hold me back mama~~somebody grab the paddles and shock me 'cause this boy took my breath away!

He could be heard by his Frat brothers broadcasting, "I'm in love" walking into the Alpha Gamma Sigma house after our first date. My sorority sisters surrounded me with enthusiastic remarks like, "boy he really likes you," and " he didn't let go of you one time at the dance." Yes, I guess it was thoroughly evident that I was as twitterpated as a Disney character in his presence. His basilisk gaze made me week in the knees, put my head in a whirl and sent this chick walkin' on air. Evident to everyone except 'The Parents.' My mothers first response was, "I sent you to college to meet a doctor or a lawyer and what do ya bring home....another farmer." Daddy remarked, "well in my mind, anyone with hair that long has to squat to pee!" Yes, his hair touched his earlobes! Oh, how they wanted his number to come up in the draft. My future mother-in-law was NOT gonna sign for her twenty year old son to marry, besides she always wanted her boys to marry hometown girls. The saving grace was that my future father-in-law saw how very smitten we were and besides after raising three boys I think he kinda liked the idea of having a daughter. He loved to tease and I could take it, stir it up and serve it right back at him on a warm silver platter, with that I stole his heart.

On the sixth day of January, nineteen hundred and seventy three the day I dreamed of all my life had arrived. Every bride dreams of the perfect wedding day. I was no different besides I had just been a bridesmaid in such a wedding the week before when the temperature was a balmy seventy degrees. During the rehearsal dinner a horrific Ozark's ice storm set in covering the earth with a solid sheet of glossy ice slicker than snot on a glass door knob. My husbands brother, the best man, drove all night at a snails pace from Searcy, Arkansas picking up his parents and grandmother along the way forging ahead to the wedding. It was not the day I had visualized but it was my day and I was about to marry the man of my dreams so I was determined to make the best of it. Things went array, the florist from a nearby town delivered the wrong flowers intended for another wedding at a different location. In a calm manner,(cryin', screaming and stomping of feet),this was corrected in the nick of time. The little ring barer stepped on my train rippin' it off at the waist. Thank God for safety pins. The photographer booked did not bother to travel the sixty miles of icy roads, or pick up a phone. We just requested the guest to take loads of pictures with their Kodak Brownies. The Stockton Christian Church was filled with the correct flowers, wonderful friends and loving family to share our day. This moon~eyed chick had just said," I do", to the love of her life so it was a perfect day. It was my perfect day!

After a beautiful reception we headed to Branson to begin our life together. In 1973 Branson consisted of the Presely's and Baldknobbers variety shows and Silver Dollar City, all closed for the winter months. Lovestruck people just don't think well. The couple hotels there stayed open where a blizzard snowed us in the Holiday Inn for three days. From there we went to Little Rock and swung by Searcy to visit the brother-in-law and his wife where their Shitshu peed on our bed. Yep, their Honey~ mooned our bed! Slippin' and slidin' all the way, we made it back to the Ponderosa where we still forever sing about our thirty seven years together and how it's "Just an Old Fashion Love Song!"

OOPS I DID IT AGAIN

 

Ya'll want me to hedge some stocks on Wall Street for your future stability? How about picking the winning pony at Churchill Downs or if oat munchin' equestrians aren't your thing how about a winning champion Greyhound at the Island Hotel Casino Racetrack? Doggone~it, I could be persuaded to make a wager at the Roulette tables in Vegas or close my big browns and toss some numbers for the Lottery your way. Attention: The Superbowl is comin' up folks so... call me don't be afraid to just call me! Sorry, it doesn't take much to make me break out in song. Heck, I'll even name your firstborn!!! Hi, my name is Nezzy and I do not have a gambling addiction but I sure have been one charmed farm chick lately.

Ahhh roses, this Ozarks gal just adores them. The rose is a perennial flower named from the French word Rosa. There are over one hundred species and are noted for their astounding beauty and fragrant aroma. I know, I have thirty eight of the bloomin' beauties with their sharp prickles and oval shaped leaflets adorning the gardens of the Ponderosa. They produce an edible fruit late in the growin' season called rose hips. These are used to create essential oils, rose water for Asian cuisine and French rose syrup used to make scones and marshmallows. These hips can also be used to make jams, jellies and tea. They are also an excellent source of vitamin C. I've photographed many roses but never ever did I capture anything like the incredible sugar laced rose Gail photographed one frosty Arkansas morning. That is frost around the peddle edges and Gail snapped it reproducing it on the exquisite note cards I won at her giveaway along with The Way for Cowboys New Testament Bible filled with amazing cowboy pictures and fascinating commentary.

