PAPER ROSES

This Ozark Farm chick was shakin' like a fifty cent ladder on gutter cleanin' day when I listened to the weather and heard the frost warnins. When I turned in late last night it was thirty seven degrees and droppin'. My heart sank like a mobsters victim. Oh, my beautiful roses had buds, all my lovely perennials had pushed their heads through the earth. I'm a tad high strung and wound tighter that a three day clock but late last night....I would'a made a pressure cooker look calm.

At thirty one degrees the Ponderosa's frost holler is was colder than a tick on a Mississippi coon hound on a Montana morning. The daylilies foliage blackened bowin' their heads to the earth, my spirit plummeted lower than a snake full of buckshot. Checkin' the curly leaves on my roses. my mind was transported to a science project in our Special Ed. classroom. 'Loved those kiddos and I'd fight tigers in the dark with a switch for 'em unlike their classmates, Middle Schoolers are empathy challenged. 'Just sayin'.........

Each year we would help our very special students participate in the Middle School Science Fair. We had many projects over the years. Little Miss Feisty kept eatin' her atom molecules constructed with Skittles. Mr. I Believe I Can Fly grew colorful salt crystals but the one that really touched my heart was a little sweetheart I'll call Lilly Pie.

Lilly Pie was a 'special' student in the fifth grade. She lived with her mother, little sister and her Mom's boyfriend. Lilly lived in a dysfunctional home at best and had been showin' definite signs of sexual abuse. When Social Services confirmed the situation Lilly's mother was told that she could not have the girls in the house if the boyfriend stayed. Miss Pie's mother told this tender~hearted ten year old girl, "well somebody's gotta leave and it's not gonna be 'him'." 'Broke my heart into a thousand pieces. She was moved into her single grandfathers house. Doesn't that just frost your ankles?

Sweeter than a meal of biscuits and chocolate gravy served with southern sweet tea, this little lady approached us with her Science Fair idea. Roses!!! Woohoo, bestow my heart. Lilly Pie wanted to make a presentation on plantin' and growin' roses. She expressed the desire to present her project in book form. She chose plain old pink copy paper for the pages. Lilly then used the computer to find information and pictures that she would use for her book simply titled 'Roses'.

We helped Lilly glue the information on the pages along with the pictures she'd chosen with good old rubber cement. After everything had dried we used a binder to bind her project together. Simple supplies, nothin' special. Just a little copy paper, printer ink and some rubber cement. We left the project in Lilly Pies cubby in the classroom and locked the door behind us.

I've experienced several supernatural unexplainable remarkable acts of God in my lifetime but this one was for Lilly Pie. The next mornin' as we were thumbin' though Miss Pie's project the scent of roses arose from the pages. We passed the book around to our coworkers and the more the book was handled the stronger the scent became. I went back and sniffed the copy paper which smelled like plain old paper. I checked the rubber cement and it reeked of...well...rubber cement. Heck, I even checked the printer ink. The only explanation I could come up with it that God wanted to make Lilly's project as special as her.

Isn't that just like our Heavenly Father? He takes our brokenness and turns it into something whole and special. He raises us up from that bottomless pit just when we think there is no hope into life abundantly. He guides us to the light when lost in darkness. He takes a young girl's simple project and makes it stand out from the others. That rose scent lasted through the Science Fair and was still strong when we sent it home.

In 1993, Olive Marie Osmond sang the popular song written by Fred Spielman and Janice Torre that was originally Anita Bryant's hit in 1960. Marie's version topped the country charts then crossed over to pop and easy listenin'. I know that Miss Lilly Pie or I will never ever forget the science project that was simply made of 'Paper Roses!!!

'Just thinkin' 'bout it makes me happier than a monkey with a peanut machine!



(These pictures are from my rose garden last summer)

LOOK WHAT THEY'VE DONE TO MY SONG

I've been madder than a dwarf with a long stringed yo~yo! Folks, this has been one tough week on this Ozark Farm Chick. I've sadly been greavin' deeply for a loss I never thought I'd have to face. Farm Boy tried to break it to me gently for he knows my passions but I have to tell ya it went down 'bout as well as the iron tonic Mama used to force me to swallow. Few things will rile me up like this and make me madder than a welfare mom runnin' outta food stamps mid~month.

