Aquarina Springs

A few days ago, I was up in the dusty attic rummaging through boxes of childhood treasures - nekked Barbies and Kens, 2 troll dolls (man and wife - the "man" had his bright yellow locks snipped off), Campfire beads, old dance costumes...  I came across a little coin purse that I purchased as a souvenir during the late 60's.  It had sunk to the bottom of the Rubbermaid tote, but a tiny gleam between a couple of Barbie legs brought it to my attention.  The coin purse!  Oh, the coin purse!  Rich, vivid memories swirled in my brain as the sweat from the attic heat trickled down my back.


I present to you, The Coin Purse:

Gone are the 4 teeny tiny seashells that had captured my little girl heart.  Gone was little insert that said something that I can't quite remember.  Perhaps it was the name of the tourist attraction, but the space is so small I rather think it must have been "Carolyn."  Yes, "Carolyn."  Most likely it was my name coupled with the tiny seashells that won the day as I, after placing a dime in it to make sure that it wouldn't fall out through the tiny holes and testing the snug snap of the clasp, turned over my saved up allowance to be able to call the golden beauty mine.  I dreamed that the coin purse had been brought up from the depths of the deep blue sea by mermaids who had carefully chosen and placed each gleaming, artificially-colored shell from a treasure chest they kept in their absolutely dreamy coral kingdom.


In San Marcos, Texas, alongside I-35, there once was a little piece of heaven known as Aquarina Springs.  I was a bright-eyed little girl in a home-sewn shorts set, white keds, and bobby socks just about to wet my pants in excitement about the time that the blinker started signaling the San Marcos exit off of the highway.  For about 20 miles before the exit, signs teased travelers with billboards proclaiming "Mermaids drink cokes under water!"  "Mermaids performing graceful water ballets!"  "Panoramic view from the Sky Ride!" and "Glass Bottom Boats!"  Oh, yes.  A little girl with $1.50 of saved up allowance "spending money" jangling in her elastic-waisted shorts pocket would be wild with anticipation by the time the Vega Station Wagon eased off of the Interstate.


Jumping from foot to foot impatiently in the ticket line my little blonde head bobbed with excitement.  Hurry, Mom!!!  Hurry!!  The ballet is about to begin!  Under water ballet!  I had taken yeeeears of swimming lessons at Campfire camp.  I knew how hard it would be for a dainty mermaid to swirl and twirl around at the bottom of the deep end of the mermaid pool holding her breath!  Holding her breath, for Pete's sake!!


Once inside the park, no glass bottom boat, Sky Ride or swimming pig could distract me from her mission.  On to the mermaids!!  On to the water ballet!!  On to the consumption of a coke down in the depths of mermaid world.  As I sit here today, I can't remember if the observer platform with seats lowered down magically exposing a glassed-in viewing area or if I skipped down steps into a sunken cavern.  I'm going to go with the "magical lowering" because it seems to be true to my memory.  Yep.  I'll go with "magical lowering."

Sitting wide-eyed on the edge of my chair, I was enchanted by the mermaids  as they began to appear from secret caves.  There they were.  Swimming with the fishes like it was a perfectly normal thing to do on a hot Tuesday in July.  Oh, what bliss!  

from postcardroundup.com

You can imagine my surprise when they not only drank cokes (Texas talk for "sodas" or "pops") but also casually snacked on grapes and bananas.  It seemed that we had just happened upon a mermaid party in the crystal blue waters of the Pacific.  I ignored my mother as she pointed out strategically placed air hoses that kept the mermaids alive.  Unnecessary reality for a romantic child like me. 

from aquarinaandralph.com

from edwardsaquifer.net (a truly fascinating read!)

Watching the mermaids, I tried to memorize their graceful moves and twirls.  Kristi and Penny would be eagerly awaiting my return to Carthage.  Water ballet was one of our favorite pastimes in Carthage's small, rectangular city pool.  I was anxious to get back and choreograph our next performance.  With a tiny, magical coin purse clutched in my tiny hand.  The coin purse bearing a quarter that henceforth would be tucked into my Easter purse every Sunday morning.


Coin-purse-at-the-bottom-of-the-box-beneath-a-pile-of-Barbies, you brought me a smile and happy, happy thoughts in the sweltering attic the other day.  And, I thank you.  Here - have a quarter!

