A Whole Lotta Lovin'

Thought for the day:  ♪♫ I wish you bluebirds in the spring to give your heart a song to sing... I wish you health, and more than wealth, I wish you love...♫♪ [Rachel Yamagata]

Happy Valentines's Day, y'all! So how do you like my love monkey? I'm not talking about Smarticus; I'm talking about that cute little stuffed monkey in the picture, which he gave me for Valentine's Day a number of years ago. If you squeeze his belly, he gives a wolf whistle, and says in a dirty ol' man kinda voice, I go bananas over you!  Again, I'm talking about the monkey, not Smarticus, although come to think of it, it's exactly the sort of thing he would say. That's why it's such a perfect gift. Forget about jewelry and furs, and all that jazz. A gift that makes me laugh wins me over every time.

[morguefile]

Then again, chocolate ain't bad, either. After all, a box of candy is never the wrong size, right? Although it came darned close to being too large one year. Smarticus gave me a box of chocolates big enough to cover the entire top of the coffee table. I kid you not. Whew! Talk about a LOT of candy! It took me almost a whole hour to eat it all. (Just kidding. It took more like seventy minutes.)

I'll never forget some of the romantic cards and gifts Smarticus has given me over the years. (sigh) We were all of twelve or thirteen the first time he wrote a poem (just for me!) in my autograph book. It went like this: Roses are red; violets are blue. You've got a shape like a B-52. I mean, doesn't that send shivers of sheer delight up and down your spine?

We weren't much older than that when he extended a lovely decorated box toward me, smiled seductively, and told me to open it. When I did, I found a barf-worthy severed finger lying atop a fluffy bed of cotton. It was his finger, of course, stuck through a hole in the box bottom and doctored up to look as disgusting as he could make it. Yeah, I know. Smarticus was a bit of a farticus in those days.

But, what can I say? I married him anyway. How could I not? He's a gen-u-ine original, and even after all these years, he still knows how to make me laugh, and still knows how to make my heart sing.

[morguefile]

Talking about original, have you ever wondered who this St. Valentine fella was and how he came to be associated with a feast day devoted to love? Or why we associate the day with the color red... with red roses in particular... and why we exchange Valentines?

Well, then, you've come to the right place. I've shared this information before, but just in case you missed it or need a refresher course:

Our man Valentine was a priest in Rome during the reign of Claudius the Cruel, an emperor with an unholy affinity for declaring war. In fact, this wacko's wars were so frequent and so unpopular, it got to where very few men were joining the military. The emperor, who was evidently just as stupid as he was cruel, decided the only reason men weren't rushing to fight his wonderful wars was because they were too darned attached to their wives and family. So he came up with the perfect solution. He banned marriages.

Oh, but fear not. Our hero priest continued to perform marriage ceremonies in secret. That is, until the mean ol' emperor found out about it, and had him killed. By beating, stoning, and then beheading. (Talk about overkill.) Valentine died on February 14, 270. (Ah, HA!)

Legend has it that he left a special note for the jailer's daughter, and signed it... from your Valentine. 

So, why the color red, you ask? For obvious reasons, blood red is the color of martyrs. And thanks to the martyred St. Valentine... it also became the color of love. Red roses represent Venus, the goddess of love. And if legend is correct, Valentine himself sent the first Valentine card. St. Valentine's feast day was established in 496, but it didn't become recognized as a lovers' holiday and big day of romance until ten centuries later, when popular belief held that the fourteenth of February marked the start of mating season for birds.

[morguefile]

So, if you consider Valentine's Day to be for the birds... you aren't entirely wrong.

[wikipedia]

At right is an example of a 1909 Valentine's Day card, which I found on Wikipedia. As a young girl, I remember buying big fancy cards for my mother... complete with scented satin hearts on the front and lace around the edges... for the exorbitant price of thirty-five cents. My sweet Smarticus has sent me a bunch of beautiful cards over the years, but he'd still probably be more comfortable with one that said: Roses are red; violets are blue. Sugar is sweet, and so are you... The roses are wilting; the violets are dead. The sugar bowl's empty, and so is your head.

