Bloody Noses and Crazy Fun Church Women

I don't cry much,  I have never been a crying person by nature and that is not by choice.  But it is probably best because I am an UGLY crier,  I don't let tears roll,  I sobbed till I nearly hyperventilate.  I think a good slinging snot, water-drowning tear bath is good for everyone at times.   But those women, yeah those women who I meet up with every Wednesday night,  some of them are criers,  is that how you spell that,  looks funny don't it  "crier".  Oh well I am not taking time to check it, you can.

Crying is kind of like yawning, it is contagious at times.   Now this Wednesday night group ages goes from 22 up to 55, that one would be me.   It's our special time,  we try to have plans on what we are going to do but we don't hold our breaths on that.   Thank you Jesus, we are mindful of the Spirit and we can go from a giggle to full out breakdown within two minutes time and then back to laughing, or praying or reading scripture.   That would be odd in a man's world but it is a perfectly normal night for us.

They/we say women's meeting on Wednesday night but that doesn't describe us at all.  I spend way too much time trying to think of a word that describes us  A Beautiful Potpourri?  Yeah sort of but I giggle like a child and want to say POT POURY when I see that word.   We are like looking inside a kaleidoscope maybe????  Well that would be just goofy, the Kaleidoscope ladies.  Patchwork Gals sounds like a bunch my age working on a quilting bee.  That 22 year old Sarah might not want to be known as Patchwork.   What were we talking about???

Oh I am back at it.  The Word for which I believe says that God supplies our needs according to His riches in Glory by Christ Jesus.   And I reckon that means alot of things such as roofs, food, pies and electricity.  But when I think our our Pot Poury Kaleidoscope Patchwork group,  I think of that scripture.   This was a need that I didn't even realize I needed till after it happened.   Since moving to the foot of Blue Mountain, I have been somewhat isolated.

Almost a year now we started meeting,  we talked about doing it monthly or bimonthly but all of us agreed we needed this once a week.  As we have often said,  depending on the situation,  we are there to hold one that is tired in spirit's arms up such as Aaron and Hur did for Moses when his arms grew so tired from holding up God's law on stone. As time has gone on, we have shared with each other so much, our blessings, prayers,  scriptures meant of someone and love, sweet sweet love. We have learned to keep watch and warn each other when we feel trouble ahead.  The words "Get Locked and Loaded" can mean different things in our group, most times it means lock arms ladies, we are about to have spiritual battles so get loaded with God's word.

Oh yeah, blood noses was the title,   I am the 55 year old Patchwork granny.   Since a little girl and I used to watch my great grandmothers carry their pretty hankies around,   I have been fascinated with them.  A few years back I stumbled on some at an estate sale and my collection began as well as me carry them as my granny did 100 years ago.   Last night during a crying spell,   I was slinging snot and watering myself down when I pulled out my hankie to take care of the mess.   BUGGED OUT EYES across the table from a couple of gals, one said  OH NO YOUR NOSE IS BLEEDING BAD.  I said WHAT?  Someone else says Oh it is, and everyone looked panicked.  I finally looked down and I had a bright red flowered hankie.  Heheheheheheh......not that funny but it is.   I bet the majority of women under 40 have never known women to carry their hankies.....maybe I will start a new fashion trend....

That's all....time to rock and roll.....

Philippians 1:17 Only conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or remain absent, I will hear of you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving together for the faith of the gospel 

I Hate Crows-I Shoot Things

First let's start at the end.   Things you may know or not know about crows. Keep in mind I "DID NOT" know these things till recently.

1. They have the ability to remember your face for up to 5 years or more.
2. They conspire with each other
3. They are great planners

When I was transplanted from city life to "Belly Acres Farm" I was so excited to be in touch with all the beautiful animals.   I was going to be like Snow White and talk to them.   I just pictured myself with little birds fluttering around and the deer, rabbits and squirrels sitting listening to my stories.

It didn't happen immediately,  actually it still hasn't happened except for CROWS......Big Ugly Crows.....what people use to think was an emblem of death.  Not me, its those big nasty buzzards that freak me out,   every time they hover over I run in and take my pulse to make sure I am not their next target.  CROWS.......

They drive me insane,   but what I know now and what I didn't know makes the difference.   Soon after the move, the crows were eating and destroying my yummies for the other wild animals.   They were mean to the others and was just destructive.   So......I had to do it,  I got my one bullet and my single shot and decided to take one out and show them who was boss around here.  AIM-SHOOT-FAIL.  Didn't hit a thing except maybe a fence pole.

Soon the crows multiplied and tripliefied (is that a word) so I tried again,  AIM-SHOOT-BOOM.....got him.   I did a little jig watching the multitude of thieves squawk to each other and fly away.  Man they were talking up a storm too.   Yea Buddy.   Operation SUCCESS.  But just to make sure,  and don't be offended.   I remember when I was a kid people hang up dead coyotes to show the others what happens when they come on their property after their baby animals.   I don't know if it worked but.....I am a new country girl, I'll try it.

Finally found a wire and gloves,  I didn't want to get bird flu by touching that nasty thing.  I wired him upside down on nearby tree limb.  When my Superman saw him he asked, I explained my theory, he said nothing.  But I read his mind.  hahahaha

Colonies of crows came back, more and more everyday surrounding my house. If I went outside, they went to chattering to each other.   I am sure it was  "THAT'S HER, SHE IS THE ONE THAT HUNG OLE BILLY JOHN BIRD" IN THAT TREE!   I couldn't hear myself think it was so loud so I went in and got me several shot gun shells and the gun and headed outside.  POOF---crows flew in every direction, not a one left to shoot at.   Well that got rid of them, they remember what I did to Billy John Black Bird.

Its been over 3 years,  the stupid crows are still here and drive me insane.   Every once in a while I will walk out with my gun just to watch them fly away.  They send a few back through to see if I am still there.  It has became a game with me and the crows.  Now I have tried carrying a broom, baseball bat and other things and they don't budge.  But if Superman or I ever walk out with a gun they tell each other to FLY FAST.

