tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-105024412024-03-21T14:42:17.421-07:00JudyPahTootyI am a semi-migratory bird, I leave with the promise to return.JudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-35039641309991346182009-05-24T05:14:00.000-07:002009-05-24T06:18:52.578-07:00Spring Time 2009 in East Tennessee<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWNnnOurLsn2SK6R6mOTZgMCqELzRSSN6-lw0jA39LSMLK0ReHij4P8u2YXghKfgYKvOtnkW8sCKYkRiQqlhItpFrLcG77WLzf9eqp26y7fvNMGRgYfqomjIQnCkR8eFXo5mUig/s1600-h/IMG_0439.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWNnnOurLsn2SK6R6mOTZgMCqELzRSSN6-lw0jA39LSMLK0ReHij4P8u2YXghKfgYKvOtnkW8sCKYkRiQqlhItpFrLcG77WLzf9eqp26y7fvNMGRgYfqomjIQnCkR8eFXo5mUig/s320/IMG_0439.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339366202738359858" /></a><br /><br />This is a picture of Norris Lake, near Norris, Tennessee. I was born and grew up in the town of Norris. We had a home in the woods, a very quiet and private place that my Father built for the family. We moved into this home when I turned seven years old. I spent many summers on Norris Lake. I learned to swim, canoe and water ski on the lake. I spent many quiet evenings sleeping on an outdoor porch at the Guyne's home, they were great family friends. We spent weeks on houseboats and I camped on this lake. One of my favorite memories is of skiing on the lake early in the morning when it was so quiet the water was like glass, unspeakable freedom.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPH4PHoX3ApQd29r95rsotz1Ad0hMCjJHqZ6MNx0EVYRL8Shd6NuayAwpfYcVzQzdMYmQrlDCPQFsc420mcWi5j4Wyx0CpwRjPQUIVDSHR4pmcWAgkWHKjPQTVTeESwfs3_TMRAw/s1600-h/IMG_0435.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPH4PHoX3ApQd29r95rsotz1Ad0hMCjJHqZ6MNx0EVYRL8Shd6NuayAwpfYcVzQzdMYmQrlDCPQFsc420mcWi5j4Wyx0CpwRjPQUIVDSHR4pmcWAgkWHKjPQTVTeESwfs3_TMRAw/s320/IMG_0435.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339365010896975842"/></a><br /><br />Jim, Baba Juju and Sophia were together during the birth of her brother and our grandson, Nicholai Gabriel D'Elena. Nicky is a beautiful baby, he and his Mother are doing well. His Father, Gabriel, is fortunate to have a wonderful wife, a lovely daughter and a son.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_LY-SDQPjSofB8vRMVgKACkfN_kUpnOF0Ll4boNq_YFh2rU1NzYEm_av_Q4hdcYWtgUpp3q6lUQvQ5OZHWQ4BLKV911rEiO-yzNISkVKaaLmYs4oNBZSCnxp8ihP33zokgeiF0Q/s1600-h/IMG_0442.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_LY-SDQPjSofB8vRMVgKACkfN_kUpnOF0Ll4boNq_YFh2rU1NzYEm_av_Q4hdcYWtgUpp3q6lUQvQ5OZHWQ4BLKV911rEiO-yzNISkVKaaLmYs4oNBZSCnxp8ihP33zokgeiF0Q/s320/IMG_0442.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339363214631742530" /></a><br /><br />Jim has been clearing land, digging up roots and building fences this spring. We now have a very nice garden right in the front yard. Every time I go out I can see what needs weeding. Convenient, and a great guilt generator. I have been weeding the flower beds in the front of the house this weekend. There aren't any weeds in the garden yet.JudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-92081723712229493732009-03-22T15:57:00.000-07:002009-03-25T11:01:35.766-07:00Screen doors . . .<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQy7JC8wHiSRE5FcL3MmHE9LD5qSt-aLCI6i0nSYFkebzGV6w3yqX0bVkp74LDids1LWD6oP_pE8MGq6xZX5ckgvq76r1JPeWpPVwmcK20t2ZKopQgnrUg1h_fr_EehIEnhyphenhyphenenQA/s1600-h/IMG_8510-20--20Version-202.png"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQy7JC8wHiSRE5FcL3MmHE9LD5qSt-aLCI6i0nSYFkebzGV6w3yqX0bVkp74LDids1LWD6oP_pE8MGq6xZX5ckgvq76r1JPeWpPVwmcK20t2ZKopQgnrUg1h_fr_EehIEnhyphenhyphenenQA/s320/IMG_8510-20--20Version-202.