Hubs said, "your not gonna like this" and I didn't. He knows me too well. Sunday mornin' when the radio clicked on I was not awaken by my beloved oldies that have nudged me from sleep for eons. Nooooo0, I heard Scrugg's banjo blarin' which was 'bout as welcomed as deviled egg gas passed in a telephone booth. My oldies station has gone country and turned my world upside down!!!

I fed piles of quarters into the jukeboxes at Stockton's Castle Drive~In and El Dorado's Cooper Drug store durin' my teen years to saturate my soul with this music. Ya just can't beat the sound of The Beetles, Elton John, The Beach Boys and Connie Frances while sippin' a chocolate ice cream soda or playin' the pinball machines. My first party, dance, kiss and pretty near everything else left to the imagination involved this music. Why, life without these grand tunes would be kinda like goin' to the goat house for wool!

My first clock radio was purchased at a little hardware store just off the square in Stockton. I had saved my money and thought I had gathered just enough to own it. I'd been droolin' over it for months. As I very carefully unfolded my bills to complete this transaction, I discovered I had not saved enough to cover my dream radio and the tax. The kind owner smiled and sold me the radio anyway. Woohoo, my tween self couldn't get the boxed tunes home fast enough to set the alarm to awaken me with the best songs ever. Elvis sang me awake that mornin' with ample time to ready myself and catch the school bus. This vintage boombox stirred my sleep through high school and was my early mornin' companion in college as well as the lyrics which shaped my life.

When my hunka~hunka~burnin' love and I married and moved to the Ponderosa there was one and only one oldie station we could get down here in these hills and hollers. We live so far back in the country folks think a Volvo is a woman's body part. I've faithfully listened to this 'Oldies Station' over thirty nine years. I raised Geek Son and Social Butterfly on these nostalgic melodies. My grandkiddos know 'em well. Heck, my posts carry the names of the songs I adore.

While the dishwashers sloshin', washer's agitatin', dryer's tumblin' on Deep Clean Friday, ya can find this caped crusader super cleanin' freak dancin' and dustin', singin' and scrubbin' or rockin' and rubbin' to the oldies as I get the Ponderosa's abode cleaner than a freshly showered priest on Sunday mornin'. Ya'll know how twisted this chick is when it comes to clean but it makes my heart sing and when ya add some rockin' tunes, life just doesn't get any better!

I can be workin' outside sweetin' like a gal writtin' her fist love letter while workin' in one of my many flower gardens yet be happier than a hungry bird with a french fry as long as I have my oldies to listen to. (Pictures from my rose garden last summer) My afternoon swims will never be the same void of Kool & The Gang, The Temptations or The Carpenters. I fear without my oldies I'm gonna sink lower than a moles belly on diggin' day.



I called the radio station and they acted like I was a half a bubble off plum 'cause I wasn't thrilled with their changes. They scoffed at me when I explained there's a country station on every corner 'round these parts and without oldies, they were simply just another station. I felt like I was talkin' to a rock. My emails have gone unanswered. Colder than a polar bears toenails~ they don't care. Oh Mama, look what they've done with my songs!!!

Don't get me wrong. I love music...varieties of music and will listen to more than only the oldies. I love soft jazz, contemporary christian, praise and worship and most anything playin' in my head but I thrive on the oldies. Miss Safka expressed my current feelins on her 1970 hit album 'Candles in the Rain' as she sang, "Well they tied it up in a plastic bag and turned it upside down." This little radio station is now as useless to me as a screen door on a submarine as I cry out "Look What They've Done to My Song!!!"

THE TWIST

Other than bein' stickier than a three year old's cotton candy fingers at a three ring circus, the day began just like any ordinary summer Sunday. This chick get's up to put on her Bare Minerals face while Farm Boy fixes his weekly Big Top Breakfast. Hub's goes to check cattle while I clean the kitchen, make the bed and do my hair before walkin' out the door for church. Hubs teaches the Adult Sunday School Class while I teach a Pre~Teen Class then Kid's Church.

We often laughingly chant, "day of rest, day of rest, day of rest" while dartin' out to the car. Seems like our Sundays are busier than a one armed cab driver eatin' a meatball sub. The weatherman on the radio confirmed our day was gonna be hotter than an honeymoon hotel makin' the humidity stickier than a prickly cockebur. Just another day in the Ozarks. So we thought!

