Don't hate me because I'm beautiful

That's a line from a commercial from the 70's, I believe. A supermodel would be posing for pictures, look at the camera, and say "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful"
However, after working in the beauty industry, I can attest that you should hate her not because she's beautiful, but because she has the extra 45 minutes to 1 hour that it takes to style her hair.
I have been blessed (or cursed) with hair that is straight as a stick. I couldn't hold a curl if I put it in a bucket. And it is baby fine, and limp to boot. So, in order to combat this problem, I asked a hairdresser friend of mine if she had any suggestions for a hair style that looked natural, and would give me some body.
Big mistake. The key word here was look natural. There are a myriad of steps to accomplish that tossled that everyone loves. First, a good shampoo and conditioner. Lather, rinse, repeat. Condition--and leave on for 5 minutes, rinse. Towel dry. Then come the styling products which are applied with the precision of a research chemist......1--a spray on sunscreen to protect the hair from damaging effects of the sun. 2--a product to give your hair shine 3--a volumizing cream, 4--a root lifting product which when sprayed at the scalp of the hair will poof your hair.
The next step is to dry......And please bear in mind that with baby fine hair, if too much product is used, the hair becomes weighed down, flat, and must be re-shampooed and the whole process starts all over again....
After drying the hair, a heat shield product is applied to protect the hair from damaging effects of a curling iron. Then, optomist that I am, I curl my hair--just a soft loose curl, again to impart some body to my hair. And then the finishing touch is to apply a soft wax to my hair. Rub this wax on your fingers, then take small bits of your hair and gently pull them away from your head, and drop them back down. This wax gives just a hint of tossle to those soft curls that I just finished putting in.
I checked the clock and the whole procedure takes 45 to 50 minutes. Breathing a sigh of relief, I walk out of the bathroom to see what my spouse thinks of such a natural and hip hairstyle on his middle aged wife.
"Looks like you just got out of bed" he says.....

Deeds

I'm not talking good deeds--or even bad deeds. But the deeds that are involved in a property transfer. Gads, this is a nightmare. If you have never been fortunate (or unfortunate, as the case may be) to read an old deed, you are really missing out.
Recently, we have been doing some updating of Mom's farm records, and it's the biggest mess that ever was. Gives me a headache just thinking about it. Starting at a beech tree on the old mill road and running thence N58 W48 Poles to a stone and thense S54 1/2 E to a stone in the center of the road.......
Well, you get the idea. And come to find out some of the directions were left out of Mom's deed when she and Daddy bought their farm lo those many years ago (typo that no one caught before) Is there any wonder that it gives me a headache?
The lawyer took one look at it and said just re-survey the whole farm. It may come to that, but we're trying to avoid that. With 216 acres of "goat country" lots of hills and hollars, straight up and down, gullys and cliffs, the expense alone would probably put one of my children through college.
The beech tree is gone, the mill road is gone, the stone in the middle of the road is gone, and one tract is unable to be plotted--until we do some more research on earlier deeds to find where this little hunk of ground is.
Oh well, such is life in the country.

My son, the poet

My son, began creative writing when he was in 5th or 6th grade. Some of his poetry, I think, is quite good, and will post a bit of it here for your enjoyment.

Check All That Apply
I stare down the page
At the desolation before me.
A single sentence stares back at me.
Choose your fields of interest. (Check all that apply)

How do I tell someone I'll never see
About all the dreams inside of me
And what it is I want to be
At some school I'll never see inside of. (Check all that apply)

Square boxes make an even row
Lining up the left side of the page.
Find one that'll do, stretch it to fit you,
Or till you fit it. (Check all that apply)

How do you explain to a piece of paper
That you want to tweak life's nose,
Shake his hand, ruffle his hair,
Pat his back and send him on his way. (Check all that apply)

Suddenly it came to me,
An idea to set me free,
My pen moved feverishly
From agriculture to zoology. (I checked all that apply)

Clean your room

http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/africa/08/05/congo.gorillas/?imw=Y&iref=mpstoryemail


