Freshly Laundered


A couple of days ago I read an article on The Daily Post and came to the conclusion that I will never be featured on WordPress‘s Freshly Pressed, of that I have no doubt.  To start with, I can not spell and my use of grammar is, well lets just say, iffy at best.   If my professors could see my blog they would have to ask how in the name of all that is academically sound did that girl ever pass English?  All I can say is that it was all by the grace of God that I got out of there with decent grades.   Not only am I dealing with that problem, I am inconsistent with my posts.  If nothing happens to me, there is nothing to write about.  And lets face it, the blog content of the life and times of Life is a bowl of Kibble is not profound or earth shaking.

I started writing on  I wrote like I did in college.  I would get a comment once in a blue moon but it was for some Work At Home opportunities.  I had one follower and that was my bestest friend.   I tried writing articles of importance, editorials of current events, the weather, anything I could think of that would catch the interest of the masses.  Deafening Silence .  But how could that be?  I could command a room full of people if ever asked to speak at a gathering.  I could talk on various topics and never see a fidgety person.  WHY could I not reach out and grab the attention of some wonderful reader that can’t wait to tell me how great the story was or to cuss me out because I wrote something that was propaganda worthy?   Because, I am a southerner.   I have a southern rhythm that you could not hear in writing .  I speak with an accent that most can’t understand and I dare say that some can’t stand to hear.  I am not lecturer.  I do not have some divine knowledge that can peek a tear or move a soul.  I am a bit on the airhead side,  full of adventure,  I flirt when I talk and use my accent to its fullest potential and with all that southern flirt I found I could make people laugh.  In a world of daily tragedies, laughter is a universal sign of hope and goodwill.  It motivates me to look for the funny in life.  It moves me and it can peek a tear from my eyes to hear a person laugh even in the face of death. (r.i.p. mom)  With this realization, I changed my writing style and blog home.  Unfortunately, I could not change my fundamentally challenged grammar and in a way I do not seek to.  It makes me…me.  And this is just a part of the many reasons I would never be considered for Freshly Pressed.

Would I really want to be freshly pressed?  Well when I started blogging, on, I read a Pressed article about being Subscribed into Submission.  Heck, I know that feeling.  I Hit 90 subscribers in just months of starting this blog and it scared the bajesus out of me.  I could not think of a thing to write.  I felt an overwhelming responsibly to all the good people that liked me as much as I liked me.  (wink)    I could tell stories to folks in the park or at the store without a hitch but putting me, the real me, into words time after time was HARD.  This ambitious undertaking was doing me in, hence the lack of daily, weekly or sometimes monthly post.  This is yet another reason I will never make it.  I have come to the conclusion that my subscribers, my followers make me feel Freshly Pressed everytime they like or comment.  They are what makes me feel good each time I hit publish.  They accept me for me with all my spelling and structural  mistakes.  Thank you for making me feel worthy enough to come into your life.

To conclude, I now declare myself as being Freshly Laundered by all that follow me.  May I never let you down and always keep you laughing or at least donning a smile.



Weekly Photo Challenge: Self-Portrait

This week’s photo challenge was a tough one.  I thought it was only tough for me until I read the island traveler‘s post.  I felt the same way as he did.  And up until I read his, I was going to pretend that I missed this weeks challenge.  I started thinking how do I see me?  What is my perception of myself?  How do others see me?  I came up with this.

Frequently, I am pressed for time.  I feel like I have the whole weight of the world on my shoulders.  It feels compressing and at times devastating.  I feel small compared to the way I was in my youth.  I feel squished between family and responsibilities.


Sometimes I can set my mind to regroup and start to force life into perspective.  It feels like the gathering of pieces.  A calling to arms to fight the never-ending battles of life.  I pull from all angles tugging, and pasting little squares together.   Don’t get me wrong I am not depressed rather I am the leader of this little dysfunctional group.  Not by choice but by default.  I do not mind this position but it is stressful and most of the time un-rewarding.  However, I love each and every person in my life and that is why I fight so hard to hold us all together.


After a while, things start to assemble its self.  It begins to happily percolate along.  The pieces are just about aligned and life is beginning to get easier .  The stress and hard work is paying off.  That is until you wake up one morning and the car will not start, son calls needing a small loan, the grands are crying wanting you to come see them, daughter is questioning which college to go to, someone you love is very sick or one of your neighbors has passed in their sleep, the dogs are battles their own little wars, IRS is knocking on your door and hubs, well, Hubs is Hubs.

Life goes on.  Good times or bad.  It will never change it will only continue.   I tell myself we all feel squished at times.  We all try to force the pieces of our life back together and no matter how hard we work at fixing every thing and everybody, life will always find a way to right its self.  Of course before you know it, it will then screw up again.  This is the cycle of living.  This is what makes us strong.  This is what gives us hope and the strength to keep fighting the good fight.  The knowing of life’s circle can help us cope and if we are lucky we can find the humor that Gods leaves us to discover.  I think he only ask us to look for it with wide eyes and open heart.