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317186786558184018" /></a><br />through the screen door <br />a tiny window of light<br />funnels bits and pieces of life <br />to me through such a small space<br />what do I see coming back at me<br />exploding colors of<br />yellow and green and <br />the purple of spring <br />it's time to renew <br />our life on earth so<br />let's rejoiceJudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-25393008787454904082009-03-22T13:46:00.000-07:002009-03-22T13:50:19.025-07:00I Love French FilmsI love French films. Am watching now, will write later.JudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-71974624941664561262009-03-21T14:19:00.001-07:002009-03-21T14:47:11.133-07:00Joshua, Dahlia, Junior and Isaac Ryland<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqVKkWqxWtfejk2Ii5aQlDnricOWWg3XsFyu8T0Su1Hq6wWZGEUgHpHH8k4FFS58nfeVk_tkG8DJclBfeEfFjXMqyHwijy4RGXBAlq8ApvBKFf3vgQAxeVu2CggwFfvKPqvn8MAw/s1600-h/DSCF0373.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqVKkWqxWtfejk2Ii5aQlDnricOWWg3XsFyu8T0Su1Hq6wWZGEUgHpHH8k4FFS58nfeVk_tkG8DJclBfeEfFjXMqyHwijy4RGXBAlq8ApvBKFf3vgQAxeVu2CggwFfvKPqvn8MAw/s320/DSCF0373.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315754267954880210" /></a><br /><br />Joshua, Dahlia, Junior and Isaac are part of my family too. They are a strong fine family. I love these photographs, Joshua's Father is my husband. His Mother was Eyvonne who was married to Jim (my husband) for 30 years. Dahlia and Joshua Michael Ryland live in Sacramento, California with Junior and Isaac. They are a wonderful family.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicuGvuk4XJTbb-R2YvZHLNNZXX0TFYHC9T2W88nu5JbcOwsar4ZyN59SnMhMcGaj9PHxsQ5D0999le3OSZbaRHu4D_jnJDpZS1R73mO2d4TK1dXlzmk0rvBe6XnJy0bCiV81aUWw/s1600-h/DSCF0493.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicuGvuk4XJTbb-R2YvZHLNNZXX0TFYHC9T2W88nu5JbcOwsar4ZyN59SnMhMcGaj9PHxsQ5D0999le3OSZbaRHu4D_jnJDpZS1R73mO2d4TK1dXlzmk0rvBe6XnJy0bCiV81aUWw/s320/DSCF0493.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315755874141027874" /></a><br /><br />This is Josh Junior carrying water on his shoulder. Junior is high energy, he has a dog named Coco and he is strong and a good boy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLd4wGqr3axQOSC_OJlXUD3FgOKLzsV1frUZRnHH0j77Ro7ZKzPulQav0bkghhDG5FEh0zhLISpDh4H5nqoiqBgUtkHErqN-iAGo1zwNemyG_xYh5daZ4v5q19M-9f6_OoAad8w/s1600-h/DSCF0415.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLd4wGqr3axQOSC_OJlXUD3FgOKLzsV1frUZRnHH0j77Ro7ZKzPulQav0bkghhDG5FEh0zhLISpDh4H5nqoiqBgUtkHErqN-iAGo1zwNemyG_xYh5daZ4v5q19M-9f6_OoAad8w/s320/DSCF0415.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315756697696907746" /></a><br /><br />This is Isaac in the snow, more than likely at Tahoe. He is just a baby.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwdNA4iKSqILBFwdyF_wqPvfn0UQT-YAK4ToVAkkY-p3FY_cX4NMAcJfduqh8ve6dsJhEqP0Ia0wCrtVGJBXownvvFguIkHa-dgAvhQ3LnNV3F2ET6lkE4OGhGljzFutBu5u8SQ/s1600-h/DSCF0478.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwdNA4iKSqILBFwdyF_wqPvfn0UQT-YAK4ToVAkkY-p3FY_cX4NMAcJfduqh8ve6dsJhEqP0Ia0wCrtVGJBXownvvFguIkHa-dgAvhQ3LnNV3F2ET6lkE4OGhGljzFutBu5u8SQ/s320/DSCF0478.