Gail, At The Farm is a farmers daughter who returned to life on the family farm. She's an outdoor farm chick who loves horses and critters of all shapes and sizes. She has a wonderfully unique since of humor and as I have found out lately, she can be quite the little trickster. The girl knows how to get even! Gail has an eye for finding beauty in the unusual and capturing her treasure in captivating photos. Ya'll can view fabulous fungi, the rugged edges in dry cracked earth, shimmering ice clinging for dear life onto twigs. You can meet her clan of chickens, cats, dogs and horses who live together as the best of buds. Gail has a heart of gold. She plays Mom to foster dogs until she can place them in a good homes. She also has a full time job where she might have some incite on goin' postal. If you haven't visited Gail and her very interesting blog I strongly suggest you do so...NOW!!! I promise she will not disappoint.

So while I sit chillin' in the cold icy tundra on the Pondersoa, I'm open to helpin' ya'll out. Meanwhile, I may go find another giveaway 'cause this lucky Ozarks chick might be singing as Britney Spears sang in her 2000 hit song, "Oops,I Did It Again!"

THANKS GAIL!!!
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HERE WE GO AGAIN

 

 

The dingy aquatic webbed footed diver tagged 'the loon' is found in North America, Europe, Asia and debatably Africa. The word loon is sometimes associated with one being a little kooky or just plain loony. Folklore had dubbed this loony description as havin' uncontrolled madness from the lunar phases of the moon where the deranged word lunatic was born. She promised me as her "Loony Winner" I could be as loony as she is. This would mean there are two chicks runnin' free from straight jackets who are erratically crazy, maniacally spinnin' around the bend being foolishly outrageous. This Ozarks farm chick likes to think we are just a couple of deliriously unique gals.

Connie at the Far Side of Fifty is just the sweetest fun lovin' gal ya'd ever hope to meet. This Northern Boonie gal and the Far Guy have two daughters and five perfect grandchildren. She has a diverse blog where you can meet Chance, a lively photogenic Border Collie and view wonderful photos from the past and present. Let her take ya'll down memory lane as she draws you into the heritage of her wonderful stories. Connie shares my love of beautiful flowers (OCFD:obsessive compulsive flower disorder) and great tunes from the oldies. I also have to agree with her that Sean Connery is one class act.

Together Connie and the Far Guy make these beautiful ornaments. Connie designs the ornament and Far Guy cuts out the diamond shape. Connie then burns the outline and applies the paint makin' each and every one distinctively different. Then a name or message is burned on the back followed by a finishing process that would draw the attention of Basset furniture designers. There is definitely a duo effort crafted into each and every charming original ornament.

Ray Charles sang in the 1967 tune 'Here We Go Again', "That there's no way to win," does not hold true with this chick. Au Contraire Mon Frair, I've been livin' in Giveaway Heaven! I not only won one of these splendid ornaments, I am blessed with the message on the back from my dear blog-sister that I can cherish year after year. As I was ripin' into the package pulling out the note card containing a sweet Christmas wish, the 'Loony Ornament' and the beautiful copper hook I found myself singing, "HERE WE GO AGAIN!!!"

THANK YOU CONNIE :O)

FUN FUN FUN

 

Exceptionally sinful sumptuous milk, dark and white creamy chocolate snuggled around tantalizing nuts and fruits inspiring your taste-buds and indulging your senses. It was this bag of Brookside Chocolate Covered Fruit & Nut mix that sent this Ozarks farm chick right into a food orgasm. Oh mama, I've died and won the mother load here. The decorated snowmen envelope arriving from Canada enclosed the award winning now empty bag of decadent morsels,(sorry sometimes a gal just can't help herself), an insightful Christmas update letter, two lovely embroidered dishcloths, a colorful package of cocktail napkins and a vintage style Christmas card from Sandy herself. Did I mention the drool invokin' yummy chocolate??? Yep, this farm chick has been one lucky lady. I won! I won Sandy's great giveaway!!

Sandy, aka Doris the Great is a wacky fun lovin' lady who can be found at Aging Disgracefully. She has a wonderful blog where you can learn about her professed admiration of quality chocolate. She shares my OCFD (Obsessive Compulsive Flower Disorder)and my intense hatred of pantyhose. This little gal loves the oldies, bargain hunting and currently holds the title of 'The Queen of Thrift.' Her heart is massively large. She opened her home to not one but two exchange students from two separate countries this school year. Santa's Little Helper even invited working strangers stranded in Canada to her Christmas dinner adding even more variety to her International Christmas. She is a woman that loves God and I'm sure He has a very soft spot in His heart for her.

