It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

imageimageI know it’s not yet turkey day, but down at the Junk in the Trunk (and then some booth) we’re already and very gratefully sweating a little “tinsel”, while getting our fa-la-la-la-la on!!!!!

The Junk in the Trunk, is just one of the many vendors participating in this years Christmas Open House at Morton’s Antique Mall on the Ave in beautiful downtown Yakima, Wa.  If you are out and about spreading some good cheer on Friday, Nov 18th between 6:30-9:00 please stop by for cookies (some gluten free), a warm bevarage and a stroll through two floors of memory evoking antiques, vintage, shabby chic and repurposed junk/treasures galore.

As I’m writing I wonder if Santa is as into the recycle/repurpose/re-CELEBRATE thing as some of us are, he should be!!!!!

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Celebrating “Junk” with Eclectic Abandon

imageJust another wonderful day in my “junk” filled paradise and I couldn’t be more grateful.  This summer has provided ample opportunity to celebrate all things imperfect.  I have picked up lots of old beat up furniture and had a blast drinking wine and getting dirty while putting “a little paint on the old barn” and listening to my favorite crooner Dean Martin.

Also have some really cool old items, that wear their well-earned rust wonderfully.  In addition, I attempted to flex my green thumb on some different ideas for succulent potting.  The succulent thing is definitely a learning process but I just love finding ways to display them a just a little differently.

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My goal is to milk every bit of summer sunshine and warmth for all the yard sale booty I can scrounge/aka score!!!!!!!!!  Then it’s down to the store and hopefully celebrate “junk” and all things imperfect in total eclectic abandon.

Psalm 139:13-14

I share my story in hopes another woman will not have to share hers
I share my story because in my youth I chose to end a life.

As a teenager in the 70’s I was kind of a wild child. Actually I was a wild non-conforming geek, with little to no self esteem. At sixteen I wanted no one to tell me what to do. At the same time, if you offered to love me/like me I would do whatever you asked. If you loved me enough, maybe I could love me too.

Just after turning 16 I met a boy who told me he liked me. I just knew he would love me if I gave him whatever he wanted. So, an emotionally immature child had sex to force someone to love her and with that decision came a lifetime of regret.
With that decision I forced myself to make a choice no mother should ever make.
With that decision I chose to abort/terminate/kill my child. With that decision, I have carried 43yrs of painful remorse.

Back in the 1970’s Roe vs Wade had just come to be and I wish to God it had not. I believe because abortion was so newly legalized “those is charge” were “loose cannons” and not prepared to counsel but rather (and I lived it and saw it) to bring the the lambs to slaughter.

When I had told my boyfriend I was pregnant, he wanted to know who the father was? He also dumped me so hard my dad threatened to physically put the hurt on him. My poor parents, mom told me she would support me whatever I decided. My dad felt different. He wanted me to go back to normal (poor dad he didn’t seem to get it, that normal was not an option). He thought, now that abortion was legal, we could terminate the problem and get on with life. I was so immature and had no idea the choice I made would forever change me. I couldn’t see that there were those waiting to assist me in the choice to murder my child.

At just about 12 weeks my mother took me to a local Dr. The Dr. for whatever reason told me I was far enough along that I would have to wait until I was seventeen weeks. I was so stupid and to this day I do not understand what the heck happened. I was a kid who didn’t know anything of sex except, I thought it could get you love. I had no idea as to what this Dr. was talking about.

Now I will interject here, that before the final decision to abort was made I had one teacher who was kind enough to tell me, there were places for girls like me to go and have their babies. As a selfish teenager I could only think of myself not wanting to give up my unstable teenage life, I chose what I thought was the easy way out.
I went in at 17 weeks (my sister had said I was farther along than that, apparently I have still chosen to not be able to remember) pregnant to have a late term abortion. I remember a fifteen year old girl in the room also that day. The Dr. inserted a needle into our abdomens I have always thought he injected our children with saline? All I remember is both of us went through labor and that the Dr. laid my dead son on my tummy. It was all very matter of fact to him, it seemed.

Back to why I have chosen to share this story. I carried the shame of this horror for many years before I discussed it with anyone other than my sister.  I never wanted to exploit my dead son and I thought if I never spoke of it, I was somehow protecting him. The reality is I did not protect him but I have the chance to protect other children and women.
Six  years ago I attended a Christian led group full of many other women who also had lived the horror that comes with the choice to abort. It was so painful to admit to and relive the choices we all made. As I sat in the group I just couldn’t get over how many other women were suffering and missing the children we chose not to have.
Again I must interject, I have always been a person who does not want anybody telling me what to do. I was such a liberal, once upon a time. So I understand fully why people want to make their own choices. But I also understand that with choice must come honesty. If you choose to abort, you choose to murder and with that comes a pain you will live with the rest of your life.
If the heartbeat of a fetus is detectable at 6 weeks and I believe brain waves are as well, it is in my opinion murder if you choose to end that life?   As one who did make that choice I will tell you, you may eliminate a child’s physical presence, you will most likely also feel the sense of relief in thinking your burden has been lifted.  The reality is however that many feel that child’s presence in pain the rest of their lives.  The relief is replaced by shock, numbness, guilt, loss and shame.  It is odd how in life we can miss something so much that we chose not to have.

