Heros

I have a very emotional reaction to military personnel at airports. My eyes will well up and a giant lump forms in my throat and I want to weep. I am not usually given to crying over strangers. I first noticed it a couple of years ago while waiting to board the plane to my daughter's wedding. I could hear the sound of people clapping and it just kept on going. I finally turned around and looked and above the waiting area was an elevated walkway and there was a line of military men and women, wearing desert camo exiting and the clapping was from welcome volunteers waving flags and applauding them as they entered the terminal. There were excited family members there as well. It was all I could do not to cry. I put it aside as being emotional about my daughter getting married.

Then, I had the same reaction to the military personnel in the waiting area several months later. I could not stop looking at them and wondering if they were going home or back to the military. In today's world, that would likely mean going back to war.

I was a military wife for several years. My military spouse did not fight in a war. He would not have fought at all, because he was a non-combatant. But, he did deploy sometimes and it was always hard to see him leave before the deployment and it was a very joyous day to see him return. When my children were old enough to know what was going on, his return was a true celebration.

I flew to Phoenix last week for a conference. In the waiting area, there was a young solider in his dress uniform. He had a folded flag in a plastic bag. It was the kind of bag that a new blanket would come in, but it was triangle shaped for the folded flag. I was strangely fascinated by the plastic bag. I thought to myself that he must be leaving a duty station and the flag was probably a momento from that base. When we landed in Phoenix and started taxiing down the runway for the airport I saw three firetrucks with their lights on. I was alarmed and thought we might be having an issue and wondered if we would have to go down the exit slide. I was not excited about that prospect. Then I noticed the firemen were all lined up beside the trucks and the ground crew that loads the bags were lined up by the terminal. Then I saw the hearse. The flight attendant was looking out the galley window and the pilots remained seated in the cockpit as the passengers exited the plane. I then understood the folded flag in the plastic bag. The solider was escorting the body of a fallen hero. The lump formed in my throat. The people in the terminal waiting area lined the windows.

As I was trying hard not to cry, I looked beyond the crowd lining the windows and saw several young children dressed in red, white and blue and holding little American flags. There was a young man being wrapped in his mother's arms. Her face had tears streaming down. I tried to determine the relationships. I think it was a returning military man being met by his mother, his brother, sister-in-law and nieces and nephews. They were taking pictures and very happy to have him home. It was a very different story for the family whose son or daughter was being transported in the hearse.

I quickly walked away to the baggage carrousel and waited for my luggage. I selfishly thanked God that I did not have a child who served in the military. I love my country and truly loved being a military wife, but I don't know if I could encourage my children to join the military.

I am thankful that there are brave young men and women who willingly volunteer to protect our country. They may be the bravest of all generations who have served. I pray for the fathers and mothers, spouses, sons and daughters who wait at home. I pray for protection of all those heros as they face another day fighting so that we can enjoy the freedom we take for granted. There were no suicide bombers, no air raids and no one kicking in the doors and dragging people away at the conference. We experienced the peace and protection freely given to us by those who serve this country and never gave it a second thougth.

God bless America and bless those brave heros who freely serve.

Life Before Ribs

I never really ate ribs when I was growing up. I thought they were messy and would get all over your face and in between your teeth. Too much work for such a little amount of meat. I doubt that Mother ever cooked a rib. I have become enlightened and now, I love ribs.

My friend Judi introduced me to dry rub ribs from Corky's a long time ago. We lived in New Orleans and there was a Corky's there. They were delicious dry ribs. Judi was from Memphis and the rib mecca of the world was is in Memphis. It was a place called the Rendezvous that she spoke of as being the best ribs. I think it is still there and I will have to check it out one day.

However, Texas knows a thing or two about ribs. There was a great rib place close to where I live called the Cotton Belt. The parking lot was filled with pot holes, the restaurant floor was bare concrete and not level, and there were peanut shells all over the floor. You just knew it was going to be good. They smoked those ribs until the meat was falling off. They would cook fries, fried okra, corn fritters and bring them out to the table steaming hot. It was wonderful. When we had family visiting from out of town, we would take them there. But suddenly in December they closed their doors. We miss the Cotton Belt. Then my sister Lizzie found a new rib place called the Red Barn. It is a tiny parking lot and a very small restaurant. But, they can cook ribs. They also have broccoli salad that is delicious. Lizzie found out that the Red Barn is opening a second location in the old Cotton Belt place. Oh my, there is great symmetry there. It is opening the end of May and I can't wait.