Just kidding. He's actually quite the romantic. (But I sure am glad he didn't know about St. Valentine losing his head over love when we were kids. The finger was bad enough.)



I'm pleased to say he's outgrown sending the shape like a B-52 kinda messages, but he isn't above laughing at them. Neither am I. With sincere thanks to our friend and fellow amateur radio operator Bill, who sent these cards to me, I present to you cards some of the world's most notorious despots might have sent, because ya know... even bad guys need love.

Trying to forget someone you love is like trying to remember someone you never met.

Love is the thing that enables a woman to sing while she mops up the floor after her husband has walked across it in muddy boots.

If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?

Love doesn't make the world go 'round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile. [Franklin P. Jones]

You can't blame gravity for falling in love.  [Albert Einstein]

[wikipedia]

Lots of things are considered aphrodisiacs... like big red juicy strawberries, and rich dark chocolate... or better yet, big red juicy strawberries dipped in rich dark chocolate...

Um, where was I...?

Oh, yeah. I wanted to tell you guys about one of the best aphrodisiacs of all time. Wanta put your lady love in the mood? Do the dinner dishes. I tell ya, nothing is as sexy to a woman as seeing her man tackling a load of dishes  while she's in the easy chair with her feet propped up... eating strawberries dipped in chocolate. Or if ya reeeeeally want to make her weak in the knees... clean the toilet bowl. 

Put a lotta love in your heart

Anyhow, whether you celebrate in a small way, reeeally BIG, or not at all, I wish you love. Today and every day.

Wouldn't it be nice if we celebrated love...  every day?

                                     
                                          Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

It's Just a Name

Thought for the day: What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. [William Shakespeare]

[image courtesy of morguefile]

True, a name doesn't change the intrinsic nature of anything, but it sure can change our perception of it.

I mean... I'm sure Poopada Resorts is a perfectly... lovely place. I'm sure it smells like... a rose.

You can blame a newspaper article for this post. I'll tell you about the article in a little bit, but first I'm gonna take you on a journey through my convoluted mind, because the article got me to thinking about names, in general.

Did you ever have anyone or anything named after you? When I was a teenager, my younger cousin named all of his pets after me. The best one was a baby alligator named Susie. I'm pretty sure that thing hated me, because every time I went anywhere near it, it hissed at me.

[wikipedia]

However, contrary to what you might think, the impressive T. Rex Sue was NOT named for me. This largest, most extensive and well-preserved specimen, which was found in South Dakota in 1990, currently resides in the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago. For sure, some of my ways are a tad outdated, I'm getting to be as old as dirt, and I like to think I'm fairly well preserved, but this huge bag o' bones is actually named after the scientist Sue Hendrickson, who discovered her.

Lots of geographical places are named after people. Countries, cities large and small, and all kinds of street names are meant to honor real people. Here in Atlanta, it seems like street names change more often than some people change their underwear. I guess our politicians want to honor the most popular or notable people of the day... and then do their best to abolish all remnants of them when they're no longer P.C. or considered worth remembering. (All on our dime, of course.)

[morguefile]

When I saw this sign, I couldn't help but wonder... was it called the old church when it was new? Or was it named New Church Lane up until the time its roof sprung its first leak?

I could write a whole post on funny town names. (Maybe some other time...) But here in the U.S., we have places like Boring, Oregon... Accident, Maryland... and Big Arm, Montana. (I always thought of it as Big Sky country... I had no idea they had a big arm, too!)

[image: Arthur Chapman]

And then there's... Chicken, Alaska. (There's also an Unalaska, Alaska... maybe it's a little warmer there?)

And Pee Pee, Ohio. (Think they have more port-a-potties than other cities?)

[image: Daniell Walquist Lynch]

And let's not forget Hell, Michigan. I could show you a mundane road marker welcoming you to Hell, but I thought this image was funnier. But now that I know there's a town in Michigan named Hell, I finally understand that oxymoronic-sounding saying, as cold as hell. And I also know that Hell does, indeed, freeze over, and quite often.










Okay, last one. I can't write something about odd town names without mentioning the two-town duo in Pennsylvania that always cracks me up. There's good ol' Intercourse, of course. Then... about fifteen minutes away lies the town of Blue Ball. (I kid you not!) Too funny.