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315757288802451570" /></a><br /><br />This is the two brothers, Junior and Isaac, together. Always together . . .JudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-2073233712323426472009-03-07T11:06:00.001-08:002009-03-07T11:14:51.840-08:00Cupcakes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgohpXvkLbWlSpwGT8Ypdw1S97FShEGY7GMSL3INvNzDIXkGi1w1YJYDmFFNMGsWcJ9GAUFak5oZEBfx4e1ZPH5_n5pMwHjXDy3PYqtoe54rwls8hcrdS13WLt6lEcOgOqHEjOIpg/s1600-h/IMG_0323(3).JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgohpXvkLbWlSpwGT8Ypdw1S97FShEGY7GMSL3INvNzDIXkGi1w1YJYDmFFNMGsWcJ9GAUFak5oZEBfx4e1ZPH5_n5pMwHjXDy3PYqtoe54rwls8hcrdS13WLt6lEcOgOqHEjOIpg/s320/IMG_0323(3).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310524920056355170" /></a><br /><br />cupcakes are glorious<br />yummy and such<br />have one!JudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-49658239117194583592009-03-07T10:31:00.000-08:002009-03-07T10:51:33.109-08:00Sad Eyes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49x9x_3mdOfU7GsNKjt3aUeHwpfbG-hTws1MFb-45ZmTKsWxdifAz3m5z_aJVIpCOHqXQEXqHAnFRpuU4M1tUAgw74hMil58_-izsabUBO6JlNp3vIetQ8npp5PfHY6RvmryIVQ/s1600-h/cornie&marykyle.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 232px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49x9x_3mdOfU7GsNKjt3aUeHwpfbG-hTws1MFb-45ZmTKsWxdifAz3m5z_aJVIpCOHqXQEXqHAnFRpuU4M1tUAgw74hMil58_-izsabUBO6JlNp3vIetQ8npp5PfHY6RvmryIVQ/s320/cornie&marykyle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310519186646358018" /></a><br /><br />sad eyes<br />accompany me<br />until I remember to smileJudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-1004535149968241842009-03-07T08:13:00.000-08:002009-03-07T10:31:08.804-08:00Returning from a flight.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhkQIdMgpOWWFax41RytAd9hDMkwe2GaEGBOAWtXAX75ACP2XXWlfX4jZrt8sRHHdjgkPb3cfAdQ1xvzFew_R8YV43ykXfdsbjz_LX9mXQyGLtnp7vMMFEV3twBWMwel8NdnK_Q/s1600-h/IMG_2996.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvhkQIdMgpOWWFax41RytAd9hDMkwe2GaEGBOAWtXAX75ACP2XXWlfX4jZrt8sRHHdjgkPb3cfAdQ1xvzFew_R8YV43ykXfdsbjz_LX9mXQyGLtnp7vMMFEV3twBWMwel8NdnK_Q/s320/IMG_2996.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310487396828756034" /></a><br />I am a semi-migratory bird. I returned on Monday from a flight to Hastings, Florida. I got wet because the weather was bad and the flight was longer than anticipated. <br /><br />I long for my family and they are scattered to the wind. I am in Tennessee they are in Georgia, Florida, Washington, California, Texas and more . . . keeping in touch means using Facebook, writing and phone calls, but . . . there is nothing like being with them. <br /><br />Saturday night I was walking the beach in the evening and it was 80 degrees. The next day it was stormy and windy, the temperature dropped quickly. Tornado warnings were in the area and I played in the back yard with my grandsons. <br /><br />When I got there I asked Cassius what he wanted to do for the weekend. He said, "Everything I want to do." I thought about that for a few moments and said, "Well . . . all right." We made flags out of banana leaves, painted them and tied them to a car that drives around the yard with the boys in it. The flags were lashed and painted beautiful colors.<br /><br />We built a garage out of blocks and backed a truck into it so Cassius could use his tow truck and hook with a wench to pull the truck out of the garage. We used pastels to draw a butterfly, read and went on walks. I got to know Elijah better and finally felt he was comfortable with me. It was a wonderful weekend.