a favorite pic of me and my crew in New Orleans.....this was 3 summers ago...our annual mini vacation before school started...=) 

Comments Make The Heart Grow Fonder

I've been asked on a few occasions, why haven't you blogged recently? (The faithful readers now know I was on a roll yesterday..hehe.) Now, of course this was posed by those near and dear to me.
I received my first comment today from an "unknown" and oh did my little heart sing! Hence, the content of this blog is to urge you to comment should you like what you see. (And also I guess if you don't like what you see.=) The comment was high propane fuel to my blogging fire.
Anyone with initials SAG wanna start?

50 Things To Do Before I Die

No, that subject is in no way morbid. What is the thing you'd love to do, but it just seems as if it will never come to fruition? There are things that flit in and out of our minds and we just don't voice them or believe they are possible. It's usually some exotic isle or adventure that seems lightyears away. Take out a favorite journal or even a sheet of paper and write at the top "50 Things To Do Before I Die". This needs to be paper that you can quickly and easily locate. Numbers 1-10 will be easy. They will be things at the front of your mind. From there on, it gets harder to fill in the blanks. Therein lies the reason you need easy accessiblity to your list. When something triggers thoughts of deep desires, grab your list start jotting. My list is over 30 now, and I've successfully checked off some things I never thought I'd achieve! Sailing around the world on a sailboat seems completely out of my reach, but it's on my list. Walking on the Great Wall of China, visiting Australia, seeing the palaces of St. Petersburg, a cooking school in southern Italy, an apartment in NYC are all far beyond my reach, but never the less something to dream about. Nothing is too extreme nor simplistic. There is no rule that you have to share your list either. It may be too personal for public viewing, or you may be like me and enjoy others seeing your dreams. Whatever the case, just make the list. Those checks beside the things you were able to make happen make for a deep abiding joy and sense of well-being.

"Sugared" Tea, Please

A fond memory of my mother, is her allowing me to make the tea. We had a large, orange Tupperware pitcher and my self-esteem, love of cooking, and psyche were developed from this very act. How proud I was to measure the sugar into that pitcher, pour the liquid off the steeped bags that I'd been instructed to "just bring to a boil", and then stir until all grains of sugar were fully melted. Then and only then was I to add water up to the rim. At that point, in my elementary brain, I felt I had helped "cook supper".
I've just returned from a mini-pre-school-starting-vacation, and nary a place had "sweet" tea. Here in the deep South, we ask for "sweet" tea, which is of course improper. Sweetened tea is correct. I have a kindred spirit that always asks for "sugared" tea, and I love to borrow that line when far into Yankee country. My pronunciation is a long drawn out "shoog-ahed tea" worthy of Elizabeth in "Old Yellar". I love the reactions of the wait staff. Without fail, the response is "What?"with a quizzical look. And I again ask for "sugared" tea. In 90% of the cases, I draw a "dumb-southerner" sneer which makes my guts smile. Tea was made to be sweetened! I simply cannot mimick the taste of tea from the South when trying to sweeten it otherwise. I settle for a Diet Coke. But oh, to return home to the land of "sweet tea", such joy is indescribable.
My former mother-in-law introduced me to hot tea. I'll never forget learning to wrap the string from the tea bag around the bowl of the spoon just from watching her. A vivid memory of hot tea was on a return flight from Seoul, Korea. It was so soothing to my weary mind, body and spirit on that never ending flight. My aforementioned kindred spirit taught me to mix a 1/2 cranberry juice and 1/2 sweet tea for a delightful drink in the fall.
Until it is not available to me, as on my vacation, I simply do not realize just how much I love it. There is a large glass of the cold "sugared" stuff sitting close at hand as I type this. Ahhhh, I just had a sip. When will the rest of the world figure it out? Tea is to be "sweet".