The Things I'm Afraid to Tell You

I follow an awesome blog called Little Brown Pen written by a young lady named Nicole Robertson, a photographer who moved to Paris in 2009.  Her photography is simply amazing.  So amazing that I just ordered her first book, Paris in Color.  Through her blog I learned about a new blogosphere movement  called "The Things I'm Afraid to Tell You."  I first read about it on the Little Brown Pen blog who read about it on Creature Comforts who discovered it on Makeunder My Life, the birthplace of the movement.

The premise of the movement is that most of what people put out there in blogs is a glossy edition of reality.  Kind of like a high school yearbook, the lives of bloggers can seem so perfect.  So beautiful.  So danged photogenic.  Bloggers bake delicious morsels of goodness everyday.  They makeover old dressers found under garbage heaped in dumps.  Their homes gleam with the newest, coolest Benjamin Moore paint colors.  All things bright and beautiful are subject to blog posts.

Indeed, there are boundaries that bloggers put in place to keep out those who might decide to stalk or harm.  Also, who really wants to know about the ooogly parts of day-to-day living.  We've all got plenty of our own ooogly to deal with each and every day.

I'm going to join in the movement and confess a few things that I probably wouldn't have mentioned in the name of "Boundaries."  Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you...Full-On Carolyn.

• As a general rule, I hate talking on the phone.  Words like "Can you call all of the K's and L's on the roster and tell them the meeting time has been changed" make my stomach roil with angst.  Caller ID is my friend.  Don't worry.  I always pick up when you call!  
• During my busiest times - holidays and miscellaneous big projects - I tend to let my house go to ruin.  You would most likely find a 3-day-old half full glasses of sweet tea with lemon slices floating on the surface in random places throughout my house.  Mountains of dirty dishes rise out of my kitchen sink.  Piles of unread Lubbock Avalanche Journal newspapers form a cushions on my kitchen chairs.
• There is a male cat in our neighborhood that loves to pee on our garage walls and I can't figure out what to do about it other than imprison my cats in the garage by closing the door.  
• I sleep with a night guard that keeps me from grinding my teeth to little nubs.
• Every now and then, I don't clean up the kitchen after dinner.  I simply walk away after the leftovers are tucked into the frig and head for either 30 Rock or The Office.
• I watch an embarrassing amount of reality TV.  Put "Real Housewives" at the beginning of a show's title, and you've got me.  I'm pretty sure I'd watch a show called "Real Housewives of the Department of Public Safety."  
• Sometimes I order ordinary everyday things from Amazon.com because I'm too lazy to get in my car and drive to a particular store.
• My husband and I had a smack-down over whether or not we're going to use the sprinkler system to water the flower beds.  Long, story summed up with:  squirrels and brown tubing.  Alan and those blankety-blank squirrels.
• This year I did not be planting the usual 5 flats of impatiens in our front flower beds in passive-aggressive protest of Alan's insistence on "dry land" gardening.  Hm!
• I haven't balanced my checkbook in YEEEEEEEEARS.  I do not feel that my right-brained talents are being used to their fullest while crunching numbers.  I married a man with an MBA in accounting.  Need I say more?

Oh, there's more.  Way more.  I haven't even scratched the surface of Full-On Carolyn.  But, I need to let you catch your breath and process all of the above.  Oh, say...how's about you share some of your Full-On Foibles with me? 

Here I Raise My Ebenezer

Kirk, Kathy, and I sat on the front pew of First Methodist Church in Carthage, TX.  We were  just little kids - 10, 8, and 5.  The Meems sat be-robed in the choir loft, so we sat where she could see us and threaten us with her stares and glares when the sermon got a little longish.  I loved "Big Church."  The air smelled like fresh, clean water.  The air conditioning whispered a sweet sacred song.  The sanctuary was white, bright, holy.  We dressed in our finest.  A little-man suit for Kirk.  Sunday dresses with poofy petticoats for Kathy and me.  We wore tiny white gloves and white straw Easter hats.  Clutched in our be-gloved hands were tiny white straw purses filled with little girl treasures...a tiny golden souvenir coin purse from Aquarina Springs which held the offering plate dime, a couple of pieces of Halloween candy with loud, crinkly wrappers, and a tube of dried up Chapstick.