<br /><br />I am truly blessed as a woman and a bird.JudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-8426757267367555232009-02-01T05:45:00.001-08:002009-03-09T16:40:00.944-07:00The here and now of it!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5omgTGHfo-DmerSWEi-pJ-M4EjPCjUJz2b-TrsgN_BYINlULu2o3UrBq0QtDn3VpUudlweud6h1U8UpjPxW4Le1I0z3X0env5ydWb1dcB0Qh5L_75d4IlDjNKfIl9U0eI053QJw/s1600-h/IMG_0289.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5omgTGHfo-DmerSWEi-pJ-M4EjPCjUJz2b-TrsgN_BYINlULu2o3UrBq0QtDn3VpUudlweud6h1U8UpjPxW4Le1I0z3X0env5ydWb1dcB0Qh5L_75d4IlDjNKfIl9U0eI053QJw/s320/IMG_0289.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297832144055148210"></a><br />I love photographs. I wish I had created documentaries of my children. I love to remember and still laugh at the situations surrounding them as they grew up. One time I walked into my kitchen and found Gabe on the counter top naked with his hands on a bottle of Tequila, he had the most petrified look on his face because he had taken a swig out of the bottle and didn't know what to do. Try to put the top back on the bottle, throw up, or drop to his knees. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZ8TcEq0gF_bym0p_KaHmUl-uWv-9ORtNQQ1Kff7AGiXsQjzOOnVRIh-efi144GqG2QcaM86j1oUVQx5vxkH1LIyfqHHcxj6WwMPF8g4FaC_McJhfB7s1crtXguwVuciRRCDAdA/s1600-h/Cash_Jim_ScoutMarch2008.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZ8TcEq0gF_bym0p_KaHmUl-uWv-9ORtNQQ1Kff7AGiXsQjzOOnVRIh-efi144GqG2QcaM86j1oUVQx5vxkH1LIyfqHHcxj6WwMPF8g4FaC_McJhfB7s1crtXguwVuciRRCDAdA/s320/Cash_Jim_ScoutMarch2008.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297839135100699682" /></a><br />The here and now of it is that I am all about family. "A day without friends is a day without sunshine," luckily I am blessed with true friends and a wonderful family. My cup runneth over. This is a picture of Jim, my husband, and Cassius, my first grandchild. I appreciate my grandchildren. They make me laugh about simple things and are a joy to me. Then there is the beach . . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppqJFvnpyKWKyNQOn5Ufs2V3yA3l6Zwf5YeTmu9_gA9qLs8XWMf3D0M-jmD5GYl7tXA2t6tw4ccSXujM3ad5S9E18kY3KZwFcg3jHMhSKW_kRUDpjfIMLx1b3JTlaRa2M4CfUqw/s1600-h/judyandregabe-farm007.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgppqJFvnpyKWKyNQOn5Ufs2V3yA3l6Zwf5YeTmu9_gA9qLs8XWMf3D0M-jmD5GYl7tXA2t6tw4ccSXujM3ad5S9E18kY3KZwFcg3jHMhSKW_kRUDpjfIMLx1b3JTlaRa2M4CfUqw/s320/judyandregabe-farm007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297840034438159250" /></a><br />I always love laughing, my sons let me be a child again, we laughed a lot together. I still laugh about the things they did as very young children. Like the morning the top to a wrist racer (haven't ever seen another wrist racer and hope I never do) stopped up the toilet that kept running (I forgot to show them how to giggle the handle), and they used the quilts on my bed to soak the water up around the bottom of the toilet. The toilet was out of commission for days. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgClTqkJRIZpqVK3iSytsTa3WOoG7_XX1DjxtjtqSAbWpn9i0tdBd5tlCrAYd3pvI379Gs990Ws5CkqJbbXSGp-Le9FJs5ROdxmmf84yV9DCRl6GS0EoGhk9usqOnoYfbcZwtlSKg/s1600-h/samueleli016.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 217px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgClTqkJRIZpqVK3iSytsTa3WOoG7_XX1DjxtjtqSAbWpn9i0tdBd5tlCrAYd3pvI379Gs990Ws5CkqJbbXSGp-Le9FJs5ROdxmmf84yV9DCRl6GS0EoGhk9usqOnoYfbcZwtlSKg/s320/samueleli016.