Friday, February 28, 2014

Funny this Friday, February 28, 2014

My little grandson...the ham
photo by tlpoague
I have been running ideas around my head all day trying to come up with a topic to write about. Nothing. Zilch. No luck. So, I do what I usually do in a moment like this. I poke around on Facebook, check out a few hubs on HubPages, bog my way through Bubblews, and finish a round on Google + in the hopes that something will spark an interest. When that didn't work, I made a pass at reading other blogs.
Then it hit me.
A few days ago I was having a conversation with a friend on FB. She told me that if I ever had a reality show on my family, she would love to watch it. This led to us sharing a few videos and laughing hard enough that a toilet was in order.'s serving is Funny Friday.
I have this 13 month old grandson that is a comedian. He is so cute with his dark eyes, dimples, curls, and laugh, that women will stop us to tell us how precious and cute he is. (Even with his curls cut off he is still so adorable you want to hug him all day.)
So children call to say they were coming over for a visit with our little comedian. This was clue that we needed to baby proof the house in under ten minutes. Quickly Mr. P. and I raced through the house putting up gates, making sure the plug-ins were covered, items to be broken placed know...the usual stuff.
We had an enjoyable evening that started with dinner. While eating we watched our little ham put on a show for us. He made Incredible Hulk faces, scrunched up his nose, and fed Bella (our dog) when he thought on one was looking. If we laughed, he would laugh. If I scolded something his mom said, he would do the same. My sides still hurt when I think about it.
After dinner, my daughter helped to clear the table, while the men drifted off to the war room to resume their computer game. (For those that may not know...our family bonding hour consists of loads of computer games.) Since the little ham followed the men, my daughter and I resumed our task of cleaning.
We were chatting away about much of nothing while doing dishes, when my daughter suddenly grew quiet and drifted off towards the dinning room. I asked her what was wrong. She stated that little J was much too quiet. She was going to check on him.
Bella and my grandson
photo by tlpoague

Just as I was finishing the rinse job on a plate in my hand, I hear her say, “Julius...what are you doing?”
This peaked my curiosity so I grabbed my camera, on my way, in search of what the commotion was about.
Sitting in the dark was my wonderful grandson. He had grown quiet because he knew what he was doing would get him into trouble, but he couldn't resist the lure. He had climbed over the barricade we had made to keep him away from the wood burning stove. (I should have known that this would not keep him out since he has realized he can climb over gates, out of his crib, and open certain doors.)
My daughter flipped on the light and shook her head. Camera rolling, I couldn't help but laugh a little and scold him myself.
There he was...pleased as can be...playing in the ashes. He had found his own personal sandbox.
This is our little grandson getting busted...

How could you scold a face so cute?...  
Our little J
photo by tlpoague

tlpoague 2014

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Signs Of Too Much Drama While Drinking Too Much Java

