Moody Monday With Rusty The Rooster

tlpoague

This morning I wanted to start with the question: What image does the word Easter bring to mind to you? When I hear the word Easter, images of Christ's crucifixion and resurrection come to mind. A scenario where people are flocking to church in their Sunday's best to celebrate the gift of Salvation that God has given.

Then there are the images of family gatherings, dyed eggs, baskets of candies, gifts, tables overflowing with food, and at least one small group of children talking about a crazy relative. (In my family anyway.)

This year our family celebration was going to be missing Big Nam. (He drew the hospital winning lottery where he would be poked and prodded before given a clean bill of health to enjoy an left-over celebrations.)

Family around the area took time to drop in wishing him well and listening to his hospital adventures. When my turn came, I tagged along with his youngest sister. Since it was an hour long drive, we laughed and reminisced about past family gatherings which led to the question...how do I want to be remembered as a grandmother?

I have fond memories of my grandparents, but when asking my children, they mentioned they didn't have that many affectionate memories. (Reasons varied with each child.) I began to worry that my grandchildren may feel the same way because I am a strict but loving grandparent. This was soon dashed by many voices expressing how much little J is a grandma's boy.

So, I flipped the question back to the party that asked. She told me it was an easy answer for her. She wanted to be remembered as “The Crazy Grandma.”. I don't remember asking her why. All I could remember were story lines and images of her pet rooster that she recently acquired from Big Nam. Considering this was an aunt that I had many wonderful memories of as a child, I couldn't help but laugh, because I understood where she was coming from. (I have many a crazy moments myself.)

She had been having fun creating her own stories with her newly acquired pet. Which she allowed me to share with my readers today.

Meet PW and her rooster, Rusty.

Rusty was first introduced to the family in March. Big Nam was on a return trip when he spotted Rusty at a roadside market. He couldn't help but stop when he thought of how much his sister, PW, loved chickens. Not just any chickens...chickens with character.

Meet Rusty the Rooster
Photo by PW

Rusty loves to help cook up an exotic meal.

Photo by PW

Of course there are dishes to be washed after eating such a fine cuisine.

Photo by PW

His favorite hobby is to meet new friends.

Rusty and his new friend
Photo by PW

He even invites his friends to join him to watch TV while PW is at work.

Photo by PW

Sometimes late at night he will try to sneak in a scary movie.

Photo by PW

When frightened, he will run to PW to sleep in her bed for the night.

Photo by PW

She will tell him that he is a big rooster now and should be able to handle watching scary movies. Ashamed, he will make his way back into the front room.
Sometimes when he can't sleep he will raid the fridge.

Photo by PW

Who knows what kind of hidden gems there are to sample.

Photo by PW

The other day he got into trouble with PW for eating the family pet...Mr. Rabbit. I guess the Easter bunny is going to have to look for a new recruit for next year.

Photo by PW

Thanks for following along in the adventures of PW and Rusty. Stay tuned for next weeks Moody Monday. You never know what may come along. See Y'all next time!

tlpoague 2014

I Am But A Whisper This Moody Monday

tlpoague

Welcome to this episode of Moody Monday.

Sorry about the delay. I am in one of those moods that I don't know if I am coming or going today. Do you ever have one of those days where you feel you are spinning more circles than accomplishing anything? Today is my day.

I really don't have much of a mood to write about. Most of it is different moods swirling in my head. I can't pick just one, even though I have tried most of the morning. There is nothing more aggravating than spending time writing only to erase it with the push of a button because it doesn't meet personal standards and criticism.

I think today I will share a poem instead.

Photo by tlpoague

I am a nobody in the sea of somebodies.

My voice is but a whisper,

Drowned by the roar of the crowd.

My presence a mere shadow.

Some may see me as a blemish,

annoying and without promise.

So I ask...

Who am I but a simple woman?

Thanks for taking the time to read this little babble of mine. Feel free to join in with a Moody Monday of your own. I am still working on my writing schedule, please be patient, but know I will be back next Monday if not before.