My prayer is that we choose to educate and no longer terminate. As our children struggle with the many issues that come with adolescence, educate them as to the realities that come with the choices they make.
My prayer is that we cultivate a revival of respect. I believe as we encourage our young to respect others, they in turn develop self-respect which is needed to make responsible choices in life.
My prayer is that we adults celebrate the moral responsibility that we are obliged to carry.

Again I share my story, not to judge you but to save another women from the aftermath of pain that comes with abortion.
I share my story for the countless unborn children and I pray someday the holocaust we continue to inflict ends.

God  ALWAYS manages to take the dark and ugly and brings it into the light of His beauty.

Memories, “Rhymes & Reasons”

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While out on yard sale patrol, a good friend and I came upon these long lost, but not so forgotten memory makers from days gone by.
I better stipulate right here, that I am one nostalgic old hippie. I love life today, look forward to all the future has to offer and I do so because I celebrate the past.
One thing I have learned throughout the years is that in addition to the visual, the melodic sound of yesteryear provides a much needed music to the soul.
So, needless to say when I see an old radio/record player or better yet 8track on somebodies curbside, I have an overwhelming need to hear the sound of music once again.
On the larger of the two console’s I enjoyed listening to the owner’s own Xanadu of memories on vinyl.
The smaller stereo encased within an 8track, which for me brings back many a memory indeed, not only of the era but of those lost but never forgotten.
After a wonderful day of restoration, I sit basking in the glory of a well worn much much beloved Carole King record, helping me to remember that is in memory we are able to find “Rhymes & Reasons”.

Not Just Talking Out My “boro”, TGIF and More

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With my feet barely touching the floor, my fingers type away with the kind of zeal that only comes from the end of a hard week of work and a fine glass of wine.

Oh how I’m anticipatin’ un-alarming that no good, dirty rotten alarm clock tonight.
Lord, knows at my age (vintage) I am so grateful to be employed and at the same time, at my age (again, vintage) I am not so grateful that I still have to be employed!!!!

Oh, well I remind myself this evening that is why God made weekends, so we could do all the laundry, clean the house, do the shopping, wash the car, pay the bills and then RELAX.

I remember doing all this when my kids were little. Really, not so much has changed except for the fact that now I’m old enough I kind of smile even when I bitch.

I observe those around me, some still hard at work, some retired and some forced into early retirement.

I remind myself that the grass is never so green as in our own backyard and that each and every one of us has the ability to make it, break it or grab it by the ____
and run with it.

I choose this beautiful Friday evening to get my bitchin out-of-the-way, count my many blessings and then run with each and every one of them into tomorrow.

TGIF, us each and everyone!!!!

“windows are not made for looking out but more for looking in.”

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When I was a child I had my Dottie She was my salvation. I loved her, I adored her and I miss her to this day. Dorothy Kathryn Jenkins (Mobley) was my grandmother. God really broke the mold with Dot. … Continue reading

If I Knew Then, What I Now Know

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If I knew then that my sister and brothers would many years later find so much humor in the fact that my mama dressed me funny (even in pajamas),
I would most definitely find a smaller pair to wear, just so we could share a belly laugh together as only siblings can do.

If I knew then that aluminum Christmas trees were only a novelty,
I would have stocked up. I did so love to lay in front of that tree with the color wheel turning. I would stare at the ceiling for hours on end, probably a precursor to a few little trips (if you know what I mean and if your old and lived through the 70’s, you should) I took a not so many years later.

If I knew then that my father would grow old and tired,
I would not have wasted so much time being angry with him and more time celebrating the man he was.

If I knew then my mother did love me as only a mother can,
I for sure would have not held onto childhood hurts that only ended up hurting her too.

It wasn’t until some years later I realized my family is everything I am.
They are a gift that I have many times over been afraid to love fully.

I wish I knew then what I now know.

From Blue Sky Bliss to Blue Light Madness

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As the blue-sky envelopes all the natural beauty the great northwest has to offer, I find myself in awe of my surroundings. Even the drive to my local grocery store is scenic and my senses are ripe to breath it all in. I feel so alive, so vibrant and so grateful!!!!

Until that is, the actual shopping experience begins. The minute I start frantically wiping off (with a tiny disinfectant wipe) that filthy, cumbersome cart, all the pre-store, enjoy the trip euphoria is now only a memory for me to cling to.

Is it only me that is transfixed on thinking about how many little “pee-pee” bottoms have sat in that cart at one time or another? I think about it enough that I got to go back for another wipe. Then I must try to not take any poor bystander out while I steer that monster cart with one hand and wipe frantically that “stinkin” seat with the other.

I just have to interject here that I really DO NOT think people with that stupid blue tooth thing hanging out of there ear, should be allowed in the grocery store while wearing that ridiculous thing. Nothing screams “I need attention” more than that silly bit of business.

