26 February 2009
24 February 2009
His First Birthday. Wow. That was a fast year. Jay was born at 9 am on Friday, February 20, and by that day at noon, he had already taken his first helicopter ride to the Arkansas Children's Hospital. His lungs were underdeveloped, and he stayed in the NICU for two weeks. That ordeal seems so long ago, especially when I am now chasing this little man down the hallway because he slips away from me while I am trying to change his diaper. He is healthy and strong and almost walking. He loves to be with people and he chatters non-stop. He sleeps through any commotion we might have going on in the house and he loves to eat. What a great addition to our family of ladies - our Prince James.
Happy Birthday, Jay!
18 February 2009
1. Be one of the first THREE bloggers to leave a comment on this post, which then entitles you to a handmade item from me (yeah for handmade!).
2. If you are one of the first three to make a comment, you are a winner! And you then agree to post this challenge on your own blog, meaning that you will pay it forward, creating a handmade gift -anything!- for the first THREE bloggers who leave a comment on YOUR post about this giveaway!
3. The gift that you send to your 3 friends can be from any price range and you have 365 days to make/ship your item. This means you should be willing to maintain your blog at least until you receive your gift and have shipped your gifts. And, remember it’s the spirit and the thought that count!
4. When you receive your gift, blog about it! If you are not one of the first three to comment on this post, you can still play along. Go ahead and start your own Pay It Forward chain, and encourage your blogging friends to do the same! It's all about paying it forward.
16 February 2009
I was rolling along the highway today, all five kids in tow. We had just been to the $1 movie theatre, which is only 50 cents if you see the first movie of the day on Mondays. Today we had no school, so to honor President's day, I spent 50 cents per ticket and took the gang to see Bolt. Cute movie; I recommend it. I digress...
My shadow, my little man, my cooking buddy...
James Michael Ball, 11 months old
11 February 2009
My friend Becca had a great idea - let's make our own laundry soap! Sounds crazy, right? So easy! She had a recipe and had seen it done once before. So, she invited a bunch of us over, told us what to bring, and we made laundry detergent! We used Borax, Washing Soda and Fels Naptha soap. It was amazingly simple to do and I can proudly say that I have washed six loads of laundry since I brought home my five-gallon bucket of Home-Made-Detergent and it is wonderful. I mean, come on, we have stains, smells and generally germy, dirty laundry. This did the trick - now we have sweet, clean smelling clothes and it was so cheap to make! Yeah! Thank you Becca!
09 February 2009
I haven't felt well lately - our weather here is in the 70s one day and ice on the van the next. I have plenty to do, I just can come up with so much other stuff I would rather be doing. Kinda like Ralph here. The best cartoon ever.
Enjoy. (Turn off the music at the bottom of the page, first.)
07 February 2009
06 February 2009
Any of you who have known me for a while might believe I like to argue with authority. It's so true. There's just something about arbitrary rules that really drive me crazy. (sources like the government, school districts or indoor fast food restaurant play areas...) I have no problem when it comes to rules I understand are for my own good, and that come from a source with only my happiness at heart - in that case I usually listen, sometimes not at first, but, eventually I come around. (sources like parents, scriptures, or coaches) Enough about me...
Yesterday Rachel (10) asked if she could go roller skating with her friends. I said, Sure, I'll take you. You can go after school until about 7 pm, because on Friday nights, the teenagers will be hanging out there and I don't want you there with the "big kids". She agreed, if only on the pretense that they were always better skaters and she might be mowed over. She called her friend back to say she could go, and then I heard her on the phone saying, Oh, well, I can't do that. I'll see you at school tomorrow.
She got off the phone and I asked what happened. She said her friends weren't getting there until about 8pm. So, she couldn't go. Wow. No arguing, no whining, no begging or offering to clean the bathroom in exchange for exceptions. Just acceptance. Good girl, Rae. You must get this wonderful trait from your father. And tonight, when your friends are skating and you are home safe and sound with your family, we will play chess and make popcorn. I'm proud of you, lady.
03 February 2009
"The wreckage of a single-engine Beechcraft Bonanza was scattered across a small area of snow-covered cornfield outside of Clear Lake, Iowa. The plane crashed into the ground suddenly, so most of the smoldering rubble was concentrated in one area. Three passengers — Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and J.P. Richardson, a.k.a. “The Big Bopper” — were ejected from the plane and died on impact, as did the pilot, 21-year-old Roger Peterson.
That happened on Feb. 3, 1959, exactly 50 years ago." (Michael Ventre, on msnbc.com)
Don McLean would go on to write the song, "The Day The Music Died" to describe the tragedy of this day in history, but, we all know it didn't die, did it? It has changed significantly, for the worse and for the better, since that day 50 years ago.
My father met Buddy Holly once. To get my Dad's story straight, I'll let him tell it - from his personal history: "In the summer of my 13th year, in the month of July 1957, I was helping Robert Owens across the street wash his Chevrolet in the vacant lot next to his home. My mother came to our front door and yelled across the street for me to come to the phone. I went back to my house and picked up the phone. One the other end of the line was Bill Phillips, Jr. who was a disc jockey at one of the local radio stations in town (WICO, in Salisbury, Maryland). Bill informed me that he had a special visitor and wondered if I could come down to the studio for a few minutes to meet him. He would not tell me his name, only that he was in town for only a short time passing through to an engagement north of here and had stopped into see Bill while he was broadcasting his afternoon show. I told him that I thought I could get Robert to take me down and told him I would be there in a few minutes. Robert did take me down tot he station and when we pulled up in front I could look through the plate glass window in front of the station and see Bill inside with someone else sitting beside him. I asked Robert to wait for me while I went inside and he turned the car off and sat back in the front seat to take a nap while I was inside. I went in the front door and to the studio door where the "On Air" light was on. I waited for the light to go off and then, knowing that I would not disrupt Bill's broadcast, knocked on the door and the voice inside bid me enter. I did so and when I walked into Bill's broadcast studio the guest stood up and Bill said to me, "Wayne, I would like you to meet Buddy Holly." I couldn't believe my ears. Here he was, the man himself. Holly was dressed in jeans with a plaid sport shirt and those awful black horn rimmed glasses. He was only 20 years old. I was stunned. He extended his hand for me to shake and it took all the energy at my disposal to extend my hand to his. Earlier that year, in February, Holly and Crickets had just recorded and released "That'll Be The Day". He told me he was on his way for an interview with Dick Clark in Philadelphia when he was driving through Salisbury, he remembered Bill Phillips from an earlier acquaintance and thought he would just stop in to see him. I will never forget that day as long as I live. Holly died a little more than a year and a half (3 Feb 59) after I had the opportunity to meet him. What I have kicked myself for all these years is the fact that in all the excitement and confusion of seeing him in person, I failed to even ask him for something as simple as an autograph!" From the Personal History of Wayne Brumbley, pages 130-131
Thanks, Dad. The guy who should be really kicking himself is poor Robert Owens, napping in the Chevy out front!
01 February 2009