My powder-puff Bella
photo by tlpoague
On a normal day I find I can laugh in the face of drama. Today, however, it has escaped me. Patience found a fine time to take a vacation. El groucho took its place. 
It began with an abusive stream of sunlight, filtering threw the lace curtains, that burned bright, red, orbs into my eye lids. Instead of dragging myself out of bed to close the door, I made an attempt to roll over, only to find I was tied into my sheets. (Don't ask me how, even I couldn't figure it out at first.) So, with a haze of fog covering my brain cells, I managed to stumble from my warm cocoon.
I could smell the hot java coaxing me to the kitchen. The frigid floors and arctic whisper of a breeze kissed my body into alertness. I was beginning to miss the abusive sunlight. At least it had warmth to it.
With numb hands, beginning to tingle back to life, I cautiously poured my liquid crack into a mug. I knew within moments, whatever the cool air didn't bring to life, the molting java would. Mug to my lips, I felt a tap on my leg. I looked down into a cotton ball of white and a pool of brown eyes. My beast was letting me know that it was time for her doggy crack too. Grunting, I poured her a cup, doctoring it with the usual dose of cream and sugar.
She sniffed it, snorted on the floor, then headed to the door. I guess she felt she needed to go out and take care of business first. (Better outside than inside like yesterday...) Before I could take care of my own business, she was scratching to come in.
Mumbling to the hubby about today's tasks, I dug out my notes so I wouldn't forget the necessary items I needed to take care of before I could get to my addiction of the day...writing!
(Normally I try to begin my day with a cup of java and a bible study.)
Today, I thought to myself, why not tackle a few phone calls before getting dressed. This way I could mentally prep myself for the freezing temperatures awaiting me outside. (I could do my bible study afterward so I wouldn't feel rushed.)
Phone call number one:
Me: “Good morning, I was calling about a prescription that I haven't received yet. It was suppose to be sent a week ago. Sure, I will hold.”
Call is transferred to a different department.
Me: “Good morning, I am calling about a prescription I haven't received yet. Yes, I will hold while you check.”
A few minutes pass...
Me: “What do you mean you don't have orders for a prescription? It was ordered a week ago? Whom do I need to talk to to straighten this out? I don't remember the doctor's name. Yes, I will hold.”
Call is transferred to a different department.
Me: “Hi, I am calling...yes, I'll hold.”
The automated voice is beginning to grate a nerve...three minutes pass.
Meanwhile, I attempted to fill in the hubby what is going on. Since he is preoccupied with another task, the information is filtered from one ear and out the other; followed by a series of “what did you say again?..”
The operator comes back on the line.
Me: “Okay, I was calling because I needed to find out whom the doctor was I had seen so I could get a prescription filled. What do you mean you can't give out that information?”
I feel the tingling of a migraine begin.
Me: “You have to call that department and then they will call me? How long will this take? You don't know? Okay, what is your extension so I can call back if they don't call me?”
I hung up the phone. 
Be calm, breath, it's no big deal...calm, breath, it's not big deal. I was not ready to start my day like this.
Phone call number two:
Me: “Hi, I am calling because...yes, I can wait.”
The hubby quizzes me... “what's up?”
Me: “What do you think, I'm on hold again. Oops, sorry...yes, I was calling to let you know that we needed to cancel our catering job. No, I didn't need a caterer, it was one your party scheduled for us to cater. We will be unable to cater the party because of an injury sustained from a previous job. Okay, thank you.”
Hubby: “Did you have to give them so many details?”
Me: “Um, yes...”
I head back to the kitchen for a second dose of java...I could tell I would need every ounce of it. My expensive Q-tip of a dog decided she needed a second dose too. Well...why not...
I head to the bedroom to get dressed. Waiting for me, just inside the door, was a pile of what-should-have-been folded clothes arranged in a dandy nest, complete with the basket lying on its side. I glanced at the powder puff. She tilted her head to her right side, black lips curled in what-could-only-be described as a grin, and teared up those big, brown eyes. I felt the words...who me?...blaze into my brain while staring back, with a scolding look. She dropped her head. Then she proceeded to plop her 12 pounds of fluff into my chair and stare at me with a pout.
I gave up on finding clothes that weren't wrinkled and dressed. (May as well get the errands over before it started to snow again.)
I bundled up, grabbed the pile of bills that needed to be paid, kissed the hubby, and headed out the door. Immediately, my nose felt like it had been bit by an icicle. I felt the liquid begin to pool in my sinus cavities. I hurried to the truck and dumped my junk into the seat. It would be just my luck that I would miscalculate how cold it was and forget to grab gloves. Being too lazy to run inside, I made due with tucking my hands into my coat sleeves.
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves while telling myself I needed to work on patience. I turned the key to start the truck. Nothing. No clatter of a dead battery. No click of a connection trying to spark. Nothing.
I removed my cold limbs from the vehicle. Grabbed my frozen junk and fumed into the house.

Maybe I should just go back to bed and start this day over...beginning with my bible study.   
How was your day?

