Bada Assa Glam-ma
didn’t strive for eli-gance.
Why bother with the hoo-pla
when she came by it per chance?
photoshopped by CDW
via Elegance
Bad Ass Grandma
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Author Archives: Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author
A Lesson Tethered to a Bad Memory
A sunny spring day and all the kids were across the street playing. I decided to take Buffy outside with me without a leash, something I never did – not even as a ten-year-old.
We went across the street to the Mandy’s to play with the other neighborhood kids. Buffy was so happy to be the center of attention. But she didn’t know the limits like we did.
I saw her run towards the street. I saw a car going to fast coming down the street. I yelled for her to come back but she didn’t. She ran in front of a parked car. The speeding Mr. Jolly didn’t have the chance to see her.
I heard the thudding sound under the car. I heard the screech of the tires. I heard the screaming inside my head and the bursting of my heart.
Me, the one who treated even my stuffed animals with care and tenderness. And I would have to live with this new feeling of intense guilt.
I know. Not such a “jolly” memory for today’s prompt. Nevertheless, a true story that changed my life. Life is full of lessons tethered to both good and bad memories. Over the years, I have loved many dogs and I do my very best to keep them out of harm’s way.
via Jolly
Would you wear this?
Waiting for Our Hearts to Mend
I will gorge myself with feathers
to be light upon my feet
as I traipse across the foothills
shaking every paw I meet
I will stroke the furs with touches
soft and kind will be my voice
as I offer safety, comfort
and a reason to rejoice
But one specific fellow waits
to be uncaged, set free
my precious friend, I’ll be there soon
both rescued, you and me.
For my sweet Cole – a mini-Aussie current with his vaccines – who was sent to quarantine for nipping the Fed-Ex man on our property.
via Gorge
Note to Self
Sometimes, when your hands are tied with knots you can’t undo,
your only choice is to wait patiently.
Sometimes, you may be able to loosen those ties that bind
and make a choice.
Think through the difficult choices
and make the decision with certain serenity.
via Serene
Yes, Virginia, There Is
Back then, I waited on pins and needles. Not “tenterhooks”.
I’d never heard of such a word.
When I was a youngster, the big stress of Christmas was waiting.
Waiting to put up the tree.
Waiting to to see the traditional lighted candy canes line the neighborhood streets.
Waiting on Christmas Eve to spot Santa in the sky as my sister pointed.
Waiting to get home from Christmas Eve services to open presents.
Back then, the magic simply happened.
Beginning around 3 or 4 decades ago, it was I who became the magician, the puppeteer, the puller of strings to recreate a tradition.
Today, the magic for me is seeing the joy, the excitement and the sparkle of light in my grandchildren’s eyes as they witness the marvel of Christmas as it “simply” happens.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the inspirational news article written in 1897, please read, Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus
photo credit
via Tenterhooks
The Truth Bites Like a Ratt’ler
Dad’s ignoring me as usual, but I guess that’s better than a slap on my face. Mother dries off the breakfast skillet, picks up a fussy Delma, and says, “Cono, yer goin’ te town this weekend te sleep over at Mamaw’s.”
“How come?” I ask.
“Aunt Marguerite and Aunt Eva are there. They wanna see ye.”
Well, I can see all the way down to the truth, and it feels like I’ve swallered a ratt’ler. Dad’s still mad that I’d bitten that toothbrush in two and doesn’t want me around. I don’t want to be around him either.
Still, I don’t want to go. I like Dad’s sisters well enough, but I want to stay here with baby Delma.
Mamaw, Dad’s mother, is the toughest grandma I know. It would be a whole lot easier if I just ran away and caught a train to somewhere else. As I sit on that idea like a chicken warming her eggs. I decide against it. Everybody says that the trains are filled with starving hobos on their way to California. They say they like to eat children under the age of twelve. I’m afraid they’d eat me too even though I’m little and skinny.
I guess I have to go.
Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper
via Age
photo credit
The Good Thing about “Meh” Posts
Yesterday was a “meh” post day for me – a cute puppy and an attempt at a witty daily word prompt.
The good thing about a “meh” post is thinking about it.
So, today, learning the new prompt, I thought more about puppies and remembered something. Something I was told and continue to love.
A few weeks after a friend’s beloved dog died, he had a dream. In the dream, “Max,” Ethan’s Cocker Spaniel, came to visit and spoke to him.
Ethan said, “Max, I didn’t know you could talk.”
“Of course we can,” he said. “We’re just not supposed to show it.”
“Well, what do you do all day?” Ethan asked.
“Oh, I sit at the feet of God.”
Ethan said, “What does that feel like?”
“Well, you know how when you yawn and, when the yawn’s over, how good it feels? It’s like that.”
I love this dream.
So I wonder if the God in Ethan’s dream is surrounded by a zoo of deceased and beloved pets, all yawning with contentment. I hope so. It’s a beautiful image.
Thinking of you sweet Lizzy and Luther.
via Zoo
Love those Poo-Paws
The Puzzler
She puzzled and puzzled till her puzzler was sore
She walked down the hallway and opened the door
And to her amazement guess what she saw?
The sky? The trees? No, not that at all!
But pieces of colors all shades and all hues
obstructing her vision but changing her views.
For the pieces together were so snuggly fit
that the light in her brain was instantly lit.
Nothing to ponder and nothing to question
No one’s advice and no ones’ suggestions.
The pieces together had finished their quest
so now she could sit down and quietly rest.
Art and poem by CD-W (thanks for the inspiration, Dr. Seuss)
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 