That Sunday evenin' we drove into Tiny Town to attend evenin' services we call 'Share and Prayer'. The meetin' was amazin' but we couldn't see the greenish~yellow tinted sky through the blue stained glass windows. 'Wasn't 'till Pastor George said, "it's lookin' really strange out here," we recognized that all too familiar eerie hew and decided to beat the storm home instead of stayin' in the safe confinement of the churches basement. We hoofed it to our car while the sky colored like a sea sick yellow Lab closed in on us.

We no sooner left the churches parkin' lot 'till the wind started blown like perfume through a High School Prom. Farm Boy turned into a skilled demolition driver as the hail and large debris began poundin' the car. Determined Hubby swerved this way and that down Main Street dodging large tree limbs and lawn furniture landin' in our path.

We turned down Wall Street and if anything, the violence worsened. Suddenly, I morphed into Jamie Gertz who played Dr. Mellisa Reeves in that 1996 Twister movie 'cause I vaguely remember turnin' to Hubs and sayin', "I gotta go Julia, we got cows!!!" This Ozark Farm Chick went through a tornado when I was five and they are my biggest fear. I gotta tell ya, between the hail, the limbs and the stuff in the road all I wanted was my Mama!

I realized the unrelentless storm was followin' us like a starvin' dog chases a meat wagon when we hit the highway headed toward the Ponderosa. We met a car flashin' lights warnin' us of limbs on the highway. Then a pick~up flashed us. Oh this can't be good...a tree!!! My panic didn't lessen as we swerved this way and that avoiding downed trees and giant limbs. The storm hung over our head like a three day hangover on a drunk no matter how fast we traveled.

I was scared baby, and desperate measures were in order. I've been known to remind God Himself that He can calm the storms. Shakin' harder than the Parmesan Cheese shaker at Pizza Hut, I prayed and prayed hard as we came to the end of the blacktop and entered our dirt road. Oh, Lord...please let us have a house!

Oh my goodness glory, what a mess things were. My cottage garden, birdhouses or bistro set will never be the same. Ya'll can only imagine what this did to my OCFD (obsessive compulsive flower disorder). I'd removed some of the large limbs before I snapped the pictures but we had a house. Praise God! One limb came right down the corner of the house with enough force to plant it deeply in the ground. God had answered my prayers...again!!!

Our lives may become tangled more than a ball of knittin' wool attacked by a litter of frisky kittens or twisted like a crown of thorns yet the Maker can pull us apart and put us all back together stronger than ever. He does it with ease and compassion no matter how violent the storms may come. All we have to do is ask, call his name or just simply whisper the name of Jesus. Yep folks, He loves us that much. How awesome is that???

Born in Spring Gulley, South Carolina, Ernest Evans was raised in the projects of South Philadelphia, Pennsylvania with his parents and two brothers. Facin' the twist and snares of life he formed a street~corner harmony group at the ripe old age of eight. Life was not easy for this fella but God took his tangled life and molded him into a great performer of his time. It was his boss, Henry Colt, owner of Fresh Farm Poultry who tagged Evans with the nickname, 'Chubby'.



A great twist of fate is that Dick Clark invited 'Chubby' to do a private recording for American Bandstand. After completin' an excellent impersonation of Fats Domino, Clark's wife asked the young singer's name. Evans replied, "well my friends call me 'Chubby'. Clark's wife then substituted 'Checkers' for Domino. Hence the name...'Chubby Checkers'.

This hit song was released in 1960 from Checkers very unlikely twisted fate. Whether life becomes as twisted as big old elm tree's roots or it's the physical storms that scare the bajabbers outta ya, I'm so thankful we can call on the One who stills the waters when we tangle ourselves into "The Twist!!!"

God bless Ya'll!!!

OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS

Folks, this chick's wore down like a professional beggar's old shoe. Hubs was tellin' everyone we were goin' on vacation and yes, we did get away from the wild~eyed cattle and off the Ponderosa for a whole week. This is Venus vs. Mars baby and I'm callin' it a "work'cation". That's my final answer and I'm stickin' to it! We just returned from our long trip to Brownsville, Texas to visit my sweet Mama. Don't get me wrong, we go with full intentions of fixin' up and helpin' out as much as we can but I've had the energy of a smashed bug since we returned. Late summer the grandkiddos (I call the Fab~Four) got to make their own little journey to Camp Grandma.