[morguefile]

[unsplash]

A rather romantic... but essentially meaningless... thing one can do is name a star after someone... even yourself. The cost can be as low as twenty bucks and as high as a hundred, and what you'll get in return is a gen-u-ine certificate, by golly, as well as a celestial map pinpointing your namesake.


Now... finally, to that article I mentioned. It was about a naming competition of sorts.

[wikipedia]

In honor of Valentine's Day, a zoo in Sydney, Australia, invited people to name one of their brown snakes, a species that happens to be one of the most venomous snakes in the world. Doesn't sound very romantic to you, you say? Well, um, it wasn't meant to be.

The zoo advertised: Is your ex a snake? If so, now is your opportunity to cement their 'snaky status'... by naming a brown snake after them at WILD LIFE Sydney Zoo.

To enter, participants had to provide the ex's name and the reason (s)he deserved to be called a snake, along with a dollar donation. The winner was supposed to have been named on Valentine's Day, but I haven't been able to find said winner's name. (Maybe the zoo is still trying to sort through a mountain of entries?)

[morguefile]

A zoo in El Paso, Texas, did something similar for Valentine's Day, only they invited people to name cockroaches after their exes.

Better yet? The newly-named cockroaches were fed to meerkats and other critters during a live stream. HA!

Ahhh... romance, eh?


Okay, so today's path was a wee bit convoluted, but I hope you enjoyed it, anyway.

                                Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

In Search of Love

Thought for the day: Stop leaving and you will arrive. Stop searching and you will see. Stop running and you will be found. [Lao Tze]

[wikipedia]

Valentine's Day is next Tuesday. Whether you love that holiday or hate it doesn't amount to a hill of M&Ms; it's still gonna happen... so I'm gonna share another (kinda, sorta) love story today.

Last year, in conjunction with a blog hop, I posted a rejected-by-a-magazine unabashedly sentimental piece called A Bouquet of Joy If there's a similar blog hop going on this year, I missed it, but I'm gonna post another short story reject anyway. This one is more smart-assy than sentimental, but I hope you still enjoy it.

       Jeremy Love scowled at himself in the mirror, and for the umpteenth time, considered filing a court petition to change his name. Love??? What a colossal joke! More like Loser or Loner, because as far as women were concerned, he might as well be invisible. “Where's Cupid when you need him?” he muttered.

       Pink smoke, scented with roses and cheap cigars, suddenly filled the room. “Right behind you,” said a deep gravelly voice. A diminutive, bow-legged, diaper-clad Danny Devito look-alike waggled his fingers in greeting, and then popped a well-chewed stogie back into his mouth.

     Jeremy stared at him, slack-jawed. “You don’t look anything like your pictures.”

     “Yeah, yeah, I know. So I need a shave. Bite me. You need help or not?”

     “I hate to admit it, but I do. I haven't been able to find love anywhere.”

     “Find it?” Cupid said with a harrumph. “What makes you think it’s lost, mortal? It’s all around you.” He regarded Jeremy through a haze of smoke, while shaking his head. “My guess is you’re one of those boneheads who won’t recognize love unless it plows right into you…  but what the hay? Business is slow, so I’ll see what I can do.”

     “Thanks, Cupid… er, Mister Cupid. What I'm looking for is a kind-hearted woman who sees and appreciates the real me.”

     Cupid nodded. “We should be able to pull that off, especially if I blast ‘em with my new gonzo love gun.” 

     “Gun? What… no golden arrow?”

     “Au contraire. My invention unleashes a hundred arrows at once.” He shrugged with false humility. “Brilliant move, I know, but I didn’t have much choice. Mortals aren’t as open to love as they used to be, so a single arrow rarely does the trick. Most of the time, they ignore my arrow when it strikes them, and instead of accepting the love connection I offer, they trust some stupid Internet site to make a match for them.” He snorted, and shook his head. “Anyways, with my shotgun-like approach, we’ll bombard multiple targets at once and increase the odds of hitting a good match.”  

