Monday, May 30, 2011


I was invited to be a guest blogger on  This gal is so good about helping other bloggers get out there into "bloggerland" and find new friends.  She hosts a lot of giveaways too and is generally a great person to know.  This is the post I sent her:

The 9 year old was at her mother's on picture day.

In the late 1960s I was living in Palm Desert with my husband of 3 years.  At this time I was the mother of my son (from a previous marriage), our daughter and a part time step mother to his two daughters and a third daughter from his ex wife’s previous marriage…..Did you get all of that?  Let me put it another way…there was ours (1+ years), mine (3+ years), theirs (5 and 7), and hers (9).  You know how it goes.  We only had the 3 girls part time, but I was overwhelmed. 

My son, Gene, walked at six months of age.  HOWEVER, my daughter, Patty, didn’t walk until she was 13 months old.  We tried everything but she would just sit down and crawl.  Then, suddenly, she was up, walking around, and changed overnight into the grand explorer.  She got into EVERYTHING. 

The week after the 3 older girls left I went to visit a friend and vent about how exhausting and frustrating it was having 4 kids to wrangle along with the toddler.  Things went fine at my friend’s house.  I only had to pull Patty out of 2 cupboards, from under 1 bed, and off the dining room table twice.  My  son would run to me and appraise me of her activities and I would retrieve her from where ever she wasn’t supposed to be.

Finally, we left for home and I placed them both in the back seat of the car.  There were no seat belts back then, but Gene would stay put and I placed Patty in her car seat.  The child seats, back then, had hooks that went over the back of the car’s seat and looked like a basket with leg holes.  

As I was backing out of my friend’s drive way when Gene started yelling, “SHE’S GETTING OUT OF HER SEAT, SHE’S GETTING OUT!”

At that time I was already pulled half way way into the road and I could see a car coming from the left.  So, I backed all the way to the curb, cramped the wheel and parked.   I was dealing with Patty’s escape from her seat when someone cleared their throat at my window. 

Patty was wailing, Gene was staring, big eyed, at something over my shoulder, and I was already fed up with my day.  So, I flipped around and shrieked, “WHAT?” into the POLICE OFFICER’S face.
Woops!  Sorry, Officer.
Obviously the officer did not have a clue as to the predicament I was in and the jerk issued me a ticket!

Well, I was not about to pay for a ticket, so, the next week I went to court and explained the whole thing to the judge. 

It went something like this…

…With Patty balanced on my hip and Gene clasping my hand I approached the bench (I wasn't stupid, kids are great props)

Your honor, I have just spent 6 weeks taking care of my 1 year old, my 3 year old, and 3 step children ages  5, 7, and 9.  The 9 year old hates me and  made my life miserable.  The 5 year old bites and we all have the wounds to prove it.  And, my 1 year old is a pistol, (indicating with a nod at the squirming toddler in my arms...I could hear snickers coming from behind me). 

I went on to explain (in high pitch, rapid speech)... "As I was pulling out of a drive way all HELL broke loose (the court room erupted in laughter).  My 1 year old had gotten out of her car seat and fell to the floor.  She was screaming and yelling bloody murder.  My son was yelling warnings of impending disaster and my brain went into overload (by this time the judge was smiling, too).  I had to stop the car immediately in order to see if my daughter was hurt.  So, I quickly backed to the other side of the street and parked.  The vehicle, which turned out to hold a not so understanding police officer, was a block down the street when I started backing out.  The chaos caused by the children caused me to have a momentary mini stroke in the middle of the street, then my brain kicked in, and I parked.  I think I did a good job, under the circumstances."

The judge agreed and dismissed the ticket.

kt 3/2011

Wednesday, May 25, 2011


I RECENTLY LEARNED HOW TO USE Ebay AND THIS WAS ONE OF MY SECOND PURCHASE (we won't talk about my first one).  HOWEVER, I AM A BIT STYMIED.  WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT LITTLE SIDE EGG SHAPED CUP FOR?  (Oh, mannnn, was that supposed to be written "For what on earth is that little side egg shaped cup?" I hate grammar!)  I read the wee instruction booklet and it mentioned nothing about this feature.

