Santa: "I no longer keep a naughty or nice list, I only keep up with those who accept my friend request on Facebook."

We pause today to send a shout out to our granddaughter Kyleigh as she celebrates her 22nd birthday. Based on all the photos posted, you and the gang had a blast on your Spring Break adventure out in San Francisco. Kyleigh continues her studies at Sam Houston State, Huntsville. We do thank God for her and pray His blessings on her life as she continues to pursue her dreams and aspirations. Hope you enjoy your card. Happy Birthday. Love, MiMi, and Poppy.

Happy St. Patrick's Day eve, here on this Thursday, March 16, 2017. I thought I would get that out there just in case some folks are diddling around looking for something green to wear tomorrow. I've heard the following saying all my life, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." I've heard it repeated over and over, however, the quote itself originated in a play written by William Congreve. It premiered quite a long time ago, in 1697. The full quote was, "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned." At any rate, I have an update for you and it involves that saying. I've been reading about a dispute between one of my Santa Claus brothers and a lady who is in the business of booking Santas. He was not paid for some of the events he did through her agency. He is now suing her and the agency. His comments about it were somewhat humorous. He said it was not his intention to hurt this lady personally. He only wanted to make sure no other Santas would be deceived by her agency. He went on to say that he would not be satisfied until she is sentenced to prison and her business is kaput. So much for not wanting to hurt this lady personally. (I think serving time and being bankrupt might cause her some discomfort.) This caused me to come up with a newer rendition of Mr. Congreve's famous, albeit, often misquoted verse, "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / nor hell a fury like a Santa who goes unpaid for his services."

Many of you know how much I enjoy skipping down memory lane. One evening this week I came in from work and the wife had cooked me a special meal. She had made fried pork chops, rice, gravy, pinto beans, and homemade biscuits. The pinto beans were special. She had found some that had been picked off the vine before they were dried. Back in 1965, our little family, consisting of her, our first child who was an infant, and I, moved to Alexandria, Louisiana where I took a job at the nearby USAF airbase. The job didn't pay that much and the rent was reasonable but it took a lot of what I made. Our parents, hers and mine, would give us food when we came home on weekend trips. One of the staples we had was the homegrown pinto beans that were canned by her mom. (Trust me, the pintos cooked straight off the vine have their own unique taste.) We would have those beans and homemade biscuits, sometimes, several times a week. Back then, we didn't have the pork chops and gravy, but, enjoying those pinto beans the other evening brought back some wonderful memories. I cannot remember us complaining about eating that simple meal. After all, we typically would have a special time of eating out, on payday, at the local greasy burger joint. That was fine dining to us in those days. Things changed as I was promoted and transferred, but, I sure enjoyed remembering those days when the most simple of things in life were reasons for thankfulness.

That was the first time she had found those fresh pintos at a local grocery store. She knew when she bought them what they meant to both of us. On the surface, they were nothing but a mess of pinto beans, but to us, a little bit of a precious memory of those so near and dear to our hearts. That burger joint I mentioned was very special as well. They did a burger basket made from scratch with curly fries. They were wrapped in that slightly waxed paper and the grease would bleed through just a little. We sat out in our car and wondered out loud if it gets any better. It has. Now we pay attention to the number of stars and we don't mind paying for high quality, however, that specialness can't be replaced or recovered. That's why we can connect back to those 'good ole days' and enjoy them all over again, for the first time. When my mom was recently in the hospital in Alexandria, dad and I went out to find a place to eat. We went by the street where we turned to go to the duplex where we lived. We went by where the old burger joint used to stand. It's now some other business, but, I
couldn't help it when that nostalgic feeling came over me and I had to say to myself, "I've been blessed and one more time, thank you, Lord." Amen. ....More later.