I have came to accept that as long as I live here, they will tell the story of "Billy John Crow" to their kids and grands and I will always have them lingering to drive me a little batty.  As a matter of fact, they were all out surrounding the house this morning when I went out,  this prompted the post. Superman and I have both tried to slip out with the shotgun,  they are smart and have spies everywhere,  that one little spy says one certain phrase/squawk and they all get out of dodge.

Luke 12:24  Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?

Show'em What Your Made Of--But I can't drive 55

In 1974 the National Maximum Speed Law began being enforced. It was drawn up due to the 1973 oil crisis and oil price spikes and the supply disruptions.  Oh I didn't even have my licence yet but still remember the grumbling and complaining and of course Sammy Hagar of Van Halen wrote a song and it was an instant hit titled "I Can't Drive 55".

41 years later why do I have that song in my head.  Just over a month ago I turned 55 and its been the strangest age up to date.   I know how to be 35 and I think I even know how to be 75 but not 55.  Its kind of like that awkward age of adolescents.  When you want to play with paper dolls but you really need to be learning to shave your legs without taking all the shin-skin off.  Yeap, been there, done that, have the scars to prove it.

In 1990 my favorite song was "You've Got to Stand for Something" written and recorded by Aaron Tippin.  In the song he recalls the life lessons taught to him by his dad, who told him he should stand up for his moral convictions.   I remember that was a "Fist Pumpin" song in 1990 and everyone "Amen'd it" and agreed with it.  I wonder if it would be a hit today and how many would really agree they needed to stand up for their convictions.  And do they even do that anymore.

Trying to drive my life at 55,  I feel such a desire to stand up for my convictions than ever before.  Maybe its because realistically, my days are growing shorter and I want to leave a positive influence on my life, that I did stand for what I believe,  I wasn't a puppet.  That when my 55-Plus season of life started in December 2014, I tried my best to obey this scripture.

Romans 12:2 Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. 

After just a month into my 55 speed limit age,  I am finding it is hard.  Temptations are in every direction,  I am being labeled,  I am being accused,  I am being avoided.  And this is nothing new, this is things I learned as a child and I am so ashamed that I left them on the side of the road till I got up to 55 MPH.   I have ask my Jesus to forgive me and to anyone that has seen that ugly side of me,   please know I am sorry but I am now forgiven.   

I reckon I better buckle up,  I think the next 11 months are going to be curving, steep and slippery while I try to drive this age 55.   Please pray for me and know that my desire is to be pleasing to my Heavenly Father and make a difference on this old planet earth.

Var--ooooom....here I go.....55.....till next time.

It's a mean mean world

Randomly typing because I haven't blogged in a few days.  I have wrote several then deleted them as they just wasn't what I wanted to say.  Who would think I would have blog block.  I have even been quieter all the way around the past week or so,  yes I am fine,  just have done a lot of internal thinking.

The evil and bad in this world just keeps getting closer to home.  Last week a gunman wrecked his car at the little school I grew up at and still cherish.  He had stolen gas from another small school and shot at someone that caught him and was on the run.  My kids were in LR at a basketball tournament on Saturday,  1 mile from where they were a double homicide happened.  And down close to Henderson and Ouachita college campus's, a clerk at a convenience store was killed.

50 years ago there were bad guys and I know from stories growing up, I had some extended bad boys in my family.  But they attacked each other, there were stabbings, some shootings but mostly fist fights.   They stole from each other.  But they really did leave the good people alone and vice versa.

40 years ago I was a teenager and we were out and about on weekends, never knowing or seeing bad things happen.  I know they did but they weren't in our immediate world.  A car load of girls never once considered the dangers of riding around downtown or running in a convenience store.

20 years ago my son and his buddies were cruising the streets, by this time my biggest fear was the drunk drivers on the roads.   More and more people were being killed by drunk drivers.   I truly never worried about Brian too much, he was a big guy,  I do remember telling him that to never trust someone was bringing fist to a fist fight, they were starting to carry more switchblades and guns.

Today, 2015 it is an everyday occurrence to read of thieves, gun fights, innocent children shot in drive-bys and rape.   The rape in the middle of the day at our local mall still sends cold chills up and down my spine.  Never in my lifetime, did I think someone would be this dreadfully horrible.

In my opinion and I am entitled, it's my dad'blame blog, it started going down hill when people of all races started getting to busy to seek God, or have him in their lives and even denouncing him and instead worshipping other religions that promote violence.   People were not ashamed to not be in Church on Sunday mornings,  they would send the kids but stay home.  As the kids got older, they stopped going and by then there was no Spiritual leader in the families.

We live in a land of the lost,  we have to separate ourselves from the world.   Times have changed,  I do believe there was a time we could live in amongst the world and make a difference in their lives by seeing how we live.  But my darlins,  not many can do that anymore.  You have to be so very careful because the world is pulling you back ever chance it gets.  Surround yourselves with friend that have the same beliefs and able to support your spiritually when you need them.  Even Paul said in 1 Corinthians,  Bad company corrupts good character.

In today's world I know more people that  have concealed carry permits than do not.  That is because they realize what a dangerous society we do live in,  we have to protect our families and each other.  Here again,  I just am amazed that this world and our area in the middle of it has sunk to this.  Why did I write all of this,   I have no idea, it was on my mind.  I doubt this one will get much attention but maybe if one person reads it and takes a stand for their family and becomes the spiritual leader then it was worth it.  Feel free to comment or email me and I will be praying for you.

One last (Add to) question,  why is it that the most important thing we can do is witness to those who may have slipped away from Christ or never known him as their personal Savior, the hardest thing to do?   I truly question myself about this one daily.

I am "Blessed Beyond Measure"

Yesterday I started off with several ideas to blog and just couldn't do it.  Nothing sounded like I wanted it to sound and that is unusual for me.  So got up this morning and downed my pot of coffee with hazelnut creamer.   Oh how this makes me happy in the mornings. Best part of waking up except maybe that fast leap to the powder room,  haha.

Anywho, here I am again trying to write something witty,  worth your valuable time to read or just another story of the life and times of me and guess what,  NOTHING except the word "Blessed".