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297840630898775122" /></a><br />Then there were the dishes that slid off the dish drainer, you can only stack them so high. The boys glued them back together using super glue on my counter. So although the dishes were together but cracked they were also glued to the top of the kitchen counter. A nice place to eat forever . . . . with grandchildren I can sit with them, love and enjoy them, and let them glue there parents dishes back together on the kitchen counter.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGoM-OwoKkoXgkY2LUWWOu134vwsCqNwTRXwIHv8SmA_WnYvt9e8nH1qmJbyqehW5kJE2zR-xH-yQQuR6hU1zLvo6jiT3VS4vdEpmvAcQxh5Ll-9aUd6FhH5TEiQOfp9ObmDltw/s1600-h/eli_andre015.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 248px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGoM-OwoKkoXgkY2LUWWOu134vwsCqNwTRXwIHv8SmA_WnYvt9e8nH1qmJbyqehW5kJE2zR-xH-yQQuR6hU1zLvo6jiT3VS4vdEpmvAcQxh5Ll-9aUd6FhH5TEiQOfp9ObmDltw/s320/eli_andre015.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297841108941650754" /></a><br />This was a very funny day!JudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-42432468581850933242009-01-30T14:52:00.000-08:002009-03-09T16:19:05.870-07:00Papa<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZEG4KoflXETY3Znf40tb0DF7GdgW_kYlV-gN2G1aDYwZVErsCFOTjYGadZ6syUNFYYP-ZKQn4iSrHIRHVv2QvA1pU4rZMTCVhK0h1KETI2RJFIeqDf76Z9mpcyM7Oe_o6uyDfw/s1600-h/papaandcar.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 189px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZEG4KoflXETY3Znf40tb0DF7GdgW_kYlV-gN2G1aDYwZVErsCFOTjYGadZ6syUNFYYP-ZKQn4iSrHIRHVv2QvA1pU4rZMTCVhK0h1KETI2RJFIeqDf76Z9mpcyM7Oe_o6uyDfw/s320/papaandcar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297225159219702866" /></a><br /><br />This is my great-grandfather, Doctor Nathaniel Henderson Stone, from Claiborne County; Tazewell, Tennessee. He was born in 1863 and died in 1938. His daughter was my grandmother and he was the father of the family vocation.JudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-37593160631442895182009-01-25T19:27:00.000-08:002009-01-25T19:37:44.729-08:00I Can't Sleep<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaweqrz0ZgJ1PjZ77IBgKBv2ABhhEp4mKz4dqi6S2y5eqmpsm4wvAeCyXPKPcTPw0KPZ65W6GZt1X2KuvxoRIKpcxp5gM67srMzOe-DLGDxXuyQgqgYuI9cHsdHOUseyoButaeKA/s1600-h/IMG_4417.BW.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaweqrz0ZgJ1PjZ77IBgKBv2ABhhEp4mKz4dqi6S2y5eqmpsm4wvAeCyXPKPcTPw0KPZ65W6GZt1X2KuvxoRIKpcxp5gM67srMzOe-DLGDxXuyQgqgYuI9cHsdHOUseyoButaeKA/s320/IMG_4417.BW.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295441326431122354" /></a><br />I lay down and can't go to sleep. I get up and turn to this spot and decide to view a few blogs . . . they were so interesting. Now I try to write . . . and I am growing tired, my eyes are drooping , , , I will go and lie beside my husband, naked bodies curled together and be warm all night long. Night, night!JudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-9793273783870490382009-01-25T10:46:00.000-08:002009-03-09T16:29:02.951-07:00TIME<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqmRbS2SbCT647yn6uBPBpDNLxLFdMwSXHtSmqlmdFKknODsSDUGEOVSqt1rdDd1lATYtto2tjXy0T6yNTxzTGdWxWYbdLpGYoSS_x8XvV9GrigMoqurs-se6Yr02OcRcy5Y7SFg/s1600-h/daddy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 271px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqmRbS2SbCT647yn6uBPBpDNLxLFdMwSXHtSmqlmdFKknODsSDUGEOVSqt1rdDd1lATYtto2tjXy0T6yNTxzTGdWxWYbdLpGYoSS_x8XvV9GrigMoqurs-se6Yr02OcRcy5Y7SFg/s320/daddy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311333926092061186" /></a><br /><br />When my Father