Sunshine on My Shoulders

At last...SUNSHINE!
Lawsie mercy, we've had so much rain. How refreshing to see the sun again!
I do believe it has pulled me out of the miniature funk I was in...so down in the dumps about Rudeness in the World and my endless pile of dirty laundry and how tired I am of eating food that is good for me when what I really want is a half a dozen hot Krispy Kremes. And a café au lait. And a weekend in France. All at the same time.

It's amazing what a little sunshine can do for a person, not to mention fresh air and a walk around the garden.
Care to come along? I know a cheerful guide...

But watch out. He's liable to be naughty when we're not looking.
Don't be fooled by the innocent smile.

First stop?
The grapevines.

Do you hear them groaning? They're heavy with fruit and beg for relief!
If we don't hurry up, they're liable to hire a team of midwives and harvest themselves.

We were supposed to have our annual muscadine vendange on Sunday. Our buckets were ready. My feet were clean and ready to stomp.
Alas, it wouldn't stop raining. We had to postpone 'til next weekend. Boo hoo. One more week of fruit fly free happiness.
Just kidding, maybe.

Let's move on.
Days and days of constant rain might have dampened my spirits, but the figs liked it!

Where's a Keebler elf when you need him?
(They do make fig newtons, don't they?)

Ah. We've made our way to the Pit of Mud and Anguish and Pain.

I'm sure the ground is tired of waiting for my busy husband to put in the blueberry bushes he imagined this summer. (At least my neighbors probably are. Or they're starting to wonder what my man needs to bury.)
You know what? Even the Pit of Mud and Anguish and Pain doesn't look too bad today, as long as You- Know- Who doesn't get his paws in it.

Have a great Wednesday, y'all!
And stop by Tanner's blog to see what put him in such a fine mood! (Hint: it's not just the sunshine!)
Love, Becky

Hey Rude, Don't Make It Bad

http://www.flickr.com/photos/thomasroche/ / CC BY-SA 2.0

Not to play Old Aunt Persnickety, but lately I've been struck by what a rude, rude, rude
world we live in. It's sort of a wilderness of rudeness, don't you think? Somebody (several
somebodies, in fact,) needs a few raps on the knuckles and a dunce hat for punishment, not to
mention a front row seat for Manners 101.

All this bad behavior reminds me of Wilderness, a poem by the Man O' My Dreams, Carl
Sandburg. (Don't worry. I'm not about to go on and on about my boyfriend Carl, since I've
already done that anyway.)
Read the poem and see what you think, okay?

THERE is a wolf in me … fangs pointed for tearing gashes … a red tongue for raw meat …
and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the
wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me … a silver-gray fox … I sniff and guess … I pick things out of the wind
and air … I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers …
I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me … a snout and a belly … a machinery for eating and grunting … a
machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the
wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me … I know I came from saltblue water-gates … I scurried with shoals
of herring … I blew waterspouts with porpoises … before land was … before the water
went down … before Noah … before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me … clambering-clawed … dog-faced … yawping a galoot’s hunger …
hairy under the armpits … here are the hawk-eyed hankering men … here are the blond
and blue-eyed women … here they hide curled asleep waiting … ready to snarl and kill …
ready to sing and give milk … waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird … and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains
of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want … and the mockingbird
warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my
Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the
eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve
heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father
and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—
For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the
world: I came from the wilderness.

You know, it really isn't fair to the wolf and the fox, the hog and the baboon, and any other wilderness creatures to compare them to couth- challenged humans.
We may have the fangs and the snout and the hairy armpits, but I think my cute boyfriend is right. We also have a (wo)man-child heart within our ribs. We could try to be better zookeepers, to say yes and no. And to bite our tongue once in a while.

And if that doesn't work, we could always watch this!



So what do you think? Have the wheels of all civility fallen off our wagon? What's a world to do?

Have a great Monday, y'all!
Love, Becky

Let's Spoon

Just so you know, I'm in love with that spoon.
I was over at my dear friend Susie's house the other day and she showed me one just like it. Just a rainbow colored wooden spoon, but we both stood there staring, letting it make us happy.
We probably need to get out more.