ALERT!  ALERT! She's going into one of those weird mental states where she lets her mind fly free.  Run, hide, or read on with caution.  If you choose to read on Don' blame me if you are offended   Better take this seriously as I am about to get gross!

Is that where a little chick sits while it watches it's little siblings in egg hell? (Can't say I didn't warn you!)

I can't believe my mind just came up with that...shudder!   Oh, mannnnn!  Here comes another idea.  What would I do if I cracked one of those hard boiled eggs and found...I can't even bring myself to say it.  Would I throw up?  No, the question would be WHERE would I throw up?

Being too freaked out by what my mind just conjured up I think it best to stop my musings.  Obviously this was not the day to let my mind out of its cage!

I did learn something from this purchase (besides how to bid on Ebay).  The manufacturer suggested using their little pin to pierce the egg so it wouldn't pop during the cooking.
Funny thing is I didn't find their "pin" until I accidentally pricked my finger on it yesterday.
It is imbedded in the black tray beside one of the egg holes.

So, why don't some of you ponder the purpose of the little egg thingy on the side.  To do this you should know that the black bottom is separate from the opaque top and the cooker bottom.  In the meantime I am going to contact the manufacturers and ask them.

(NEVER-MIND: couldn't find the manufacturers on line, THEY APPARENTLY ARE IN SOUTH AMERICA).

Take a "crack" at it and see what you can come up with.  
(Oh, mannnnn, was that supposed to be written, "...and see with what you can come up"... no that still end with a preposition.  Mannnnn!  I give up!).  And, while we are at it, should I have put a period after the parenthesis???
kt 12/2010

 P. S. Since I wrote this piece, the darned thing has bellied up.  It lasted a whole 4 months.  I am never buying on E-Bay again!  

kt 3/12/11

Monday, May 23, 2011


Back in the late 80’s I was a teacher and driving fifty minutes, one way, to work.  I had to get up early and occasionally I would encounter a problem that would make me late to school.  Mostly it was deer or ice or snow, but not this day. This day I really tempted fait.

On one old, dark, winter morning my alarm clock malfunctioned.  Normally I am an early riser, but that morning was an exception.  I suddenly awoke with a jolt only to realize that I was going to be late if I didn’t leave IMMEDIATELY.

Scolding myself under my breath, I threw off my pajamas (why I didn’t leave them on I will never understand), dawned a winter coat, grabbed my underwear, a pair of slacks, a shirt, shoes, and socks.   Then like a flash I flew out the door and jumped into my small, red, cold, Ford Escort.  There I was in my freezing cold car, naked under my coat with a pile of clothes heaped in the passenger seat.   I tore off on the long drive to school.  Halfway to my destination my car sputtered and died.  I was out of gas! 

The car lights were like spot
lights zeroing in on me in
the back seat.
It was still pitch dark and I steered my car to the side of the highway.   Cell phones weren’t in my price range yet so I was out of luck there.  I had just passed a gas station a few miles back so I wiggled into the SMALL back seat and proceeded to try and get dressed without the headlights of oncoming cars spotlighting my delicate condition.  

Finally dressed, I left the car and started walking toward the gas station when a pick up truck pulled along side.  The young man driving the truck asked me if I need help.  I told him about running out of gas and he offered to give me a lift.   Shoving the visions of murder and mayhem out of my mind I thought to myself that he looked harmless (isn’t that what they always think).  I got into his truck and he made an immediate U turn away from the gas station.  My heart nearly jumped out of my throat.  I asked him where he was going and he said he had to get a gas can.  I was already hugging the door on the passenger side like a long lost lover, and pondered about how much it would hurt to jump.  However, there I sat with my hand on the door latch anticipating my quick departure and the surely painful rolling stop my body would make.  The truck slowed, then stopped, in front of a shabby house and the man jumped out and ran to the back of another truck (in my mind I was seeing a shotgun or an axe buried in the bed).  What kept me rooted to that seat was either fear or stupidity.  Then, I saw him swing a large gas can out of the bed of the truck and amble back to his vehicle. 

He drove me back to my car and helped me put the gas in.  Then I thanked him profusely and drove back to the gas station to fill up.  By this time I was already late to work and I knew I was in for a major lecture from the principal.

