See? News ain't all bad.....
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Another Calendar Page To Tear....
Merry Christmas
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Write With Pictures - Prompt
Write with picture is a great Blog-Site. I enjoy it because of the group or team participation. No FanFare here, just jump over and particpate.
Ms. Kelli works hard and does an exceptional job but she could use more folks to make it "funner".
This is my Quick Write for the picture prompt for Tuesday.
Photo by Dan
San Antone Rose
Deep within my heart…lies a meellll ohh deee
A song of old San Annnn-tonnne.
The stone bridge arches across the San Antonio River the same since the WPA days. As kids, my sister and I would play down on the River Walk just before dark and watch all the couples walk hand in hand along the shallow waterway. History has a way of adding to the flavor of new beginnings. The mating dances were hardly notice by us two youngsters, more interested with catching frogs.
Where in dreams I liiiiiivvee with a meeem –ooh-riii
Beneath the stars all alone.
Future trips while visiting my Aunt’s brought greater insight and pages of the calendar. The river stayed the same but the participants were more of the equation. There seemed to be less interest in catching frogs, and fireflies. Glances and subtle waves were too much of a distraction.
It was there I found beside the Al-a-mo
En-chant-ment strange as the blue up above.
A moon-lit pass that only she would know,
Still hears my broken song of love.
But weekend visits pass quickly and the mist of memory can grow thin. Thoughts of next summer faded until time drew nearer for the next journey of another visit. The old saying “Take you eye of the prize, it will disappear” has a lot of truth to it. Standing alone silently under the stone arch peering to the far bank of the river, a Texas Swing Band was sashshaying through the Bob Wills hit of 1944.
Moon in all you splendor, know only my heart;
Call back Rose, Rose of San An-tone.
Lips so sweet and tender, like petals falling apart
Speak once a-again of my looovee, my own.
A broken-song, empty words I know
Still live in my heart all a-lone.
For the moon-lit pass by the Aall-a mo,
And Rose, my Rose of San Annn-tone.
Italicized Words and Music by Bob Wills 1944
Ms. Kelli works hard and does an exceptional job but she could use more folks to make it "funner".
This is my Quick Write for the picture prompt for Tuesday.
Photo by DanSan Antone Rose
Deep within my heart…lies a meellll ohh deee
A song of old San Annnn-tonnne.
The stone bridge arches across the San Antonio River the same since the WPA days. As kids, my sister and I would play down on the River Walk just before dark and watch all the couples walk hand in hand along the shallow waterway. History has a way of adding to the flavor of new beginnings. The mating dances were hardly notice by us two youngsters, more interested with catching frogs.
Where in dreams I liiiiiivvee with a meeem –ooh-riii
Beneath the stars all alone.
Future trips while visiting my Aunt’s brought greater insight and pages of the calendar. The river stayed the same but the participants were more of the equation. There seemed to be less interest in catching frogs, and fireflies. Glances and subtle waves were too much of a distraction.
It was there I found beside the Al-a-mo
En-chant-ment strange as the blue up above.
A moon-lit pass that only she would know,
Still hears my broken song of love.
But weekend visits pass quickly and the mist of memory can grow thin. Thoughts of next summer faded until time drew nearer for the next journey of another visit. The old saying “Take you eye of the prize, it will disappear” has a lot of truth to it. Standing alone silently under the stone arch peering to the far bank of the river, a Texas Swing Band was sashshaying through the Bob Wills hit of 1944.
Moon in all you splendor, know only my heart;
Call back Rose, Rose of San An-tone.
Lips so sweet and tender, like petals falling apart
Speak once a-again of my looovee, my own.
A broken-song, empty words I know
Still live in my heart all a-lone.
For the moon-lit pass by the Aall-a mo,
And Rose, my Rose of San Annn-tone.
Italicized Words and Music by Bob Wills 1944
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Fun Challenge from "The Literary Lab"
Domey for over at "The Literary Lab", sent out an invite for a One Sentence Story UN-challenge.
This is a fun site if you haven't visited. I thought what the heck and sent in my one sentence novel. lol
photo credit from
The slap of the rickety screen door, like a starting pistol, signaled the race for life as he left the old farm house for the last time.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Thanks I think I Needed That
Ya see I am wayyyy tooo bigggg a fan of homemade bread. This was my second attempt at her "Beer Bread Recipe", although the first one turned out ok too. It is so simple even an ole caveman codger like me can do it. I won't repost the "how to's" but it is only a short hop over to her site and see the post if you missed it. I used Dundee's Honey Brown Beer and it gave it a "sweet whang", which was just ok with me. The only thing I changed is that I used mini-loaf pans, which made two small loaves. I bought these pans because my little grandson luvvvvvssss bread and i wanted him to have his very own. Give it a try..
