In Love With An Historical Figure

If you grew up like me - enthralled with old movies, old books, and history in general, than you won't be surprised to hear this:
I regularly develop crushes on dead guys.

My first HUGE historical crush that has had everlasting effects: Doc Holliday.  Tragic figure.  So romantic.  I won't bore you with all I know about him, and all I imagine about him.  But I do have, in my collection of Gilded Age and Western Historical books, no less than a dozen books that are either exclusively about Dr. J. H. Holliday, or speak about him.

After I saw Gone with the Wind, Rhett Butler was it.  Clark Gable.  *Sigh*

Thankfully, my husband is ok with this.  The guys are dead.  And the crushes are brief.

I developed a new one today.  I was reading Epbot, which led me to mentalfloss, and this post about 31 Disney Villains and Those Who Voiced Them.
And I came across this picture:



Ratigan, from The Great Mouse Detective (a highly underrated film, I must say.  I love it!) and his voice, Vincent Price.

He is just the epitome of old school class and smooth oiliness.  Very similar to Clark Gable.  I think it just is made so much better because Ratigan is one of my favorite villains.  A touch of class, a grasping for higher society, and yet always dragged down by his roots.  He's good.
And Vincent Price looks like he could fill that roll in real life.

Anyway, there's just a bit of goofiness for you.  And warning: mentalfloss.com appears to be something I could waste a bunch of time in!http://www.epbot.com/

Summer Dreams

So apparently before I was fully awake yesterday, I asked Mr. Curly if he was going to mow the lawn.  At that moment, it was 15 degrees and snowing outside.

My family made a snowman on Monday (complete with pipe!), we've gone sledding, we've watched snowfall.... I am SO done with winter!!

For supper last night I made southern style chicken sandwiches and fries, lemonade, and sent Mr. Curly to the store for baked beans and cottage cheese!

If there was ever a time I wished my anniversary were in the winter, this would be it.  Then at least I could look forward to a vacation away.  But no, instead, I have to deal with blowing snow and cold temperatures just like everyone else.  I know, I'm not the only one tired of it.

But Easter is coming, and I have me some Easter outfit sewing to do.  And my sewing machine no longer faces a window, so maybe I can make some spring-y clothes and dream of warm weather and flowers.

I mean, sorry about your car.

Since becoming all connected with my community, I've joined a swap group (2 actually) on Facebook - one is specifically for children's things and the other is just a, well, basically an online garage sale.

I've sold quite a few baby things on these swap sites, but only bought a little.  A few Wii games, some other random thing I can't remember right now.

It's nice, really.  My no-longer needed items go to help some other mom out, and I put a little cash in my pocket (which is almost always spent that same day on football games, or ice cream, or some other little random treat).

At the same time though, I told Mr. Curly I always feel like I'm setting up something illegal.  I'm contacted on a facebook page, the conversation moves to private messages, we set up a meeting time and place, and exchange vehicle types.  They tell me what they drive, and I respond "I'll be in the black Ford explorer."

Do you watch any movies or TV?  The bad guys now use black SUVs to kidnap people, government officials drive them to do their dirty work.... Seriously, I'm either part of the mafia or an undercover agent in this car.

It doesn't help that my daughter randomly says things like "When we saw the leese obbicers (police officers) we got out of there as fast as we could!"  Where does she come up with this stuff?!!


Post Title from Tommy Boy (you know, right after the dear totally wrecks Richard's car and Tommy says "That. was. AWESOME.  I mean, sorry about your car.")

The case of the missing P....

Mr. Curly and I have been watching BBC's Sherlock lately (borrowing it from the library), and I've been reading the original Sherlock Holmes stories.  So it is no wonder I think of everything as a mystery.

At 12:15 Wednesday morning, Curly Boy came into my room and asked for help with his pull-up.  Being awakened from a rather deep sleep, I was a little slow to figure out what was happening.  Then I figured he had probably gone to the bathroom all by himself (which would be a first in the middle of the night) and had had problems getting his pull-up up right.  But when I reached to fix his pull-up and pants, there was nothing there.
"Where's your pull-up, bugaboo?"
"In my  hand."
"Oh."