When I arrived in my classroom the teacher’s aide told me that I needed to go to the principal’s office.  That phrase brought back the dreaded memories of hearing that same message when I was a student.  Believe me, it was still able to trigger the same response even as a teacher.  Off I went, mentally rehearsing my story as I walked the long walk to his office.

When I stepped into his office I was greeted by a stern look.  You see, I had been late a few times before and was already treading on thin ice.  I apologized for my lateness and then launched into telling him about my drive to work, all of it, even the part about not being dressed.

He sat there for a while and just stared at me.  Then he motioned to me and said, “Come with me.”  I followed him into the outer office.  There were two secretaries at their desks along with a few of the teachers.  He sat me down on a stool and said, “Now, tell these people your story.  If they believe you then so will I.”

So, I went through the story one more time.  He then said, “Everyone that believes her please raise your hand.”  All hands went up along with a chorus of snickers and comments regarding how it could only happen to me, etc.  He said, “Well, Ms. Taylor you’re off the hook this time.  But, don’t think I will buy something like this a second time,” and he quickly returned to his office.

By the way, when I got back to my classroom I noticed that my knit pants were on wrong side out, my sweater was on backwards, and I had put on two different colored socks.  I won’t even comment on the state of my hair.

kt 5/12/11

Sunday, May 22, 2011

SUNDAY'S SONG (Better Than A Hallelujah - Amy Grant)

At first I didn't like this song because I did not understand the lyrics.  What could be better than God hearing us praise Him with a Hallelujah?  But, then I realized it is saying that He loves us no matter who we are or what we are going through.  When we reach out to Him in our darkest hours it is pleasing to Him because we CHOSE Him as our Comforter.  kt

Wednesday, May 18, 2011


Clenna sent me this a while back and I wanted to share:

Life really boils down to 2 questions... ... ... 

1.  Should I get a dog... ... ... ?

Or... ... ... 

2.  Should I have children?

Just to let you know...
No matter what situations life throws at you... 
No matter how long and treacherous your journey may seem...
Remember there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

You're laughing aren't you?
That's good 'cause my job here is done!

Have a great day and remember to give thanks...

Cats are so dramatic!

Now that I made you smile, 
pass it on to someone else 
who needs a laugh today!

Author unknown

Monday, May 16, 2011


When my children and I first moved to Missouri in 1976 I was lucky enough to get a job working for the city we moved to.  This small rural town had (and still has) its own electric services and I was hired to work there.  Fortunately for me I had purchased a home across the street from a sweet old judge and his wife (he got me the job).  For a few years I rented out the house I bought in order to have money to fix it up before we moved.  Every summer the kids and I would drive back to Missouri with my mom and dad.  We would spend the summer working on the place, while staying with relatives (or camping out in the house when it house was empty)

This has practically NOTHING to do with my story, except this is where I was working when I received a call from my 12-year-old son (my daughter was around 8)(FYI: my son is now 6’ 9” and was very big for his age back then.  Because of his size he was not allowed to hit his sister, or any one else for that matter, under any conditions.)

MOM (me):     (answering phone) City offices, how may I help you?

GENE:            Mom, Patty’s not listening to me.  She has Quackers (a baby duck) in the bathroom and won’t put her outside (plus a list several of her other infractions). 

MOM:            Put her on the phone.           

PATTY:         (Not waiting for her mother to talk) NO, HE’S JUST BEING MEAN!
                       (thunk = the sound of the phone being dropped or more likely being thrown to the floor)
                       (the buzzing sound of a disconnected phone).

MOM:             (answering phone) City Offices, how may I help you?

GENE:            Mom, she’s carrying duck food into the bathroom……. and I can hear the water running …………and she won’t listen to me. 
Can I hit her?

MOM:            NO!  Put her on the phone.

GENE:            (yelling) Mom wants to talk to you!

PATTY:          (a minute or two passes)TATTLE TALE!”

                        (very LOUD thunk and a boy’s scream….)
(young girl screaming and the Doppler effect of those screams moving away through the house.) 

MOM:            (hanging up the phone and jumping to feet)  Ahhhh, I seem to have an emergency at home.  (hasty exit left)

SCENE:          Upon the arrival of Mom, Gene is found lying on the couch with a cold wash cloth pressed to the top of his head.