      Jeremy grinned. “Just like an Internet dating site.”

     Cupid blew out a smoke ring. “I’m trying to help you, bonehead, and you’re gonna insult me?”

     “Sorry. I’m ready when you are...”

     The next thing Jeremy knew, he and Cupid were standing in the middle of a milling Central Park crowd, which included a bevy of beautiful women. He was accustomed to women looking through him, but evidently, they couldn’t see Cupid, either. No way they could’ve ignored a diaper-wearing cigar-chomping dude toting a humongous bow. Then again, this was New York…

     Cupid lifted his bow. “Ready?” Jeremy nodded, and a multitude of golden streaks shot through the air. Must not have hurt any of those lovely ladies. No flinches. In fact, most of them didn’t even lift their eyes from their cellphones and tablets.

     “Well, I did my part,” Cupid said. “The rest is up to you. Open your heart… and your eyes… and you’ll run into love today.” He waggled his fingers again. “It’s your destiny. Blah, blah, blah.”

      With that, he disappeared, leaving Jeremy standing alone in the crowd. Alone. Just like always. With hope in his heart and a tentative smile on his face, he looked at each woman who passed.

     Nothing happened. No one paused. No one looked his way. Nothing changed. Feeling like the world’s biggest fool, he finally started walking toward home. The more he walked, the faster he moved, with his head down, and the mantra, loser, loser, loser sounding in his head. By the time he made the last turn onto his street, he was all but running.

    In his defense, he didn’t notice the freckle-faced brunette coming his way, so he was just as surprised as she was when he plowed into her. “I’m so sorry,” he said, as he reached down to help her back onto her feet. “Are you okay? I didn’t see you.”

     When their hands touched, her face blushed a lovely shade of pink. “I know you,” she said. “You’re Jeremy Love. We live in the same apartment building. I’ve seen you around plenty, but at last, we finally... meet.”

     He smiled, temporarily lost in her eyes. “Really?” he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your name…”

     “It’s Wright. Miss Wright.”

     He laughed. “Of course it is. Would you like to go out for coffee sometime, Miss Right?”

     “How about now? And you can call me Destiny.”

     Jeremy’s nose tingled with the scent of roses and cheap cigar. Cupid, standing beside him once again, pulled out his cigar, and said, “Don’t mess it up, bonehead.”  Then he winked, and disappeared in a puff of pink smoke.
                                                       *      *      *      *
If you're looking for the love of your life, stop. He will be waiting for you when you start doing things you love. [Dave Radparvar]

They say love hides behind every corner. I must be walking in circles. 

                                  Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

How Sweet It Is!

Thought for the day:  Man cannot live on bread alone; he must have peanut butter.

[morguefile]

Most women would also tout the vital importance of chocolate. Especially this time of year, with Valentine's Day only a couple days away. Not all, mind you. Some would prefer... cheese. Not mentioning any names, but especially someone with the initials Crystal Collier. (Um, when you read this post, Crystal, for your increased pleasure, I'd suggest you substitute the word cheese whenever I mention chocolate or candy...)

Now then, this post is gonna be a bit different from posts I've done for Valentine's Day in past years. This year, we're gonna talk about an inordinately sweet man known as the Candy Bomber. No, he has never detonated sweet caches of candy, (Perish the thought!) but at the end of World War II, his efforts delivered chocolate, chewing gum and much-needed HOPE and LOVE to war-torn Berlin. (Cheese, Crystal, cheese...)

[wikipedia]

To refresh your memories, following the end of World War II, Germany was divided into four occupied sectors. Berlin was also split among the four occupying countries, as shown in the map, with the western part being shared by France, Great Britain, and the United States, and the eastern part occupied by the Soviet Union. Berlin was actually situated deep within the Soviet-controlled portion of the country, and let's just say they weren't enamored with the other countries controlling any part of Berlin. They wanted all of it. In hopes of achieving that end, they closed all highways, railroads and canals from western-occupied Germany into western-occupied Berlin, initiating what came to be known as the Berlin Blockade. They figured they would force the other countries to abandon their areas of Berlin.

