The Very Best For Papa

THE TOMATO GARDEN


An old Italian man lived alone in the country. He
wanted to dig his tomato garden but it was very hard work as the ground was hard. His only son, Vincenzo, who used to help him, was in prison.

The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament.

Dear Vincenzo,
I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won't
be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I am
getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If you
were here, my troubles would be over. I know you would
dig the garden for me.
Love, Papa

A few days later he received a letter from his son.

Dear Papa,
I'd do anything for you Papa, except dig up that
garden. That's where I buried the bodies.
Love, Vinnie

At 4 am the next morning, FBI and local police arrived
and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies.
They apologized to the old man and left. The same day
the old man received another letter from his son.

Dear Papa,
Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now.
That's the best I could do under the circumstances.
Love, Vinni

It just goes to show you, genuine love is smart, endless and unconditional.

Report Cards, Kids And Sanity

My twelve year old son is in the 6th grade and school soon will be letting out for summer vacation. This year hasn't been a very good year for him. Perhaps, some of it is due to him discovering hormones, which makes him think he's 21 in a 12 year old body acting 6. Being well known within my community, the trips have been endless to the school to check on grades. When we arrive, we are to sign in and receive a badge and return it before we leave. I kept mine. The school accepted this, I think they gave me a hormone exemption.

My worries have been tremendous in regard to my sons grades, because so much depends on them next year. No longer is he eligible to just play sports. The seventh grade and up is a totally different light, because one must earn their right to play, as with so many other aspects in life, it is an earned effort. Earning the right to play sports means that one must make above average grades. At this point, I'm not sure where he is standing with this. Last week he was doing fine. This week, he is hunting up homework passes.

Today I received the email below from a dear friend of mine, and when I read it, I thought Goodness.... this would be something my son would be cleaver enough to try. Then I looked at it in a whole different light, wondering if my expectations are to far fetched? Something inside me says " Well at times" But then again, there is a larger side to me that believes and is enforced that we as parents must push our children to become all that they can become, never settling for less and never subsidize laziness and lack of responsibility. Here's the email"


A father passing by his son's bedroom was astonished to see that his bed was nicely made and everything was picked up. Then he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow that was addressed to "Dad." With the worst premonition he opened the envelope with trembling hands and read the letter.

Dear Dad:

It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you. I have been finding real passion with Stacy and she is so nice. But I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercings, tattoos, tight motorcycle clothes and the fact that she is much older than I am. But it's not only the passion...Dad, she's pregnant. Stacy said that we will be very happy.

She owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children.

Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people that live nearby for cocaine and ecstasy.

In the meantime we will pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so Stacy can get better. She deserves it. Don't worry Dad. I'm 15 and I know how to take care of myself. Someday I'm sure that we will be back to visit so that you can get to know your grandchildren.

Love,

Your Son John

PS. Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Tommy's house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than a report card. That's in my center desk drawer.

I love you.

Call me when it's safe to come home.

Sometimes it takes something so simple as a email meant to be a joke to teach a lesson to the adults. I had one such lesson today.

Happy Mother's Day

One Of The Strongest Women I Know Is You


Strong women are those who know the road ahead will be strewn with obstacles, but they still choose to walk it because it's the right one for them.

Strong women are those who make mistakes, who admit to them, learn from those failures, and then use that knowledge.

Strong women are easily hurt, but they still extend their hearts and hands, knowing the risk and accepting the pain when it comes.

Strong women are sometimes beat down by life. but they still stand back up and step forward again.

Strong women are afraid. They face the fear and move ahead to the future, as uncertain as it can be.

Strong women are not those who succeed the first time. They're the ones who fail time and again, but still keep trying until they succeed.

Strong women face the daily trials of life, sometimes with a tear, but always with their heads held high as the new day dawns.

Happy Mother's day to all the strong women I know. I love you and hope your day is perfect. :-)

passion ~

Waxing

Ladies, it's grin and bare it all tonight. We will be focusing on hair removal... But first a note from a friend on how this is to be accomplished. Okie, here we go, listen up please ~

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax.

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, and play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: "Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet." So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!)

So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold wax," yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.

With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my Who-ya and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek.

(Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself......R!RRRIIIPPP!!!! I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!.... OH M Y GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP!! Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out...........must stay conscious...Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.

I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX??? Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. CRAP! I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.