The Baby, My Youngest Son

Since I found out I was pregnant with this child, I have said he was to be the General Superintendant of the United Pentecostal Church or the first Pentecostal President of the United States. His conception was not possible, yet it happened. And how deeply thankful I am that it did.
My oldest sat in the stroller without stress. Tyren Millspaugh Swanner demanded to PUSH the stroller, instead of ride in it, from a very early age. I dressed him for church, and within minutes he looked as if he'd had those very clothes on for days instead of minutes. His shirt never remained tucked in, his feet found a way to the mud puddle, and ketchup was forever adorning his pants. I simply could not keep this child clean nor make him look "freshly dressed". Yet he exuded joy. When Mother's Day was celebrated in Sunday School and the 5-6 year olds were asked "What makes your Mother smile", his reply was, "When I walk in the room". I find this to be true this very minute, even though he is now 15.
His brother got a guitar for Christmas 4 years ago. It sat untouched for some time. Tyren went to church camp and a friend there showed him a few things. I don't think many days have passed since that there wasn't a guitar in his hands. Am I allowed as a Mother to say he is amazing? Am I the only Mother who can hardly breathe when her children are performing? When all 3 perform at the same time, as happens in Youth Service periodically, I am overcome with gratefulness.
There is a calmness in him that I do not possess. He has patience that I have no chance of ever achieving, yet I helped to grow him to what he is. He is faithful to help me in the yard, haul things to the attic, and remove the garbage from the house, with little resistance. Oh, of course I hear the grumbles, etc, but he always helps. I have said on many occasions, that he will be the one to insure I don't get bedsores while in the nursing home. He has a nurturing spirit that I am so proud of. He wears his suits well and is health concious, which did not come from me. I recently told him how much like his Father he was. His face had this odd look and he questioned me whether or not I liked that. (His Father and I divorced years ago.) I told him all those things of his Father that I saw in him were the exact reasons I fell in love with and married his Dad.
He makes wonderful grades and excels in school. That he is now a sophmore makes my heart heavy. In 2 extremely short years, he will be a senior. My little disheveled boy is now a young man living in a grown body. If only I could keep him with me forever. Wait, he will be with me forever, in my mind, the little one with the shirt hanging half out stomping in the only mud puddle within a 1/2 mile range.

My Middle Child...My Daughter...

They say it's the middle child that becomes the mediator or professional negotiator. Exactly. The most intense joy I've experienced has been from is my middle child. From the moment I tied a pink ribbon around her head (which was in the delivery room within 10 minutes of her birth) 'till a few Saturday's ago when she sang at a military celebration, my heart has smiled when I see her. Everyone who knows her, sees her talent. The Congresswoman who invited her to sing at the event spoke of this at the celebration. Her French teacher at school remarked at the rarity of getting a student like her that has "passion" for the langauge. Everything she does radiates vivaciousness. She is effusive, vibrant, full of zest, and a lover of life. She comes out of her room in a blast on the way to church, etc. and I'm so amazed at her fashion savvy. She holds that head high and exudes a confidence very few learn in a lifetime.
My labor was arduous, not as with my other 2. While carrying her, I would not allow the doctor to tell me the gender of this child in my womb. I simply was overcome with raw and aching need for a girl. I never once looked at girl clothes during my pregnant. I had this distinct fear that I would be unfair in some way to my baby should it be a boy. I just HAD to have a girl. When the doctor announced to the room "It's a girl!", I started weeping. My aunt Deta was holding my hand. I kept saying over and over "It's a girl!, It's a girl!, I don't have to do this anymore!". I never occurred to me that while laboring to deliver this child I was planning another pregnancy just in case it was a boy! My family that stood in the hall did not have to be informed that she had arrived. They all heard me chanting over and over "It's a girl!, It's a girl!".
After saying all this, I need to inform you that she is my clone. A while ago, she came to my room to inform me, "I just give up. I am just like you and I can't change it!". For a couple of years I watched her struggle with trying to be the opposite of what I was. She didn't like my bold, loud purses, nor my tendency to draw attention to myself in dress, hairstyle, etc. Soon thereafter she was borrowing those very purses and clothing. Now, if we both have trips it's a race to claim who gets what. It's humbling to see yourself in someone. I see myself in her daily and that changes my thought processes and actions often.
I will continue to watch her fulfill her potential as time rocks on. And her ability to "fulfill" will forever amaze me. There is nothing she cannot accomplish, and what I so love is her discipline and willpower. They will take her far beyond the reaches that even I can concieve. While colleges continue to court and she stays in her continual dither over where, when and what, I will stand back and be amazed. Did I mention I birthed this child?=)

Patience, please.