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
I SA-idd It Wuz the Guv'ner
I Said It Was The Guv’ner
Being vocal is an understatement when referring an older sister who is the youngest of three girls. But to tell the truth, it sort of runs in the whole family. From here on and in other cases you will know her as “Momma Lou”. That’s what her herd of grand-young’uns call her. She likes to do, what we pronounce down here as “arr-gee”. She’s gonna do her dangdest to have the last word, but this story is only partially about Momma Lou.
“No, Momma Lou, it didn’t happen that way. I was not even there that night.” Convincing her is like trying to talk a frog out of his croaking.
“Yes, dadgum (my word, not hers) it you were. You and Toodlums were there picking your guitars when I got there.”
“No, that was the party that ya’ll throwed over at the Scout Hut when ‘Snag’ Larson told everyone his family was being transferred and everyone put together a going away party.” He made the whole thing up because it was customary for the students to give parties in honor of those whose families got transferred. The oil patch was playing out and getting transferred was a common thing. ‘Snag’ hoodwinked the whole bunch with that one.
“Well, it did happen that way.”
“Nope, did not”
“Did too, Glenn Bert.”
Shaking my head from side to side, “Did not.”
“Shut up ‘fore I slap the shit out of you, I SA-IDD it was the Guv’ner.” Spit spewed with a fine mist as the word “Guvner” came out as we both busted out laughing. I knew I had convinced her of her error but she will never admit to it.
Several other members of the family, sitting around the table, busted out squealing and laughing and hee-hawing. The Boss has been around my family since about the time she grew out of her diaper age and started to school. She laughed with everyone else because it really was a funny, or at least amusing, sight. I caught her eye and I figured out pretty quick she didn’t “get it” and reckon you don’t either.
One of the countless Sundays all three sisters and brother-in-laws were at our house for eating one meal or the other. The main munching had pretty much run its course and we were talking and telling tales with about thirteen conversations going on. That week a representative from the governor’s office had addressed some part of the student body at a neighboring university. It seems to be big local news. The TV news and newspapers had just about worn the story “see through” thin. Whatever his speech had been about was not important. It was the fact that a state official would come so close to where we were. Actually they did that all the time but somehow this was different.
My mother, from here on in this story and future reference, and because all the grand kids call her by this title, will be referred to as Grannie. Grannie always sat at the end of the table and at the adjoing corner Paw Paw took his place. Paw Paw was still finishing his helping of “Arish Stew” and Grannie had pretty much finished up.
“D’jall hear ‘bout the guv’ner coming down to the college this week?” She was picking at a cup of peach cobbler.
PawPaw had just shoveled in a big tablespoon full of stew and chewed several times. “Maw, it wuddent the guv’ner it was one of his men.” That’s what he called her most of the time; Maw. He continued with another spoonful.
“It wuz too the guv’ner. That’s what they been saying for several days up at the Court House Café.” Grannie had worked several years there and knew quite a few people that talked about these type things. “I guess they oughta know what they’re talking about.”
“Well Maw,,,,it waddunt the guv’ner. It was somebody he sent up here to talk for him.” Paw Paw seldom got rilled and was not anywhere close to being where he actually gave a flip one way or another. Now, you take Grannie, she had sort of a temper at times. You could gauge the level of that temperament by the swinging of her leg back and forth crossed over one or the other knee. The swinging was now pretty “peurt”. That was a word from Paw Paw. I never really knew the origin but it means fairly fast or quick: peurt.
Leg swinging stopped: “It wuuuzz the guv’ner.”
“Naw it wuddnet , Maw.” Leaning over his bowl so he wouldn’t drip taking in another spoonful of stew. The thirteen conversations stopped to none. It was kind of like watching a checkers game. Who’s going to move where, next?
“I am going to,,,,slap you,,,,right,, square-daabb ,,,,in,,,the mouth,,,,,,,I saaaiiid,,,,,it,,,,wuuzzz,,,,tha GUV’NER!” Finger pointing and peering down her nose.
It sounded like the Fighting Red Devils had just scored the winning touchdown in the last two seconds of the game. We could not hold it back.
Stifling a laugh and settling for a smirky smile, Paw Paw looked down the table to where I was sitting, swallowed his mouthful of stew and surrendered.
“Well, eye God, Maw, I guess it wuuzzz the Guv,ner then.” The roar of the crowd erupted again.