Last night as I drifted off I didn't count sheep, I counted blessings and bigger than Buzz Lightyear, they are to infinity and beyond and uncountable.  I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-A-I-N!  Spelling it out because I am singing the song I learned in Bible school as a child.   

I believe that the Bible is true and that my Jesus died for me.   I believe I am God's little girl thru Jesus Christ because Galatians 3:26 tells me this "For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus." You see, if you haven't read earlier blogs,  I would be DEAD and in HELL and my human remains pushing up daisys without family and friends that believed in the power of prayer and a Savior that gave me another chance.

I am blessed to have another day.  My favorite song of all times and I do not know why it didn't get more play time on Christian radio is "Another Day" by Natalie Grant.  Click on title to listen.

Here are a few things that pop in my mind as I type this.  I am blessed to have survived to see my kids grow up,  to see three perfect little boys become my grands.  To see so many of my family give their hearts to Jesus.  To see Jesus perform the same life saving miracles when the doctors said NO WAY to my son, my sister and 2 little ones named Haley Ann and Jed. 

I am blessed to have dirty laundry, that means we have clothes.  I am blessed with a dishwasher, not like most,  mine is the two handed kind and that means I can use my hands to do this and that we have food to eat to make dirty dishes.  I am blessed with a freezer, no it isn't filled with steaks, even better, meat taken by us and very healthy.  It has vegetables shared by Church friends and others, grown themselves.  All of which means we are able to be self-sufficient with God's blessings.

Technology, oh how we all fuss about it but I am truly blessed with it.  At anytime, 24-7 I can open this lap top and find prayer warriors, near and far to pray.  Or to talk me through a tough time, or make me laugh.  Social media is as good as you let it be,  I have a friend in Oklahoma that I have never met,  yet Sheila is an inspiration.  Then there is Miki who l have only met once yet she is one of my confidants when I need to talk/type.   My cousins across the US live in my laptop too.  My crazy bluegrass buddies and my BFF for life way up in PA!!!! And oh,  the Heart Sisters, they are all heart disease survivors too,  we have a bond that nobody could understand.  My Church family is here too,  just a click away.  I encourage all women to pray for a group of women like we have at our Church. The bond is the most beautiful thing and is a blessing to all of us that participate. I am blessed to have this technology.

I am blessed to have a family that goes beyond parents and siblings,  my extended family has always been more like immediate family.  I didn't know they weren't considered that by Websters for many years.  They are my immediates in my heart.

I am blessed with a husband that must truly loves me,  Lord knows I am a pistol.  Blessings surround me with little things too.   Coffee,  fur babies, toilet paper, reading glasses, several pair of shoes.  We can pray, worship and study our Bibles in our own homes and Churches See we take these for granted while there are people in this world without these things.

I could go on and on, the list is endless and will grow daily.  I will end with a scripture and a prayer that if you don't know Jesus, that you read Romans 10:10-11 and feel this peace.

Numbers 6: 24 The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the LORD turn his face toward you and give you peace.   

Stories from our Bedroom....Oh NO I Didn't?

Did I really just name a blog "Stories from our Bedroom"?  Oh heavenly days, I know what will happen when my Momma hears, I will get the old TAMI LYNN sure nuff. But its okay, she learned many years ago not to be surprised by anything that comes floating out between my ears

My Sr Prom 1978

I have shared a bed with the same man for 37 years.....that is a miracle these days for sure.My superman needs a letter from the President (next one) for putting up with me. Oh there has been couch nights but that was long ago,  one or the other would be snoring to loud and one would end up on the couch. Those days are over, we just push and shove each other till the noises of the sawmill shuts down coming outta our mouths.

But we have sure had some moments in all these years and I just know your dying to see what I am about to type, aren't you?   While working in the aircraft factory,  we had to get some rotor blades (that is those whirly thingys that go on top of helicopters)  out quick,  I had a customer having hissy fits because they needed these like yesterday.   So one day I was stressed to the max,  getting cussed by the buyer,  getting yelled at by the factory for pushing them too fast.   I had a helicopter kind of headache and my rotor blades in my brain were in full spin.  In the middle of the night, fast asleep dreaming in full color,   I saw it, it was headed straight for us,   I seen the blades hovering and starting screaming for Davey to run and run fast.  He said "What are we running from,  I pointed and said that helicopter!!!!  Golly,  I have to tell him everything. When he got me awake he was explaining to me that it was just the "Ceiling Fan and to GO BACK TO SLEEP.

Recently he woke me up pushing on me, now don't go pushing on a sleeping granny.  He was saying "SCOOT OVER".   I was griping inside and started reaching for the edge of the bed,  its easier to pull on it when you get my age and fluffy than to scoot bare-handed.  The edge of the bed was gone I am telling you. So I had to do the manual scoot, and reached again and could barely feel it enough to grab and start tugging myself over.  I was well over arms length from my edge of the bed and its only a queen size bed.  I was awake by the time I made it to my side and quietly giggled.  Now Superman is like me, we ain't no of no beanpole size and from my measurements in my mind, bless his heart, he was balancing on about 4 inches of his side of the bed.  That is impressive.

This will blow your mind but I can be mischievous at times but have got better as I aged.  Somewhere along the first 5 years of marriage, I decided to be funny and change the time on his clock on his side of the bed.   About 11:00 one night I went to shaking him and saying wake up, wake up you have overslept.  He is a very punctual person and he went to throwing on clothes, boots and headed to make his lunch when I finally,  rolling laughing told him that it was just 11:00 and I got him good.....Silence....nothing....he went back to the room and went back to bed.  But I assure you, he got me back.

We watched alot of TV where people did weird stuff sleeping.   One morning just after daylight I woke up and felt like I was choking, someone had their hands around my throat but not squeezing.  Talk about waking up quick,  I opened my eyes and it was my Superman....WHAT ON EARTH?   He had had his head kind of laid to the side and his eyes were shut.   I started trying to pry his hands off my neck before he really started to squeeze and I couldn't pry them off. I was telling him WAKE UP WAKE UP you are choking me.  Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore,  he busted out laughing and said  "I got you good on that one".   Oh but he did, that was way worse than me making him get dressed in the middle of the night.

