Happy Mother’s Day to my mama in Heaven.

I’ve written a bit about my mother; her incredible ability to cook amazing food out of very little and of course adopting me at the age of 43.

Mama (Rose) was born in Indian territory, Oklahoma in 1914. Her Irish father (Charley) was known as the ‘meanest red-headed man on earth’. Her mother died when mama was a baby, so her father and two brothers were all she had. They lived in a shack with dirt floors and if you had to relieve yourself… well, any tree would do.

Things didn’t really pick up for the family as time went on, given the Great Depression starting in 1929 and the Dust Bowl occurring at roughly the same time. I can’t imagine the abject poverty.

At one point mama and her family were living in a fruit stand alongside the road. Dirt floor again, no facilities and everyone pitched in.

They all picked cotton. They did anything to survive.

At some point mama was sent to a girl’s school… goodness knows what it really was… but thankfully she was rescued by her Aunt Ollie sometime during her teen years.

Good food, nice clothes and real school. I can only imagine how lovely that was for her!

During WWII she worked in an aircraft plant. I don’t know too much about her life because mama didn’t speak about it often, as though she was ashamed of it… or worried it would catch back up to her, I don’t know.

Even though I was adopted, mama is always with me. When sick, I want to sit on her lap and lay my head on her bosom. When cooking, I wonder what she would have done… she never passed on any tips…. and because I wanted to be outside more than anything, I never asked. My loss.

When children are bereft at receiving only one X Box or whatever for their birthdays I think of mama. And I’m thankful for the spirit of gratitude knowing her gave me.

Happy Mother’s Day to mama and to the woman who gave birth to me, still alive, who does not know me. Blessings to all mothers, always!


Though I feel 25 and act my shoe size, the actual digits are 65. There it is, the secret again: old people are simply young people in crappy bodies.

It’s incredibly difficult to remember my age when making purchases. For instance, I saw a small, indoor trampoline (they call them ‘rebounders’ now) being used on YouTube and HAD to have one.

When my superior specimen arrived… well, my husband had a small coronary. You see, he knows me. We’ve been together for quite some time and in his mind I’d go re-bounding off that thing and into a wood chipper. Yes, that was my plan all along.

NOT. For goodness sake’s I think I can avoid wood chippers. And the glass closet doors. Yes, old house. 😉

So after a week of first class avoidance, he put it together for me. Under protest. Muttering things like “we need to update our wills”.

Y’all, it’s SO MUCH FUN!!! I was twisty bouncing and leg up/leg down bouncing and just convinced this thing would be the best addition to my work out routine ever!!!

I have three herniated discs.

Oh, I know what to do for them… the cervical hanger/inversion table/Advil season is in full swing and I’m guessing the little rebounder will be given to one of the kids or grandkids. Which is a shame; it really is fun…

Yellow Roses

God bless my husband! Yellow because I’m from Texas, naturally.

Last night was rushed, so I didn’t take the time to pull the outer petals or trim the stems. Hope you had a wonderful Valentine’s Day!

St. Jude

I recently said a novena to St. Jude and my prayers were answered.

This is an acknowledgement and thank you! The lady in question has finally gotten help.

One Year

Though incapable of remembering anyone else’s death date, I do my father’s. He’s been gone a year today.

There’s not been one day since that my thoughts haven’t turned to him. In pain, fear, joy… just wanting to share or get his opinion. This is remarkable since we only had three years together and only met once in person. And I didn’t even take his picture! (which still surprises and amuses)

But he’s my Dad and I love him dearly.

I miss you very much, Dad.

Auspice Maria

My first visit to Vizcaya was surprising because the day before I’d gotten a tattoo of an Auspice Maria. Inside the house, above one of the massive gates… well, it’s a horrible angle but there it is, a beautiful tribute to our Lady.

After reading about James Deering, the owner of the property, his influences of Italian Renaissance and Mediterranean Revival architecture make perfect sense.

Here it is! My crazy hair is in the way, but then I just mowed the lawn.


In the bathroom. LOL!

I’m one of the hapless who have manged to reach the age of 65 without a smidgen of wisdom.

Oh, I know stuff. Mostly useless. I know that if you have an infection, soak the offending digit/limb in salt water. Well, it has worked for me.

I still remember how to do things from long ago, like tack a horse up. Conversely, I took three years of German in high school yet can’t recall how to count to 10 in the language. Use it or lose it!

Here’s a bit of knowledge learned in the past year for those turning 64:

Move. Change your phone number. Get a guard dog. Perhaps some razor wire.

Little did I know that upon reaching 64 things would become so bizarre. I’m a hermit by nature so when people started knocking on my front door all my feral instincts had me hiding behind the blinds. Of course, that does little to deter salesmen, so my jaunts out to the mailbox became littered with landmines. It comes as a jolt when someone springs from a nearby car and yells “Pam! Can I talk to you about Medicare Part B?”

My phone rang almost every day of the year with sales calls and the mail was full of color flyers. Each salesperson had the best plan and I just had to hear it right then!!

Oh, I told each one that I didn’t need them, that I had everything was in order. Didn’t deter them a bit!

Happy Birthday to me!! Thank goodness I’m finally 65. And I never thought I’d say that…


My favorite picture of Stacie and the old broad.

Stacie is on the right, of course. She’s so beautiful, inside and out! I’m so blessed! ❤

I need a haircut.

Vizcaya Part II

A few years ago Mike and I took his sister to Vizcaya. There are some photos from that trip here.

This time it’s my sister visiting, so we went back! My camera has been dropped too many times, so the pictures are somewhat lacking, sorry.

Sorry about the toes!

My beautiful sister!

Lovely inside and out, yesterday was her birthday!!


See what I mean about my camera? Half the time it wouldn’t focus. Pictures were either blown out or way too dark. Weird.

Here we are, older yet no wiser. 😉

I really, really need a haircut.


My husband found this transformative picnic table/bench on *Amazon and had to have it.

It feels more like a children’s picnic table to me, but he was so in love with it… here it is.

The thing is cute but I was hoping for something more… comfortable. 😉

*Don’t worry, no affiliate links.

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