Oprah shared her receipe on the show one day for slow cooking ribs in the oven all night and I now can make a good slow cooked rib. The only problem is that after they have cooked all night, you have to eat them for breakfast. There is no way that Joe and I can smell them and not want to eat them right away. I don't know who taught Oprah how to make these, but they are delicious. It is the country style ribs with lots of meat on them. The Neely's are one of my favorite shows on the food network and I think they are in Memphis. Watching them make ribs, set my drool glands off.

Texas is all about barbeque. There are a lot of other places. The Red, Hot, and Blue can make great ribs, but they are best on the weekend. Red, Hot and Blue is similar to Corky's. They have those guitar playing pigs everywhere. They make great potato salad as well. There is also Dickey's, Smithfields, Shady Oaks and I am sure plenty of others. I bet we have a donut shop, dry cleaner and barbeque place in every square mile! Well maybe not a barbeque place every square mile, but definately the donut shops and dry cleaners.

Life was really dull before I discovered ribs. Thanks Judi for enlightening me. My apologies to all the vegetarians out there, but tofu ribs are just wrong!

New puppy in the house!!

Ellie and the squeeky ball

She is so pretty

She sits/lays right here on the futon couch right beside my work tables. She is 6 inches away from me!

We picked up Ellie from the Doberman Rescue of North Texas on Sunday morning. We were their first customer. Her foster mom had her in this cute purple coat. She looked so sweet. We filed out the contract and talked with the volunteer for a little while. This other young dog came in and Ellie wanted to play with him. He sniffed her ears and they wagged their tails at each other. She seems to get along really well with other dogs. Ellie is about 1 year old. She was a little shy around us at first but she is doing much better.

She has not had any accidents in the house. She has not chewed anything up. Being a rescue she has a few odd habits. If you give her a treat, she thinks she is supposed to go in her kennel. If you show her the leash she goes in her kennel. She does not like to ride in the car. I think her past experiences in the car were not happy memories. Her former owners drove two hours to surrender her last week. Then the foster mom took her home with her and then she took her to the vet to be spayed. Then on Sunday, she came back to the rescue place and then we got her and brought her home with us. So, I don't think getting in the car is a happy place for her. Joe took her with him to go to the drug store drive through and she was very hesitant. A great trainer I know told me to keep taking her outside to the car and giving her a treat and then coming back inside. So, we will work on that. We would like for her to go places with us.

We have not worked on walking on the leash yet because she still has stitches from her spay surgery. They can come out on Sunday and then we will start some training. We will put her in a class too.

Having a dog is such a joy for us. She has been keeping Joe company and it is so nice to come home and have her waiting there to see me after work.

There are a lot of great dogs out there just waiting for someone to adopt them. Our experiences with a rescue dog have been very positive. I will keep you updated as she learns new things and as she grows!!

3 Days of Valentines

On the first day of Valentine

my true love gave to me:

A dozen peach colored roses with purple bells

On the second day of Valentines,

My true love gave to me :

A bag of Peanut M&M's Cupids Mix

On the third day of Valentines,

My true love gave to me:

A lovely Hallmark greeting

that was very moving!

We have had a bad week at our house. We are trying to adjust to George not being around. We are getting used to no one standing at the door when we come in. We are looking in the local shelters for a new dog. We submitted our application to the local rescue. They wanted 3 references and were going to call our vet. We may get invited to attend the open house at the Dober haus next week. It is a little intimidating. Are we suitable parents?

The Joe pet decided that since I was having a bad week, I might need 3 Days of Valentines instead of one. He is my reward! On Thursday, I had a beautiful bouquet of peach colored roses and purple bells. On Friday, it was the Peanut M&M's Cupids mix. Oh, I could not stop eatting them, and then my stomach sent me a Valentine, telling me it does not appreciate the peanuts. Then on Saturday morning, I had a beautiful, sentimental Valentine. On Saturday night, we met our friends Harry and Ruth Ann at our favorite restaurant - Frescos. We always go out on Valentines with Harry and Ruth Ann. They have been married forever!