So I help him into his pull-up and ask him where his pants are.  He says he has to put on his underwear first, and goes running to his room.  I follow him, thinking I'll help him get dressed and back into bed.  He instantly climbs into his bed (they now have bunk beds).
"Why was your pull up off?"
"I had to go potty."

And with that, he laid down, covered himself up and went to sleep.
I went and checked the bathroom - there were no signs that he had been in there.  In fact, his potty seat was exactly where I had put it when I showered before bed.
I went back to bed and was just about to sleep when I thought "If he didn't pee in the bathroom, where DID he pee?  And where are his pants?"

I tossed and turned about that one for awhile, concerned that I might find a puddle drying into my couch in the morning.
I just couldn't figure out how he had gotten half naked in the middle of the night and had made it to me for help.
He must have been sleep walking - but that didn't solve the mystery of the missing pee or missing pants.

In the morning, we found his pants on his dry bed.  We found no puddles.

I do believe not even Sherlock Holmes himself could solve this one.

Say hello to my little friend!

Curly Girl has seen one to many Smurf commercials.

The other day, she came up to me, set something imaginary on the desk, and said "Momma, say hello to my little friends in white hats."
For a few days, her friends were little and we had to be sure not to step on them. They all need to eat meals with her, be buckled into the car, and have a seat in the cart at Walmart.

One day her friends (who are boys pretending to be girls and all have the same name) grew. That day she had HUGE friends who could carry me AND Mr. Curly with no problems at all.
The next morning, however, she woke up at 5:00 AM, crying, because she didn't want her friends to be huge. "Well, sweetie, they're your friends. You can make them whatever size you want. They can be huge as a house, or so tiny they fit on your nose." Since she didn't want them on her nose, this made her cry harder (way to go, Momma). I told her to go back to sleep, and while she slept, her friends would shrink down to just the right size.
Sure enough, a couple hours later (the more decent rising hour of 7:45), she came running out of her room, "Momma! Momma, my friends are small again!"

Finally, we asked Curly Girl what her friends looked like, besides the white hats. "They have blue noses and blue arms and blue ears and blue legs and blue hands and blue mouths and white hats and white pants."

Yep, her imaginary friends are the Smurfs.



Source

Title post from Scarface

Volvo driving soccer moms

"Great." She muttered. This was the fourth time in four days she had been to Walmart (why they couldn't remember everything the first trip was still a mystery to her), and now she had lost her car in the parking lot.

It had happened before. She parks, runs in for a gallon of milk, leaves the store, and suddenly, every car in the lot is a black SUV. Frustrating.

With a sigh, she starts down one aisle, this is possibly her SUV, but no, it doesn't have a trailer hitch. Not that she minds that, that stupid trailer hitch had bruised her knees so often she was ready to burn it. But, her key wouldn't start a car that wasn't hers, so she turns to another SUV.

Uh, no. No, she would never have that bumper sticker.

One SUV an aisle away looks promising, she pushes the cart through the snow and slush, only to discover that this SUV, while it is the right year, the right color, while it has the the hitch and the luggage rack, it doesn't have the car seats. She definitely needs the car seats.

Another one a few SUVs down was also promising, but no luck.

Holding her breath, she pressed the alarm on her key. With a whoosh of anger, she let the breath out. Wherever her car was, it was too far to respond to the key.

Finally, in frustration, she called her husband. Not that he would know where she parked, but at least she could vent while she walked. She was starting to gain attention from the other shoppers.

"Hey, hon, any idea where I parked?"

There was slight laughter on the other end. "No."

"Well, you might want to find something for you and the kids to eat, because every single stinkin' car is now a black SUV and I don't know how long it will take me to find ours."

Silence on the other end.

"Hon? You still there?" Her mind was already racing towards anger at dropped calls.

Very quietly, her husband responds. "Sweetie, you drove the sedan today, not the SUV."