Then I make the next BIG mistake.......remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. ****!!!!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. Who-ya? Sealed shut! Butt?? Sealed shut!

I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!" What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? *WRONG!!!!!!!*

I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water, which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax. So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!!

God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!

I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter - "So, my butt and who-ha are glue together to the bottom of the tub!" There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking cheeks or hole or who-ha?" She's laughing out loud by now.....I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night. While we go through various solutions, I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor . Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.

My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the d***ens out of my friend. It's sooo painful, but I really don't care. "IT WORKS!! It works!!" I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair....THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.

So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.

Next week I'm going to try hair color......

Ummmmmmmmmm, did someone say they brought the Tequlia? grins... :-)

Nymphomaniac Southern Wit

Ok ladies, come on up on the porch. I have the Julep ready for you, already having mine. I had a friend send this to me, and I must share it with you. It's joke night ladies, drink up and share. :-)

A man boarded an airplane and took his seat. As he settled in, he glanced up and saw a very beautiful woman boarding the plane. He soon realized she was heading straight towards his seat. Lo and behold, she took the seat right beside him.

Eager to strike up a conversation, he blurted out, "Business trip or vacation?"

She turned and smiled and said, "Business. I'm going to the annual Nymphomaniac Convention in Chicago."

He swallowed hard. Here was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen sitting next to him and she was going to a meeting of nymphomaniacs!

Struggling to maintain his composure, he calmly asked, "What's your
business role at this convention?"

"Lecturer," she responded. "I use my experience to debunk some of the popular myths about sexuality."

"Really," he said, "What myths are those?"

"Well," she explained, "One popular myth is that American men are the most well-endowed when, in fact, it's the Native American Indian who is most likely to possess that trait. Another popular myth is that
French men are the best lovers, when it is actually men of Jewish descent. And we have discovered that the best potential lover in all categories is the Southern redneck."

Suddenly the woman became a little uncomfortable and blushed, "I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't really be discussing this with you. don't even know your name.

"Tonto," the man said, "Tonto Goldstein. But my friends call me Bubba."

Thanks to Memphisbelle2006 for the laugh

The Power Of Herbs

A little behind I am, so gathering today here on the porch will indeed be a treat. It seems Spring brings about many changes, bringing in the new, fazing out the old. How refreshing.

It's Sunday today and on Sundays I always cook especially if the quilters are coming.The menu consist of pork loin roast with apricot sauce, sugar free of course, roasted garlic and onion new potatoes,black skillet pan fried string beans with mushrooms and corn, slaw, homemade biscuits and cornbread. So come on up, grab a plate and enjoy.

I don't know how many of you, who by chance, made it to the path of here has ever been to Boone NC, where Appalachian University is located? Yesterday, I went on a adventure, riding up there with two girlfriends. What a beautiful ride and such a neat place to visit.

We went on a mission to visit crystal shops and healing of the soul shops that sell herbs, healing rocks, crystals and smudge sticks that cleanses ones home when done properly. They consist of different types of herbs rolled into a stick and tied together. I opted to buy white sage on a stem, not mixed with other herbs as I wanted purity, solitude and cleansing within my home this time.

So, when I came in from the trip, and all was settled down, I started my cleansing ritual. This not only cleansing your home of all negative energy, but it also cleansing one's soul. One must find their own spiritual energy within and bring this out before the process begins.

To get started, I took the sage and tied it off with twine so when lit,the sage would burn evenly and smoulder as I moved from corner to corner in every room within my the home, saying my choice of blessings to the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.

This was a powerful event, as I could instantly feel my energy spirit take hold and begin to return to where it belongs. Everyone has a Energy Body. The energy system, spirit or energy person is ABSOLUTELY REAL.

How does one know if they need healing or their home needs cleansing? Simple. It is your own emotions (and the behaviours driven by those emotions as well as the disease or illness caused by those emotions) that tell you "the state of your spirit" - or how well your energy system is functioning.

Disturbed emotions (stress, sadness, anger, grief, rage, anxiety, fear, depression ) come directly from a disturbed energy system.

A disturbed energy system leads directly to disturbed thinking and actions and finally, to PHYSICAL DISEASE.

If you are happy, proactive, positive, motivated and joyful, your energy system is working well and you don't need energy healing.

Have a great day all! Smooches and hugs...

passion ~