What about you? Do everyday things (especially when done in a different way) charm you?

If so, you might enjoy the wondrous spoons I found on Etsy.

Photo by www.SpoonerZ.etsy.com
Get it?
I just love that thing. SpoonZ.etsy.com makes it, along with all sorts of other cool things.
Things that might make a fun Christmas gift for a grandma.


Photo by SpoonerZ.etsy.com

Ordinary, yet extraordinary.
Kids are great at finding the extraordinary in the ordinary.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/the1andonlycary/ / CC BY-NC 2.0

See what I mean?

Youngsters aren't the only ones that like playing with spoons!
How about a full grown bald guy in a kilt?
Enjoy, everyone, and have a great weekend!
Love, Becky

It's Raining...Men?

Yesterday I was researching the meteorological phenomenon of frogs falling from the sky (don't ask) and it got me started thinking about how much I LOVE weird idioms. You know, even overused ones like it's raining cats and dogs. When we lived in France, I started my own French idiom collection. Here's a few for your enjoyment:

Je suis chocolat! (literally, I am chocolate) = I've been swindled!
C'est la fin des haricots! (It's the end of the beans!) = That's the last straw!
On a fait chou blanc. (We made white cabbage.) = We drew a blank.
Appuie sur le champignon! (Press on the mushroom!) = Hurry up!

But back to the raining cats and dogs business...
Good ole Monsieur Wikipedia directed me to a wonder-full list of all sorts of idioms to describe a hard rain.
Check these out, won't you?

What are you waiting for? Press on the mushroom!

Det regner skomagerdrenge.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/29007475@N08/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Danish for it's raining shoemakers' apprentices.

βρέχει καρεκλοπόδαρα.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/28481088@N00/ / CC BY-NC 2.0

Greek for it's raining chair legs.

Het regent pijpestelen.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/ifyr/ / CC BY 2.0

Dutch for it's raining pipe stems.

Padají trakaře.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/wombatunderground1/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Czech for it's raining wheelbarrows!

Padaju sekire.

by Chris Campbell
Serbian for it's raining axes. Ouch!

And here's my all around favorite...
Det regner trollkjerringer.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/aboveallpreciousooaktrollcreations/ / CC BY 2.0

Norweigian for it's raining she-trolls!
Love that one! Do they all come with miniature flamingos?

Have a super Wednesday, y'all!
Love, Becky

My Weirdo Dog Wants You!

Can't you see it in his wild, nutball face?
I'm sorry, but I can't contain him any longer. Tanner the Slobber Dog is getting a blog of his own. But don't you worry. I will serve as his Chief Blog Warden, just so things don't get too out of control.
And since I'll be in charge of the keyboard, I get to name the blog. I've chosen My Dog Is So Weird.
Appropriate, don't you think?
Won't you please swing by for a visit? Feel free to bring any friends who like weirdo dogs. Even become a follower, if you want, though that might give Tanner the big head--and earn you a slobbery kiss with that freckled tongue of his.

Today, he and I are posting a video in which he demonstrates the art of operating a doorknob with doggy paws. (Just warning you...Be sure Fido isn't watching, unless you want to hear Bad Dog Reports the next time you pick him up from a weekend at the kennel. But that's another story...)

I'll still be hanging out here too, keeping track of the wonders that inspire me. Knowing Tanner, he'll pop in now and then. I couldn't stop him if I tried!

Have a great Monday, y'all!
Love, Becky

The Class of 1940 invites you...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/asherok/ / CC BY-SA 2.0

Miss Minnie Pond's* house is the last stop on my Meals on Wheels route, which is a good thing since she usually has plenty to talk about. She's 87 years old, white headed with a bit of a beard, and she walks with the help of a walker. Sometimes she wears a bow in her hair, and sometimes she answers the door with her shirt unbuttoned and I tease her about putting on a show again. We both laugh. Usually she tells me the latest news about the sneaky lady at DSS and how that woman is conspiring to make Miss Minnie leave her home of more than fifty years. And then she tells me how she ISN'T MOVING no matter what anyone says. "My mama and daddy's long gone, so I don't have to listen to NOBODY!" She can get along fine, she says, even though we both know that I help her write checks when it's time to pay bills, and back in July she needed me to come in and plug in her fan because she couldn't see the outlets and was burning up in the heat.