Moody Monday's A Cup of Cheer With a Splash of Orneriness

tlpoague

This has been one of those rack a brain, sprain a marble, fry a last memory cell kind of mornings, to come up with a topic for this newest addition of Moody Monday. I haven't really been in a mood except for being tired, if tired was a mood. Even digging deep to find something humorous wasn't working. So...it was back to FaceBook to jiggle my creativity into motion. Instead, I caught myself drooling in a stupor while scrolling for ideas.

  Halfway down my feed I found my inspiration in the request of a story on my Poague heritage. (For those that know me by now know I can't pass on a tasty story.) This tantalizing challenge sparked my mood...a cup of cheer...with a splash of orneriness.

  This may turn into a long winded one, so I recommend grabbing a cup of java, hitting the bathroom, and settling in your favorite comfy chair for an adventure of...Big Nam...aka...my dad. (I know, I said I would find a new nickname for him, but nothing has struck my fancy yet...sorry Dad!)

  My dad is one of those guys that can walk into a room and catch everyone's attention without trying. He has a booming voice with a personality to match. Everything about him is large...from the way he looks...to the way he lives his life. One of the charming things I love about my dad is the way he can tell a story. Including his ability to tell on himself, which happens every time he has an adventurous moment, and a group of ears to listen.

  So, I present...

Big Nam and the Lawnmower.

Photo by tlpoague

  Big Nam is not a little man by any means. He's leveled out at six feet, three inches tall, and roughly 320 pounds. He is what we call fluffy. Upon his latest doctor's visit, he found that he has to sleep with an oxygen mask on. (Thus he looks like an alien while laying down with his mask on and large hoses connecting to his machine.)
  One night we experienced one tsunami of a rainstorm. Nam was sawing logs a neighbor could hear when the power went out. Grunting and wallowing out of bed, he groped around in the dark looking for his cloths. He needed to start up his back up generator to keep his machine going.
  When he couldn't find his desired attire, he fumbled around his room—bumping into his bed and dresser—looking for a flashlight. That failed as well. It left him no choice but to stumble into the dark, down pouring rain to find his way to his generator.
  He used colorful language- while stubbing a toe or two- as he made his way to his truck where he turned on the headlights. This lit up part of the yard, but mostly the neighbor's windows. He attempted to fire up his generator, only find it out of gas.
  Frustrated, out of breath, and creating new words, he nit-picked his way through the debris scattered about in his yard till he found his riding lawnmower. Luckily enough it came roaring to life with the first turn of the key. Off he went across his yard in search of the gas can.
  Wet and grumbling he found his can. After a few wide maneuvers and u-turns, he headed back towards the house. In his journey back, and blinded by his headlights, he miss judged how close he was to his tomatoes in his garden.
  The blades of the lawnmower caught a nearby metal tomato tower. It ripped the tower from the ground, uprooting the tomato plant. His blades proceeded to wrap itself around the tower- shooting sparks as he drove.
  Nam now worried about lighting himself up. Sparks flying, he floored the mower to maximum power, tower trailing behind, till he reached his porch step. He shut off the mower, giving it a colorful lecture. Grunting as he peeled his wet backside from the leather seat; he grabbed the can and within minutes has his generator running.
  He hadn't more than twisted the gas cap on when the neighbor hood lit up with a flood of lights. In a panic, he glanced around to see if anyone was watching him. Sure enough, next door, he seen a curtain flutter.
  There was his neighbor...a little old lady. Her eyes wide open and mouth ajar in surprise. He glanced down at himself. Lit up like a Christmas tree, he made quite a picture as he stood mud splattered, sopping wet. Rain still rolling down his curves and only his boots on.

  I have to say, my poor cousin had tears in her eyes, snorting with laughter, as she attempted to tell me this story my dad had shared the following morning. I choked on my coffee as the images burned in my mind with every detail. This was one for the record books.

tlpoague 2014

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