[wikipedia]

They figured wrong. In response to the blockade, the U.S. and U.K initiated the Berlin Airlift, or as it was officially known, Operation Vittles, to supply food, fuel, and other supplies to Berliners via airplane. During the airlift, an Allied supply plane took off or landed every thirty seconds, and made more than 300,000 flights in all, delivering approximately 2.3 million tons of cargo.

courtesy of the U.S. Air Force [wikipedia]

In 1948 and '49, 27 year-old Colonel Gail "Hal" Halvorsen piloted C-47s and C-54s during the airlift. He was also an avid photographer, and while taking pictures one day, a group of about thirty children watched him through the fence. When he talked with them, he was astounded by the gratitude they expressed, and by the fact that they didn't ask him for anything. He wanted to do something for them. He only had a couple pieces of chewing gum, which he passed through the fence. To his amazement, the children tore it into tiny pieces and shared it as best they could, and then ripped the wrappers into tiny pieces, too, and passed them around, so they could all get a whiff of the minty goodness.

His heart ached for these children, and he promised to drop some candy to them from his plane. So they'd know it was him, he said he'd wiggle his wings at them, which made the children laugh, and earned him the nickname Onkel Wackelfulgel, or Uncle Wiggle Wings. 

courtesy of the U.S. Air Force [wikipedia]

When Hal got back to base, he used his rations to buy candy, and got some of his friends to contribute, too. They used extra clothes and handkerchiefs to fashion little parachutes for the boxes of candy, and the next morning, in addition to his usual supply drop, Hal dropped three boxes of candy to the children. It was the start of a regular routine for him, in which he dropped candy to the children every week. He became known as Rosinenbomber, or the Candy Bomber.

[In the picture, he's in the midst of attaching candy to parachutes.]

courtesy of U.S. Air Force [wikipedia]

When the airlift commander heard about Hal's efforts, he gave it an official name... Little Vittles... and threw his support behind it. As the news of the operation spread, children and candymakers all over the U.S. began donating so many treats, the drops were increased to every other day. By the end of the airlift, some twenty-five aircraft crews had dropped twenty-five tons of chocolates, chewing gum, and other candies to the children in Berlin.

[wikipedia]

How did the children react? After the very first candy bombing, they started sending thank you notes to Hal... along with handkerchiefs to be used again as parachutes.

How did the countries react? With an outpouring of love and gratitude, which continues to this day.  Both Germany and the U.S. have bestowed numerous honors on Colonel Halversen, including the Congressional Gold Medal. In 2002, Hal was invited to the Olympics in Berlin, where he was given the honor of leading the German team during the opening ceremonies. In 2013, a secondary school in Berlin was named in his honor.

[wikipedia]

And every year, to commemorate the airlift, the Candy Bomber returns to Berlin... and drops candy to the children.

This picture was taken in Berlin in 1989, the fortieth anniversary of the end of the airlift.

As a lifelong devout Mormon and sometime missionary, Colonel Halvesen sincerely believes what he said some years ago: Service is the bottom line to happiness and fulfillment.

Not only has he lived his life by those words, he delivered happiness and fulfillment to many children, and his caring deeds went a long way toward healing wounds between countries that were once at war.

But he isn't done! Not yet...

[photo by Sammy Jo Hester,  The Daily Herald]

This picture of him was taken last July in Orem, Utah. Looks like he's still going strong, doesn't it?




That isn't all he was doing...

[photo by Spenser Heaps, The Daily Herald]

Yep! You guess it! He dropped one thousand candy bars, attached to tiny parachutes, to the excited children below.


The Dead Sea is dead because it wraps itself around all of the fresh water of the Jordan and gives out nothing. In your community, there are Dead Sea souls who do the same. [Gail Halversen, 2015]

It's a cinch, he isn't one of those Dead Sea souls. No, he's been more like a gentle rain that nourishes the parched earth, bringing hope, and creating fertile grounds for new growth of understanding and peace. And candy! Don't forget the candy! May this loving caring man continue to candy bomb for many more years to come. How sweet it is! No... how sweet HE is. Happy Valentine's Day, y'all.