Sunday, February 23, 2014

My Silly Sunday-February 24, 2014

photo by momster
I had planned on writing this post
many...many...many...hours ago but became a bit distracted by a phone call. I should have known that when I got distracted by the phone call, it would be awhile before I could get back to my post. It has now been five hours, twenty-nine minutes, and thirty-seven seconds later.
Oh, how I love my sisters!
I needed some inspiration for today's topic. Boy, did they provided me with more than I needed. (Along with a bucket of laughs.)
Of course with any topic we discussed I had to do some censoring before I could post them. What could three girls possibly have to talk about for five hours? Trust me, I am not sure you want to know all the will just list a few.
The topics of the day started with:
How to text with a broken thumbnail...
How to text with a dog bite on the finger...
Do you sleep text...
I don't text period, so none of these applied to me. I simply folded laundry while listening to the chatter. As an idea hit, I took notes to add to my writing later.
The next topics caught a bit more of my attention when one sister was telling the other about our dad and his latest adventure.
What was your latest Redneck household repair...
(Note to self....remember to unplug the phone cord, before cutting it, to repair it.)
How clean is your house...fur balls or kid's cloths...
How much multitasking can you get done on a four way phone call...
(We decided to call mom so she wouldn't feel left out.)
Apparently some of these topics must have been too boring because it let to a morbid story of the week between the girls...this was where the censoring came into play.
While gas?...
How do you know when a mothball goes bad...
This had me laughing hard enough to start snorting, which woke up the dog, that gave me a dirty look, which let to me laughing hard enough, I knocked over a pile of laundry.
Under normal conditions none of this would be funny, but listening to Momster tell the story was hilarious. She went into great detail about how her twenty-six year old friend was quizzing her about moth balls. He had never seen or heard of one before. Before she could stop him, he had grabbed one out of the box and proceeded to check it out. He sniffed it. He squeezed it. She asked him if he was going to lick it. Then she told him that they were so toxic he needed to wash his hands under water for fifteen minutes. Being a germ-a-phobe, he gave it twenty minutes. Afterward he asked if mothballs went bad. (She has me roaring by then. If you aren't laughing...well, I guess one had to be there...)
While having this discussion, Momster's twelve year old son came into the kitchen to tell her that he forgot to mention he had flushed a large plastic container of soap down the toilet. (This happened hours before...after many people went...well you know...)
photo by momster
This led to an hour of listening to her debate with her son.
How did you flush a plastic container of soap down the toilet...
It doesn't matter who did it...why did you flush it...
How do you plan to get it out...
It is not my fault you flushed it down the toilet...
By now, both Pie and I, are nearly on the floor laughing. Only at Momster's could this much drama happen...and it was only two hours into her day. We listened in as she asked her son...
Have you ever done a cavity search on a is your lucky day!... is what you are going to need...
Today, I have managed to snorted coffee while laughing, choked on my food, had images burned into my brain that never will leave, nearly wet myself, finished my laundry, and all the while...laughed till my sides hurt. When asking my sisters what they did today, their answer...smoked cigarettes, ate some food, and laughed our rear off.
What is your anti-stress therapy today?

Tomorrow's topic of the day:
The signs of too much drama while drinking too much java...

I have recently joined the SOS group, (Silly on Sunday's) with Everything Susan and RealHousewife. If you are interested in sharing your silly stories, you can link up here... Silly on Sunday's with Everything Susan.
Everything Susan

tlpoague 2014

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Could You Trust and Obey?

If someone asked you to sell all your possessions, give it to the poor, and follow them, could you do it?
If it meant a better life I would like to say yes. I think I could. I know that with the knowledge I have about living frugally I could do it. But, upon further inspection, I found a lingering doubt begin to form in the back of my mind. What kind of luxuries would I be asked to give up?
I remember watching a show called “Secret Millionaire”. It was about a person of great wealth that decided to give up their live style for a week to see how the lower income people lived. They were given a strict budget to buy everything they needed to survive for the week. Often it was no more than $30.00-$100.00 depending on the amount of people doing the challenge. The millionaire would then volunteer their services to three shelters, or private people, that helped others less fortunate than themselves, without greed or personal gain. Many times this secret millionaire would be amazed at the generosity of the person, or shelter, they were helping. Most of the people helping others in their community were so poor themselves that they could barely manage their own households financially, but always found a way to give more to ease the suffering of others. At the end of the show, the secret millionaire pulled out his/her wallet and gave three generous donations to those people, or shelters, they had helped that week. Being so moved and impressed by this show I wanted to be a millionaire. I would love to have the ability to change someone's life like this.
Matthew 19: 16-26 tells a different story. It is a story about a wealthy man asking Jesus what he needed to do to have eternal life. Jesus' first response was to follow the ten commandments. The wealthy man thought he had it made. He had kept the laws but knew he was still lacking. So he asked what else he needed to do. Jesus said, “If though wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me.” The wealthy man walked away in sorrow. He didn't think he could live without his worldly treasures.
After reading this story in Matthew and watching the “Secret Millionaire”, I had to ask myself, which one am I?
Would I rather have riches here or treasures in Heaven?
For now, I will reserve my answers to these questions. Instead will ask my readers to answer these questions for themselves.
I also realized, as I write this...I don't have to be a millionaire to help someone. I have, and can, help others less fortunate than myself simply by doing what I have done. The only difference would be to ask myself...what more could I do?
Each day I face a struggle of some kind as a wife, mother, grandmother, sister, daughter, or friend. Yes, even as a writer because of the pressures of writing politically correct. I find it difficult to be a Godly woman in an ungodly time. Many times I want to weep myself because of the stress of daily life.
It is in those moments...those struggles...that I look to my faith. I am a sinner. I will always sin no matter how hard I try not to. I may be a stumbling block for someone and not realize it. (I am sorry if this has happened.) Many will question my faith, be angry with me and call me names, but I know the truth in my heart. I have been given the freedom to choose. I have seen miracles and experienced miracles in a way that is impossible to explain. God is the creator of my world but it is through Jesus that I have been given the free gift of salvation. For it is only through him that we are saved and given eternal life.
Could you give up everything for Jesus?
Could you give up worldly greatness in exchange for heavenly treasure?
It is a spiritually dangerous territory to give up selfish impulse in exchange for eternal life. It requires a daily battle, spiritual armor, trust, prayer, and repenting of sins. It is a difficult road. But, in the end, heavenly treasure will outweigh the earthly reward.
I write for the love of writing. I help others because I enjoy the priceless look of surprise on their faces. I don't care about fortunes or fame.
My house isn't much but feels like a palace. My car is nothing to look at but gets me from point A to point B. I don't have the fancy cloths or flashy jewels. Most of the time no one recognizes my name.
Money can't buy the love and happiness I have with my family. Greed and power can't buy compassion and the gift of a smile. Fortune and fame can't replace the love and salvation Jesus offers me.
I will gladly give up worldly greatness in exchange for heavenly treasure.  