My goal, my self-portrait in life is to try with all I have to keep the peace, to bring comfort to others, to be kind and loving to both family and friends,  To realized I am not perfect.  To know without a shadow of a doubt I am going to screw up.  I am going to get angry at times.  I am going to cry and wonder why.  I am going to have loved and lost.  I am going to be okay and feel happy in my own skin because I am mom, MoMo, sister, aunt, daughter, wife.  I am a person of attitude both smart ass and sternness.  I am comforter and understanding.  I am eyes wide open and of giving heart. I am both lover of life and God.   I am  me.

Wow, that was sort of therapeutic!  Thank you island traveler for the push I needed.

Advice from a Waterfall

aMusing Mondays: A Wicked Sense of Humor


When we moved here years ago I was totally shocked at the size of these birds up here. I thought they were giant crows that were involved in some type of nuclear fall out. I can only guess their weight but I would guesstimate an average of 20 lbs…some larger some smaller but all huge! I was told later on they were Common Ravens. Shoot, there is NOTHING common about those birds as far as I am concerned. In the last few years I have come to believe the Common Raven must have a sense of humor. Last winter, one Raven that hangs out at the top of my backyard Pines got a big chuckle when he witnessed my dogs’ surprise of the first snow of 2010.

Every morning my dogs have a ritual, which consists of, CAN’T WAIT TO GET OUT THE DOOR AND BARK MY BRAINS OUT! Pacing, pacing can’t wait. They run as FAST as they can, down a 45ft porch and jump off the end with an attitude that should scare even the meanest of squirrels! Then turn with a puffed out chest to look at the door to see if anyone was watching. They are proud beasts, my Mutt and Jeff.

This morning was a tad bit different. Can’t wait, Can’t wait! (the same) Ready set GO (the same)….run, run, run (the same)… the little one (7 lbs Jeff) gets to the end of the porch first but things are DIFFERENT! White stuff.  EVERYWHERE! He puts on the brakes right as he gets to the end of the porch…..PLONK! He flew off alright but not in the manner he was accustomed to. Pride was…………GONE.

The BIG one (70+ lb, Mutt) was hot on his trail. There was no way that little one was going to beat her. Her mind quickly changed as she watched him fly then land hard in the snow. She tried with everything she had to stop. Too late, the snow and ice started about 15 ft from the end and she was already in it. BRAKE, BRAKE, BRAKE, you could just see her mind yelling it and her eyes pleading it. She did manage to slow down a little bit before the big finish, which lead to an agonizing slow motion crash. She felt ever step she hit as she was going down. The little one watched at first with horror and moved out of the way before she squished him. Then he appeared to be basking in pure joy of  seeing the big dog epically fail. Both of them got up. No barking, no looking back with pride……..they did their business and came back to their nice warm beds to lick their proverbial wounds.

After witnessing this comic relief, I walked back to the den.  It is then I noticed there was not only the one Raven at the top of the tree, there were now about five or six Ravens clucking and chuckling like little hens. I guess the one at the top called for the others to watch the morning entertainment. Yep, I think the Common Ravens have a wicked sense of humor.

Note: To all concerned, it is 8:10 on Sunday night.  I have this scheduled for publish on Monday .  So far so good. My tummy ache went away, no headache and everyone in the house is doing well.  I think I am in the clear….we are in the clear.    On a serious note,  I really was scared and I do appreciate any prays that were prayed for us.  That was some pretty heavy guilt.  Thank you my friends

Fundamental Fridays: Show Me Your Pearly Whites

Alrighty now!  Did you notice it?  Did ya?   A new little face adorns my header.  This little face comes with a name “Q-ball”.  She is now an official member of the pack.  A litter mate of great magnitude.  She is all of 4.5 inches high and should weight between 2 and 4 pounds BUT she is topping the scales at a whopping 8.6 pounds.  She is a bruiser with an attitude that is surly going to lead her into trouble.  Age unknown…somewhere between 6 and 8 years old.

As many of you know, my dad passed away mid October.  I am so grateful I was there for the last few weeks of his life.  My dad had been worrying a lot about his health a few years prior to his death.  More than once, he expressed a need for me to take his dogs if anything happened to him.  I said I would but for him not to worry.  I just knew he could out live them on pure determination only. He asked me to take both of his dogs but I only have Q-Ball.  The other one is in the caring hands of dad’s friend.  The other one, Gomer Pile, had issues at birth which left him with brain damage.  He requires around the clock supervision and that was something that would be hard for me to do since I work.  I know she will care for him as hard as I would have.  My dad told the nurses and me that his chihuahuas understood English completely but he could not understand them cause he did not understand Spanish.  He kept his since of humor until the hour before he died.