One night I woke up running into the bathroom yelling for him to run too.  Not sure what that dream was about but as I was closing the bathroom door he said WAKE UP, your just dreaming again.  Once I got up NOT dreaming in the middle of the night and cover got wrapped around my foot.  One step later and I was laying flat of my face with the cover on top of me in the floor.  Most would have said,  are you ok, right?  Hahahaha,   he said stop taking all the cover.  I could have choked him that time.

Many more funnies and one I will save for later when I thought our son had broke his neck.  This is enough for today......never a dull moment but we sure have picked on each other through the years.

Leave me some love in the comment box if your enjoying my new blogging habit.

Boys, Beagles and Belly Acres Farm: Beagles, but not average beagles....Chocolate Cove...

Boys, Beagles and Belly Acres Farm: Beagles, but not average beagles....Chocolate Cove...: Part of the title of my Blog is Beagles so I reckon I need to tell those who don't already know why I have a passion for my "Cop...

Beagles, but not average beagles....Chocolate Covered

Part of the title of my Blog is Beagles so I reckon I need to tell those who don't already know why I have a passion for my "Copper Nose Chocolate Beagles"

In 1974 my daddy somehow acquired two chocolate beagles as we called them,  I didn't learn till the past few years that they are known as copper nose in the Internet world.   I was 14 when Dad got the first pair named Chocolate and Ginger and I loved dogs anyways but since I was all about chocolate anything, these beagles stole my heart.   From then forward different litters and different owners and this line kept growing all over this part of Arkansas.  We have been able to trace back our dogs to Dad's original two more than 40 years ago.  Pretty cool huh?

Over 3 years ago and I had landed at Belly Acres Farm I ask Dad to have me my own liter of pups to train.   He sent not one but two pregnant beagles and my addiction began.   We raised 9 pups out of these two liters and they were gorgeous.  I began to learn to train them as deer dogs as soon as they could walk good.  My Superman and I would get on each side of grown up fence rows and call them through the brush to teach them how to maneuver in the woods.  I would walk them in the hay field and they all fell in love with eating "Deer Poop" hahahahah,  gross but hey, whatever works, right?  Plus it was all natural so it had to be good for them, no preservatives added.

It wasn't long till the walking them didn't work, they could run off and leave me so training from a golf cart began. I would put their feed bucket on there and they would chase me all over the hay fields and this built up their endurance and some great leg muscles.  At a little over 4 months, the first two pups jumped a deer and I went into panic mode.  My babies were long gone, I could hear them getting farther and farther away.  I call my hubby in panic, he assured me they would come back.  I still proceeded to drive every direction calling them but they were too busy barking to hear me.  After nearly having a heat stroke I gave up.  5 hours later they were at the front gate.  I was hooked then.

Joey, who we thought had some health problems went to my niece as a pet.  (he is fine, it was a puppy thing)  Two more were going to my daddy after I trained them.   Oh that didn't go well,  after 5 months of getting to know 8 pups with their own individual personalities I had became attached to one name Hoss, his other one that I named Lulu, not so much.  She was in her own little world and me and her argued quite often but Hoss, my Hoss was burning up the woods chasing deer, he loved it.  Dad came and listened to them run at 5 months and decided to take his two home.   Oh for the love of deer poop, you should have seen me saying my goodbyes.  You know the Barbara Streisand song "Memories light the corner of my mind", this song was playing in my head.  And I was hugging them and remembering from birth, how they almost drown, how I had to give mouth to mouth to one,  the training, the puppy smells.  So sure enough, the tears started, snot dripping till it turned to sobbing.  Hubby said "What is wrong",  I guess that is the difference in some people.  I had to walk away as they drove off.  Learned a lesson that day, do not get too attached.

So my first time raising and training was a success,  how you can have 6 and find the right name for their personality was so much fun.   We had Bob, if you look at dog on left, that is him,  Bob with the spot, he was the only one with that spot so we could identify him.  Ginger here next to him, the dark chocolate,  The Queen of them all,  she was the boss and still is.  We named her after Dad's first dog in 1974. Ringo also pictures, he had a white ring all the way around his neck, another identifier.  We also had Speckles because she has freckles on her front legs,  we have Dolly just because I like Dolly Parton.   We also have Ben, best dog of the bunch, depending on who you asked. Named after a dear bluegrass friend of ours.  Since then we have kept 2 out of another litter, Spice who looks like her mom Ginger and Pearl, one of our first unique blue beagles. And we adopted a copper nose named Lucy.  It's not all giggles and beagles around here,  I am also blessed with my guard dogs Possum the Aussie,  RamZ the CataLab, Buddy the Shih-tzu and Princess the Yorkie.....so I am up to 13 and counting.  Love my fur babies.

So there you go,  this is my stress relief and I feel like I am doing something worthwhile.  I make beautiful beagles for hunters or for those looking for one of a kind colored beagles for pets. Oh how they make good kid dogs.  

Leaving here with a few more pics of some of our pups from the past.   Hug a beagle today.

Spice

One of our first Blue Beagles at his new home

One of my favorite pics, these 5 getting to meet their new human dad.

Another fav, these 3 waiting for their new human mommy, Jennifer to pick them up

Pups I am training now reunited with their Mom after 5 months. She didn't like them so much anymore, LOL

Who knew blogging could steal my brain cells. Help!!!!

Okay friends I am still trying to learn all this blogging stuff.  If you will and have a gmail or google account, please click over to the right under followers  where it says "Join this site" and let me see if it works now.

Have I mentioned I like to SHOOT THINGS---The Bluebird Blog

If you read an earlier blog, you know the adventures of Mimi and getting to shoot her gun.  Were you skeered when you read it?   If not you might me after this one.

But a quick update on how and why I ended up at the end of the dirt road at Belly Acres.   I am a city girl,  lived on the same street for 99% of my first 52 years.  I was used to seeing my Mom, Dad, kids and grandkids, Grandma, Aunts and Uncles and the rest of the clan daily.  I married Superman the country boy and he was precious, he agreed to live on the Mayfair Commune street.  Ask anyone,  I always said I could never ever ever live in the country.  I had to be within 5 minutes of every fast food place and the walmart.  I couldn't imagine not seeing the grands everyday.  

