Happy 13th Birthday Isaac!!!!!

Thirteen years ago today, I gave birth to a strapping 8 lb. 14 oz. baby boy! What an exciting day for our family. It had taken a long six and one-half years from the birth of my first son to bring another baby into this world. We were more than ready for this new little guy and welcomed him warmly. What a tremendous blessing he is to us and what entertainment he brings to our lives.

Aaah – the memories of that day...if I could bottle that feeling, I could make a million.

3:00 a.m. September 30, 1996…I am dreaming and in my dream, there is a lot of pain. Suddenly, I wake up and there is still a lot of pain. I am not dreaming; I am in labor!

No need to panic, it took me three days to get my firstborn into this world. I will not wake MDH up until I think I should go to the hospital. I will time my contractions for a bit. I go into the den and turn on Turner Classic Movies.

Contraction. Breathe.

I find the 1957 version of Peyton Place just coming on. I have never seen this movie, maybe I will watch for a bit.

Contraction. Breathe.

The movie is good and I wonder why the 1950’s are traditionally considered a chaste decade. Lana Turner is beautiful. Why do they not make bras like that anymore?

Contraction. Breathe.

I am hungry. Maybe I should eat something. NO! The last time I gave birth, I ate something and vomited during a hard contraction. Never mind, I will just finish this movie.

Contraction. Breathe.

Gee, four minutes apart. These things are coming fast. Maybe I should put on my makeup and shave my legs. I looked terrible the last time I gave birth. I want my makeup on this time. Off to the bathroom.

Contraction. Breathe.

Thirty minutes and four contractions later I look somewhat better. Let’s see what Lana is up to now, the tramp.

Contraction. Breathe. Contraction. Breathe.

Maybe I should wake MDH up. Naaaaah!
I want to see the end of this movie.
Only, about thirty more minutes.

Contraction. Contraction. Contraction. Pant. Pant. Pant.

I crawl to the bedroom.

WAKE UP!!!!!

Get your clothes on and take me to the hospital because I am in labor!!!

How long have you been in labor?

About four hours.

How far apart are the contractions?

About a minute.

Contraction. Pant.

Why didn’t you wake me sooner?

I was watching the 1957 version of Peyton Place. I have never seen it before and I wanted to see what happened to trampy Lana Turner.

Contraction. Pant. Pant.

We find ourselves speeding to the hospital. After I am checked in and situated in my room, I am attached to fifteen different monitors. By this time, I am almost dilated to six.

Where is my epidural!

Please bring that large needle and shove it into my spine!

Aaah – that feels much better. No more pain. I actually fall asleep for a bit.

It is time to push!

I hate this part!

Push! Push!

3:55 p.m. September 30, 1996…I push twice and am handed a gorgeous baby boy!

Easy as pie!

Can anyone tell me what happened on Peyton Place?

Just kidding, I read the book.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

Vintage Thingies Thursday - King's Crown Cranberry Glassware

So I found myself in Rural Retreat, Virginia, a few weeks ago in an antique store. A random stop on a day trip for pure personal enjoyment. I rarely purchase anything in an antique mall. I enjoy looking, but most of the time items are simply priced too high for the loose change I carry in my pocket. This particular day was no exception. I enjoyed looking, touching and gasping at the prices but made no purchases. One item did catch my eye that I had not seen before and I immediately desired to own it, until of course, I checked the price. $12.00 for one 6 oz. King's Crown Cranberry Sherbet Glass. I had never seen the King's Crown pattern in the cranberry (red/white) design before and it really caught my eye as I am a lover of red and white. And every one knows, "Virginia is for Lovers". Needless to say, I coveted the set. As in "thou shalt not covet" coveting. The Biblical kind of coveting. The "wakes you up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat" kind of coveting. I wanted that set! I needed that set! I shalt have me that set! Alas....I could not afford that set; I let it go. I never verbalized to anyone the burning passion of that day when I first saw and touched the glassware. No one knew the smoldering embers that lay beneath my poised surface. It was my secret and burden to bear. Three weeks came and went. I put the thought of the glassware out of my mind because I could not eat, sleep, or concentrate on anything. Those glasses had possessed my very being and I had to rid myself for sanity sake of the curse known as "King's Crown Cranberry."