When shopping on a budget stopping and picking up the weekly ad is a must. Then you have to find some quiet little spot to have a minute to peruse what’s on the table for this week. Not an easy task if you’ve hit the store on a payday or senior Tuesday. Your chances of being hit by a cart driven by some old fart are way better than sneaking off somewhere to check that ad in private.

If you do manage to get those precious sale items memorized and those coupons ripped out with your bare hands and neatly enough there is still some remnant of bar code, you’ve done well. I know I’m always quite proud of myself when I get all that accomplished without cursing so loudly some poor soul thinks there’s been a flip out in aisle 5. I really do try not to curse in the grocery store but I have been known to slip up on that from time to time.

When I finally do make it to check out, is when I really must focus and breath. Again if it’s busy and the lines are long I will make at least one pre-emptive pass, by all the cashiers. I’m looking for that experienced, friendly face that I think will help me to achieve my goal to get through that line as quickly as possible. I’m also checking out my shopping competition. I do not want to get behind a couponer or social butterfly, cause to me that is the equivalent of torture. Again too there better not be a “bluetooth” wearer in my line. I will shift from side to side to side to side, while focusing on anything but the horror in front of me. I get the shakes just thinking about it!

But when it’s all said, done, bought and paid for I exit and take again a deep breath of outside bliss. That is until I realize I forgot, yet again where I parked that freakin car. This is why I have grandchildren. My role as grandmother is nurturer. Their role is to keep grandma the loving nurturer and save her from the grocery store parking lot trauma about to happen!!!!!!!!

Bitch Slapped Into Reality II

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Because I’m now a card carrying, senior discount taking, don’t mess with an old lady, member of the AARP. I reserve the right to re-tweek just a little, a previous post in which I allowed myself to poke a little fun at all us oldie’s but still goodie’s.

So, suck up the neck, pull on the depends and try not to pee yourself if you do get your giggle on, cuz here goes nothin;

As a still vibrant on the inside, used to be cute on the outside, 57yr old woman I just gotta say growing older aint for no stinkin sissy’s to be sure.

For me every birthday has been a celebration of life.
I love that I get the opportunity to age, learn and hopefully mature (debateable in my case). I am grateful to be older (again debatable as to any wiser.)

After all I have soooo many more life experiences I get to share (whether they like it or not) with my family and friends. So many more memories made together with those I love (and in some cases love to terrorize).
So, why in the heck does this neck of mine betray me at the supposed to be precious “kodak” moments.

Why am I developing and oversensitive fear that I may actually have to acknowledge someone, with the now tsunami porportioned “wave” capability of my lower arm?

Geez, I want to be able to gesture a big hidy-ho to all the other gray haired beauties, while we’re hitting senior Tuesday at the Goodwill.
But at the same time I avoid at all costs raising the arm that when in “wave” motion has the potential to “bitch slap” us all right back into our senior reality, like it or not!!!!

All kidding aside, I really do dig the fact that I’m still here. I love most of the journey (as long as they have a bathroom along the way). I’m still too cool for school and determined to live, love and learn (but not wave).

1948, I’m Tuning In and Turning On!!!!

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I have been anxiously (the patience thing hasn’t been working so well) awaiting this piece finished. I was so excited when Gary spotted this at a local yard sale.
The owner had explained, though in rough condition the radio still worked. It was then; Gary explained to me that this was going to be a radio with wine storage. Because listening to tunes and drinking wine are two of my favorite things, my excitement went into overdrive. I about drove my poor husband nut’s encouraging him to “please hurry up and get it done!”

On the drive home, you better believe that seat belt could hardly contain my enthusiasm or me. When we got home and plugged in “Jack” (as in Jack Benny) both Gary and I were amazed. There is something so different and wonderful about sound coming from a tube rather than transistors. I went into immediate nostalgia overdrive.

Now just imagine if you will an over excited, way enthusiastic wife now in nostalgic mush mode. My poor husband!!!!

1948 was the year the Eagles Glenn Frey was born and James Taylor too. Not to mention my darling husband came into the world that very year (a big thank you to his mom and dad from me).
Not that it’s my cup of tea at all but in 1948 Nascar held it’s first race for modified stock cars in Daytona.
The movie Easter Parade came out. Watching Judy Garland and Fred Astaire in all their glory was a great pleasure to me. For years I thought life would be so much better if we could just make it a musical. After all who could get pissy when “singing in the rain”.

It was 1948 that the Wham-o slingshot became a catalyst for the famous toy company. It would be 9yrs later that the hula-hoop would come to be and for me that stinkin hula-hoop has always been my nemesis. I have yet to master that darn thing and have added that feat onto my “bucket list”.

It was 1948 that President Truman won his second term in office. That man truly had the weight of the world on his shoulders. General Patton said, “If you don’t stand for something, you will fall for anything.” Somehow I always relate that phrase to President Truman.

Don’t get me wrong I live in and love being present. But I have a strong need to celebrate and learn from the past. I think that’s what I’m going to do this evening, I’m gonna bask in the glow from the old radio dial and pop the cork on some cheap wine while I tune in and turn on.