Just over 3 years ago, his mom passed away and at the same time our boy child was expecting his first child and needed a place to live.  My girl child bought a home and moved out of the hood at this same time.   I have always heard no one knows the sacrifices you will do for your children, but now I do.  I called Superman at work one day and told him we were moving to the country.  I am pretty sure he thought I had been into the cough medicine or had got a hard lick on the head when I said that.  The words came out and I was committed but crumbling on the inside.  (No one knows this up till now)   I immediately started packing 35 years of accumulated junk and that weekend we moved.  I do pretty much enjoy it up here but get so homesick even three years later.  I can't help it, my Mayfair home was the home Superman and I worked so hard to make ours. I even thought of the name "Belly Acres" because I seemed to belly ache to myself all the time about what I had done.  Enough of that I am welling up and soon will be slinging snot if I cry.

When we moved up here Superman knew I needed some type of protection and I hadn't done well with a shotgun at home so he bought me a single shot and a box of bullets.  (red ones I think).  I love blue birds and I loved bluebird boxes.  One day I noticed this married couple of bluebirds fluttering about their nest but wouldn't go in to feed their babies.  I finally grabbed a chair to be able to think better to figure this out.   All of a sudden I seen this big ole honking snake stick its head out. For Heaven's sake, what was I gonna do,  never had this problem in the city.   I called Superman at work, he was 2 hours away, what could he do?  I called my brother in law but no answer.  I sat and watched for a bit and felt so sorry for Mr. and Mrs. Blue.   I bet you know what I did next.

My "Possum" dog

I went in and grabbed my single shot and went to the other hidden place for the red shot gun shells and here I go,  snake hunting time.   I sat and got me a good aim waiting for him to stick his head out again.  Ready.......there it is  KABOOM.......missed his head but blew  a hole the size of a baseball in the birdhouse.  Run back inside, grab another red shotgun shell and back out to decide what to do next.  He was a flipping and a flopping inside there and I got a little closer and realized how big that sucker was.  He couldn't get out and he wasn't dead.  Now I am not one to see anything suffer and I knew I had to finish the job.  So I got even closer and aimed for the hole I had already shot  KABOOM....completely new hole but about the size of a grapefruit.  And the bird house came tumbling down.

My dog Possum, yeah weird name was going bat-poop crazy.  When the bird house hit the ground, El Grande snake came tumbling out, it had to have been 30 or 6 feet long.  I had hit it in the belly so baby blue birds were falling out and stupid Possum dog was trying to grab them which I thought was gross.   So I am screaming and kicking at him,  shaking a gun and trying to think all at the same time. I managed to go grab a shovel to get all this mess out of the yard.  Imma tellin' you.....parts of snake, bluebird house and baby blue birds were blown to pieces. 4 trips later with that shovel and everything was gone.

I was so proud of myself, this was better than the chicken hawk hunt,  I did all this and didn't once fall down.   Since day one, it has been an adventure every day.   I would love to end with the news that I have got much better hitting my target....but I can't lie.    Peace, love and snake grease to you.

Heart Attack Survivor at 40-Why I Go Red for Women

If you didn't read yesterday's blog, you need to go back and read it,   I had to do a "to be continued" because even though it's been almost 15 years.  It's like scratching a scab off every time I relive July 17, 2000.   But I have to do it,  it's part of my testimony to God's amazing grace and the miracles he still performs today.

I have never remembered much about working on July 17th, 2000.  I know I did and I worked extra long hours because I had got behind from taking a weekend off.   I got home around 6:30 that evening and I do remember feeling like I had been run over by a log truck after I had ran a marathon.  What in the world was wrong with me,  this turning forty must have been harder than I thought.  Ain't nobody got time to be this tired.  My superman and my son were at home and I grabbed a hot shower and told them I had to go to bed.   Now this was a first for me,  I never ever ever went to bed that early.   About 20 minutes after laying down I started feeling nauseated and made it to the bathroom and puked my guts out.   Gross but you have to be with me if I am going to share.  Now quick side note,   I am not a puking person, never have been,  when I throw up I am honest to goodness sick.

After being on my knees to the porcelain thrown,  I got up and went back to bed for about 2.1 seconds it seemed and got sick again.  This time was worse,  I had broke out in a sweat that is impossible to describe.  Even though I thought I was tough, I decided to go tell the guys in the living room.   I think that was the beginning for becoming somewhat unconscious because I felt like I was dreaming.   I do remember telling them that I must have food poisoning to have got so sick so fast.  Superman asked what we needed to do and I told him I would be okay in a minute.  Not sure what happened next but then we were getting ready to head to the ER.  I suppose to get my food poisoning checked out.   I had to hurry though, had to be at work early the next morning.

All I remember about the drive to the hospital was saying "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus" over and over.   I couldn't even pray but I called his name and he was listening.   We had never been to the ER so we went to the wrong entrance and Davey ran in to get help.  The poor guy came out with a wheel chair and I slumped in it.   They took me to a room and gave me the sexy backless gown to put on.  Till this day I do not know how/or who put that gown on me.   Or if it was even on me,  I think I blacked out about this time.

Are you still with me here,  stay with me,  I don't like to be alone with this part.  I opened my eyes and was surrounded by medical staff and my superman.  I was impressed that they would give so much attention to someone with food poisoning.  But then I heard someone say "She is having a heart attack"!  Me being me,  tried to raise up and look around,   I was trying to see the POOR OLD LADY having the heart attack and getting more pissed off because they should be worried about her, not me.

Dumbest question ever to ask someone with a competitive nature is to rate your pain.  They kept asking me this and I kept saying FIVE every time they asked.   UH-OH, something wasn't right,  all of a sudden both of my arms started drawing up in a deformed manner and the pain was unbearable yet I said FIVE.   Why was my arms doing this with food poisoning.   I heard someone tell my precious Superman he had to leave.  Why?  It still breaks my heart even trying to imagine what he was going through.  I didn't know what was happening but he did and they made him leave in the middle of it. But he joined the rest of my family in the waiting room, who didn't know but had called Prayer Warriors far and wide and prayer chains were praying.