This Ozarks chick has never had the opportunity to meet Doris the Great but God may never allow this to happen. I have a feelin' if we ever got together we would be a forcefully dangerous duo and the world might never recover. Let's just say if we borrowed father's Ford T-Bird we're probably not goin' to the library. Like the Beach Boys sang in 1964 we'd be out there havin' some "FUN FUN FUN!

THANKS SANDY!!!

DECK THE HALLS

The stockings are hung by the chimney with care, Frosty and his gang are tucked in warm cozy corners for a long winters nap and this Ozarks farm chick can be found standin' under the mistletoe to swipe a sweet smooch from Santa baby! The fudge and other goodies are piled as high as the big rock candy mountain and the kitchen is filled with the aromas of baked goods seeping from the oven . Oh baby, country roads take me home we've got a country Christmas goin' on at the Ponderosa.

The hours of decorating, wrapping, stirrin' have paid off. Catching up on the eleven days I was running behind are now behind me as you could hear me singing my newest theme song of 'get~er~done.' I see the light! I won't even tell ya'll what my foot looked like after I accidentally knocked the hammer off the mantel or how badly I hurt when my wheel-barrel collapsed taking me down faster than a quarterback after the ball. Poor Mambo, the cat thought I was rollin' around on the ground just for his entertainment. Cats are like that, ya know. Did I ever tell ya'll I'm just a tad bit accident prone?

Close your eyes, inhale...exhale. {{Breathe}} Christmastime is here and this chick is ready for it. I'm ready for the grand-kids to reenact the first Christmas where the Wisemen brought gold frankincense and fudge to baby Jesus. Ya had to be there it was just too cute. So ready for Hubby to gather the clan to read the first Christmas story from his big old rugged looking Bible. I'm ready to thank God for sending his precious Son just because He loves us so much. I am ready to enjoy a silent night and remember why we push ourselves to the max. This chick is ready to thank Our Father for the many blessings He has poured upon us. I want to wish everyone a wonderful Christmastime with your loved ones and that you too remember the reason for the season. May God bless you all as you celebrate together and "Deck The Halls" with the love of Jesus!

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!!!

VACATION

Steamy heated ocean breezes, the feel of pure sun toasted sand squishing between all ten of my tiny little tooties. I could surly squeeze in at least one warm December afternoon lying on the beach where the temps rarely fall below eighty. Yep,this Ozarks farm chick was leaving the cold Ponderosa's snowy forecast behind and headed to the tropical tip of Texas. My parents abide in Brownsville but that's just a hop, skip and jump over to 'The Island'. Ahaaah! South Padre Island is bordered by the Gulf of Mexico and Laguna Madre Bay. A place where Hubby and I love to escape for a late evenings stroll along the beach and take in the breathtaking sunset. The Island paradise where one can go horseback-riding against the oceans fine mist or grab a boat off the jetties to watch the dolphins dance on the water. South Padre is an excellent spot for a fella' who loves to fish but para-sailing, jet skis, dune buggies or hand gliding are available for the more adventurous lot. Yep, right after feedin' the masses Thanksgiving Day we packed up shorts,sleeveless ware and my 'kini and headed south to a warmer land. I laid it on as thick a a triple cheeseburger that we here headed to a place where the snow won't blow. This chick was commin' back to the Ponderosa toned and tanned!

I can hear the words of my Granny Walden echoing 'round my eardrums, "now, that'll learn ya!!!" Well shut my mouth 'cause I am now eating a bowl full of my boastful words with a big old spoon. Have ya ever heard of Red Tide? Caused by the Karenia Brevis organism, it develops a toxic algeal bloom that can plague shores causing breathing problems, burning eyes and skin irritations. Padre had issued a Red Tide Warning. We had messed with the stuff a few years earlier and developed sores on our legs that rivaled the Egyptian boils. Besides, thousands of dead fish of all sizes had washed ashore killed by the crimson tide left the ocean air less than desirable. Nope, not goin' there, wouldn't be prudent.

The temperatures dropped like a pair of loose uppers eating a caramel apple the day after we arrived never rising above the forties. Did ya hear me???? I said... the highs did not get out of the forties. Did I mention the rain? Tons of rain! Now in Brownsville any cold or rain is normally in and out in less than twenty~four hours but this stuff stuck around the whole trip following us around like a crazed stalker. It was a cold nasty windy winter rain and this chick knows winter when she feels it! The unkind weather beckoned one's heavy red wool winter coat with the hood up. The one left hanging in my coat closet. I had a full beach bag packed that never saw the light of day. I had a supply of CK shorts and cute little shirts to top them off. There was plenty of tanning lotion, swim-shoes and ponytail ties but I did NOT pack for a winter storm in south Texas!!!

