Silliness, Southern Living

Fire Ants Are Of The Devil

God made all the animals. It says so right in the Bible. But I’m convinced that fire ants are of the devil. I say this because fire ants are so vile and so wretched and seem to be born to pour out misery upon humanity.  And also I say this because of the many similarities between fire ants and sin. And also because I thought it would make a clever little post. Now I did not grow up with fire ants. I grew up in the mid-west where the icy anesthesia of winter calls the earth…

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Sometimes Tart, Southern Living

Alzheimers and Home Improvement Found To Be Closely Related

Last week, as you may recall, I embarked on a home improvement project. I decided it was time to re-do my guest room and bath.  By my estimate, I’m about half way through. The thing is, home improvement projects always take a little more time and money than you delude yourself into believing going into it.  I’ve done fairly well on the money budget because I can turn a sow’s ear into a Dupioni silk pillow. I can flat out design on a dime.  But the time budget? Not so much. So far I have removed…

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Southern Living, Thank You Notes

What Goes Around

One day, about 25 years ago, not too long after I had moved to Texas from the mid-west, I went to the grocery store to get a few necessities.  I was about 22-years-old.  I aspired to be dirt poor. To say that I was struggling would be an understatement. Into my cart, I put the very few carefully chosen things I could afford – a small carton of milk, a loaf of day old bread, off-brand toothpaste and a small box of feminine products.  I put my groceries onto the conveyer and watched the cashier ring…

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Antique Friends, GiGi and Poopah, Makes Me Sigh, Southern Living

Pa Palmer

Friday afternoon, Antique Daddy and Sean and I were on our way to celebrate Mother’s Day weekend with Memaw when we got the phone call. The father of one of our dearest friends had passed away unexpectedly. Pa Palmer, as everyone called him, was 85-years-old. On Monday, we returned him to the sandy East Texas soil from whence he came. Except that we all will miss him terribly, it is no tragedy really. Pa Palmer lived long and he lived well. He loved others and was loved in return. He lived by his faith and he…

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Mildly Amusing, Modern Medicine, Southern Living

Dr. Texan

When our health insurance changed a while back, one of the things I was required to do was select a General Practitioner. Prior to that, I never saw a GP. I have so many quirky medical issues that I employ an army of specialists and I have no need of a GP. I took a lot of time selecting my GP. I thumbed through the insurance directory and narrowed down the list to doctors in my geographic area that claimed to speak English as their primary language. From the long list of two, I settled upon…

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Family Stories, Reruns and Leftovers, Southern Living

Nothing To Complain About

After three months of freezing weather, too much cookie dough and entirely too much plenty of togetherness at the House of Antique, I am feeling the urge to complain. I am not a winter person. It seeps into my bones and settles into my soul. Like a chest cold. (Correction: Someone just mentioned that it hasn’t been three months, just three days. Sorry. My bad.) Ironically it was just this time last year I was feeling the same way. After I dislodged my nose from my navel I wrote the following post. Ode To Granny McKee…

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Southern Living

Texas Tough

Texans are tough when it comes to the heat. 103 degrees for ten days in a row? We laugh at that. Ha! And then we order chips and salsa to eat outside on the patio. But get a little ice, a little wintry mix? We cower in our house and eat cookies. And our trees faint dead away. And that is just what happened to what Sean calls his favorite tree. Photo Temporarily Unavailable He asked me when I’m going to put it back. I had to tell him that only God can make a tree.…

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Sometimes Tart, Southern Living

Fire Ants

The ides of March are upon us. Technically, it is still winter, but yesterday, it was 85 degrees. I wore flip flops, shorts and a tank top as Sean and I set off into the neighborhood to goof off. Wearing shorts in March might sound like a good thing, but there is a price to be paid for it in fire ants.As we walked towards the pond, the late afternoon sun made lacy shadows that shimmered and danced on the sidewalk under the canopy of trees. We stopped to admire the shadows and observe a parade…

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