Since the Ponderosa is truly over yonder and in the edge of nothin', we have to make our own entertainment. Ya know how you have good intentions of gettin' pictures of everything you've planned to do and then it hits ya the last day of Camp that you've been too stinkin' busy to pick up a camera, little lone take pictures??? Yeah~ me too... so all I've got to show ya'll is the lonely last day of Camp Grandma!

We went rock climbin'. This is Ethan the clone of his father, Geek Son. This kid is has always been old for his age and knows more than a Philadelphia lawyer. He's generally the first to pull out the leftover fireworks as he loves to have a 'blast' as much as his Rockin' Grandma does. He has a great attitude that spreads just like Kudzu!!!

We hunted for arrowheads and reptiles in the creek bed. Joel is our mad scientist and agile climber. He's always been able to climb up anything slicker than a harpooned hippo on a wet banana tree. If we ever lose Joel we've learned just to look up. He looks like my Dad and also portrays his prankster personality. When I'm missin' my Daddy all I have to do is look at this face and he flashes me the same familiar smile I grew up with.

We collected beautiful rocks. Some we're oddly shaped while others glittered in the beautiful summer sunlight. Little Miss Laura Ingalls...oops...I mean, Little Miss Sarah won the "Most Accidents Award" at Camp Grandma. I swear, this one could get hurt in a padded rubber room! She was injured so often, she'd look like she was gonna start cryin' like a pine knot in a sawmill then we'd look at each other and start laughin'. Cracked me up! Good thing she's tougher than a hungry one eared alley cat yet as sweet as southern tea!

We picked beautiful wildflowers. Prettier than a box full of speckled pups, (Mini~Me) Miss Honor shares my love (sick obsession) of flowers. Durin' Camp Grandma she dissected flower petals and covered my entire deck with a mass of brilliant color. (Sorry, no pics...I was busy feedin' the masses.) She's an artistic little soul with a heart as big as Texas and truly believes that she's a royal princess. Watchin' her is like peerin' through the lookin' glass at my little girl self.

We hiked many miles but someone with tired little feet thumbed a ride to hitchhike the rest of the way home with the help of big brother. Some people are just as cute as the dickens and know how to use it.

It was hotter than a mess of collard greens on the back of Granny Walden's old wood cook stove that week so there was lots of swimmin' where Honor lost her fear of the water. She sure gave the 'boys' a run for their money!!!

I had trouble keepin' the Toothless Wonder's water wings on her. She wanted to fearlessly swim across the pool without 'em. We struck up a bargain where she wore the wings the first half of the swim then she let Grandma Muzzie stick close by the last half. See that florescent lime green mat floatin' in the background? 'Doesn't float so good anymore. Heehehhee!!!

Look out Ester Williams, we performed synchronized Olympic water maneuvers with grace, style and attitude baby!!! We ate things like Frog Eyes, Shriveled Bat Wings with Possum Poop, Sugar Coated Moths and Slimy Blood Worms. We never, ever eat 'regular' food at Camp Grandmas. 'Wouldn't be prudent!

When we tired of hikin', climbin', swimin' and smashin' giant boulders we still had the energy to battle Galactic beings and conquer the universe. They do have the genes of that caped wonder 'Super Nezzy', ya know?

Most of all we had loads of smiles and heaps of fun. "Over the River and Through the Woods" was originally written as a Thanksgiving poem in 1844 by Lydia Maria Child from her childhood memories of visitin' her own grandparents home. It wasn't 'till 1951 the Andrews Sisters and Danny Kaye put it to music as the song we know today. I pray the memories made at Camp Grandma will make my grandkiddos sing happily forevermore, "Over the River and Through the Woods" to Grandmothers house we go!!!!

HAPPY TRAILS TO YOU!!!!

PUPPY LOVE

Her name could have easily been Hatchet, Buzz Saw or Wood Chopper but 'round here she's known as Pepper. This little Blue Heeler is wound tighter than a new girdle and has the jaw force to gnaw through most anything. Bred in Queensland, Australia, these popular ranch dogs are cultivated to herd wild~eyed cattle by 'nippin' at their heels. That's how she came to acquire her second name, Nipper. She joined the Ponderosa early this spring where she practiced her 'nipper' skills on this Ozark Farm Chick's naked heels. Now, that's about as cozy as wearin' barbwire panties. Ya'll should of seen the back of my heels! Ouch!!!