I took pride in the fact that I knew the Nicene Creed - complete with mysterious words "we believe in one holy, catholic and apolistic church" - and the Lord's Prayer by heart.  My little voice rang out with gusto as I sang the Gloria Patri.  "WORLD without END!  AHHHH-MEN! Ahhhh-men!"  My favorite hymn was "Onward Christian SO-OH-JERS!  MARCH-ing as to WAR!"  There was another hymn that had one particular song that I loved singing, "Here I raise my EB-UH-NEEZ-ER!"  It was only a couple of years ago that I was able to actually identify the name of the hymn thanks to Chris Rice.  "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" isn't on the top ten list of praise and worship songs these days.

I LOVED that word, "Ebenezer."  Of course, I totally thought that it was a "he" like Ebenezer Scrooge.  Yep.  I'm going to raise up little Ebenezer right here.  Right exactly here.  When I heard the Chris Rice version of the song, I began to wonder about what the heck an Ebenezer was.  Raise a whut?  Eba-whut?  So, I looked it up.  Here's the quick version.  Old Testament Jews had a little ritual of raising up either big old stones or piles of rocks in places that signified that God had brought them a long, long way via his grace, love and forgiveness.  "Here I raise my Ebenezer.  Here by thy great help I've come."

If you were to overhear me singing this song at the top of my lungs in the shower, the Ebenezer line and "SING ME SOME MEL-O-DIOUS SAH-AH-NET SUNG BY FLAY-MING TONGUES ABOVE!" would be the only two lines you'd hear.  Over and over and over.  That's usually all I can remember unless I'm singing one beat behind Chris Rice.

On hiking trails, they have little Ebenezers that  hikers call "cairns" that mark the trail where no trail is obvious.  Hikers that have gone before you create these little towers of assurance to help you find your way.  Trust me.  By the time I get to places where cairns are the main means of trail-finding, it is ONLY by God's great help I've come.

Zion NP

I've decided that I need to raise an Ebenezer as a testament to all that God has done for me in the past 55 years.  Oh, the places we have gone, from the depths of despair to the mountaintops of great, great joy.  Yep.  I needs me an Ebenezer.  God's amazing grace brought me to this time and this place.

With a little bit of Liquid Nails and some specially
chosen rocks that I may or may not have borrowed from an
undisclosed National Park, I made myself a wee Ebenezer.

Take us on outta here, Chris!

Violet's Bouquet

I had the absolute honor and pleasure of making the bridal bouquet for my dear young friend, Violet.  (Her mom and I go way, way back to the halcyon days of high-kicking in the Robinson Rockette drill team.  I have known the Violet Child since the day she was born.)  Now that she is a Mrs, I can share pictures of the blingy beauty!

Violet longed for a brooch bouquet.  I had never made a bridal bouquet ever, ever, ever.  But, a person can learn how to do most everything on the World Wide Web.  Brooch bouquets are actually not that hard to make.  The hardest part was wrapping the stems.  For that I called upon my DIY hero and Gift Wrapping Mentor, Shanna.  It takes 2 people!!

In early February, I drove to Waco to hand deliver Violet's bouquet.  

Seeing her reaction made the 6 hour drive so worth it!!

First, the "packaging."

I'd been saving this cool box for "sumthin special."

I found this beautiful bauble on ebay and thought it might come in handy some day.  It did.

Next, the delivery.

(This picture isn't blurry.  You need to put on your readers.)

On her wedding day, I added a little special sentimental detail - a silver locket with her monogram on the front and her wedding date on the back.  Inside, I had a head shot of her as a 5 year old in the wedding dress and veil her mom made for her to play in.  
Opposite that picture I placed a head shot of one of her wedding portraits.  

I tied it just under the satin ruffle with a piece of white satin ribbon.  Sigh.

Thank you, Violet, for letting me share in such a monumental moment of your life.  I  have thoroughly enjoyed being your Fairy Godmother since the day you were born.  

Happy Birthday, Precious Violet Suzanna.

Violet's Bouquet.  Every single time I say "Violet's Bouquet" I think of Hyacinth Bucket. 

