The Magic of Daddy

Last night, we sat together watching the Simpson's. We've been expecting a rough storm to roll in and the front of the storm seemed to have reached us while we were engrossed in our nightly ritual.

Suddenly, without warning, the power went out.

We sat in the dark for the first few seconds in total silence.

It was the Lollygagger who spoke first: "Daddy, what happened?"

The Lollygaggers daddy explained the power had gone out and we may not be able to watch the rest of The Simpson's.

She nearly fell apart, the poor tired girl. She told her daddy, "turn it back on daddy, you know how to do these things." "What things?" he asked. "You know, magic things, like turning on the lights."

Neither of us are sure where magic fits into turning on the lights, but you wouldn't believe what happened next.

Yup!

The lights went right back on!



The Lollygagger's daddy took full credit for it, and claimed it was magic.

The wild imagination of a child is already at full throttle, now we have a Lollygagger who is sure, without a doubt, her daddy can do magic.

Hilarious.

RUN MITCHUM, RUN!

So, I'm dressing for work and reach for my trusty Mitchum deodorant. I pop off the cap, twist the dial, and begin to rub the deodorant vigorously into my arm pit. Before I knew it, the entire thing fell apart, disintegrating into multiple pieces.

Whining and complaining that my once trusty deodorant has now rendered itself useless, the Lollygagger's daddy says "that's what happens when it's desperate to get away".

I never knew it was possible for one man to be so full of sass.

Her Body Guard

During the past few years I've noticed how the Lollygagger's daddy watches over her...
like a body guard.

He looks left, he looks right, he looks ahead of where the Lollygagger happens to be.
She's never really out of his sight. But never really in his sight either.
He can somehow play with her, while ever vigilant in his duty to ensure no harm comes her way.

Truth is, we live in an area where there are a few shady characters, but mostly people who insist on allowing their dogs to run free with no regard to other people or their animals.

If their dogs remained at their owners side rather than running a muck and mowing down small children while chasing squirrels, it would be a different story. But, I guess that's a part of the give and take of mountain life.

Let's not forget the large numbers of coyotes we have roaming the area and running off with cats, dogs, and any other small animal they can catch. We cannot rule out the possibility of one being hungry enough to attack a small child.

Another truth is, he's an over protective daddy who will make her first boyfriend fear for his life. I'm already feeling sorry for him, whom ever he may be.

Good luck to you, you poor soul. Who ever you are.

Nursery Rhymes

My Lollygagger has been blessed with the ability to ham it up at every opportunity. She's happy to have an audience while she sings, dances, demonstrates karate or acrobatics.
Here she stands patiently waiting for the rest of her classmates to thread their way outside and into line for the opening act: The Nursery Rhyme song.

I know the song by heart. I've been listening to her sing it for a month now. In the morning, in the evening, in the car, in the market, at the mall, over the phone, in the bathtub, and inexplicably, while she brushes her teeth.

She wore a sweater to school in this morning, like most mornings. But took it off this morning, like most mornings. So she shivers and holds her arms to get warm.

It doesn't take long for her to get tired of waiting for the show to start, so she thought she would shout out a little update:

"Mommy, I've been a good girl today! No color changes and no time outs!!"

The class was precious singing their song and soon filed back into the classroom to ready themselves for the next few numbers.

The Lollygagger is a part of a quartet of sorts. They sing Hey Diddle Diddle, The Cat and the Fiddle. Guess who was the cow jumping over the moon?

Though I was surprised to see her in this cute little skit, I'm not surprised she was the moon.

Each time she comes into my room while I dress for work in the morning, she shouts out "MOMMA, THE MOONS OUT" and just when I'm having a bad day on the scale, she throws in "...AND IT'S FULL"

Her daddy thinks it's hilarious. I'll bet I know where she got it. With her part behind her, she was allowed to, uh... sit quietly...with her friends.

That didn't go over the way her teachers were hoping, so they were disbanded to go and sit with their parents for the rest of the show.

And, just so you know. This dress was not chosen this morning for the play. No, it was selected because it's a "princess dress" and according to the Lollygagger, she is a princess and has to wear it.

I agree. She is a little princess.All hail the Princess.

When boys go potty

Recently, the Lollygagger informed me of how boys go potty.

They have their own bathroom because they don't always sit down. "In fact Momma, they stand up to potty. Did you know that!? Isn't that funny Momma?"

She continued on with "Did you know their pee-pee comes out their little spout? You know what else Momma? They don't even use toilet paper. Boys are so gross!"