I do declare, trainin' Pepper Nipper not to jump on others or chase cars is goin' slower than a bread wagon on biscuit wheels down a dirt road. When this little prunin' expert sees cars or bodies she's off slicker than a chased greased hog on a downhill run. I swear she was more obedient as an itty~bitty puppy than she is now. She's gotta be in those rebellious 'teen' years.

Pepper has cluttered my otherwise immaculate yard 'cause anything she can drag, carry or kill ends up smack in the middle of it. She could chew the north end off a south bound polecat (skunk) or most anything else. She has pulled the drain tubing outta the bottom of my car, eaten the corners off the house, bedded down in my daylilies and massacred a forest of cannas. 'Chews 'em off right at the base folks and hollers, "timber"! The other day I was workin' in my rose garden when she nipped off all open blooms off slicker than a schoolmarm's leg. Hubs tried to convenience me our little Nipper was just helpin' deadhead and truly wasn't out to slaughter my beautiful gardens. Nope, this chick's not buyin' it! It's a conspiracy...she's disserverin' my efforts.


Puttin' all her trouble aside, Pepper Nipper is as smart as they come and very affectionate. She's always at my side (or on my heels) and will forever be my protector 'cause she's loyal that way. The song written and sang by Paul Anka for his girlfriend Annette Funicello (yep, they were really datin') hit the Billboard Hot 100 single chart in 1960. Donny Osmond's 1972 version is the more familiar adaption we all know and love today. Although Pepper tries my patience to the max and back again, I've definitely found myself fallin deep into this "Puppy Love"!!!

ONE..... (Two Giveaway winners)

Would ya'll look who I forgot! Isn't she a single sweetie? Yup, after I made that long, long slideshow of my collection of bunnies I left out one lonely little wide eared floppy legged bunny. I'm not sure this Ozark Farm Chick agrees with the song that bears the title of this post. "One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do" is the first line of the song that Harry Nilsson wrote and recorded.

I kinda like one. One is a good strong number. It stands alone firm and tall. When ya think about it, it only takes one to be happy and enjoy a beautiful day. It takes one to flash a smile to a lonely stranger or indulge in a decadent piece of chocolate. (Mmmm. I'm droolin' like a teethin' four month baby here.) One can read, exercise, snap the perfect photo or paint a masterpiece. This chick can enjoy aromatic flower gardens, relish a good book or belt out a great tune without the help of another livin soul. Heaven knows I'm the only one 'round the Ponderosa deep cleanin' and I sure don't require any help enjoyin' a scented bubble bath. There needs be only one to be creative, write a story or make a difference. Most important of all, it take only one to worship and praise God. Yep, one is a perfect number!
The second line of this song says, "two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one." Wrong! I'm not even gonna go there...wouldn't be prudent but two is a very lucky number for me 'cause I have two fabulous Happy Easter winners. Yep, usin' Random Generator, Miss Tracy over at My Thoughtful Spot and Miss Deb at Smith Family Cookbook each won a $25.00 gift certificate over at The Rusted Chain for a wonderful piece of jewelry! Woohoo!!! Don't that just make your toes curl? Thank you Beki for your generosity. Congratulations to both Tracy and Deb, please enjoy your new baubles. Hop on over, pat 'em on the back, say howdy and tell 'em Nezzy sent ya. If ya haven't check out The Rusted Chain...go... do it now...your in for a treat better than cold chocolate ice cream on a warm summer day!

I'm not so sure that Mr Nilsson knew what he was talkin' about when he wrote 'One' but the world truly loved it when the rock group Three Dog Night snagged it and cut a single in 1969. 'One' soared like a hawk after one of my songbirds to #5 on the Billboards Hot 100. Nope, this chick doesn't believe that one is the loneliest number nor do I buy that two can be as bad as one 'cause I adore bein' hitched. I'm one gal, one child of God and one farm chick who simply loves bein' "One"!!!

COLD AS ICE

I make no bones that I think winter is about as useful as a rubber crutch. This Ozark Farm Chick is a summertime gal. I thrive in my biker shorts, cute little tees and flippies. I adore workin' my acre of flower gardens and afternoon dips in my swimmin' pool. Ya know, the things dreams are made of. This winter has been colder than a cast iron commode on the shady side of an iceberg and I have not hidden the fact that 'Nezzy' has not been a happy camper. With that said, of all things I could collect... I collect snowmen!!! I know, that makes me about a crazy as a sprayed roach but I love the little cold~hearted fellas. You will fine 'em nestled into every nook and corner of the Ponderosa's homestead from the edge of Autumn through the early stages of Spring.