Raspberry Tea-Cones Update

I went by Mom's the other day to clean out the old food in her pantry.  According to her, two year old Pirouette Cookies with vanilla cream filling aren't out of date because she hadn't opened them yet.  Chunk!  As I organized her pantry, I found some contraband.  

Not pictured:  "Still Fresh" Pirouettes, the almost empty box of Girl Scout Lemonades cookies,
and a bag of rock hard "orange slices." When I showed her the 3 bags of orange slices I found in the pantry,
 she asked me to hand her a couple of slices.  She loves orange slices.

I found this grocery list on the counter.

I seriously doubt that Dr. Oz would approve of her snack shelf.  It would probably take 3 million mgs. of "rasberry Keto" to counteract her daily sugar intake.  Further, I doubt they sell poached eggs at the grocery store.

This morning when we picked up Meems and Leonard for church, I handed her a bottle of Tea-Cones.  I found them at Drug Emporium.  I told her that she's supposed to take 2 per day with a Krispy Kreme donut.

Oh, how I adore my crazy, funny, happy-every-ding-dong-day mother!!

How's About a Little Happy Dance?

Bryce and Reed are in the middle of finals this week.  Bryce had his hardest final today.  He always sends me a text before heading in to take a test, and I text a prayer back to him.  Here are the exchanges just before and after the "hardest test" he took today:

Before test...

Bryce:  Thx. [for the prayer]  I got this.

Me:  So does He.

After test...

Bryce:  That's my "raise the roof one down dance!"

Me:  One good happy dance deserves another!

Bryce:  LOL  Did you learn that at yalls [sic] dance class?

Me:  maybe I did and maybe I didn't...

Bryce:  Reed's three finals down dance.

Me:  These videos have made me so happy!  Methinks I see a blog coming!

Bryce:  Glad I have a lone star shirt on.  Free advertising. [for my husband's workplace]

It's All in the Packaging, cont.

Opening a gift should be an experience within itself.  I think that every "giving" occasion can be enhanced by a little extra effort!!

I learned from a dear friend, Shanna, how to wrap gifts using hot glue instead of tape.  Some of my recipients don't really appreciate the immaculate wrapping because a jackhammer is sometimes needed to actually get to the gift.

A random Father's Day gift - mail-art-meets-gift-wrap.

Mailing a wrapped gift poses the problem of how to keep the gift looking great during shipping.  

This wrap matched the recipients' fun spirit.  I got the paper flower topper at Michael's in a $1 bin.

I found this take out lid and covered the flower with it.  Rubber bands held it in place.
I then wrapped the whole thing tightly in white tissue and
taped it up securely so that the flower couldn't escape.

Birthday gifts for my twin-friends!  We go way, way back!  
That's a picture of me during our glorious drill team days.
Caption:  "Those were the days, my friend, we thought they'd never end!
We'd sing and dance forever and a day!
I had so much fun wrapping these!!!

Oh, yes!  There's more!  Wait for it...wait for it...
To be continued.

Raspberry Tea-Cones

My mom sees several doctors every day.  Twice a day.  Her "specialists" are Dr. Masterson, Dr. Ordon, Dr. Sears, and Dr. Stork.  Her "primary care physician" is the beloved Dr. Oz who, by the way, has a huge posse of "patients" at Raider Ranch, the "master-planned, gated active retirement community featuring luxury homes for those at least 55 years of age, located in the heart of Texas."  His devotees hang onto his every word.  They proudly quote him with great regularity.  The Meems quotes Dr. Oz during her actual doctor appointments.  "DR. OZ SAYS that apple cider is good for acid reflux."  (Funny thing is...she wasn't there complaining of acid reflux.  She had a questionable mole that Dr. Oz thought needed checking because it's bigger than the tip of a pencil eraser.)

Discussion in the car last Sunday as we were heading to church with Mom and her best friend, Leonard:

Mom:  Would you ask Dr. Robertson if it's OK if I take Raspberry Tea-Cones?  I need to lose some weight before the cruise in June.  [She has "outgrown" the shorts that she bought last year for her trip to Hawaii...]

Me:  Do you mean Raspberry KE-TONES?  [The very day before, I saw a Groupon for some miraculous Raspberry Ketone pills.  I researched them carefully.  Not sold on them.]

Mom:  Yes.  DR. OZ SAYS they make you lose weight.