                                     Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

A Bouquet of Joy

Thought for the day:  There are always flowers for those who want to see them. [Henri Matisse]

To those of you who are visiting for the first time because of this Valentine's blogfest, welcome! To Arlee Bird, thanks so much for coming up with this cool idea, and to all of his co-hosts, thanks for supporting it. To my regulars, who are wondering why the heck Swiderski is posting on a Monday... I say again... blogfest!!! I hope you'll stick around, even though it isn't our usual Friday rendezvous, and this isn't my usual subject matter. (If there even is such a thing.) Clicking on the badge in the sidebar will whisk you away to a list of other participating bloggers, so if you'd like, you can check out all kinds of offerings about love, both lost and found.


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Anyone who has spent time away from home knows how much it means to receive a letter, and this is especially true for soldiers. Particularly during wartime. Those letters provide a much-needed tether back to the world, and offer hope in the midst of horror.

This is a picture of Smarticus during the Vietnam war, writing me a letter. Being out in the field, he couldn't do that as often as he'd like, but I wrote to him multiple times a day, both to help preserve his sanity, and to try to preserve my own. Mail was dropped to the guys from a helicopter, but most of the time, they had to destroy those letters after reading them. They had no place to keep them, and the last thing they needed was additional weight to carry.

Although times have changed, and modern day soldiers have other ways to keep in touch with their loved ones, I believe hand-written letters are still very important. They're life lines. Smarticus and I were already married when he was in Vietnam, but I truly believe it's possible for people who have never met in the world to establish a real relationship through letters. That's the basis for my blogfest offering, which I call The Language of Flowers. I hope you enjoy it.

***********************************

       Ex-sergeant Cullen Smith paused to admire the florist shop window. Just as he expected, the Say it with Flowers graphics were cheerful, welcoming, and a perfect reflection of the owner’s personality. He took a deep steadying breath, and dried his hand on the front of his shirt to get a better grip on his cane. No sense taking any chances. He was getting around like a pro on his new leg now, but he didn't want to risk screwing up her first face-to-face impression of him by falling on his keister. No, not now, not when he was so close. This was the day he'd been dreaming of for months. He was finally going to meet his guardian angel.

      The bell above the door jingled merrily to announce his entrance into the shop. He stepped inside and looked around at her dream come true. Nice. Very nice… but where was she? Maybe his mother was right; maybe he should have called first. Maybe he should have warned her.

      Then the sweetest-sounding voice he'd ever heard called to him from the back room. “Just a sec! Be right there!”

      That was her voice. That was Angelica.

      His heart pounded against his ribcage, and then, there she was. Finally. Right there, standing right in front of him. Smiling at him. The first thing he thought was she looked just like the picture she’d sent him, the one he’d carried in Iraq and propped up beside him when answering her letters, and the one he’d found in the pocket of his robe when he finally regained consciousness in the hospital.

      No, scratch that. She looked even better in person. No fold marks through her face.

      Angelica felt a slight tug of recognition in her soul when she looked at the man with the semi-scruffy beard, but she couldn’t quite place him. She was immediately drawn to his eyes, though. They were an unusual shade of blue-green, and somehow managed to express the depths of both sadness and hope at the same time. Mesmerizing.

      “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “How can I help you?”

      Cullen hesitated. He should have known this would happen. She obviously didn’t recognize him, but why should she? He barely recognized himself as the clean-shaven, scar-free soldier in the picture displayed on the shelf behind her. With a tenuous smile, he cleared his throat, and said, “I’d like to send flowers to someone to let her know how I feel about her.”

      “Terrific! That’s my specialty,” she said, grabbing a scratch pad. “We’ll even include a cheat sheet to interpret the meanings for her. Okay, so what would you like to say?”

      “I want her to know I’m her secret admirer.”

      Lucky girl, she thought. “That would be yellow mums,” she said, noting it on her pad.

      “And I want to thank her,” he said. “To express my deepest gratitude. No matter how tough things were, she kept me going.”

      “Nice,” she said. “Pink carnations.”

      “I want to ask her to remember me forever,” he said, looking at her intently. “Just as I’ll always remember her. Her letters kept me alive.”