Realization dawns, and quietly, she says "Thank you. Love you." and hangs up the phone. She turns around, and there it is, the tail end of their old blue sedan.

She carefully loads the groceries, returns the cart, and climbs into the car. Once again holding her breath, she pumps the gas pedal, inserts the key and turns. Beautifully, just like it should, the car roars to life.

She smiles. "You missed me." She's just glad the car didn't realize she had forgotten her. 12 miles was a long way to walk because your car is mad at you.

Post Title from Everclear: Volvo Driving Soccer Moms

My shot at Hint Fiction

Since I published this post about Hint Fiction, the men in my family have been shooting little stories back and forth via email, while I sit completely befuddled by my challenge.

I finally came up with this:

If she had known leaving would be this hard, her decision to stay after a visit 15 years ago might have been different. As it was, no one in the small town would ever be the same, herself included.

This is 39 words instead of 25, so it still needs some work, but I think it is all there. I think. What do you think?

I'm just a writer.... I only have words.

My brother will tell you that I wrote about 10 stories a day growing up. When I read back on all the writing I did, I think I actually re-wrote one story about twice a week. I'm not impressed with my originality, though I am impressed with my volume.

I've always loved writing. I've always wanted to write a novel, or a biography, or SOMETHING that could be published and people would read and enjoy. This blog is the closest I've ever gotten to that.

And then, one of the blogs I follow (The Penultimate Word) posted about short, tiny little stories inspired by Ernest Hemingway. Called "Hint Fiction" they are 25 words or less and yet a complete story.

See the entire post on Hint Fiction here.

I'm going to try my hand at these.
They may not be publishable, but they will be challenging. I think they will force me to grow as a writer, jump start something more original than I've ever written before, and maybe even lead to something that could actually be published.


Post title from Alex & Emma

I have a present for you.....

I am so stinkin' excited about my Christmas gifts this year! The ones I'm giving, that is, not the ones I'm getting.

The recipients may not be so excited, but since I'm having to mail most all of my gifts anyway, they won't have to feign excitement. They can open them, roll their eyes and toss them in the garbage. As long as they don't tell me they tossed them.

I can't say anything here, because my family is loyal and reads the blog, but wait until after Christmas! I can't wait to share the awesomeness of my gifts....

And if this sounds braggy, it is, I don't deny it. But with our budget this year, our creativity and shopping skills were pushed to the limits and I'm proud of what Mr. Curly, the Curly Kids and I have come up with.

Christmas is coming, so be good for goodness sake!

Post title from "The Nightmare Before Christmas" which I do not endorse because it scares me still to this day. :)

Every time I look in the mirror... except for the beard.

The title post comes from "The Fugitive." Harrison Ford has just shaved his beard, dressed in extra scrubs, and is attempting to sneak out of a hospital. A guard comes by and asks if he's seen anybody of this description and proceeds to describe Harrison Ford with a beard.
With a smile, Ford replies "Every time I look in the mirror, except the beard."

It was actually a pretty nondescript description, something like "5'10", brown hair, blue eyes, 220 lbs." It could've described any number of people.

I have decided I'm one of those nondescript, average looking people. I have a million doppelgangers in the world.

At Walmart last week, the checker asked me if I was grocery shopping on my lunch break. I said yes, for what I needed it was easier without the kids. He nodded and then asked me if I still worked out at a plant on the east side of town. I have never worked at that plant, but I said no, and told him my new place of employment.
He stopped checking things and said "Did you ever work there?"
I laughed and named the plant on the west side of town that I had done accounting work for for about 1.5 years. And then added "You must have me mistaken for someone else."
And of course, he did.

This happens to me all the time! In high school, I had a friend who looked like his lunch lady. In college, people always thought I was the sister of a person I had never met.

You know, I know I'm not a stunning beauty, or have any exotic looks to make people really remember me, but I never thought I was THAT average.

Still, if people remember someone who looks like me, and continue to be nice, maybe it's not so bad to have so many look-alikes in the world...

Here comes Peter Cotton Tail....

With no ears.

"That bunny lost his ears."

~Curly Girl

Enough said.