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Ordinary or Extraordinary?

Photo by tlpoague

She toys with the keys on the keyboard. Her mind like a blank canvas. The creation is there swirling about, but for some unknown reason won't birth itself. She taps out a sentence. It sounds awful...hopeless and depressing. Why won't the words flow like they are suppose to? Why does it seem so difficult tonight? How is it some people make writing look so easy? Presenting her with writer's block once again, these questions and more haunt her.  She hits delete, exits out of the window, and shoves herself away from the computer in defeat for now.

She crochets five double crochet stitches in the row of her afghan. Stretching her project out, she counts how many rows  are needed to finish. Like a neon sign she sees a gap in her work six rows back. She realized that she had missed a stitch. The thought of leaving it tantalized her. Unfortunately, it was too obvious of a mistake to not correct. Slowly she began to unravel hours of work.

She loved the feel of bread dough between her fingers as she kneaded the dough before her. She felt a calm wash over her with the squishing motion. There was something special, almost magical, about making bread from scratch. It would have been easier and quicker to do it in the bread machine her husband had bought her, but this was her preference. To give a part of herself to each creation. It was something that she felt was soon becoming a lost art when she reflected on others that were her age. She molded the bread into a ball. smoothed the sides and top with oil, and placed it in a bowl to rise.

Each of these women are ordinary women doing an every day task that they enjoyed. From the inside they see themselves as average, normal people. What makes them step from the boundaries of ordinary to extraordinary?
For myself, it was the ability to go beyond what was expected. I was told that I am not afraid to learn something new. (Ya...right, don't ask me to bungee jump off a cliff.) Each one of these women here are a part of myself. I learned at a young age homemaking skills that many at my age either forgot how to do, or don't know how to do it. I learned to hunt, fish, grow gardens, cook and bake from scratch, needlepoint, basic sewing, cross stitching, crocheting, and the list goes on. I love singing and writing. Many of my younger years were spent with my nose buried in a book if I wasn't helping my mother with something.
I am not writing this to brag. It had never really occurred to me how many talents I was blessed, from God, with until a friend pointed it out. I just assumed everyone could do the things I do.
Photo by tlpoague
Take camping for example. In today's world the first thing to come to mind when the word "camping" is mentioned is an RV. A mobile unit with all the latest gadgets of luxury. In my mind is a tent, sleeping bags, outhouse (if one was provided), and the knowledge of how to cook over an open fire. I guess the word used today is "survival skills". I was oblivious to the fact that some people can't cook on an open fire. It takes a lot of practice and a certain amount of talent to do it.
There are a lot of things that I can't do that I am glad God blessed others with the talent to do. I can't figure out computer lingo. I am lucky enough to know out how to attach a picture to this article. Things like how to place the html into a link to earn money on my adsense is complicated. I am horrible at math. I have a fear of heights and am impressed to watch people jump from planes or any other kind of height. (I nearly had a stroke to see my son in the derricks of an oil rig.)
My point to all this babble is to ask...has someone told you that they felt you were an extraordinary person?
Jesus took twelve ordinary men and turned them into extraordinary people that went beyond the call of duty. Yes, even Judas was an extraordinary person. He downfall was the mistake of letting the love of money overcome the love of his Savior.
If you feel ordinary, what do you think it would take to become an extraordinary person? Inquiring minds would like to know.

tlpoague 2014