Eight Reasons To Love Halloween!



Number one favorite reason for loving Halloween is the fact that you can get your kids, or grandkids, to hustle you some candy, all under the guise of being a ‘good’ parent/grandparent.


Number two reason falls under the same guise of being ‘good,’ you can eat the kids’ chocolate candy, claiming you are saving them from an extra trip to the dentist.


Third favorite thing about Halloween is the fact  you can dress up like a nut, and you might even when a prize for it. Case in point, my husband won 2nd place as Dracula at the Opera House in Tracy, losing out only to the Korean Elvis. Trust me, nobody can win out over Korean Elvis.


Halloween reason number four is if you’ve ever imagined your family and friends might be weird or quirky, you can just picture yourself as part of ‘The Rocky Horror Show,’ and blame it all on Halloween. Even the dog is frightened!


Favorite reason number five is probably a little cheap, but when your kids are young, you can cheat and use their dance recital costumes for Halloween costumes, justifying the huge amount of money you put out for a poodle costume nobody’s going to get much use out of, otherwise.


The number six reason for loving Halloween is especially useful if you have teen-aged girls. You can feel safe when your daughter goes out on Halloween and you know she’s packing heat.


Seventh favorite reason to love Halloween is when you can go to the supermarket and buy tons of candy, and no one judges you–they think your just buying it for the kids!

And the eighth reason to love Halloween is when “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” comes on TV. How many of us can honestly say we don’t secretly root for Linus to finally meet up with The Great Pumpkin? Our life often changes and rearranges itself, but these are still eight things you can love about Halloween.

Thanks for stopping by! And–oh yeah–happy Halloween!!!


Happy Birthday Bro! You’re Like A Fine Wine–Or An Old Cheese–Better With Age!


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Well, look who’s turning 70??? I can’t believe it–how time flies! Well, by the looks of these pictures, you’re holding up well, Big Bro! You’re a lucky man. You have a wonderful wife and loving family. Kudos to you! Even though we live far apart, I still think of you and wish you all the best. I remember you singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me (the horror) LOL! So, just know, that come this Sunday, I’ll be thinking about you and singing to you as well.


To think it’s been over fifty years since you got married. You were so young, and yet to me, I thought you were all so grown-up and knew exactly what you were doing. You just don’t look that much different now than you did back then. Life takes us for a ride and gives us some surprises, some good–and some–not so much. But you’ve weathered it well, and you’ve done a great job, Jim.


We grew up in the fifties, and life was different then. Our parents raised us the best way they knew how. Our lives were much different than the way we raised our children, but that’s what life’s about–growth and change.

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You grew into a good, hard-working man, who always took care of his family. You are the one who stayed in our hometown and kept your connections with old friends. I think you carved out a life that is perfect for you. I hope you still have your garden.


You raised your girls and now you have wonderful grandchildren of your own who have learned much from you as a role model.


Again, I’d just like to wish you the best birthday ever! I always think of the time when Steve and I were in Savannah, and I told him I was going to see my brother and Judy today. We looked up, and there you were. That was a very special time for me. Even though we are far from each other, you’ll always be my big brother. If our folks were still alive, they would be proud of all you’ve done.  Sending you warm thoughts and prayers on your 70th birthday!

Thanks for stopping by.





Gone With The Breeze–A Paro-Dee! Just messin’ with y’all!


GONE WITH THE BREEZE: Me bein’ silly. I’ve always laughed whenever I think of that classic Carol Burnett skit when she’s parodying “Gone With The Wind.” Thinking of her wearing that curtain rod still gives me a chuckle. This is just my own silly version. I hope it makes you smile–I’m sure it will make you groan if nothing else! 

Mello-D leaned out the window and crinkled her button nose. “Nothing worse than the stink of barbecued pork. Why doesn’t your father just admit to folks he’s kosher?” Mello-D gracefully turned around and smoothed her sky-blue hoopskirt.

The blond, lank-haired dandy just shrugged.

She stared back out at the towering oaks. With a glance down the slight knoll, she observed the rose garden in full bloom. “Remember, Brashley, this barbecue is our last chance to keep from being thrown out on the road without so much as a roof over our heads.” She shook her dainty finger beneath his nose.

“What are you talking about?” Brashley’s gray eyes glazed over as he brushed back the thin locks sculpting his boney head.

Mello-D paced across the library, pausing by the high-backed couch facing the marble fireplace. “Since Lincoln was elected president, your father, John, has never been the same. He keeps muttering, “Sic semper tyrannis all the day long. And as a plantation, Thirteen Jokes is–well–pretty much a joke.”