died I was holding his hand. His attendant was with us by the hospital bed in the family living room. I watched him tell her where to insert the tiny suction she was using. Suddenly I saw him seize and gasp, then I heard the loudest noise I have ever heard; a very large heavy door slammed shut. I watched his arched back return to the bed and his chin drop to his chest. His life was over. We had all suffered but none so much as him. Then I spoke to her, "Did you hear that?" She responded, "What?" I did not respond and knew the sound was for me alone. I helped dress him, his shoes were hard to put on and I felt very bad because I yearned for the comfort we could not give him. No, not even in death. He was born January 27, 1923 and died October 14, 2005 at home. I heard from him right after his death but since then nothing. I keep waiting to see him in a dream or hear his voice. I know he is here because his spirit dwells in my heart.<br /><br />I once read that the child is the father of the man . . . so true. Then we only get older and journey towards our death. I love you.JudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10502441.post-1107455067989143842005-02-03T09:54:00.000-08:002005-02-03T10:24:27.990-08:00A big silver bird took me away from here and brought me back.From my earliest memory I recall wanting to be a bird. With hard work and determination I have become semi-migratory, always leaving with the promise to return.
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<br />My migratory instinct blended with the need to return moves me from Northern California, where I nest with my beloved, to the frost covered ridge tops of East Tennessee.
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<br />I fly each way living on pretzels and water alone. In a metal container with wings, crowded with people and luggage in every nook and cranny. I am finally able to extricate myself midsouth.
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<br />Deliana and Gabriel take me under their wing, sharing Bulgaria and Turkey as well as hearth and home. I make a quick trip to Macon and visited family and other strong ties. Finally I arrive at the home of my family in the hills of East Tennessee after a long drive, barely beating snow and icy roads. I see my parents struggling to maintain their dignity, people stepping forward and doing for them. I also see a need for love and support. As always I am torn.
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<br />I see a glimpse of my Mother again, my first glimpse in a long time. Her response to an honest compliment, however fleeting, then, she's gone!
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<br />I see Ethel in Tazewell. I say, "Good-bye, I hope to see you again." Then I kiss her hand. She says, "I could be gone tomorrow. They are all on the other side.” I know who she's talking about and her dreams are of peace and those she has known and loved.
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<br />Then it is time to return. The big shiney bird pulls me away and I am on my return migration. There are birds in my backyard. I see them from above as we zero in on the landing. They scratch, scurry, and feed on the seeds left for them. The days are bright, sunny, and cool. My garden needs weeding. I live each day in a small way and I am grateful!
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<br />February 3, 2005
<br />JudyPahTootyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11358038331104558298noreply@blogger.com1