Me:  He does, does he?  Hmmm.  Why don't you just stop eating dessert every night and take some extra strolls around Raider Ranch?  [Leonard laughs out loud.]

Mom:  I don't want to stop eating dessert, and I already walk all the way to the dining room at dinner.  It's a long walk to the dining room.  DR. OZ SAYS that Raspberry Tea-Cones can make you lose weight no matter what you eat.  Ask Dr. Robertson if he thinks that they would be alright for me to take.

Me:  I think that it would be easier to just get some new shorts.  [Again, Leonard laughs out loud.]

Mom:  Well, ask him anyway.

I asked Dr. Robertson.  He's never heard of Raspberry Tea-Cones.  So, Mom and I have worked out a deal.  I have given her several pairs of the shorts that are now too big for me, and she has given me some of her "outgrown" pairs of shorts.  Problem solved.  Bring on the 2 scoops of "pass-smoe-knee!"  That's Meems' talk for "spumoni."  

"They have really good pass-smoe-knee at Raider Ranch!  You should try it sometime!  It's got 3 kinds of ice cream in it!  There's...ummmm...chocolate and...let me think...oh, yeah!...vanilla...and...best of all!...cherry with little bits of cherry in it!  It's really good!  You need to try it!"

Hmm.  I wonder if Dr. Oz recommends "pass-smoe-knee" for weight loss.

Hot Mess Yoga

So, I did this quick yoga workout* with Ming Foong this morning.  For fun, I added spinning plates on those little skinny poles, 10 hoola hoops, and ate some fire for good measure.

She was all like, "Put your foot above your head, fully extend, blah, blah, blah."  I was all like, "Be right back!  Gotta go pee!" and "I think I hear the drier buzzing!"  

A couple of times I was all...

I cranked the heater up to 85 so I could experience the whole "hot yoga" thang.  

But, then I was all, "Meng Foong, I'm dyin' he-ya!  I...can't...breathe!"

And, she was all, "I'll give you something to cry about!  Tighten those glutes!  Why is your body shaking so hard?  Concentrate!  Concentrate!  Concentrate!"

I survived the ordeal.  I've had a big sang-wich.  Now, I'm thinking chocolate and a nap.  I've never felt more alive.

*For those of you who don't "know me," I totally did not actually do the yoga.  I did, however, watch Meng Foong very closely.  I'm still working up a sweat just thinking about all that bending and stretching.

More Funny "Search Keywords"

Here are some recent searches that landed people at Finding the Funny.  I think the fact that they found FTF with these funny searches is hilarious.


And, here they are in no particular order:


angela lansbury and her grandchildren
"departure door" salad
chrystallaketylertexas (all one word...)
8th grade promotion dresses 2011
grocery list
bb guns rifle
fat hot crany (scary!)
period chocolate on the 17 day diet (I do hope this woman found the answers she was looking for.)


There were a couple of phrases that I won't disclose because they were rather disturbing.  I hope that those people DID NOT find what they were after.


Anyhoo.  These things struck me as funny on this fine day of April 25, 2012.


Enjoy the day that God has spread before you!

It's All in the Packaging: Gift Wrapping

fun notepads

A cousin asked me not too long ago if I had any interests or hobbies.  "Hmmm," I said, "Do I have any interests or hobbies?..."  I was wishing that I could say things like "I just love to sail catamarans in the open sea" or "I raise Arabian horses" or "I'm a collector of ancient Egyptian art."  Instead, I replied, "I just LOVE wrapping presents!"  He shot me a look of curiosity.  "I don't just wrap them.  I WRAP them.  It's like creating art to me!  I take a picture of every gift that I wrap."  "Oooh kay," he tentatively replied.

I'm guessing that "gifts" is my love language.  I actually love giving them more than I love receiving them.  There's the thinking of the perfect thing.  There's the purchase of the perfect thing.  And then...there's the WRAPPING of the perfect thing.

a cookbook and a labeler

some sort of "girl stuff"

a wedding shower gift

a gift certificate to a store called "My Cup of Tea"

a gift for a baby boy who was adopted in Africa

Sometimes the actual choice of gift is gift wrap-driven.  Hmmm.  Do I have a box for that?  What could I use as a package topper?

More to come!