“What can we do?” He raised his up-turned palms into the air and his mouth dropped open, giving him a slack-jawed look that drove her to fury.

“Listen, Brashley Boothe Wilkes, you’re going to turn on that charm and we’ll get Smarmett  right where we want her.”

Brashley tugged at his cravat like he was choking. “What do you have in mind?”

“Must I explain every excruciating detail? Everybody in the county knows Smarmett has had the hots for you for the past eleven months. We’ll make your dim-witted sister, Honey-Buns, blab it all over town. Smarmett will be so humiliated, she’ll do anything to prove it’s not true.” Mello-D  smiled and rubbed her hands together.

“So?” Brashley managed to look even blanker.

“Where were you when they passed out brains? We’ll get my brother, Gnarley, to propose to her. She’ll jump at the chance to prove she doesn’t care for you.”

“Forgive me, Mel, but Gnarley is such a geek.”

“Who cares as long as Smarmett is embarrassed enough to marry him.”

“I don’t get it, Mel. How do we save the plantation if Smarmett marries your brother?” Brashley looked dimmer than a fireplace with only one log.

“Hello?” Mello-D gave him a brisk rap on the side of the head with her fan. “When Smarmett marries Gnarley, she’ll be forced to move in with Aunt Puddytat in Atlanta. That old gin-hound is about to lose her place due to all the gambling, but with Smarmett’s money, we can save it.”

“If father loses Thirteen Jokes, then we’ll all be forced to live at Aunt Puddytat’s. I can’t live with that drunken old broad.”

Mello-D’s eyes blazed like two candles in the wind. “With Smarmett in Atlanta, that gives us plenty of time to snatch Tora-Tora from old Geraldo O’Hara. You know Geraldo, he’s always so busy stirring things up between the North and South, so he won’t pay a lick of attention to the plantation.”

Dawning awareness lit up Brashley’s face and he gave a lop-sided grin. “Mello-D, you are one smart flower of southern womanhood.”

She tilted back her head and pushed out her lower lip. “Who’s your daddy, Brashley?”

He grabbed her by her wasp waist and swung her around. “You are, Mel.”

She curtsied.

“Mello-D, you are brilliant. Where do people get the idea you’re some weak mealy-mouthed fool?”

She pulled her face into a caricature of a sweet, innocent thing. “Why Brashley, how you do run on.”

He laughed and pulled her close. “It’s true what they say.”

“What’s that, darlin’?” She lowered her eyes and batted her eyelashes at him.

“The meek shall inherit the plantation.”

She gave him a playful shove. “I heard horses. Get out there and be your usual charming, although witless, plantation dude self. Time’s a-wastin’ cuz. Get out there and put the moves on old Smarmett.””

A tall figure reared his dark head from the high-backed couch.

“Who in the name of Robert E. Lee are you?” she asked.

“My name is Rhatt…Rhatt Betler

“We’re rhatt glad to meet you, sir.” Brashley broke into hysterical laughter until Mello-D gave him a scornful look. He turned the laugh into a cough.

Rhatt frowned at Mello-D. “I don’t think I can allow you to play such a scurvy trick on a delicate southern belle. Besides, I heard Smarmett is really hot.”

“Butt out Rhatt, or I’ll make you might sorry.” Mello-D’s earbobs jangled furiously and she glared.

Rhatt shuddered and sank down onto the couch. “Far be it from me to interfere.”

Brashley strategically placed his blond curls over his balding head. “After we snatch Tora-Tora away from Geraldo, what then, Mel?”

“We’ll go to Morro Bay on vacation.”

“To Morro?”

“Yes, Brashley, to Morro, after all, it’s another bay.”

Rhatt held up his hand. “If you’ll give me that last line of yours, Miss Mello-D, I’ll be out of here quicker than a Savannah minute and you can do your worst on Smarmett. To Morro is another bay–that’s gold.”

“Get your own line. Go ask Geraldo O’Hara’s valet, Spam. He’s got a million one-liners,” Mello-D said.

Rhatt folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve met him. I’m not asking Spam anything.  I don’t get Spam.” He wandered out of the library muttering, “Frankly, I don’t get Spam…give…get…a Spam. That’s it! Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a Spam. If that isn’t academy award material, then nothing is.”

Grabbing Mello-D’s arm, Brashley said, “Don’t you care that Rhatt now has a better line than you?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Brashley.”

“Really?” He looked dim even for him.

“It’s all gone with the breeze anyway.” Mello-D gave a shake of her corkscrew curls and gazed out the window once more.

Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you forgive me for my corny humor!






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