      Angelica’s hand shook slightly as she held it over the pad. “Forget-me-nots,” she whispered, before daring to look at him again. Daring to hope.

      “I love her,” he said around a lump in his throat.

      “Red,” she said, with tears in her eyes. “Roses or tulips. Your choice.”

      “No, your choice, Angelica. The flowers are for you. It’s me. Cullen. I got here as soon as I could.”

      She came out from behind the counter with tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “It’s about time,” she said, while wrapping her arms around him.

      “Thank you for everything,” he said. “Your letters meant the world to me when I was in Iraq. When I came out of the coma, there was a whole pile waiting for me. You even wrote when I couldn’t answer. How can I ever tell you how much that meant to me? How much you mean to me? Ever since you wrote me the first time, I told you I’d come see you when I got back home. Sorry it took me so long.”

      She smiled up at him. “You already told me. With flowers. And if I had some, I’d respond with a sprig of ambrosia.”

      “Which means…?”

      “Your love is reciprocated.”

      With a silent prayer of thanks, he held her close, rocking her from side to side. He kissed her with an aching sweetness, and said, “Too soon to propose?”

      She laughed, and said, “Um, yeah, a little. I think we should go on at least one date first, don’t you?  But when we’re ready, I’ll fill the church with birds of paradise for our wedding.”

      He raised an eyebrow.

      She smiled. “Joy,” she said. “They symbolize joy.”

******************************************

My joy then...

And now.

Since I'm posting today, I won't be doing a post on Friday, which happens to be Smarticus' birthday. (So I may be busy peeling grapes all day...) Seeya again next week, and every... okay, most... Fridays after that. (Ya never can tell when another blogfest might pop up.)

          Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever. [Alfred Lord Tennyson]

Love is the flower you've got to let grow. [John Lennon]

Flowers are the music of the ground from earth's lips, spoken without sound. [Edwin Curran]

Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. [Oscar Wilde]

Back in the Saddle Again

Thought for the day:  When the tide of life surrounds you and the water upsets your boat, don't waste your time on what might have been... just lie on your back and float. [Ed Norton to Ralph Kramden on the Honeymooners, 1956]

[morguefile]

Okay, so maybe the title of this post is a teensy weensy bit misleading, because my tush hasn't been in a saddle for more years than I'd care to count. But floating on my back, enjoying life while watching the world go by? Now, that's more the real me these days.

So how are y'all doing? Happy New Year, one and all. I hope the Holidays were fantastic for you. After slacking off by posting re-runs the past couple of weeks, here I am, back, live, and none the worse for the wear. We had a blast over the past couple weeks, both figuratively and literally. In line with my whole back-floating approach to life, I'm gonna ease into the new blogging year by sharing some pictures, and a wee bit of info about an upcoming blogfest. (Since I haven't participated in a single one of them this entire year, I figured it was about time for me to be get outta the pool and be more sociable...)

CHRISTMAS IN ALABAMA...

As much fun as I made of inflatable decorations a couple weeks ago, I've gotta admit, I loved these. Especially the Minion. These,  a few other inflatables, and a host of other decorations filled one of the rooms in our son's house. The Christmas room, the grandkids called it. (Not that the rest of the house wasn't decorated, too.)

Of course, I liked the inflatables even more when the kids sat still long enough to pose in front of them for me. From left to right, that's Aaron, Jaiden, their cousin McKenzie, Kymber, and Devyn.

Smarticus and Aaron, just before we all watched the Minions movie together. Gotta be dressed in the proper attire, right? It was Aaron's idea to get those snazzy pants for Smarticus. (and me!) Funniest toy ever? Aaron's new Minion doll, which bends over, breaks wind, and falls to the floor laughing. Hilarious! (Goes very well with the fart gun, which he already owned...)

Devyn is entirely enamored with anything associated with the movie Frozen, so this was one of her favorite gifts. She and Kymber have watched the movie so often, they know every word to every song, and darned near all of the dialogue, too.

Here's our handsome son and whiz kid Aaron. (Junior has a heckuva lot of nerve having gray hair, doesn't he...?)

HA! Our daughter-in-law thought she'd grab a wee little bit of shut-eye. Rots o' ruck with that!