Having had children, I can attest that they can misplace a myriad of things in their rooms. After my older children left home, I cleaned out from under the bed, cleaned out closets and dressers and found things that I had forgotten I even owned.
Jewelry, clothes, shoes, underwear (that was in my daughter's room) And from my son's room, were books, movies, games, and over the counter medicines (bandaids, tylenol, tums, et al)
That is pretty much par for the course if you ask any mother that has ever cleaned up after her children have left home. And I will admit that there were occasions that I opened their bedroom doors when they were teenagers, that I was tempted to firebomb the whole house, just because rebuilding would have been easier than to get those kids to clean up the mess they called bedrooms.
And I have seen lots of odd things get misplaced in the black hole which are teenager's bedrooms. Everything from shoes and backpacks to clothes and homework. But I have never seen anything messy enough where you would lose 125,000 gorillas. And, yes, I've read the reports.....the numbers were underestimated. These gorillas were hiding. Whatever the reason is, I can just see the mother of the head researcher--hands on hips, looking at him with that look that parents use oh so well. "Well young man--I told you that room was messy. I went in there to clean up and LOOK what I found!!! 125,000 Gorillas. "

It makes you wonder

I really don't understand the news media. As I said, our town is so small that we don't have a TV station. Local news comes from the radio, and regional news comes from either Louisville, Kentucky or Evansville, Indiana.



So, this morning, I'm watching the morning news from Louisville, Kentucky. I have laughed at this particular morning show for years--and I suppose that is why I watch this particular channel--just for the giggles.



Yesterday, July 29, a plane crashed in North Carolina, and sadly both the pilot and passenger were killed. However, the way that the news media handled this event was strange, to say the least.



Local news stations seem fascinated with gadgets. They like to use their helicopters, their "mobile news rooms" (read--truck with a logo on the side) and various and sundry reporting devices. Gives them the one up on the competition. This particular station uses the "Live Remote" shot quite frequently.



Now, bear in mind, this plane crash happened yesterday afternooon, before 4 pm, local time. But this morning, at 4:30 am, local time--at a "Live Remote" from the airport, this reporter was out there, reporting on the events of yesterday. There wasn't a press conference, no one to interview, and it was so dark, you couldn't even see a plane, but there she was reporting that a plane took off from the airport yesterday and crashed in North Carolina.



Now for the life of me, I can't figure out why the announcer that was in the studio couldn't tell the same thing. But it never fails, this station (and others) seem determined to send people out in the middle of the night to places where either news has already happened, or news hasn't happened yet.



I've seen reports over the years that just boggle the mind:

Behind me is the court house where at 1:00 pm, Joe ****, will be arraigned on charges of drunk driving. (the time is currently somewhere between 3 and 5 am--NO ONE IS AT SAID COURT HOUSE NOW!!! SO WHY ARE YOU???)



We're here outside the jail where yesterday afternoon Sue ***** was arrested. (This event took place several hours ago--it's now after 11 pm, what do you think you're going to see?)



I suppose it's a bit sensationalistic, but to me it's simply a waste of effort, time, and money to go to places like that in the middle of the night.

Family History

Someday, that crazy old aunt (or grandmother, or uncle, or whoever) will be gone. And you'll wonder. Exactly what was the story behind that vase? Exactly who was the person that served in WWI? You'll wonder. You know you will. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life--you'll wonder. (Apologies to fans of Casablanca, everywhere)

In our family, it was Grandmother. That sweet old lady, who could be mean as a snake--if the need arose--born before the turn of the 20th century, lived in the Indian Territory (Oklahoma to you folks born after 1903), married, raised a family, and died in Texas. She knew it all. And to this day she catches grief (in a loving way) for her 'books' that were written on the back of pictures.

For example, a picture of a rose bush--it goes something like "Pink rose bush that was at the end of my house on 208 Bird Street, San Angelo, Tx. A slip taken from the bush that was on the farm at Robert Lee, by Judge (my father) who was born on Feb 3, 1919, when his father was overseas. And brought to our new home when we left Robert Lee in 19** and there it is from that day until this....."