'Cause he's my best friend....

Mr. Curly has had a best friend for quite a while, Mr. Leather-Man. They were the epitome of friends joined at the hip.
Once, Mr. Leather-Man, showing his age and needing surgery, was able to trade in for an upgrade. It was a tough few weeks without Mr. Leather-Man, but Mr. Curly survived, and Mr. Leather-Man returned feeling better than ever.

Then, the unthinkable happened. Mr. Leather-Man was lost. Somewhere between our new home and our current home, he disappeared. We looked everywhere. We prayed for Mr. Leather-Man's safe return, and yet almost 3 weeks past with no sign of him.

With great sorrow, Mr. Curly turned to Mr. Leather-Man's younger brother. They had never met, but we had heard that Leather-Man the Younger was much like his older brother, though "improved" in a few ways. He is due to arrive in our home sometime this week.

And, as it always happens when you replace something lost, Mr. Leather-Man was found. He had been safe and sound, tucked between the driver's seat and the console of our car. If I hadn't been cleaning out the car and moved the driver's seat all the way up, we wouldn't have seen him.

Mr. Curly is glad to have Mr. Leather-Man back, but it doesn't change the fact the Leather-Man the Younger is due at our home any day now. We're not quite sure how to handle this. How do you tell your best friend that you thought he was lost forever and so replaced him?

Quite possibly, Mr. Leather-Man will spend the rest of his days indoors, helping me with projects now instead of Mr. Curly. We hope he will understand he has not outlived his usefulness, but that his purpose in life is merely changing. We shall see.

Post Title from the theme song of The Courtship of Eddie's Father

Through the gray woods came lanterns with wagons and horses....

source

I drive about 14 miles to work every morning. And some mornings, when the sun is hitting the fog, making it rise up off the fields and the ground, revealing cows and silos, I wonder what it would be like to have lived that far from town in a day before paved roads and cars.

From what I've read, and what I can find, a covered wagon could travel about 10-15 miles a day. Maybe 20 if the ground was flat, the weather good, and the horses well conditioned.

But even at 20 miles a day, going into town from where my house is currently settled would've been a day's drive. It would have meant finding a place to sleep for the night (most likely under the wagon), so you could do your shopping and turn around a drive that wagon back home the next day, arriving late into the dark night.


Now, if you weren't going into town for much, you could take a horse. That would get you there and back in one day, but you couldn't carry supplies back to the family at the homestead. Not much reason for being gone all day if you couldn't show anything for it, is there?


It fascinates me really, always has. I love living in my little town; I loved living out in the middle of nowhere Kansas during high school. But I love it because it was and is a chosen isolation. Any time I want, I can jump in the car and be in town in 20 minutes (or less, depending on my driving speed).


In the days before roads and cars, if you didn't farm, you lived in the city. The city is where jobs were, and you had to live close to the job. If you were a farmer, you lived in the country, and there was no travelling "out to the farm" each morning from your warm house in town.


Now, thanks to progress, I can live in the middle of nowhere, and still work in the city.


I can step outside my door, in my pajamas, scream my lungs out, and nobody will hear me.


Or, as we did in high school, shoot cans off the woodpile from my driveway without fear of hitting any neighbors.

Read the Little House on the Prairie series sometime. "Little House in the Big Woods" is where the post title came from. They reveal a life that is simpler and yet more complex, sadder and happier at the same time. There never really has been a golden age, every age has it's problems and joys. But think about it next time you're out on the highway, how different things were, not so long ago.

What you hear is not always what you get

Have you ever heard someone's name, or voice, and immediately formed a picture of that person in your head?
This happens to me a lot at work, as I do most of my communicating out of my little back office cubicle over the phone or email.

There was one person in particular who I had spoke with over the phone that just has the coolest name. It's right up there with Hudson Steele or Rockford Montgomery. You just envision a man in his mid-30's, built, dark wavy hair, a man's man. Like the guy on the Brawny paper towel packages.