In a former life, Valentines was not happy. It was white knit pajamas with red hearts from Victoria's Secret and some nasty, cheap, heart-shaped box of chocolate that ruined it. It symbolized a failure for me.

God's grace is wonderful. He is a God of second chances. He knew the desires of my heart. God brought Joe into my life and Valentines has changed. I have a man who made Valentine's into a three day event. It is grace this side of eternity.

I am not saying I am running into Victoria's Secret to buy some foo foo pajamas. I don't even go into the mall. A catalog does come to my house. One of the girls must have ordered it. I will always hate cheap, heart-shaped chocolates.

I finished and mailed some Valentines for my friends that I had started earlier in the month. I just mailed my kids Valentines on Saturday. I am sorry Katie and Jamey to send late greetings. I hope you have a wonderful belated Valentine burger on me!

Second chances are the sweetest!

Valentines I made for my BFFs.

Oh, I did make a sweet one for Joe too.

Fly away, George Bailey

We brought George home from the shelter almost seven years ago. The ladies who operated the shelter found him running loose in a Hurst neighborhood. Joe thought he was about 3 years old but when we took him to the vet, they thought he was about 7 years old. Either way, we estimate him to have been between 10 and 14 years old. For a Doberman that is a very old dog.

George acted like he was young. He could put the fear of God in a cheeky squirrel who dared to run along our fence. He and Katie ran from one side of the house to the other playing hide and seek. He behaved like a hormonal teenager when Finn came over to play. He just wanted to be loved and petted by everyone.

Two weeks ago, George started coughing like he had a hairball. Joe took him to the vet and she said she was not sure what it was, but gave him an antibiotic. He took 8 pills daily for 10 days. He decided at day 5 that he did not like those smelly pills. We used all the tricks we knew to get him to take the pills. He took his last dose on Saturday. He chased his final squirrel on Saturday. He wanted to lay on the tile as if he was hot. He had some trouble getting up off the floor.

On Sunday, he started coughing again. He whined all day. He was breathing very hard. We called our daughters who have vet tech experience. Katie said we should take him to the emergency clinic. Joe got him to lay down on his bed and he started shaking and gasping. It was so difficult to watch. I knew that this could not last all night. I called the emergency clinic and they said a vet was there.

We loaded him up in the truck and drove him to the clinic. He could barely get in the truck and I had to help him up. We waited to see the vet tech for about 45 minutes. Georgie just panted and could not lay down. I got on the floor with him and he laid across my lap.

The tech said she heard an abnormal heart beat. She took him to let the vet listen and she confirmed the abnormal heart beat. The vet came in and said it was a serious problem. She took some x-rays. The results were not good. We were separated from George for about 40 minutes while the tests were run. When he came back in the room, his breathing had worsened. He was exhausted, he stepped from foot to foot and could not sit or lay down. The vet said George had an enlarged heart but that was not the worst part. His lungs were filled with white stuff that the vet said was cancer. She said there was no medicine available that could fix that. She gave a few minutes to talk. Watching George struggle, made the decision easier for us. He would not have lasted through the night, and I would not allow him to suffer the last hours of his life.

The vet and the techs were so kind. I sat on the floor and pulled him over to me. Joe scratched between his eyes like he loved and I rubbed him. George relaxed and layed down and then his heart stopped. We cried and said our goodbyes. I never imagined that we would not come back home without him.

We came home tonight and there was no one standing at the door to greet us. I went into the bathroom and no one pushed the door open and followed me in. I haven't opened the green treat can all day. The little pink pill box sits on the counter undisturbed. I prepared my lunch this morning and had the throw the juicy bits of fat in the trash. Joe was home today all alone and it was very lonely. George has been his constant companion these last months.

When you have a pet and an empty nest, you become a family of three. George was our baby. He loved us unconditionally. He never held a grudge. He was always happy to see us. We spoiled him completely. Joe always made him his own pancake or waffle. I fed him off of fork whatever I did not eat. He had a little rug between our chairs at the table so he would not have to sit on the cold tile while we were eatting. He loved everyone and offered all the opportunity to pet him.

