My momma and me!
I'm grateful work is over for a couple of days. I am tired. Tonight after work Dad had me help him stack wood against the barn. The kids helped us too. We got that done and cleaned out my mom's dog pens. She raises poodles for anyone wondering. Then, we come into the house to make dinner. My daughter immediatly starts asking about her "goop". I have no idea what this goop is. I ask her and she is blubbering something about a pink plastic baggie from Mrs. Scott. I look, she looks, Brenden looks, but we cannot find the pink baggie. Finally my Dad comes in and Mary corners him talking a mile a minute when each word getting higher and higher pitched. Dad said he doesn't remember where he saw it last, that it may have gotten thrown away. Sooo, to make a long story short I end up going out to the garbage cans and digging through the trash searching for this mysterious pink baggie. I am praying the entire time that I don't put my hands on something gross, and that I'll find this bag in the first trashbag I pilfer through. Luckily, I find it. Mary shouts with happiness, and wants it right then. I take it in the house and wash the bag off wondering what in the world this stuff is. Mary instructs me to put it in a bowl, so I open the baggie and caustiously start trying to pour the pink goop into a bowl. I quickly realize that it's cornstarch, a little bit of water, and pink food coloring. If I had only known I wouldn't have dug in the trash! Mary played with her goop maybe 10 minutes before it was old news. It's now sitting safely in it's plastic baggie awaiting it's next play time. I can't say a word though, because I remember being just about Mary's age and my granny mixing cornstarch and water for me and Brandy to play with. We were facinated on how it was hard, yet when you stirred it, it became liquid. I just smile and watch my girl as she mushes her fingers in the pink goo, remembering when I did the same thing standing at my grannies kitchen cabinet.
Ok, this has gotten me thinking about old stuff. I may repeat somethings that have already been said on this blog, but I'm getting old, so I can do that. I forget easily. When I was a little girl my Gran would take an raw egg and decorate it by putting a face on it. Kind of like Humpty Dumpty. Then, she would make a tiny hole in the shell at the top and the bottom of the egg. She did this for each of us kids. Then we would lean over the sink and blow the contents of the egg out, leaving only the empty shell. We would then glue paper arms and legs on our egg people and would have a fun time playing with our delicate treasures.
Another time Brandy and I were playing house in the back yard. Granny had this long bench out in her backyard under two giant old oak trees. We were equipped with all of our kitchen supplies, measuring cups, we had gotten some eggs from the hen house, snagged some oats from granny's kitchen, and had our fair share of sticks, mud, grass, persimmions, you know, all your basic kitchen essentials. :) We had been baking mud pies for a long time when it got around to our "boyfriends" coming to dinner. We then started to argue about who got Michael for their boyfriend. Michael Jackson. We loved him, had a huge crush on him, and were both going to be his girlfriends one day. Big laugh now, huh? The fight ensued until we decided that the only way to compromise was that one of us would pretend to be Michael, but who? How, we weren't black... he was black back then.. but wait, ahhh HA! The idea hit our brains like lightening. Our mud pies became our skin. We ran around butt naked covered in egg and mud, being Michael Jackson.
I think that's all I'll post for tonight. I've been reading some old posts, kind of following my journey from the wreck that came to Francis, to the who I am now. I think I've come far. I'm sorry for the hurt I've caused along the way, as it was never my intention, only my ignorance.