Things went black, the blackest black and I was spinning so hard that my limbs were wrapped around me like wet noodles, I was being sucked into a vortex type hole of darkness.  The noise, oh the noise was just horrendous.   I could see and feel everything about this part.   While some people are so blessed to see a beautiful light and peace, not me,   you see I had been worshipping the all might dollar and had scooted away from the King of Kings, the one who died on the cross for me.   I turned from him, he didn't turn from me.   I was being teleported straight to the gates of hell and I don't care if you believe me or not.  I was there,  I know what happened.

Wait,  I opened my eyes and a nurse had my head pulled to the side with a suction hose because I was still puking and they were keeping me from choking on it.  I looked around and there were still alot of medical people there.  OH NO.....and I was out again.   What I didn't know then, was every time I would wake up just a little I would go back into cardiac arrest and they were shocking me back to life.  This went on for 20 minutes and multiple shocks but thank goodness I do not remember those at all,  wouldn't have even believed it had I not had burns on my chest from them afterwards.

Seems like I blinked and opened my eyes and I was in a different room and all my family huddled around me.  I can still see the looks on their faces, they seemed horrified and so terribly sad.  I remember my sweet Momma crying.  I still couldn't grasp what was going on, why was everyone so upset over food poisoning.  One of the reasons this is so hard for me to talk about is that I had been moved to ICU and they told my family I probably wouldn't make it through the night.  They broke the visiting rules and let them come in to see me, just in case.  I am sure the medical staff was allowing them to say their goodbyes. But God was there, the whole time.  He is the Great Physician, don't forget I said this.

The doctor did talk to my family and told them I had suffered what is called the widow maker heart attack.  I had flat lined so many times that he was sure my brain suffered from lack of blood.  He told them he didn't expect me to live through the night but if I did, the damage my heart had sustained,  I could not survive more than six months.  He was certain that I would have some type of brain damage if I did survive over night.

I hurt for people who do not believe in the power of prayer or have family and friends that are not Prayer Warriors.   I am writing this so the doctor was wrong but the Great Physician did the job and did it perfectly.   I did not have brain damage,  I did not die in 6 months and thanks to Him having a hand in giving knowledge to those in the medical profession,  a medicine came out 3 years after my heart attack that helped the 2/3rds of my heart that was dead, regrow itself.

Everything hasn't been rosy in the past 15 years,  I have had multiple stents implanted.   The only damage to my brain is that I have short term memory loss and don't say you do too.  You don't understand how severe mine is at times.   I tried to return to my career but due to my memory loss, it triggered panic attacks.  My doctor was straight forward with me and said "Your going to die behind that desk,  you need to decide do you want to live or do you want to make that money a little while longer".  I never went back to work after that doctors appointment.  I had a job to do, I had to spread my testimony and educate others about women and heart disease.

Thanks to WomenHeart and Go Red for Women, the past 15 years we know so much more about heart disease in women that we did then.   It's not a man or old woman's disease anymore.  If your female, think about this,  1 out of 3 women reading this will die of heart disease if we don't start sharing our stories and learning the warning signs.

February 6, 2015 is National Go Red for Women day.  I ask you all to participate and have your business do it too.  Click this GO RED DAY and get information on how you all can help spread awareness.

I apologize for such a long blog but my story is important to me.  God gave me a second chance in life and I could leave out detail but I want people to know what I went through to get where I am today,  only by the Grace of My Jesus and a wonderful family that believed in the power of Prayer. I will leave you with the scripture I believe that was meant for me to live by and don't expect a serious post from me for a long time.

Acts 20:24 However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.

The year 2000, my year to soar

Turning back the clock to 2000 today.  I had just turned 40 years old and it wasn't going to slow me down one bit..... Will you please come along with me on this journey.  We will start with that 1st day,  oh the excitement across the world.  Celebrations,  dreams, ambitions and we attended the most beautiful wedding ever that day.   I personally had set very attainable goals for my career and family life.

Here we go,  after the wedding it was time to dive in.   I worked as a program manager in the aircraft manufacturing industry.  I had worked so hard to bring together the perfect team, we were filling the walls with awards on our performance from major aircraft companies such as Boeing, Cessna, McDonald Douglas, Northrop Grumman etc.

My winning team

I was feeling great,  physically fit and probably at my highest point as having self-esteem to accomplish anything I set my mind to do.   I was able to travel to many large companies and meet their VIP's.   Wow,  this little Arkansas girl really had the world by the tail.   I never dreamed I would be doing these great things in my career but honestly,  I worked my butt off to get them.

Here I am on Rodeo Drive while on a business trip in California

In this industry back in that time, it was a man's world with glass ceiling that seemed unbreakable, but I was stubborn, determined and downright competitive to a fault.  If the other Program Managers were coming in at 6:00 AM,  I would come in at 5:AM,  if they stayed till 6:00 PM,  I waited till the last left and would leave.  I failed to think back then,  they were going home and kicking back in a recliner while their wives prepared their dinner.   I was going home to my other life,  being a wife and mom.  Laundry, dinner, errands and a very active teenage daughter involved in many activities.   Did I ever once think one thing about stress, no I didn't.   With every award my paycheck was growing,  all of a sudden everything turned into the almighty dollar.  I am ashamed now at how I worshipped this money and things I did to earn it.  The worst one was calling my daddy one Sunday morning as he got ready for Church and I was sitting at my desk at work to tell him Happy Father's Day.   Today,  I do not even like that person I had became.  

Summer brought big plans, my girl child was competing in a pageant that she had been invited that was for highly academic achievers so in the midst of 12 hour days, we prepared for that.  I was also planning a trip to Aruba with my best friend ever and this was another dream to come true for me,  getting out of the country for the first time.   

July 14, 2000,  Laci and I traveled to Fort Smith for her pageant, she sat in the car while I checked in.  Standing in line,  I felt someone come up from behind me and grab me and squeeze me so very hard that I couldn't breathe.  I turned and no one was there but I started sweating profusely.  I had no idea what had happened but it did freak me out.  When I got to the car Laci could tell something was wrong,  not to worry a 17 y/o,  I told her it was just hot in there.