Time is always an issue on these trips to visit my parents. As the rest of us,they aren't gettin' any younger and we try to cram as many of their needs as we can into five short days. Dad served on the Sandia Army Base in Albuquerque where the Home of the National Nuclear Security Administration Laboratory is located. In the fifties many nuclear tests were performed such as the testing of the A-bomb. Dad, as many who served during this time, developed a rare form of leukemia that he's battled for well over twenty years. The man's a true survivor who has beaten the odds again and again amazing not only us but his staff of doctors. We just laugh and call him Timex, ya know takes a lick and keeps on tickin'. Mom has had hip surgery and had cataract surgery just before our arrival. Hubby went with Dad and did man stuff like patchin' on the hurricane tattered roof, putting together his table saw stand and helping him set up a debit card. I went with Mom taking her shopping, gettin' her glasses and taking care of other girlie needs. Don't get me wrong, these are things we desire to do while we are there and have the chance.

My Sis, who lives in Brownsville and works on the Island, was not given a day off my whole visit. I was looking forward to some intense sista' time with her but the moments were few. My Mom, Aunt and I enjoyed a lunch at her workplace just to squeeze a little glimpse of her. The big bad evil boss-lady let her off for two days the day I left...go figure!

The night before we left Hubby and I decided we needed to spend a little quality together. It had been rare this trip so planned our date night. Betcha' ya'll are excited for me right now. First we made a trip to a local Mexican grocery store, El Global, to find Mexican Vanilla and true authentic hot sauces to bring home. After that big adventure we headed to Bennigans to split a burger. That's it, but we were together and we had fun. Really, I'm entertained quite easily. The following morning before the sun rose, we hopped in our well heated car and made the 1145 mile excursion back to the Ponderosa. Driving onto the carport I gazed deeply into Hubby's big browns and announced, "I need a vacation!" I hit the ground running and exhausted but I'd lost days in my Christmas preparation that had to be made up.

Yes, in July of 1962 Connie Francis sang her hit song that entered the Billboard Hot 100 ,V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N, adorned with words like, "the weather's warm but were playing it cool" or "we're on v-a-see-a-t-i-o-n, we're gonna have a ball." I know some weekend after the first of the year Hubby will whisk me away to a warm themed hotel room in Branson and this old tired farm chick will have a real "Vacation!!!"

HONEY

Woohoo!!! A box of beautiful sweet treats were awaiting me when I arrived home from Texas. I was way past exhaustion but due to circumstances still I had to hit the ground running but thanks to sweet Mary at (theprovidentwoman) I feel like a pampered woman. Ya see, I'm dancin' my excited little happy dance 'cause I won...I won....Yippee! It usually doesn't take much to excite this Ozarks farm chick but let me tell you this stuff is great enough to call in the cows and pump molasses into their hay.

My prized box was filled with goodies of simplynaturalhoney products by Naturalhoney from Riley Country. I got a 6oz squeezable honey-bear. Now I've always had a soft spot for honey-bears but this one will be standin' on his pointed little head over homemade hot rolls tonight. A lotion bar, yep ya'll heard me right. I thought it was soap at first glance but it's a bar consisting of Shea butter and coconut oil that melts like butter into your skin leaving it soft and protected from the harsh elements. Heaven knows my abused hands need all the help they can get 'cause I'm always cleaning something! The lip balm is made with beeswax and sweet almond oil. 'Just makes a girl stand on her toes, pucker up and beckon Hubby to kiss her quick. My box unexpectedly contained a little glass bonus jar of honey not mentioned in the giveaway. Mmmmmmm, I'm thinkin' fresh hot homemade Southern Gal biscuits slathered with sweet gooey bee juice here. Let me tell you, I licked a sample off my sticky little fingers and it was good enough to grab a spoon. The last items were the straws that I'm just a little embarrassed about. Since I live a very secluded sheltered life on the Ponderosa leaving me clueless about more things than this chicks comfortable to admit, I wasn't sure whether to add the colorful straws to my bath and lather up or eat the things like Pixie Sticks. Now ya have to understand I debated this 'sticky' situation in my blonde little head for several days. Weighing my options carefully, I snipped the top off a straw this morn' and carefully sucked in a little taste. Since I didn't come up spitin' or bubblin' I consumed the whole straw. Heck, it was to tasty I grabbed another and downed it too! Mary please~please tell me these honey straws are the tasty treats I think they are.