Woohoo!!! It's Deep Clean Friday and I've been busier than a set of jumper cables at a Redneck picnic. Yep, faucets sparkle, furnace filters cleaned, floors shine and the dust mites are gaspin' for air. Ya'll know how clean rocks my world but as I was cleanin' I had little eyes givin' me cold hard stares. I'm thinkin'...it might be time to put my crystal gents with the carrot noses away, Spring bein' Sunday and all. Ponderin' on how each and every snowflake is as unique and individual as God made us, I carefully wrapped each snowman to be packed away. In doin' so I noticed that some of my snowmen have yellowed over the years while others are still pure white. Yellowed kinda like us when we allow sin into our lives. Psalm 51:7 says "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." Now, I can't take the aromatic plant hyssop used to clean in ancient days to wash away my sins but this plant was also used in religious rituals in comparison to the blood of Christ. That's somethin' this chick can wrap her brain around! Now, if that don't put the pepper in the Gumbo!!!

Ya'll know that goin' to church doesn't make ya a Christian anymore than standin' in a garage makes ya a car. Far to often we are yellowed with unkindness we show others instead of reflectin' love of Jesus. Our hearts can become as stinkin' cold as the little snowmen I just packed away. Spring is upon us, a time of rebirth and new beginnings. I don't want to be like the 1977 British~American band Foreigner who sang "Cold as Ice" on their Billboard Hot 100 list record. As the warm rays of the sun melts winter's remnants from the earth, I yearn for The Son to warm my soul allowin' me radiate the warmth of His precious love. I want to be a servant, a warm lovin' child of God. I want it to never be said of me that "she was...Cold as Ice!!!"

WHEN I GROW UP (TO BE A MAN)

He came into the world with his fathers temperament showin' off his exuberant lung capacity for all to be aware that he'd dropped anchor on this earth. He was the baby that we gently stroked, rocked and walked incessantly simply tryin' to discover any magic trick that might soothe the beast within. Even though he could holler louder than a stuck pig, this tiny little squealer had my heart. Yep, this Ozark farm chick was a goner...it was love at first sight.

This little unequivocal clone of his daddy had an imagination that reached to the moon and back and yep, he knew how to use it. He could hold full intensive conversations with invisible beings and build massive complexes with materials only seen by his clever pint-sized peepers. Doctors visits and waiting rooms were never dull or boring. The little fella once crawled through the entire Springfield Zoo on all fours risin' only to tower over smaller animals (and children) to belt forth his humongous grizzly growls.

He's the innocent youngun who crawled into my lap with his pudgy little arms wrapped around my neck and announced quite boldly, "There are no bombs on eBay Grandma Muzzie!" Why, during our last Camp Grandma I gave the boys some fireworks left over from the previous year to 'shoot' some time and this one came inside for a roll of black tape which I delivered immediately 'cause I'm just that kinda Grandma . Then he nonchalantly responded, "unless you have a problem with sparkler bombs." (This request was only done for my reaction...the tape went quickly back to the tool box) Now hold on to your bloomers, the lad can't help it....the pyro gene runs in our family. We never run short on pyrotechnical alpha males during the Forth of July Bash. Besides, we've got to keep some trainin' in the bull pen ya know.....some are gettin' a little long in tooth for such explosive shenanigans. I won't go there, you know who you are!

The Earth and our family was blessed the day Ethan Issac (Ike) arrived. He entered the life of a teenager by reciting both I Corinthians thirteen and Philippians four from memory at his thirteenth birthday party. Soundin' like the boastful rockin' grandma chick I am, he's quite the young gent. Able to speak Latin and takin' first trumpet chair at District Honor Band , Ethan also has his own lawnmowin' business during summer break. Maybe a little OCFD (Obsessive Compulsive Flower Disorder) runs in the family too...Heeehehehe! He is a polite young man of God, a wonderful big brother and a great help to his Mom and Dad. Now, if that doesn't make this chick's heart sing ya'll best call the coroner and check my pulse. This gals proud as punch to burst her buttons as Ethan sings that Beach Boy's hit written by Brian Wilson and released by Capitol Records August 24, 1964 , "When I Grow Up To Be A Man!!!"

Note: No fingers, toes or grandkiddos were injured durin' this blog