The weekend went by and to be honest,  I truly can't remember anything about it. I must have just went through the motions.   Monday morning I was at work at 5 AM,  as my team began to arrive, I had a couple of different ones ask me what was wrong, that I looked horrible.   I felt fine, of course I felt fine......I was NOT going to NOT feel fine....how dare anyone say anything,  I had no time to even think about how I felt.....I was aiming for perfection on July 17, 2000...........to be continued.

Choot'em Mimi and save the chickens.

I ain't gonna lie,  I love to shoot things with guns, anything it doesn't matter if its a tin can, I'll bust a cap on that bad boy.......or try.  Ha~~.many stories to be told about that trying but another day maybe.

Back before I owned my own guns and we lived in the city,  I had my own livestock.....backyard chickens.   Now don't go messing with a woman's chickens,  you don't know what kind of crazy she might be.   One Sunday morning,  while still in my long wooly housecoat (like old ladies wear) and my hair up in hot rollers,  I hear the most awful commotion in the chicken yard.   What in the world?

Now I need to pause for a minute and tell you,  back then "My Superman" for some odd reason only left one gun and one shot gun shell accessible to me.   I went out and seen the dreaded, most feared feathered beast known to chickens, the GREAT CHICKEN HAWK lurking in a tree behind my house I kinda went that Mama Bear crazy,  ain't nothing messing with my chickens. So I grab the one and only shotgun I am allowed to touch but OH NO,   I couldn't find the shot gun shell and time was ticking.  I had chicken lives to save and things started in slow motion in my mind.   Panic mode, I decide to go to place I had never been before.  Superman's shotgun shell stash, how hard could it be to find a bullet to save my investment of chickens, right?

After carefully opening that sacred "Black Box" I was in for mass confusion all up in my head.  Why hadn't I ask questions before, what color was the one he left me,  what to do and what to pick.  I began to glisten profusely (southern ladies don't sweat).  Alas the light bulb went off, I remembered he had left me a yellow shell and all I had to do was grab a yellow one.  Yeah buddy I am WOMAN hear me roar as I grabbed it and quickly loaded it in the gun.

I scurried as fast as I could with the granny robe and house slippers slowing me down a tad and that devil of a chicken hawk was still there,  smirking at me.   I got myself in a good position to shoot, not realizing that the neighbors could see me at this point.   I slowly got a bead on that sucker and POP the gun wouldn't shoot.  Oh yeah, that safety thingy wasn't pushed.   Again I aimed up amongst him with the gun kind of going different directions, by this time I was shaking so bad that this was going to be hard.   KABOOMMMMMMMM........and I saw feathers fly and then I saw the clear blue sky, I was laying flat of my back.  That gun had kicked the dog mess outta me and there I laid, on the ground trying to recall did I shoot myself?  Why was I on the ground?   I quickly jumped up and checked myself for blood or broke bones and of course looked around to see if anyone was watching.   My neighbors were getting in their car, they both had been watching and both smiled, waved and got in the car after I got up.   Till this day I don't know what they thought nor do I need to, Loco comes to mind.

I regrouped my thoughts and went to look for the chicken hawk.   SCORE!!!  Feathers everywhere but no real sign of the hawk.  I blew that sucker to smithereens. I did a little happy dance just like the touchdown dances of yesteryears on TV before people got all butthurt and they made them stop.

That afternoon when Superman got home,  I was waiting on him to tell him I had saved my chickens.  I also had to tell him I thought something was really bad wrong with either the gun or the yellow color coded shells.  I even had the casing from the one I shot to show him.   He listened to my story and just shook his head as he usually does when I get in messes.  When he looked to see what I had used, I had used a #4 Buckshot, which evidently means I had used a cannon on that hawk.  That explains how I ended up flat of my back looking at the clear blue sky. He went on to tell me that they aren't like garanimal kid clothes, they are not color coded.  The yellow he had stashed for me was some kind of small critter load,  I don't remember,  bird shot, rat shot or something another.

My Superman

I learned three valuable lessons that day. #1 educate myself on shot gun shells #2 don't let the neighbors catch you out doing such a thing, they will think your a little on the nutty side and I don't remember #3 but it was something important.   I can tell you that MEN invented and control the shot gun shell world,   if women had done it, they would be color coded in accordance with their kicking powers with red being the one to warn you that your about to get the crap kicked outta you.

No worries now,  I have my own gun collection and I might know a little more than I did back in those days, but you never know.   Fear the Mimi is all I say.

Living in a "Chocolate Gravy" society

My non-blogging daughter texts me and tells me I need to blog about my "Chocolate Gravy".   So of course,  I do what the girl child says (usually) as she is much wiser than me and I admit it. 

But first let me tell you about growing up in a Chocolate Gravy world.  From as far back as I remember everyone I knew had Chocolate Gravy.  And in my little opinionated girl mind, any Momma that didn't cook it should have just been turned over to DHS.  (was there EVEN DHS that long ago?)  Now our normal weekend treat had to be earned by eating eggs, bacon, white gravy and a biscuit first, then if we ate enough to please Mom, we got to have chocolate gravy and biscuit for dessert.  Thinking back,  I bet my spoiled brother got away with skipping the rules alot. More on him later.  Let's just say, he was Mom's favorite. Ha!

Now weekdays, especially in the summer we could sneak next door to our grandma's house aka Mama Katie.  Don't tell Mom, but no one in the history of mankind could make the Chocolate Gravy, Homemade biscuits, fried tators or well.......just about anything I can think of better than our Mama Katie.

Teenage years brought lots of friends to the Mayfair Commune and Imma tellin' you,  I was in for my first learning----some of my friends had never had chocolate gravy!  WHAT???  I was just in shock, but they soon had their first of many helpings through the years of my Mom's chocolate gravy and homemade biscuits.  I sometimes wondered if it was me and my quirky-self they liked or was it the chocolate gravy.  Old friends, do NOT answer this question now. 

