MUSINGS

I almost posted this in my other blog but I thought it needed a bigger audience. Preface:  if there are men who are not hip the ways and wiles of women, type in a new page now, cause you're going to get inundated.  For all others who have a backbone, a uterus, or a healthy respect for the fairer sex, read on my friends.  Read on. I've had many friends over the years mourn or flat out hate their periods.  I mean, wishing they didn't have it, grateful for hysterectomy's, dreading the days as they grew closer.  Women of great strength and intellect, valor and pride, moms, wives, lovers...it never ceases to amaze me.  I have never been one of them per se.  Have I had those rough days where I hated being a woman? Sure.  We all have.  Whether is was Aunt Flow coming to pay her monthly visit or men not respecting us in the workplace, or even our fathers not letting us play ball, we've all had those moments.  The problem is letting those momen...

My daughter asked me a while back to write a blog about our cat Texi.  Kids being kids, I smiled and said, "Ok", logged it away in my phone and went on about my business.  My thoughts are a bit jumbled these days, I have a lot going on and it's not going to slow down for a bit, SO:  a cat blog it shall be. Texi napping with the baby  We have three in the house, Texi, our 9 year old male; Princess, our ~6 year old female; and the new addition T.C., our grey female baby cat.  As with all things they have unique personalities and they are part of us.  Growing up we always had cats outside, every once in a while mom would cave and we'd have a inside/outside one.  Texi was a great grandchild of one of my last mama cats, he is what I call a mock Siamese...he's white with dark accents, but as he got older his main colour darkened...he's gorgeous, de-clawed on the front and a total queen.  He used to steal my daughters barbie clothes and accessorie...

As usual on a full moon, I had far too much energy and not enough time to do everything I'd like to do. I cut my yard, flea treated my dogs, relocated the one who likes to jump fences, and went on to clean my house.  I'm one of those women who mutters as she cleans...you know what I mean, you've heard your mama or your grandma do it.  You walk up on them as they are mopping, scrubbing dishes, or doing laundry...just talking away under their breath.  They (or you) may not realize it but they were taking negative energy and turning it into something positive, even if it's only a shiny kettle. My daughter has walked in on me many an afternoon just as I used to do my own mother, she will laugh at me and say, "talking to yourself again mama?"  Yes baby, I am, sometimes I'm praying, sometimes I'm cussing and sometimes I'm reworking a conversation that I had previously.  Many times during a week I'll converse with someone and come away from the con...

People often remark that I don't talk about my time in the Corps.  Most folks know, at least within either the initial introduction or the first few talks that I served.  My Honey brought it up a few times after we'd been together for a while that he knew nothing of my experiences when I was overseas.  He got one or two snipits about Japan here and there and that was about it.  Basically what everyone gets, the "safe" stories.  There are things best left in the past.  That being said, I am here to bare the soul a bit and offer up a story or two, names shall be changed to protect the not-so-innocent and maintain the status quo.  Grab a beer, it might get interesting. Many moons ago there was a young woman who was a new mom, a new wife and incredibly poor.  She drank far too much and spent too much time running behind a certain best friend who was the gunpowder to her lead.  She was adjusting to life as much as she could, broke, miserable, an...

Blake Shelton:  Boys 'Round Here A friend of mine posted an article in regard to this video and poked fun at the idea that a Southern boy could promote positive race relations and kill off old misconceptions.  Now I'm not going to sit here and pretend that certain hate groups are not still alive and well down here, or that there are folks who still haven't "woken up"...but it's not as bad as most people would believe.  I'm excited about the current fad of country music and Southern rock, people are seeing that even a Redneck is simply a hard working individual loaded with family and community pride. There are several common ideas that float around in regard to Southerners and country folks that are quite off base.  I'd like to roll through a few and set the record a bit straighter. No. 1     All white Southerners are either descended from slave owners or are prejudiced against African-Americans. Bust:     Only the most wealthy families ...

This one is for the Missus. Ever wonder when you've become "that woman"...?  You know the one, she owns Tarot cards or a hefty worn down Bible, and is able to lay down the "when I was younger and skinny" stories...  The spiritual lady, the devout lady, the one who understands who/what God is to her... Has seemingly done it all...Will look you in the eye and say, "you will understand later on"...or "you have some growing to do".... Have you ever left a conversation or a moment in time, sat in your car and thought, "was I this naive? Or is there really a generation gap? when did I become.... Her ..."  All the while learning, growing and conquering her own deamons.  She doesn't see herself as the one who needs to be giving advice or spouting lessons or wisdom...  She's the woman who is trying to conquer poison ivy and keep her relationship current and hot and alive...AND learn how to grow up.... I've spent time recent...

Miranda Lambert and I have gotten to be pretty good friends the last few years.  Southern women are unique in the fact that we rarely tell someone what we really think of them.  It's just not polite.  Now we'll bless their hearts till we turn blue, but until we've been pushed into a corner there's a grace period of: "let's see how far this is actually going to go before I go completely white trash on'em".  Well ya'll, I was born white trash. Don't get your panties in a twist over the verbiage, white trash/redneck, it's sort of like calling someone in South Louisiana a Coonass.  An outsider can't call someone that, they didn't earn the right to use those words on a local.  I can call myself that because I know that my daddy worked as hard as he could for as long as he could, and my mom picked up that torch when he was physically unable.  This earned my little family a small plot of land, a single wide trailer and a myriad of tr...