Thursday, August 27, was a day like most any other day; school, guitar lesson, a stop by the post office to pick up mail. In my PO box lay a yellow postcard marked "package pickup". An item too large for the PO box had been shipped to my address. What the heck? I had not ordered anything! The postmaster brought out a gargantuan box and set it on the counter. The return address showed it had been sent from Illinois. My Yankee Aunt was up to her shenanigans again. What tiny little thing had she packaged in this monstrosity of a box. I could visualize her filling it with Styrofoam packaging peanuts (bad, for the environment, BTW) and chuckling with an evil grin as she addressed the box. Yankees are always playing jokes on Southerns thinking they are so clever! I was way ahead of her this time.

"That is a very big box," said Delores, "can you get it to your car?"

I tested the weight. It was not heavy.

Yep, filled with Styrofoam, I thought to myself.

"No prob," I winked and smiled.

"Have a good day!" and I carted the object home.

I love "real" mail! Especially large boxes; even if they are filled with environmentally bad junk. I took my trusty kitchen knife and sliced across the packaging tape. I slowly opened the lid, slightly wary, yet excited. Sure enough, packaging peanuts! Would this Yankee never learn? I slipped my hand below the surface and felt bubble wrap. I admit I really like bubble wrap. Tell me, who would not like popping those bubbles? Slowly, I pulled out the small, fragile object. Hummmm. A dish of some sort? I proceed to take off the bubble wrap.

Have you ever heard an angel chorus sing? Really, just at random? They sang that Thursday in my kitchen!!! Several times I put my hand in that box and pulled out an object and every time I unveiled a new piece, the angel chorus grew louder. By the time the box was empty and Styrofoam peanuts were blowing all over my kitchen, I was down on my hands and knees weeping from the pure miracle of it all. Inside that box were four goblets and seven sherbet cups of the King's Crown Cranberry Glassware!!!! Holy mother of all things vintage how had she known that I coveted them? I had told no one of my secret desire from that day in Rural Retreat and here in my kitchen floor sat I with these beauties among bubble wrap, Styrofoam peanuts and a chorus of angels. Let me just say, "Miracles Happen!"

Apparently my prayers were heard and God caused some Yankee to put these in a yard sale for $1.00 each. Then He whispered into my Aunt's ear to purchase them and ship them to me. God bless my Aunt Deb and anyone else who had a hand in this purchase. It was truly inspired! When I tell you that "things" find their way to me, I am NOT lying!

For more stories of vintage miracles visit Vintage Thingies Thursday at Colorado Lady. Suzanne who hosts the site, has experienced many vintage miracles too!

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

Tore Down a la Rimbaud

I am trying to find my voice. Seriously, it seems to have vanished. It’s been a tough summer. First, a tragic ATV accident caused the death of Carter’s friend and then the sudden, unexpected death of a dear high school friend of mine through me for a loop. A life change preparing Carter to move out plus preparing for my fifth year of home schooling Isaac, and the recent sad news my dad received regarding the spread of cancer to his brain has been too much for my mind to process. While it is usually therapeutic to write my thoughts down and share it on this crazy venue, my quick typing fingers can not keep up with the emotions. What can I say? My soul has been whisked away. I’m trying fervently to find my soul and words again, so hang with me.

I relate many of my emotions to music and the most appropriate song I can find to express myself right now is “Tore Down a la Rimbaud” by Van Morrison, of who I am a huge fan. The title of the song derives from French poet Arthur Rimbaud who became famous for his poetry at the age of fifteen in 1869 and who quit writing six years later. Ironically, this inspired Morrison to write again. He had begun writing this song in 1975 during what turned out to be a three year professionally inactive time period. After eight years, all the words finally came together. Amazing! Eight years!!!!!!

Anyway, the words to this song ring true with me in many ways. Some emotions are so personal that I could never find the words to express them. I am thankful for those who express it clearly enough for me to relate.

Tore Down a la Rimbaud
Showed me pictures in the gallery
Showed me novels on the shelf
Put my hands across the table
Gave me knowledge of myself.
Showed me visions, showed me nightmares
Gave me dreams that never end
Showed me light out of the tunnel
When there was darkness all around instead.