Adult Tami entered the real world of employment and then I learned what a sheltered life I led.  The first time I ever told a co-worker I had to go get my umbrella out of the turtle hull,  I was the joke of the factory for a week.  Never heard it called a "trunk" till that day.  OH GOOD GRAVY, get back on track woman---so somehow talking about cooking chocolate gravy came up one day and I thought one of my "northern co-workers" turned green around her yankee gills and literally was gagging.  <Northern is anything north of Russellville to me for future reference>  For the life of me,  I could not understand what the big deal was, after the gagging she began to laugh and say I was one of the strangest people she had ever met.  Till this day I envision myself throat-punching her that day but she was at least 5'6 and without a shadow of doubt I know she would have kicked my 5'2 butt.  Rumors spread like wildfire and the "turtle hull" girl now was known to put chocolate in her gravy.  They never gave me the chance to explain it was a dessert type treat.  Meanie butts, that is what they were plain ole meanie butts.

Momma Tami though, oh she was a dandy,  she began spoiling her kids to weekend treats of Chocolate Gravy and biscuits.  And with that I redeemed my self-esteem stolen from the "northern meanie butts".   Soon the friends of both the boy child and girl child started wanting to hang out at the "Mayfair Commune" just as my friends had done in my teen years.  Oh the Power of being the Queen of the Chocolate Gravy,  I was cooler than their big 80's style fluffy bangs and mullet haircuts now. Bazzzinga!

Mimi Tami is now an empty nester but certainly not forgotten. I have learned to discipline myself to not cooking it on weekends for me and Pap,  Lawd knows we are fluffy enough without it.  But at least once a year, Christmas morning all the kids and grands plan on being at Mimi and Pap's for breakfast.  Pap has become the Master Chef on Christmas morning at "Belly Acres" as Mimi needs to concentrate on making the perfect Chocolate Gravy for the flock.

I hope this tradition can continue with my kids as well as the cousins,  and welp, just maybe you can start it in your family too.  Here is my recipe, you can pay me later sweet tator, okay?

Tami’s Chocolate Gravy Recipe

Mix the following ingredients in a medium
size saucepan and stir With a wire whisk:

2 ½ tbls. Flour
3 tbls. Hersheys cocoa
1 ½ cups of sugar
1 can of evaporated milk
1 cup of water
beat this until all lumps are out and
put on medium heat and stir constantly
until it begins to boil slowly, when
it is semi-thick remove from heat
and add 1 teas. Vanilla flavoring and 1/2 stick of margarine
and stir again till melted.
Serve over hot biscuits (bisquick fools them
everytime!)

Let me know how you like it!

My Mom is on Facebook and They Found Me on A Stump

Blogging, it will be easy they say.  You will be good at it they said......and then I started typing and deleting. All of a sudden I am dumb as a rock, what do I say?  I have facebooked so many years that most everyone knows everything about me.....ok...there are some things ya'll would never believe.  This I shall consider for a later date.

Thanks for encouraging me to blog, you all rock like my front porch rocker.   Well everyone except my Mom, she used the "Oh So Famous TAMI LYNN" and told me not to do it.  I pondered this for most of yesterday, does my Mom know what blogging is?  We come from a long line of "Loggers" as in forestry.  Maybe she thought I was going to take up logging in the bogs.  You know like they do on TV on that show that is mostly fake,   logging in the mud.   So Mom if your reading this, trust me,  I refuse to blog in a bog to get a log.

The cool thing about my mom is she has a facebook and the not so cool thing is that I get in trouble alot for this reason.   If you don't know me,  I am nothing like my parents.  I am opinionated and do not care one bit to tell you how I feel,  whether it be how much I like you or that you hurt my feelings.   I am candid, what you see is what you get.  This brings alot of "TAMI LYNN" to my facebook page posts.   She shakes her head alot and just looks at me and says,  I don't know where you got that, not after me or your Dad.   For most of my childhood they told me they found me in the woods on a stump,  I think now maybe they were right.  I am thinking before they found me I was the Arkansas version of "Walk Like a Man" the movie.

There could be other reasons for my quirkiness and some of it for sure has to do with Mom.  Oh she looks so sweet and innocent on the picture.   Ha, the stories we could tell.   One of her favorite amusements when I was young was scaring me and laughing at me when she did.   She figured out at a young age that when something scares me,  I fall face first on the ground, you know kind of like those fainting goats.....Baaaaaa...... As a teenager, I guess I wasn't to bright,  I knew when I came home at night that she was going to jump out behind the door but.....yeap, I fell face first on the floor everytime and she would laughed till she cried then off to bed, while I spent a while shaking like a cold, wet dog.   I better stop with that story or the TAMI LYNN might turn into a 2x4 on my "hind-end" as she called it,  we couldn't say "BUTT".  

I love her dearly and I wouldn't trade her for anything I don't think, unless I found some really good beagles and a sharp pocket knife then I might consider it......(TAMI LYNN).   Lucky for her and questionable by me, she didn't stop with me, she went on to have me a little brother and sister.  Till this day I don't understand why after finding  me on a stump, she would take on more.   After all how do you beat perfection, right?   Tilts halo and says, until next blog....do not blog in a bog on a log.

She knows me best, she has heard my heart beat from the inside.

I want to introduce you to my Mom, otherwise known to most middle schooler’s as Mimi. To say I am excited about this new endeavor of my Mom’s is an understatement! With Mom around there is always a laugh and an adventure to be had. I cannot wait to see how she shares her life lessons, stories, photos and country escapades with you all.

Growing up in a house with the wittiest, funniest and quirkiest mother not only inspired me but all of my girlfriends from a very young age. Living in the country, down a 2 mile dirt road, with WELL water, and more guns than the Robertsons’ there is a daily occurrence of hysterics that will leave you giggling and longing for a day or two spent at Belly Acres! An avid animal lover, she has raised any and all types from squirrels, birds, chickens, turkeys, peacocks, deer, calves, rabbits and now she spends her days training beagles. Hunting, fishing, riding four wheelers, teaching bible study and helping rear up her 3 grandboys are a few other things she enjoys.

Get ready for laughs, cries, lessons, honesty and most of all love from Mimi!!- Her daughter~Laci

I find it only fitting to let Laci write my first blog and introduce how she describes me.  She didn't think my description "Weirdo" would work.   Please read what my beautiful daughter had to say about my new endeavor of blogging.

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