Shocked, I asked from what reliable source her information comes. Her friend at school, of course. The friend has a brother.

So, it begins.

My Grandmother

Of all the wonderful people I have known, my Grandmother was one of the finest. She was regal, refined, and beautiful.



Her parents, William and Momma Phoenix, shown here, were fine people too. I never knew my Great Grandfather, but I understand he was kind and enjoyed doting on his granddaughter (my mother).

According to some of the pictorial history my sister has managed to save all these years, my Grandmother was born here:

Can you believe we have a document from the year 1911?!

Somehow my sister discovered that this group is standing in front of a Library. It's likely in Chicago, but which one it is, is any one's guess.

Perhaps there's someone out there who can identify this Library.

Anyone, anyone. Bueller, bueller...

In the photo, you can see my Grandmother as an infant in the arms of her father.

The photo below is my Grandmother. Her name is Margaret. In this photo, she is 14 years old, in the year 1925.

I wish I could see the entire dress she's wearing, and the shoes. I wonder if women were as shoe crazy in the 1920's as we are today. Not that I have a shoe collection or anything.

It seems all things really do come back in style. Give her some bangs and BAM, that's my current hair-do. Mines a bit longer, but still.

The amazing thing about her is, she never changed. She looked just as beautiful in her old age as she did at 14 years old. Her entire facial structure is the same. Sure, she had some age showing, but the ability to recognize her in this photo was instant. I didn't have to ask who she was.

This is another amazing photo. I love the Irish Regalia. Too bad it's not in color, I'm certain it was green.

My Grandmother was an intelligent woman with many hidden talents. I learned, not so long after her death, that she was fluent in the French language. I'll have to ask if she could do an Irish jig as well. I can't imagine any other reason she would be dressed in such a fantastic outfit.

I love it.

In the next photo, my Grandmother is standing in front of her house and she looks as if she is waiting for something, or someone. Maybe she's waiting for Carl, my Grandfather.

Her dress is light and flowing, and so 1940's. I imagine it's yellow, because I think she would look so delicate and pretty in yellow.

I suppose she wore a lovely hat, but knew a hat with this outfit would be a mistake, as almost all hats were in this era. I know this to be true because I have a picture of her sister in a hat. My Grandaunt June, was just as beautiful and lovely as my Grandmother, but she wore hats that wouldn't make it through the typical door of the year 2009. The brim was wider than Momma Cass in her later years. Not pretty.

My Grandmother was a loving woman who, I'm happy to say, I never witnessed having an angry moment. She was patient, and generally allowed people to do their own thing.

I recall the words she spoke on certain occasions as if it were yesterday.

Good thing my long term memory is still in check.

Once, we went to the Coronet, a little five and dime store in town. I came home with Necco Wafers that I got with a five finger discount. She caught me eating them and asked "did you snatch them from the store?" I fessed up, and she threw them away. I didn't have to go back to pay for them, or apologize, and she didn't tell my mother. She was disappointed though. And it broke my heart. I never stole another thing again. Except for the gigantic motor home, but that's another story. Oh, my poor mother.

My Grandmother loved her mother. Here they are together in the 1930's.

I remember my Great Grandmother. She seemed to be the oldest woman alive, but always had a smile for me when I walked into her bedroom. She held my hand every time I went to visit. It shook, but she managed to hang on.

In this last photo, you see my Grandmother in the center, my mother on the left, and my uncle on the right.

Doesn't it look as if they are in a jail house photo shoot?

How sweet and generous of my sister to share these photos. I love my Grandmother and enjoyed the memories.

Thanks Kristin!

FIRE!

We live, as you may know, in California where it's dry and seems to attract psychopathic arsonists by the dozens.

It seems we are evacuated at least every three years for fires, and once for a flood that was so severe and devastating, it was the subject of one of the televised "Storm Stories" on our local channels.Well, it's been three years since our last fire which triggered our usual evacuation off the mountain. So, we wait and watch each fire with great interest.

Recently, we've had our share of wild fires in our immediate area. Our fires are so enormous, they make the Nations news. Yesterday, I spotted smoke issuing from the back side of our mountain. The smoke looked so close, it could have been in my little Mayberry town. Fortunately, it was coming from a different mountain all together.

The problem is, this is the same mountain that burned a few years ago, which, ultimately jumped the freeway that separates us and began to burn in our own backyard.

So, we watch.

...and we wait.

...and we hope.

Today I ask for positive thoughts and good vibes to be sent our way. This fire has already stolen the homes of our neighbors and threatens to take more before it's out.

Here's to happy thoughts.