                       The area is examined and a knot the size of a small walnut is found to be a prominent 
                       feature on the top of his head.

GENE:            I was sitting on the floor in front of the TV when I handed the phone to Patty.  She yelled, "Tattletale," and then hit me on the top of the head with the receiver.
                        I got to my feet and ran after her, but I was slow getting up and didn't catch her.

MOM:             ( fixing ice pack in kitchen) Patty where are you?

GENE:            (from front room) The little monster locked herself in the bathroom.

ACTION:       (crying can now be heard coming from the bathroom)

MOM:            Patty??????

PATTY:         I’m sorry, Mom, he just made me sooooooo mad!

MOM:            Come on out.

                      (The bathroom door slowly opens and a red faced Patty peeks out)

The rest of the MELODRAMA included the usual lecture and the issuance of the punishment deemed appropriate for the various violations of the house rules.   A cease-fire was declared and Patty was sent to her room.  As for myself I called the office and took the rest of the day off.  I HATE TEACHER DEVELOPMENT DAYS!

I wish I could say that this was the last time my daughter bashed my son on the head.  About a year later she beaned him over the head with a large, metal, antique, pitcher I used for a flower vase.  I don’t remember what the problem was but this time but, in front of her, I gave Gene permission to HIT her.   She NEVER did it again (I knew he would never hit her, but, she didn't). 

kt 3/30/2011

Wednesday, May 11, 2011



Thank you Clenna for sending me this.  I have done it 6 times and I am absolutely amazed that this happens.



You have to try this. It is absolutely true.
I guess there are some things that the brain cannot handle.

It takes two seconds.

It is from an orthopedic surgeon. This will confuse your mind
and you will keep trying over and over again to see if you can
outsmart your foot but, you can't. It is pre-programmed in your brain!
This is for those of you (like me) who looked
 up at your clock only to find it was a digital;
and then had to run to another room to find a
standard clock so you would know
which direction is clockwise.

    1. While sitting at your desk in front of your computer, lift your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles.

    2.  Now, while doing this, draw the number 6 in the air with your right hand.  Your foot will change direction! 

I told you so! and there's nothing you can do about it. You and I both know how funny it is but before the day is done you are going to try it again.  If you've not already done so.

...Isn't this a HOOT!

Now try this one:

Six Truths in Life

1.  You cannot stick your 
tongue out and look up at the 
ceiling at the same time,
a physical impossibility due to
the tendons within your neck.

2.  All idiots, after reading #1 will try it.

3.  And discover #1 is a lie.

4.  You are smiling now because you are an idiot.

5.  Soon you will send this to another idiot.

6.  There is still a stupid smile on your face.

I sincerely apologize about this but, I'm an idiot and I needed company.
Actually, right now I am smiling too as I am picturing you all doing this.
Thanks again, Clenna. 
kt 3/2011

Monday, May 9, 2011


My cat, Kit, is not a happy camper.  She has had a stranger, two small kids, a ferret, a parakeet and four mice move into her home (you would think the bird and mice would give her reason to celebrate her windfall).  She refuses to come home until late at night (can't blame her), and I have had to coax her in with her favorite cat treats as a lure.

To make matters worse, I hired a crew to come out and redo the facia board and guttering on the house.  They were here for a couple of days and making a lot of racket.  The evening of the second day my Kit did not come home.  At 10:00 PM, 11:00 PM and 12:00 AM I went outside, walked around, and called her.  Occasionally, I would faintly hear her,  but never did get a fix on where she was.  Even though I hated to leave her outside all night, I finally gave up.

I worried about her most of the night and checked around for her early the next morning.  There are a lot of critters around here that could seriously hurt her and I was concerned she had been injured (or worse).  The next morning, I was in the garage feeding Toby, and  I heard her soft mew.  I called and called but she didn't come.  Usually, she comes running when I shake her favorite bag of treats.  But, no Kit!

Having lots of work to do I went about my morning choirs (Dad's breakfast, making beds etc).  As I would move from room to room I would hear Kit's soft, plaintiff, mew.  It seamed to follow me.   I would look around, and call after her only to find that she wasn't there.