I was just Tore down a la Rimbaud
And I wish my message would come
Tore down a la Rimbaud; you know it's hard some time
You know it's hard some time.

Showed me ways and means and motions
Showed me what it's like to be
Gave me days of deep devotions
Showed me things that I cannot see.

When I was Tore down a la Rimbaud
And I wish my purpose would come
Tore down a la Rimbaud; you know it's hard some time.
You know it's hard some time.

Showed me different shapes and colors
Showed me many different roads
Gave me very clear instructions
When I was in the dark night of the soul.

When I was Tore down a la Rimbaud
And I wish my writing would come
Tore down a la Rimbaud; you know it's hard some time.
you know it's hard some time.

Truly, it is hard some time. Thanks for reading, Rosie.

Apparently I Am Not Paying Enough Attention To My Blog!

I received this cartoon in the snail-mail today from my loving Yankee Aunt Deb and my sweet Southern Uncle Donnie....apparently I am not paying enough attention to my blog where they have become accustomed to reading what their family is doing in the fine state of Tennessee. They are romping around Illinois and Minnesota and visiting Grandma Ray; living in the dark having not yet discovered the wonderful world of Face Book and Farm Town.

Yes, I realize I have been neglectful to my blog. I profusely apologize and vow to get a grip on my FB/FT addiction. I will overcome! Just let me go update my status and harvest my corn first :) If only I could send virtual raspberries :P

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

Vintage Thingies Thursday - More 1980's Crochet Afghans

I promised you more vintage afghans and like it or not, more vintage afghans is what you get for Vintage Thingies Thursday this week! A promise is a promise even in the blogosphere. And Rosie keeps her promises.....well, most of them....oops!

You'll also want to visit Vintage Thingies Thursday at the host-site Colorado Lady. She keeps her promise to deliver very vintage thingies every Thursday. She has risked her life to keep vintage thingie fans fascinated with her phenomenal finds. Fantastic!

I truly have no thought as to why I am typing in tongue twisters. Terribly troublesome to type like this though.

Behold the giant black, grey and white granny square. Granny squares must be practiced. What better way to practice than to keep going and going and going until the granny square is large enough to cover a king size bed. Good gosh what was I thinking in 1981? Oddly enough, large geometric prints are now in vogue. What can I say, I was ahead of my time.....or just WEIRD!

Here is a Chevron (Zig-Zag) Afghan Pattern my mother made for me many years ago. She kept perfect count because her edges are even. Carter has claimed this one for his college apartment.

Okay you may need to squint or wear some shades to view this baby and ironically it is not a baby afghan. This is a basic Shell Pattern Afghan also made by my mother in the 1980's for my.....ummmm....eccentric taste. Yes, I picked the colors and the pattern. I see this in my future beach shack to cozy up with on cool evenings. Picture it in context. Don't judge me.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

Vintage Thingies Thursday - 1980's Crochet Afhgan

Happy VTT Day! I've missed posting for a couple of weeks and am glad to be among my VTT buddies once again. I can't wait to view all your beautiful vintage things later this evening. Whether you are an oldie or newbie to VTT, be sure to visit Colorado Lady. She will set you on the path to Vintage Thingies Thursday. Thank you Suzanne for your gracious hospitality. (BTW, I received my first Family Circle magazine. Thanks again.)

Also, I received some pictures from Ruby at Neither Brilliant Nor Beautiful But A Real Gem of her boys wearing the Faux Pearl necklace she won from my last giveaway. You'll definitely want to take a peek at this. Too funny!

In 1980, I was fifteen years old and a junior in Mrs. Casto's home economics class. I loved Mrs. Casto! She taught me lots of things, but especially how to crochet. A basic granny square is always a good pattern for beginners and so I ran with the design long enough to create this lovely afghan. I arranged the design on graph paper and set to work. One-hundred and twenty granny squares later, I crocheted them together and added the border. I've kept it in storage for the past 29 years and recently pulled it out to use over my living room sofa. I look at it now and can not believe I was only 15 years old when I made this. Carter and Isaac have already argued over who gets it in the end. Little do they know, I have another one tucked away. I'll show it to you next week along with two others that my mother made for me.

Crocheted folkart pieces are becoming more rare as the younger generation tends not make throws. If you have one of these beauties, hang on to it.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.