The other day, I had to go to the building where this man works. It was not to meet him, but one of his colleagues. Of course, the colleague wasn't there, so I had to go to his office. I seriously hesitated before knocking on his door, because I had such an image of him in my head, I really didn't want it ruined.

I paused, knocked on the door, and held my breath.
Boy, was I surprised when the door opened.

Instead of the Brawny guy, I met Kip Pardue, who I know better as Ronnie "Sunshine" Bass from "Remember the Titans." This person is about 5'11", slim built. He has shoulder length wavy golden brown hair, glasses, a soul patch, and was wearing tan cords, a button up shirt untucked with the sleeves rolled up and those skecher journeyman sandals.

Meeting him hasn't changed the fact that he is really nice, and I like him. He's organized, does his job correctly, is helpful and courteous. He's just doesn't look anything like I thought he would.

I washed the b-b's bottom.

The title there? That's what Curly Girl told me the other night when I went to get her off the potty and into bed.


She had found a air-soft gun plastic b-b outside in the dirt. Somehow, it made it into the house. On her way to the bathroom from her room, Curly Girl picked up the b-b, because "it needed to go potty too."
I tried to tell her that b-b's don't have bottom's, but she didn't believe me. When I got back to the bathroom, she informed me that the b-b had gone potty, she had washed his bottom and he was ready for bed. The b-b slept under her pillow that night.


This past Wednesday, she recieved a 12 inch horse with combable mane from a couple in our church. Curly Girl insisted on taking this horse to bed with her, despite the fact that it is plastic and not at all soft or cuddly.

She wanted to take the horse to the potty, but I wasn't allowing her to put off bedtime any longer, so the horsie went potty on the corner of her bed. I told her we would clean it up in the morning and she wiped the horse's bottom with a kleenex.

Then she kissed the horse, laid him down on her pillow, covered him with her blanket and said "Night night, horsie."


Then, because the horse was taking up most of her pillow, she decided to sleep on the edge of her bed.

Every time I go to the movies, it's magic....

I have always adored movies. For a long time, I wasn't allowed to go to the movie theater, but my family watched movies at home. At 16, I was going to be a director. I was going to take stories and turn them into moving magic for people.

The Wizard of Oz has always been one of my favorite stories. I read the complete series of Oz books at least twice a year from the time I was 8 until I was 12. We then moved and I had a bigger public library at my disposal, and yet they didn't have the Oz books.

The Wizard of Oz is magic. It doesn't matter how many times I've seen it, whether on my mom's old 13 inch rabbit ear and dial tv, or now on our HD TV with the limited edition DVD. It takes you to a world where practically anything is possible, and so bright and vivid compared to this life.

After church on Sunday while I warmed up lunch, Mr. Curly put our Wizard of Oz DVD in. Curly Girl and Boy were pretty much ignoring it until Dorothy started singing "Somewhere over the Rainbow." Curly Girl was in the dining room. Her mouth fell open, and in absolute awe she walked slowly into the family room and stood in front of the TV.
I won't lie, it brought tears to my eyes.

We didn't finish the movie before nap time Sunday. However, on Monday, we turned it back on to finish it. Curly Girl watched every second and when it was done, said "Watch again, please?"
How can I say no to that? She wants to watch my favorite movie!

When Curly Girl was born I bought the Oz books in one giant volume and read the Wizard of Oz to her before she was even 2 months old. It warms my heart, and yes, makes me cry, to think of the fantastic magic of imagination that I've passed on. The statements at the beginning of the movie are true: For nearly forty years (it's been longer now!) this story has given faithful service to the Young at Heart; and Time has been powerless to put its kindly philosophy out of fashion...."


Title quote is attributed to Steven Spielberg

P.S. - I think we may have picked Halloween costumes!

A lifetime of joy in just a few hours

That's the brazzle dazzle way!

Saturday was "work" day in the Curly household. We're STILL painting our house, but were able to get about 6 hours of work in before the rain came.