By now, you guys should know how my mind works.  A thought flashed through my head.  OMG she's dead and haunting me from room to room.   However, the thought was fleeting as I realized that her sound was coming from above my head.  Now, I know it's hard to believe, but I do draw the line at cats as angels, sooooooooo, that means SHE'S IN THE ATTIC.  I retrieved the ladder from the back shed, drug it into the house and accessed the attic portal in the ceiling of our hall.  BINGO!  There she was!
What happened next really pissed hacked me off!  She gave one of her little rolling meows and darted off into the attic with a little, catch me if you can, flit to her tail.  Cats!  I will never understand them.  They are from another galaxy, I'm sure.  Twenty minutes later she came down the ladder on her own, ate her kitty kibbles, and settled her dusty, spider web covered body down on my clean folded clothes for a nap (which I interrupted by grabbing her up and wiping her down with a wash cloth).  She growled at me, showed me her tail end, and stalked off to another napping place (under my bed).

(Apparently, when the men left for lunch, their ladder gave her easy access to the exposed eaves they were working on.)
kt 4/13/11 

Sunday, May 8, 2011

SUNDAY'S SONG (Who Am I - Casting Crowns)

"In an unprecedented six-year span with nearly 4.5 million career album sales, a GRAMMY Award, an American Music Award, 23 Dove Awards and 8 chart-topping radio singles, Casting Crowns remains focused on discipleship through music. With lead singer and songwriter Mark Hall’s 18 years in youth ministry, the band’s message remains rooted in the student services he has led on a weekly basis since 2001, at Eagles Landing Baptist church near Atlanta. The songs start as messages for his 400 teenagers and their families. With boldly honest, hard-hitting lyrics, the band continues to challenge, strengthen and pour into the body of Christ, giving listeners a fresh, relevant perspective on loving God and loving people."
                                                      Casting Crowns

Wednesday, May 4, 2011



60 minutes later... ... NOPE!  Nobody answered any random questions.  No surprise there! I mean, take a look at them. Can you come up with any answers to these dumb questions?  For that matter can you come up with any reasons for having these questions on a profile in the first place?  Here is a sampling of some of the questions and my feeble attempt to answer them  (FYI: since I wrote this I did find 1 person who answered one of the questions):

1.  You can punch a hole in an apple using a straw. How do you think that makes your milkshake feel?
 I would be more concerned about how my apple felt having a foreign object jabbed into its side.  The more serious question is what if I sucked on the straw and inhaled the little core!  Would the straw be sorry?          
2.  Try writing your name with your other hand. Where was that person raised?
That's obvious.  I was "left" out in the cold and raised by squirrels (I have been called squirrelly often).

3.   Which is easier to make a model airplane out of and why: a banana peel or a wet sock?
Both!  Each of them can fly a long distance when thrown.  And they both would make terrific "splat" as they impacted the head of who (or is it whom) ever they struck.
4.  If your whole body was a hot air balloon would you stop eating spicy food?
Depends if I want to go up higher or gradually float back to earth.  With my gastric problems this is something I would have to consider carefully (or I could be on my way to the moon).
5.  Which is more important to you and why: flexibility or expandability?
BOTH are equally important particularly if we are talking about my jeans.
6.  The first time you had your shoes taken off - how surprised were you to see that you still had toes?
The first time I had my shoes taken off I was probably too young to know.  After all, I used them for sucking on and probably thought they were, ahhh, something else.
7.  If you could peer far enough into the night sky, you'd see a star in any direction you looked. When would you sleep?
So!  Who cares?  Been there done that. And,  since it would have to be night time to see the stars I assume I go to sleep after I got through boring myself to death by looking at the stars ALONE.
8.  The squish of mud between your toes; how would you live your life as a frog?
 I love the squish of mud between my toes.  I would spend my time on a lilly pad trying to catch lightening bugs (to see them light up my belly to make me laugh).
9.  You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?
Mom's are easy.  My mother LOVED what ever I made her.  My suggestion would be to glue the pits onto her FAVORITE pillow sham in the shape of a heart.  And I wouldn't forget to sign it, "I LOVE YOU," with a sharpie.  (No, I swear, I never did that... ... ... exactly).
10. How is an ankle unlike a consequence? 
I saved this for last because it is the hardest.  An ankle is not a consequence because it is a sequence.  A sequence of bones... ... ...and the foot bone connected to the ankle bone, and the ankle bone connected to the leg bone... ...Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones... ... ...

kt 3/2011

Monday, May 2, 2011


Back in the "good old days" when I was struggling to support my 2 kids with little to no help for their dads, I was continually frustrated.  I had a good job, but the wages weren’t as much as I needed.  My folks helped out a lot but I was always playing the shell game with my bills.