Blogging is like the tides. The mood comes and goes. Summer is in full swing, and with hummingbirds flitting, oleanders blooming, and lemonade freshly squeezed, I tend to not peruse email for days on end. This week I had my first autumnal pang, with visions of my beloved boots dancing in my head. Maybe once life gets back into "rut" status i.e. No. 2 pencils sharpened, I will settle back into blogging. I must admit it was all consuming for a time. The consumation is sure to resurface when those long cool evenings arrive. Until then, for all those who ask, patience, please.=)

Ground "Chuck"

You can look into your child's eyes and know when something is awry. He was looking up at me from the grocery basket so sheepish that I knew something was up. The magpie standing beside my cart simply would not hush. I had tried to avoid her, but when you are in the grocery with all 3 of your children under age 7, they are hungry and supper is late, you simply don't have all your wits about you. I was more concerned with what all they were adding to the cart than with making sure to avoid the most talkative human in my city. The day had been long, and I ran in to shop quickly I'd hoped. While she rattled on, basically blocking my path, I kept getting those looks from the little man sitting facing me. When I finally was able to break away and I pushed my cart forward, the reason for all those looks was revealed. There on the floor were little piles of ground chuck. That precious little darling had been reaching around behind him, sticking his fingers through the plastic and digging out ground chuck, then dropping the small wads onto the floor. Of course all this was happening on the opposite side of the cart where I was being bombarded.
Today I have felt as if my insides were ground chuck and someone was throwing parts of me on the floor. My Daddy would have been 64 today and my loss is so keen that I have the urge to hide. Why do I tend to hide when things feel out of kilter? How very apropos that we used to jokingly call my Daddy "Chuck", a derivative of his given name which was Charles. I'm told that as a child that nickname would infuriate him. I remember his fussing when me or one of my siblings would say "Hey Chuckie baby!".
There is a list of things that always seem to soothe my injured spirit. I tried them all over the course of my day. I watered my yard. I lit a candle. I bought groceries. I then put them away. I read some blogs. I bought 2 magazines that I shouldn't have splurged on. I turned on soothing music. I put on a favorite nightgown. I poured myself a Diet Barq's in a beautiful glass. All to no avail.
I've now just decided to blog. This rawness will no doubt be eased in the morning. This sort of day is rare for me, and I sometimes have to just give in to it. I shall wake up and be back to normal, not mentally making a list of things that heal me. I am going to have a day where the things I love doing come naturally and make my heart smile. I desperately miss you "Chuck"....uummm....Daddy.=)

Is there such a thing as lusting for a mixer? 

The subject from below....=)

My first born

Time flies. Period. Oh, about 6 months ago or so, my son was born. He is now 20 years of age. What a blur his life has been for me, yet I can see it in slow motion. He has given me joy, undescribable joy. When in his stroller, if I put a hat on his head, he never removed it. He loved me pushing him around the mall. Tie a balloon on the front, and he'd ride for hours. He was close to 3 before he really got "dirty". We took pictures of him with his filthy hands and feet because it was such an oddity. He loved playing in his toy box, but being a first child, I just didn't let him play outside that much. (More later on the child that stayed "dirty".) Before he turned one, he'd pull pots and pans out from under the counter and beat them as a drum set, just like he saw the guy at church do. As a toddler, he'd ask for his drum to be tied around his neck. (We'd been to a parade and he saw the drummers marching with their drums in front of them.) His Aunt Deta, the aunt we just lost to breast cancer, came in one day with a huge box. It contained a drum set. He was around 3 or so. He beat till I was deaf. He'd dig in that toy box and pull out instruments, of which he had many. He would say "Mama, you play loggy-loggy". This was a tambourine that his grandmother would beat against her hand and say "lordy-lordy-lordy". He'd then say "Bibbie, you play "tar"(guitar)". We'd join his band while he beat the drums. Me and his grandmother would take turns singing while he performed. He joined the school band in the 6th grade which absolutely fueled his passion. From then on, he beat on any available surface. The dashboard of the car, the kitchen table, the desk in his room. He excelled. The band director contacted me about private study to advance him even further. His private instructor from the local university told us about a Real Feel pad that has the same feel as a snare, but makes no noise. It's a black rubber disk for snare drum students. Oh the joy! He practiced on that and our ears had a rest. I always wondered what the neighbors thought previous to the pad. I'd get a craw full and make him go outside to practice. You could hear him the entire neighborhood over. Then in the 7th grade, he began to play as a stand-in at church. A few short months later, the sanctuary choir drummer moved away, and Tyler took the slot at a very young 13 years old. He again excelled. The pressure was great, but he handled it with aplomb. He was mentored by the then Music Director of the church, and the bass player with whom he continues to play today. He and his friend are in process of forming a Christian band that I've nary a doubt will go far. They share a love of music that transcends everything other than my love of chocolate....any sort of orange flavored chocolate. Tyler has been an "old soul" since his first days. As a youngster, his eyes held secrets, his demanor was that of a much older child. His friends, for the most part were always his senoir. Today, his best friend, that afore mentioned bass player, is almost 10 years older than him. That calm, assured personality will take him far in life. Imagine my joy last semester when I received a letter from the school stating he's on the Dean's List. He got the "design" award in his field and his picture in the paper receiving that award made my heart sing. Have I successfully made you aware I am proud of this child? This newborn who has become an accomplished musician and talented "designer"? Stay tuned, more on this child will be made known.....as time flies.