On my last visit, she came to the door waving a letter and asked me if I'd read it to her. I thought I'd share it with you. I just can't get it out of my mind.
I unfolded the stationery to find this in shaky handwriting:
The class of 1940 invites you to a reunion at The Fork restaurant on Sept 25. Please let me no if you can come so I can see how many is left and reserve a table big enough. Please call at... Your classmate...

"Oh," she said, stroking her collar. "I don't know if I can make it to that."
"Do you think you'd like to go, Miss Minnie?"
"I don't know," she said, fingering her hair bow. "No. No. No, I won't be going to that. None of us look the same anymore. I wouldn't know a soul."

I keep thinking about her. I wonder if she dreams about the the old days with the Class of 1940, when life was so new and full of mystery.
Miss Minnie inspires me, chugging along as she does, refusing to give up, finding something to laugh about in just about everything.
Have a great weekend, y'all!
Love, Becky

*Not her real name, of course.

Call It Out! (And Get Ready to Drool!)

Hey y'all! Guess what we did Labor Day weekend!
We went to The Beacon and ate hamburgers as big as canteloupes, while making pig noises at each other. Well, actually, I could only manage to eat half of mine, and the pig noises were accidental--they just come out naturally at The Beacon. Try it and you'll see what I mean.

Do you know about The Beacon? Maybe you saw it featured on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. It's in Spartanburg, South Carolina, about a half hour from our house, and it's sort of famous around these parts, by politicians (John, Fred, Mitt) and everyday folk alike. We went to Spartanburg on Saturday morning to watch this bald boy run a race...

And let me tell you, all that standing around and spectating made us hungry.
"Why starve" my man said, "when The Beacon is in town?"
I do love my man.

The Beacon isn't much to look at from the outside.

But on the inside? It's amazing. And a little overwhelming. Or should I say STARTLING!
You'd think so too, if you walked over to a mild mannered blind man taking orders and he started yelling at you.
See what I mean?


That loud talking sweetheart is JC Stroble, sort of the Guardian of The Beacon's Garden of Eating. He's been there for years, and is famous for yelling out at customers, "CALL IT OUT!" which means Hello, young lady. What would you like? If you don't know, he yells (nicely, but still it's a bit startling) to step aside and let the others go first.

As soon as you order, either he or one of these guys yells, "MOVE ON DOWN THE LINE!"

No problem! I'll do it!
Here's the rest of the line.

As soon as I moved eight feet to where that blue shirt guy is standing--I'm not kidding--my plate of Beacon Burger and fries was handed to me! Exactly as I asked for it!

Ooh boy. I didn't know it would be that big.
And look at the Sweet Tea!

Nice and dark. Strong, like I like it.
The Beacon is famous for their tea. Really famous. They make more sweet tea than any other restaurant in the USA. They even sell it at the Piggly Wiggly, Winn-Dixie, and the IGA. If you have a chance to try it, you'd better. It's amazing.
So are the fries.

That's my plate after I finished lunch (yes, I'd already eaten plenty of fries) and wrapped up the other half of my sandwich to take home.
Don't pat me on the back for showing restraint yet. I've got one more thing to show you...
Are you ready?
Get a napkin. This may make you drool!

That, my friends, is the best peach cobbler I've had in years. Oh my Lord, it was so, so good.
I must try to make some more like it this week, before all my fresh peaches are gone.

So that's The Beacon, my sort-of-local favorite Garden of Eating. Aren't local places wonder-full? What's your favorite local joint for a burger or taco or tofu wrap? I've got napkins handy, so tell me all about it!
Have a super Wednesday, y'all!
Love, Becky

My Dog Should Have Been a Writer.