“Yep. Momma Lou, eye God, you are right. I suppose it wuuzzz the Guv’ner.”
Being vocal is an understatement when referring an older sister who is the youngest of three girls. But to tell the truth, it sort of runs in the whole family. From here on and in other cases you will know her as “Momma Lou”. That’s what her herd of grand-young’uns call her. She likes to do, what we pronounce down here as “arr-gee”. She’s gonna do her dangdest to have the last word, but this story is only partially about Momma Lou.
“No, Momma Lou, it didn’t happen that way. I was not even there that night.” Convincing her is like trying to talk a frog out of his croaking.
“Yes, dadgum (my word, not hers) it you were. You and Toodlums were there picking your guitars when I got there.”
“No, that was the party that ya’ll throwed over at the Scout Hut when ‘Snag’ Larson told everyone his family was being transferred and everyone put together a going away party.” He made the whole thing up because it was customary for the students to give parties in honor of those whose families got transferred. The oil patch was playing out and getting transferred was a common thing. ‘Snag’ hoodwinked the whole bunch with that one.
“Well, it did happen that way.”
“Nope, did not”
“Did too, Glenn Bert.”
Shaking my head from side to side, “Did not.”
“Shut up ‘fore I slap the shit out of you, I SA-IDD it was the Guv’ner.” Spit spewed with a fine mist as the word “Guvner” came out as we both busted out laughing. I knew I had convinced her of her error but she will never admit to it.
Several other members of the family, sitting around the table, busted out squealing and laughing and hee-hawing. The Boss has been around my family since about the time she grew out of her diaper age and started to school. She laughed with everyone else because it really was a funny, or at least amusing, sight. I caught her eye and I figured out pretty quick she didn’t “get it” and reckon you don’t either.
One of the countless Sundays all three sisters and brother-in-laws were at our house for eating one meal or the other. The main munching had pretty much run its course and we were talking and telling tales with about thirteen conversations going on. That week a representative from the governor’s office had addressed some part of the student body at a neighboring university. It seems to be big local news. The TV news and newspapers had just about worn the story “see through” thin. Whatever his speech had been about was not important. It was the fact that a state official would come so close to where we were. Actually they did that all the time but somehow this was different.
My mother, from here on in this story and future reference, and because all the grand kids call her by this title, will be referred to as Grannie. Grannie always sat at the end of the table and at the adjoing corner Paw Paw took his place. Paw Paw was still finishing his helping of “Arish Stew” and Grannie had pretty much finished up.
“D’jall hear ‘bout the guv’ner coming down to the college this week?” She was picking at a cup of peach cobbler.
PawPaw had just shoveled in a big tablespoon full of stew and chewed several times. “Maw, it wuddent the guv’ner it was one of his men.” That’s what he called her most of the time; Maw. He continued with another spoonful.
“It wuz too the guv’ner. That’s what they been saying for several days up at the Court House Café.” Grannie had worked several years there and knew quite a few people that talked about these type things. “I guess they oughta know what they’re talking about.”
“Well Maw,,,,it waddunt the guv’ner. It was somebody he sent up here to talk for him.” Paw Paw seldom got rilled and was not anywhere close to being where he actually gave a flip one way or another. Now, you take Grannie, she had sort of a temper at times. You could gauge the level of that temperament by the swinging of her leg back and forth crossed over one or the other knee. The swinging was now pretty “peurt”. That was a word from Paw Paw. I never really knew the origin but it means fairly fast or quick: peurt.
Leg swinging stopped: “It wuuuzz the guv’ner.”
“Naw it wuddnet , Maw.” Leaning over his bowl so he wouldn’t drip taking in another spoonful of stew. The thirteen conversations stopped to none. It was kind of like watching a checkers game. Who’s going to move where, next?
“I am going to,,,,slap you,,,,right,, square-daabb ,,,,in,,,the mouth,,,,,,,I saaaiiid,,,,,it,,,,wuuzzz,,,,tha GUV’NER!” Finger pointing and peering down her nose.
It sounded like the Fighting Red Devils had just scored the winning touchdown in the last two seconds of the game. We could not hold it back.
Stifling a laugh and settling for a smirky smile, Paw Paw looked down the table to where I was sitting, swallowed his mouthful of stew and surrendered.
“Well, eye God, Maw, I guess it wuuzzz the Guv,ner then.” The roar of the crowd erupted again.
“Yep. Momma Lou, eye God, you are right. I suppose it wuuzzz the Guv’ner.”
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