Grandmother was a case. She knew every ancestor and every story about said ancestors that could ever be told. She wrote to every county clerk in every city that was ever mentioned in the family lore. Subscribed to newspapers, because there might be a lead in one of them. Spent days at a time, in court house archives, and libraries--trying to find that one record that she didn't have--the information that would make any researcher go--Ah Ha! That's It! In a day that was before word processors and the internet--when all research was painstaking and done in person--that was quite a feat.

Grandmother was quite a character. As one of the younger grandchildren, who didn't live nearby, and the only one named after her, I could be just a tad bit biased. (OK, maybe a lot biased) She left a journal telling about her feelings when, as a new bride who was expecting her first child, her husband went overseas to fight in the trenches in World War I.

" June 3 1918--Told Raymond goodbye. He's in Co B, 315th Engineers, 90th Division. He's leaving San Antonio, Texas for overseas. I'm at Aunt Claudia's (Mrs. Sam Johnston) at 430 E Guenther St. Will go to Leming and Mother Teller's tomorrow via train. I'm very sad and lonesome. Aunt Claudia did go with me to Leming and stayed a few days.
June 14, 1918--Very homesick for Mama, Papa, and the little kids, borrowed $10 from Dad Teller, bought me a ticket to Raymondville. Mr. AC Burton got on the train at Kingsville (where he had delivered a new car) sat by me and talked. When the train arrived in R-Ville, he said, "Mae, wait right here (on the platform at the depot) "I'll go across the street and get my car and take you home." (My folks weren't looking for me)
He did, papa lived about 5 miles west of Raymondville. Mr. Burton let me out at the big gate near the farm outse. I opened the gate and walked up on the gallery, mama came to the door and on out on the gallery when I got to the steps, she said "Oh, if it isn't Mae" What a reunion we had. I was happy to be home after being gone to Leming and San Antonio for 8 months--seemed to me like 8 years. How good to be at home with papa and mama and the little kids, (my younger sisters, Jane, Katherine, Grace, and Carolyn. Frank, my younger brother was at home also, part time he was away at college. Bryan and Lorraine (my older brother and sister were in LA at that time)'*

Like I said, she was quite detailed in her descriptions of things. She never just told you a story about an antique spoon--for example--she told you what town she bought the spoon in, what time of year it was, who was with her, and her feelings behind the whole purchase. Grandmother was quite the historian. I have always had a love of history--part of this love I think came from Grandmother. At least, I like to attribute it to her.

*excerpts from journal of Mae Wilson Teller dated June 3, 1972 with inscription 54 years ago, Raymond was off to France--today he is in Vet. Hosp. Big Spring Tex--MT

The County Fair--The Radio

Our town is so small, that there is no local TV station, we get all our tv news from either Louisville, KY or Evansville, Indiana. But we do have a radio station. That's another mainstay of our little county fair--being interviewed on the radio. Local businesses donate everything from keychains and waterbottles, to t-shirts and ball caps. And for allowing yourself to be interviewed on the radio, you get a chance to "spin the wheel" and win a prize.
The wheel is a very small version of the Wheel of Fortune wheel. Instead of listing money, all listings on the wheel are business names, which correspond to that particular prize. I might be dating myself, but I remember when the radio station gave out records for interviews, but I digress.
The interview goes something like this:
Q--What's your name and where are you from?
A--Suzie (or Jane, or Tom, or whatever the case may be) I'm from here in the county.
Q--What brings you out to the fair tonight?
A--(in our case) The 4-H livestock auction.
Q--Did the kids have fun?
A--Oh yes, and so did the parents.
Q--All right, spin the wheel and win a prize...
You've won a ball cap from Wright Implement! Congratulations....

Over the years we've won everything from candy to tote bags, straw hats to fly swatters. It's amazing how people will put up with a few questions from a local "celebrity" for a chance to win a fly swatter from the bank......