Don't be fooled by his cuteness. Tanner the Slobber Dog is a conniving, 90 pound Beelzebub.
But he would have made a great writer!
I decided that yesterday while I was supposed to be listening to someone's spiel about PTA. I was thinking about my favorite pair of shoes (which Tanner ate,) and then I started enumerating all the other crazy things he's ingested over the years. And because I'm hopelessly in love with the rascal, I did what all guilty parents do.
I rationalized his evil nature.
He's just too smart to behave like other dogs.
Or maybe not.
But stick with me here. Tanner may not have published anything (yet,) but he has all the qualities a good writer needs. He just uses them to fill his goat stomach .

Allow me to explain, s'il vous plaît, with a list of his most admirable/dangerous qualities.
Ready?
1. Imagination

Who else would see the jewelry box that my daddy gave me when I was little and decide that it looks delicious? Yes, Tanner ate it. Crunched the tin and the red velvet lining into little metal-y bits and swallowed it all down, leaving behind only a splinter of a leg and a few fibers of velvet.

2. A Talent for Observation

For weeks Tanner would watch us take out the margarine at breakfast, make our toast, then put the tub back in the fridge.
He noticed the impatience of my middle child, how Ben would stand in front of the toaster, waiting for it to finish. A crafty dog could help himself to some tasty spread while Ben's back was turned. Tanner licked the tub clean.
Then he helped himself to this container of goodness.

Yes, it's the spackling paste we'd left on top of the washing machine.
This snack required a call to Poison Control. They wrote down my name and address.

3. Stamina

It takes enough energy to pluck off the eyes of two stuffed animals, but to finish off the eyes of an entire basket of beanie babies, plus those of Buddy Bear, the mascot of Mrs. Hanson's second grade class? That takes stamina.


Aw! There's Puppy Tanner, right before his disemboweled his first stuffed reindeer!

4. Discipline

Snatching the occasional hot dog off of somebody's plate at lunch is for amateurs. It takes real discipline to make oneself run to the kitchen EVERY SINGLE TIME anyone gets a snack, even when it's something unusual like hummus, which might not even be that good.
Apparently he liked it.

5. Curiosity

Photo by carbonated
Tanner sees the ordinary, and the little wheels in his brain start spinning.
"I wonder how those tassels would fee going down?" "What does shoe leather taste like?"

We see a Christmas tree...

He sees a smorgasbord.

6. Persistence

It took Tanner a whole day hiding out behind the grapevines, but he finally managed to unscrew that lid. It's a narrow container. Thank goodness for long doggy tongues.

So you've seen the evidence. What do you think?
If only these paws could hold a pencil.

Have a great weekend, y'all!
Love, Becky

Mercy in Action...and in Art!

Not much jolts my creativity into overdrive like spending time with my friend Deb Richardson-Moore.
Do you know Deb? Let me introduce you.

Deb is the pastor of Triune Mercy Center, a non-denominational mission church to the homeless. It's funny how life changes, isn't it? Deb wrote for The Greenville News for 27 years, found herself covering the church scene, and decided to take some seminary classes to understand it better. Before she knew it, she'd graduated from seminary and had taken on the pastorship of Triune. Life at Triune has been quite a wild ride. When she first got there, her staff consisted of a drug addict, an alcoholic, and the alcoholic's wife. (Watch a fascinating interview with Deb here.)

But now...the worship is joyous and includes quite a crowd, homeless and not.

Besides worship and Sunday school, the church offers four hot meals a week,

a clothes closet,

weekend laundry services,

Wednesday morning distribution of groceries, hygiene products, Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and Backyard Mission Days to educate churches to problems of the homeless.

But this has to be one of my favorite programs...

Photo courtesy of karenlucci.blogspot.com
Yes! An art room!
A local artist named Karen Lucci recognized the fact that most everyone has a need to express themselves in some way. (Hop over here to meet Karen and learn more.)
There are no formal classes, no planned projects. Karen offers the materials and each artist creates whatever he/she wishes.

Photo courtesy of karenlucci.blogspot.com
Isn't it beautiful?
Their creations are too.


Have a wonder-full Wednesday, y'all!
Love, Becky
PS. For local folks, mark your calendars. Triune's Art Room is having an art sale on November 12, 2009. I can't wait!