My job was stressful, my children were demanding, my life seemed hectic and I didn’t know how on earth I was going to get through the day, let alone the month.   I had just bought a new, red, 1968 Mustang and the payments were eating me alive.

One night I was late getting my son to Cub Scouts.  I had to run by my kid’s favorite place (Pup and Taco) and pick up a quick meal for them. I only had enough money to buy their meal (one taco, one hot dog, and two drinks).

I pulled out of the driveway of the place onto a wide four-lane thoroughfare.  I was the only car on the road at that time.  As I continued on down the road I saw a car at an intersection on my left.  It was just sitting there at a stop sign.  As I approached I kept my eye on him.  Just seconds before I got to this intersection he pulled out in front of me.
The #$%@ road hog just pulled out!

I threw on the breaks narrowly missing a collision.  This made me mad, but what really set me off was the crying from the back seat.  Patty, her hotdog, and her drink had been sent crashing to the floor (before seat belts).  Gene was in the front seat beside me and he hit the dash along with his taco and drink.

After a quick check to make sure no one was hurt, I floored the gas and took off after the maniac.  As I was flying down the road I said to my son, “Gene, gather up all the taco and ice from the floor, and get your sister's stuff too.”  Continuing on my chase I added, “Shove it all into your cup and hand it to me.”  I was beginning to catch the guy.  I then said, “Honey, roll down the window.” 

Gene’s eyes grew big as dawned on him what I was about to do.  The light up ahead turned red and the sedan had stopped.  It was a warm night and the target’s window was open.  I pulled up along the driver’s side, slammed on the breaks, leaned over my son, and threw the contents of the cup out the window of my car and into the window of the jerks car.  I shouted something like, “Here, you can have what is left of my children’s dinner!” (And, I think I may have called him a name.....ok, I'm sure I did).  
You know,  there isn't clip art of a bunch of food 
flying out the passenger door window....go figure!
I then hit the gas and ran the red light. 

I looked up into the rear view window to see if I was being chased  (I mean this was in Southern California and, believe it or not. there were some people with serious road rage in this area).  

It was a straightaway and I could see him for blocks.  His car just sat there through several lights.  Then I turned off and I never knew how long he sat there.

We were late to Cub Scouts, hungry, but we made it there alive.  While gobbling more than our share of refreshments I over heard my son talking to his friend Bobbie.  It went something like this:

“… … … you should have seen her face.  I have NEVER seen my mom that mad.   But, the best part was seeing what happened to that guy.  I saw some of he stuff she threw go into his ear!  It must have gone all over the front seat too as Mom really heaved it.  This guy turned to us just as my mom LAID RUBBER.  I got a good look at him and he had stuff all over his face and a funny look like he didn’t have a clue what had just happened.  His mouth was hanging open and his eyes were bugged out.  He just sat there and watched us drive away.”

Again, no clip art of a shocked man with tacos all over his face.  Use your imagination!
I felt guilty, not for what I did to THAT MAN, but for setting such a poor example for my children.  The next evening I sat them both down, apologized to them and explained why I was wrong and what could have happened.

My son simply said, “Well, Mom, just remember the next time I do something stupid, that I’m just following in your footsteps.”

Ever so often my son would point to the shiny spatter spots above the passenger window of the car, laugh, and remind me of the day I lost it!
kt 3/30/11

Sunday, May 1, 2011

SUNDAY'S SONG (Holy - Nicole Nordeman)

"It's a rare occasion when someone actually starts their career by winning a contest--but Nichole Nordeman managed to do it. Nordeman, a Christian singer and songwriter, began her career after winning a songwriting competition in Los Angeles. The competition jump-started her burgeoning career, and Nordeman has been a staple on the Christian music scene ever since."

Read more: Nichole Nordeman Biography