So far this is what I know about Q-Ball:

She Snores Loudly. NO REALLY LOUDLY.

She grunts, wait, she snorts with every paw that hits the floor.  This is a good thing at least we know where she is.

She thinks she is the boss OF EVERYTHING and EVERYONE!

She loves the ice cold weather.  I had to drive home with the air-conditioner on and the temp was only 48 degrees outside.

She is so round.  I would be willing to bet she is as big around and she is tall.   I am so very afraid to pick her up most of the time cause I am worried I will pop her like a pimple.  Yes, she is that tight.

This picture makes her look like a mid size dog but in reality she is a tea cup Chihuahua!  Doc says she should be between 2 and 4 pounds ONLY.  Oh my gosh what in the world did my dad feed her?  I know she loves the smell of coffee.

She has a wonkie eye and a little neuro damage in the back legs.  (I hope it is the weight that is causing problems.)

This dog is really strange looking and just a hair on the ugly side (appearance only)

She also comes with her own set of rules, which goes as follows:

1. If I like it, it’s mine.
2. If it’s in my mouth, it’s mine.
3. If I can take it from you, it’s mine.
4. If I had it a little while ago, it’s mine.
5. If it’s mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.
6. If I rip it to pieces and stuffing is everywhere, all the pieces AND the stuffing are mine.
7. If it looks just like mine, it is mine.
8. If I saw it first, it’s mine.
9. If you are playing with something and you put it down, it automatically becomes mine.
10. If it’s broken, it’s yours.
11. If it’s broken, but you are having fun playing with the pieces, it’s mine again.
12. If there is ANY doubt, it’s mine.

And the one thing that really cements her place in our hearts and home is, if you say, “Show me your pearly whites.” she will lift her top lip and bare her little tiny teeth with a smile.  I think she is fundamentally  AWESOME

aMusing Mondays: Waterfall?

Last summer the weathercaster promised a meteor shower. A meteor shower in itself is not uncommon to see up here in the mountains. What made this time different was my daughter’s cousin was visiting for the summer. Living in a big city he had never seen anything other than the moon and a hand full of stars in the sky. I was hoping this could be an experience that he would carry with him long into his adulthood.

We waited until late in the evening then went to the backyard to watch the show.  Living in the Lincoln National Forest has a way of limiting your view of the sky, as in way too many trees.  So, we took a couple of throw blankets, jumped in the car and headed toward the highway to find a better spot. We found that space at the end of our lot. We parked and rolled down the windows. Out the windows the kids plopped landing on the roof and hood. Apparently, it was a new moon because there was NO moon light anywhere. I held my hand up in front of my face and I could not see it.  To say it was dark, would be an understatement. On occasion a car would come by and we could get our bearings as to where we were and what was around us.

As we settled down, it got quiet, eerily quiet. A car passed and we noticed a few flying creatures. After a brief discussion we determined they had to be bats. “That’s cool, bat’s are awesome.  They fly so funny.  I like those vampire bats the best.  Yeah they suck blood!”, were just a few of the comments the kids made.  Then silence as we sat waiting on the show…in the dark.  Somewhere in the distance we heard a coyote howling.  Minutes later another one answers then the stillness filled in the moment.  In the quiet darkness, my mind started thinking about those bats with their big fangs and bloody mouths.   Apparently, I was not the only one thinking about them because all three of us found different reasons to sit in the car until we could see the meteors. Sp Sp Spooky.

Shortly there after, the show began and we jumped out to watch. It was not the best shower I had ever seen but it was awesome for the kids. I would hear lots of ooohhs and aaaahhs as they shot across the sky. In between the showers, it would become quiet again and the thought of the bats would return. In the dark you could hear the rearranging of bodies. Our finale viewing spot was the car door windows half in half out…you know, just in case.

We were sitting there waiting on the next shooting star and I was thinking what a great night it was turning out to be. Soon I heard cousin say he heard a waterfall. I think WHAT? We have very little  water up here on the mountain much less a waterfall anywhere around us.  Daughter and I are racking our brains to remember where there might be water in our neighborhood. There is no mistaking the sound of running water and we all heard falling water. We listened for a bit then it hits me. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!. I could not stop laughing long enough to tell them what it was. Finally, a car comes by and I show them what was making the noise. That waterfall…. was the horse across the highway with bladder issues which went on and on and on. We all started laughing uncontrollably. Then cousin said lets go home I got to make a waterfall too.

Oh and that memory I was hoping to make was not exactly the one that I was wishing for, but it has been forever etched in our minds. Tee Hee. It did turn out to be one of the best nights ever.