Troy (a Husky/malamute) and Stormy (a blue heeler) had other ideas.

Um, yeah... the dogs won that argument.












NEW YEAR'S IN TENNESSEE

We saw the new year in with our friends in Tennessee. (The header picture is the gorgeous view from their back deck.) As usual, we did a lot of laughing, swapped a few lies, and played a lot of games. In fact, we were so deep into a board game as midnight approached, it's a wonder we even noticed a new year was about to begin.

Smarticus and Cliff in their usual New Year's Eve garb of  tux tee shirts. Isn't that fireplace fabulous? It's so deep, it looks like a big ol' cauldron should be hanging in there.

The fireplace isn't just for looks, either. There was a fire blazing in it most of the time we were there.

(P.S. Smarticus really does own other pants... ☺) Trust me, he didn't wear these when the guys went off to a gun show...

Meet Squeak. What a cutie! He kinda looks like the dog who was in the old movie Benji. The guys were getting ready to take a walk to the mailbox, and Squeak got unbelievably excited when Cliff pulled out his little doggie jacket.

Squeak and Shelby weren't exactly begging when Kati was trying to eat a piece of pizza. Let's just say they were very... attentive.

Here's the newest member of the family, in spite of the fact they were calling him NOC, as in Not Our Cat. Kati found him wandering around a parking lot meowing pitifully a couple days before we got there. He not only made fast friends with all of us people, he also did well with the other two resident cats Kismet and Miss Groucho... and the dogs. He's such a beautiful, well-groomed, and incredibly friendly cat, we're sure someone must be missing him terribly, but so far, in spite of their best efforts to locate his owner, no responses. I'd say they're gonna have to change his name...

Caught him in the act! (Almost) That glass container holds dog treats, which are doled out to the pooches every time they come into the house. (Nope! Not spoiled a bit!) I reckon NOC thought he would just help himself to a little something-something. I managed to snap a quick, albeit blurry, picture before rescuing the glass jar from being knocked to the floor. However, in the middle of the night, NOC was once again successful in getting the lid off and knocked the contents onto the table so he could nibble a few. Very wily!

About the literal blast I mentioned earlier? It... actually, quite a few of them... came courtesy of this nifty cannon Smarticus built. It's meant to go with Cliff's Pinzgauer, which he drives in numerous parades with other members of his military vehicle club. The cannon is based on a single-shot rifle, and the ammo is courtesy of a bunch of empty plastic prescription bottles. (Unfortunately, Smarticus and I have a LOT of them on hand.) The BOOM was very satisfying, and the best-looking smoke was provided by ashes from the fireplace.

Here's another view of the cannon. The guys had a lot of fun test-firing it to see what would work best. Lots of work to go yet to make it aesthetically correct, but I think it'll eventually be a cool tool for various military demo events.

An inside look, for those of you who might be interested. As presently configured, it doesn't function as an actual weapon. Just a fun toy for grown-ups. (The guys even fired some parsnips through it!)

Okay, enough pictures. Now, about that blogfest coming up. It's gonna be held on February first, and it's called Lost and Found, Valentine's Edition. 

It's the brain child of Arlee Bird, who describes it as follows:

Do you remember that special feeling of love found? And who hasn't experienced the emotional experience of love lost? Some of you might have even lost a love only to find that person later for another go around. 

Tell your story about love lost or found in our special Valentine's blogfest. Your post can be a short fiction, an essay, poetry, or even a song-- let your imagination run free. Any genre is fair game, be it romance, historical fiction, memoir, or even science fiction. After all, there are no limitations when it comes to love. 

The fest, which will be co-hosted by Guilie Castillo-Oriard, Elizabeth Seckman, Yolanda Renee, Denise Covey, and Alex Cavanaugh, sounds like a lot of fun, doesn't it? I've already signed up... how about you? Just click on that handy dandy badge in the sidebar, and it'll whisk you away to more info and a sign-up sheet. Why not go for it??? I'd love to read your story...

And talking about whisking away, I believe it's time for me to whisk away, too. Those Christmas decorations aren't gonna take themselves down...

                               Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.