I am thankful he did not suffer long. I whispered to him to go find Rudy as he slipped from this life. She would show him how things worked when he got to heaven. Fly away home Georgie boy, we love you and will never forget you.

Did A Little Birdie Tell You?

Daddy making goard birdhouses in his workshop

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  Daddy and Buck
  
  

  Daddy and Katie - 1986
  
  
  

  
  Me - pregnant with Katie - and Daddy in front of our trailer at NOBTS.

  1985
  
  

  1974
  
  

  My friend from work who suffered an aneurysm a month ago called me today and she is doing great. She had some vision issues and her eyesight has improved to 20 - 25. I believe she has experienced a miracle. I told someone that I felt that loosing your sight would be one of the hardest things to adapt to. The person I was talking to said, no, the worst thing is loosing your memory. I thought about it and decided that it may be difficult for those around you to see you loosing your memory, but would you be aware that it was happening? I hope not.

  
  I started thinking of my daddy. He died eleven years ago last month. In the last months of his life, I believe he started to repeat himself - alot. He would tell you something and then in a hour or two tell the same story again. It was a terrible feeling to see him slip away. In those last months of life, he became obsessed with his high school football team. In his senior year, the high school football team won the state championship. The year he died, the school once again won the state championship. It had been over 60 years between championships!
  
  The local newpaper put his team picture in the paper. My dad cut it out and showed to everyone. I picked him out of the group. If my studio was not so disorganized, I could find that picture and post it here. But, I don't know where it is and no, my memory is fine.
  
  Over the years, I had heard my daddy talk about playing football in high school. The coach was a tough guy named Coach Morgan. Coach Morgan was a bachelor when he started coaching the team, but he met a sweet, youthful teacher from the school, fell in love and married during the year. I imagine to a team of 17 year old boys, that must have been a wonder to behold and ponder in their spare hours. I think Daddy thought they were a very odd couple.
  
  Daddy told me about a conversation the boys overheard between Coach Morgan and the new Mrs. Morgan. I sort of imagine that Coach Morgan looked like a life size Popeye, but not as fun. I never saw him, but Daddy said he sort of talked out of the side of his mouth. My daddy would do a Coach Morgan impersonation. Coached asked the Mrs. "How do you know, did a little birdie tell you?" For some reason my daddy thought that was so funny. I guess you really had to know the Coach to appreciate the humor in that story. I believe I got my memory genes from him. If I am taking after Daddy, I have about 30-something years, before it starts failing me.
  
  As Daddy continued to loose his memory, he was diagnosed with some serious blockage that was possibly contributing to the loss of memory. He took an ambulance ride to the hospital and never returned home. It was a very risky surgery for him, but the alternative was for him to just stay in the house and not exert himself in any way. For my daddy, that would have been torture. The cardiologist, performed the surgery, and there were many complications and Daddy went to the CICU.
  
  Family members and friends would gather outside the doors waiting for those few minutes every hour when you were allowed to go in and visit the patient. As we were waiting by the doors, we learned that in the same CICU was Coach Morgan's wife. The coach had died many years earlier and his widow was right there in the same unit with Daddy. It was such an ironic chain of events. Coach and Mrs. Morgan had one daughter and she was driving in from somewhere in the midwest. Mrs. Morgan had church friends checking on her until the daughter arrived. I spoke to the daughter, and told her that Daddy was on Coach Morgan's team the year they won the state championship and that he spoke of it often in his last months.
  
  Daddy suffered several complications and died. He never really woke up after surgery. We all waited for one last glimpse of recognition from him, but it did not happen. However, I think very fondly of those final days in the waiting area of the CICU. I still miss him. I don't think I will ever stop missing him, the sadness gets less painful and the memories bring you more joy.
  
  I am certain I don't want to loose my vision. I want to always think I have a great memory and please, no one tell me if starts to slip away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Random holiday photos!

Christmas Crop at Church

Terry, Me and Debbie
"The Girls"
Me, Terry, Debbie, Paula and Judy

George Bailey

My tree and mantel all sparkling.

I don't know why, but I love this picture

Kalen doing the secret Santa gifts at the Christmas crop.

Kalen is Debbie's daughter.

Inez and a moving Sydney handing out gifts