Visit www.leftbraincentral.blogspot.com for a look at his marvelous brain.

A favorite picture of me and my girl.  

Backdoor Cafe, a taste of NYC right here in Columbia, Mississippi

Take someone from far away, place them here in the Backdoor Cafe, and they'd guess they were in the heart of Manhattan.... Backdoor Cafe, my favorite cafe in the entire world....=)

My Birthday Dinner

My birthday dinner at the Backdoor Cafe turned out to be one of the favored evenings in my life. The 3 most precious people of my entire existance were present, and we celebrated. The ambiance, the food, the company were absolutely perfect.=)

Dinner on the Patio

I had friends over and we such a wonderful time. I set an incredibly beautiful table with a red summer theme. I lit torches in my side garden, the music was Michael Buble' and the company interesting. For starters, we enjoyed white grape juice with peaches. We had Bacon-wrapped chicken breasts with a cool pasta salad and poppy seed breadsticks. The evening ended with Raspberry Martini's for dessert in my colbalt martini glasses. I call them a "cheater dessert" because they are exquisite yet so easy to make. They consist of raspberry sorbet, sliced strawberries, and sparkling grape juice poured over it in "coke float" style. I topped them with a biscotti. A good time was had by all.....

NYC

Me and my 3 enjoyed NYC for Christmas this year..this was our arrival in the big city by train after flying in heavy holiday traffic for most of the day...

For the Love of Blog...

After posting on my new blog, the little button at the top right that says “next blog” caught my eye. I clicked it over and over and discovered an unlimited reservoir of topics that I could read for days and days. There is Anne’s Food with posting on her culinary weekend in Paris along with recipes galore, then Domestic Goddess with a “lusting” category that has pictures of items she is dying to add to her collection of kitchen accessories! Each blog has a list of links that sends you to more and more blogs that are also chock full of information. I then found a blog about a group of friends that all attended high school together, all met this summer for a sort of reunion, and made a blog from it. Ahhh, I shall make a blog for my supper club. My friend tells me I am addicted to blogging now. Maybe, maybe not. This too shall pass at some point in my life I am sure, but for now, it soothes me.

Polka Dots make for smiles.....

How much more happy can you be? I spotted this polka dot cement truck right in the heart of Manhattan...who would have ever thought?....=)

Doughnuts and Dieting

Last night I had this intense conversation with myself. Having made reservations for my 4th of July weekend, I made the decision to have only grilled chicken, green beans and salad for the next 2 weeks. As in the past, I had this overwhelming craving to consume the worse thing possible on the first day of "chicken and green beans only". I fully realize it's totally subconcious, but I can't seem to stop it. Being the optimist I am, I consider it a really good sign though. There I went, straight to the Krispy Kreme drive-up window for a lemon filled confection. Which means, I really am serious about dieting. I know. I know. What a twisted way of dieting, but let me explain. My getting a doughnut really does means I'm totally serious about losing. When I make up my mind to really do it, the next 2 days are a frenzy of eat-it-while-you-can-soon-it-will-all-be-illegal mind set. I consume each and every thing I see that looks good. And I search out things that are good but out of sight. For instance, a banana split, or a hot fudge cake are things I will hunt down. Whew, I'm really glad to find them. It's as if once I make myself good and sick on these rich things, it's not so hard to give them up. Well, today is day one of the eat-everything days. One more day, then my mind will be primed and ready for all the chicken and green beans I can stand.=)

lillies