Some highlights from the day:

While Mr. Curly painted trim on the barn/garage (don't worry, he shut off the power to the building due to being so close the wire) and I finished up facia/soffit trim on the house (the awning is on the ground on purpose, we took it off the family room window and we are NOT putting them back up!)

the curly kids were doing this:

Yep. They are digging holes in the dirt where our deck used to be. All those boards have been cleared of screws and splinters, so they are perfectly safe. Before the camera came out, they were sitting next to each other, digging a hole, trying to fill a knot hole in one of the boards. Too cute! And SO messy!!

In the morning Curly Boy still takes a nap. While he did that, Curly Girl found a "snake"
(it's a chain, I don't know where it came from, she probably dug it up from some previous family who dropped it below the deck)
Apparently, according to Curly Girl, snakes eat birds and charcoal dust.

Because of the rain, and Mr. Curly 's mid-week cleaning of the kitchen and dining room, I was able to get the house clean and complete a few projects.
All in all, quite a brazzle dazzle day!

Title from the song "Brazzle Dazzle Day" on Pete's Dragon.

If a squash can make you smile....

Come to my garden!


Our squash and cucumbers are taking over! I pulled out one cucumber about a foot long and 4 inches around.

And now, for the first time, OFF the big screen, comes the stop-action version of Dave and the Giant Pickle!






















This production has been brought to you by My Garden:


Many thanks to the team at Big Idea for giving me a chance to be a kid again!You can find the full story of David and Goliath in 1 Samuel 17.

Electricity, Electricity!

Remember Louie the Lightning Bug? Did you know you can order Lightning Bug booklets for your kids? Find them here.

Louie has been warning kids about electricty since 1983!

You know what Louie hasn't been doing? Louie hasn't told my electrical company how important it is for us to have electricity in order to wake up on time in the morning, or have lights in my bathroom.

About 1:15 a.m., Mr. Curly got out of bed and tried to turn on our window a/c unit (which I had turned on when I went to bed). He thought maybe it wasn't plugged in, so he tried to turn on our lamp. When that didn't work I told him just to turn on the overhead light. That wasn't on either.

The entire town was dark. The ENTIRE town had no electricity.

So we called the electric company who answered chipperly "Good Morning, how may we help you?" When Mr. Curly said he was calling about an outage and gave our town, they replied "We know of the situation and are currently working on it. Have a great day!"

Mr. Curly went to sleep downstairs where it was cooler. I opened a window.

I woke up at 6:30, but we still had no electricity. Our bathroom is on the northwest corner, with no windows, and an angled door so no light enters it from any other room. There was no way I could shower in there at that time.

I really wish Louie had been around to help the electric company workers out. I could see him now. Shining his little lightning bug light around, helping the guys to see whatever it was they were working on. Singing encouraging and educational songs, helping them get work done faster. Carrying tools, even, if needed, so the men wouldn't have to climb up and down the ladders, or rasie and lower the buckets on the trucks so much.

I imagine Louie is very helpful around electricity.

Maybe if he had been around, I could've been to work on time.

For the original Louie video (the first one I remember anyway) see here.

The Twilight (Vacation) Zone

So, I'm not a fan of Twilight. I mean, I know who the actors are, I know the basic story line, but I've not seen the movies, I haven't read the books and I probably never will.

That being said - I thought it was kind of awesome when I saw the Twilight Trio vacationing just a couple of blocks from where I work.

As I've mentioned, we live in a small town, so I drive to the nearest "city" (about 9,000 in the summer and 21,000 when the college kids come in) to work. On my lunch breaks, I take walks around the neighborhood.

Imagine my surprise when I came around a corner and there they were! The Twilight Trio! Sitting on a wide front porch. Bella looking all pouty, Edward appearing pensive, and Jacob, flexing his muscles, boring them all with his egotistical talk.

I couldn't get a picture, because, well, you know, Edward is all shiny, and it would've been too obvious and they are certainly looking for privacy if they are vacationing here. You'll have to trust me.

Ok, ok, so maybe it just happened to be a girl with dark hair, a skinny guy, and an egotistical muscled guy trying to escape the heat of their non-air conditioned home, but I know what I saw.

For info on the Twilight Saga, for more Twilight pictures.