Mary has a beautifully delightful blog so please pop over for a visit, you'll be glad you did. I tried to take a self portrait of myself surrounded by my goodies but my arms weren't long enough to get everything in the pic. Pardon the hair, I was out in the rainy elements all day running around like a mad woman. I also found that taking a pic of yourself is harder than gettin' a donkey to kneel on cold ground. Thank you so much Mary, I will enjoy! Tasty honey sweet and pure as Bobby Goldsburo sang in his tenth album in 1968, " Honey I love you!!!"

THEY'RE COMING TO TAKE ME AWAY

They're coming to take me away ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-haaa, to the funny farm where life is...... Hey, wait a minute, hold the presses! I already live on the funny farm. It's called the Ponderosa where the lush winter wheat field radiates a brilliant emerald green. Where well fed cattle graze and happily chew their cud. A land where the birds sing melodies that fill the Ozarks air and one can hear Chalky the donkey braying for a juicy afternoon treat. Ahhh, this is a land where things seldom go as planned. It's a world that could drive a Type-A obsessively organized farm chick totally mad going completely berserk.

I spent last week on my hands and knees vacuuming every thick carpet fiber. Every nook and cranny of overstuffed furniture was sucked dry of any dust particles so completely the dust mites have vacated the premises and are shopping for new dwellings. I have emptied the dirty gatherings on my utility room floor and gone through every blessed dusty speck. The ashes of the fire place have been examined as thoroughly as a CSI investigation. My car has had the same treatment. I searched through trash, Walmart bags and yes even the peanut butter. Yep, this chick loves her Jiff. The local health food store even gave me their dirt to examine. Nasty!!! Bet ya'll are thinkin' this is some strange behavior even for Nezzy. Well, I lost the diamond out of my wedding ring a week ago. It just ripped my heart out because it IS my wedding ring. I have wasted a week digging, searching and turning my knees into hamburger to no avail when I needed to be working on Thanksgiving and packing for the trip to south Texas.

Saturday I had the day planned. I would clean the house (I know, but my name is Nezzy~I need help!) copy and put together next quarters curriculum for Kids Church which I had to be distributed to my helpers Sunday. I'd make the thorn arrangement Pastor had requested for his Sunday sermon and make a huge batch of dressing for the Thanksgiving banquet after services Sunday. My Sunday School lesson would be put together and I would study for Kids Church. Somewhere in here I'd wash my hair and do my nails. Diamond hunting through the week had left little time to do such trivial tasks.

Saturday morn came and Hubby thought it would be an excellent day to vaccinate the cattle that escaped last time and castrate the young bulls. When the wild eyed cattle were rounded~up we poked, cut and wormed the over sized bovine followed by the Great American Cattle Drive down the road to greener pastures. Most the cattle were perfect trailblazers but there are always a few who delight in running though or jumpin' over fences like crazed Olympians. After all trophys were awarded for the highest jumper and the fastest runner, Hubby wanted to go to a nearby town to pick up our new car. Flying to the house faster than a squirrel with a jet pack, I commenced to scrub the manure smell off,twist my hair in a cute little french knot and toss on some make-up. Ya'll know I'm not going anywhere without my makeup! I returned home and kicked myself into high gear. Working like an ant after hearing a winter storm forecast every task above was completed. WooHoo! Does this chick know how to get-er-done, or what? Nothing wrong with me except I'm still amazed how the heck I managed to put the cheese in the hamper. Yes, I did!

Sunday came early and so did my Sunday School class. Kids Church was a blast but I'm always exhausted by the time it's over. The Thanksgiving banquet was delicious and the fellowship even better. I washed the dishes as others helped with clean up and we came home. Day of rest, day of rest, day of rest, right? Oh, Lord I'm sorry but it was warm and I wanted to get a coat of wax on the car before it hit the salty corrosive air of Brownsville, so I waxed the car.

I'm going nuts. My push for perfection and attention to details have me overwhelmed. My day, hourly and minute plans have gone out the window like a bird freaked by a pouncing cat. Forget the fact that our very large Thanksgiving celebration is tomorrow. Forget the packing is not completed nor is the food ready. Here I sit blogging like I have nothing else to do. Why you ask? Because I want to wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving with your families. I want to tell ya'll to enjoy all the love that surrounds you so much that your lap may never be empty. I wanted to tell you that before those nice young men in their clean white coats take me to the happy home with trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket weavers as the 1966 song of Napoleon XIV goes. I will be in the Texas gulf for a week an will see ya'll when I get back. 'Just wanted to say all that because I fear "THEY'RE COMING TO TAKE ME AWAY"