Radnor Road House - Boooooo!

This house is in Norfolk, Virginia and we lived in it when I was a little girl of about 6 years old.  I hated this house because it was haunted.  No that was not a typing error, I said it was haunted and I meant it.  This house literally drove me to distraction.  My older sister, parents and cousins will vouch for it. 

I am going to tell you a funny story about me that happened while I lived in this house but you needed to know that this house was haunted before I told you the story so you can see why the story would be so funny and... stupid.

Now I don not want to hear nay laughter from anyone reading this incident.  I have rolled in the floor may times since, but not on the evening that it happened!

While living in our haunted house I had become very frightened to be alone in the dark.  My parents did not believe me about the ghost at first and so they were trying to help me "grow out of my fear of the dark."

One tie I forgot it was my turn to feed our Collie (dog) Tanya.  Her pen was just behind the garage with a doggie door that allowed her to come into the garage for inclimate weather and to eat.  Since it was my turn to feed her and I had forgotten I was sent to the garage to do the job, needless to say it was dark.  Now, a few days earlier I had gotten a "glow in the dark" chick about one inch in size from a Cracker Jack box as a prize.  I had used black thread to make a necklace for my chick prize to hang around my neck.

My father, ever the teacher, told me I could not turn the light on as I went out to the garage to retrieve and fill the dogs' food bowl.  I, ever the obedient child, did exactly as I was told and did not turn on the light.  As I bent over to pick up the bowl, my chick necklace come into view... GLOWING!  I had forgotten I had the necklace on and that the string was black.  There it was in front of me like an eerily glowing eyeball.  I began to swat at it so vigorously I nearly strangled myself in the process, all the while screaming the genuine scream of terror.  Once I realized what it was I was swatting I started to cry, laugh and tremble all at the same time.  I finished my chore as quickly as possible and went back into the house a total nervous wreck.  I tell you one thing I learned:  I never forgot to feed the dog in the daylight again! 

I am laughing even now as I type this just remembering that poor frightened little girl that was sure she was going to die from a glowing Cracker Jack prize on a piece of black sewing thread.  (swiping tears of laughter).

 

Crossing the border - legally

I thought of writing this blog of our visit to the interior of Mexico and it made me laugh.  The experience of getting across the border is what made me laugh, considering how so many breech our border by just walking right through.  Some of the other experiences once through were not so very funny.
My family lived in Texas in the late 1960's early 1970's and we used to cross the border into Mexico for day trips on a frequent basis.  We crossed at different points to enjoy different areas of the country.  One time when the Grimes family visited from Virginia with their camper we decided we should camp Mexico.
When the Grimes' and we grew up together we spent nearly every weekend camping, first tent camping then trailer.  We all loved it and all of us have wonderful memories of it.  So when we moved to Texas and the Grimes' brought their trailer out with them when they visited it seemed natural that we plan a huge camping trip and what better trip than an international one. 
Plans developed and we stocked the campers and headed for the border.  I am old enough now that I cannot remember where we crossed over.  We drove both campers, cars and families up to the border stations and our fathers got out of the cars.  Of course our Birth Certificates, Drivers  Licenses, Car and Camper registrations and such were required in order to cross into Mexico.  Our mothers and all eight children were waiting in the cars for hours as our fathers tried to get all our paperwork in order for us to go in to Mexico.  More hours passed and we began to wonder what in the world was going on, neither man came back to let us know what was going on.  Finally mom and Aunt Susan fed us children in the campers so we wouldn't "starve" and we continued to wait on our fathers.  Frustrated fathers finally returned to our cars near sundown and my dad got behind the wheel very aggravated. 
The Mexican authorities advised the "gringos" not to proceed past the border during the night as it would not be safe.  Having not "made time" at all that day because we sat at the border all day my father and Uncle Bobby were determined to get down the road.  Turns out the reason we sat at the border all day was because Uncle Bobby was being stubborn.  After checking all the paperwork the Mexican border guards decided that they wanted to be paid under the table by the rich "gringos".  After a number of hours of arguing my father finally gave in, he realized these were unscrupulous men and we weren't going anywhere unless he paid them what they wanted.  Uncle Bobby decided he would stand on principle because surely these people have supervisors that would prevent these kinds of things.  Lol, that was a no, turned out when you got the supervisor involved then you had to pay the supervisor as well.  Finally, Uncle Bobby had made enough noise and gotten enough people involved that dad had to finally say, "Bobby, I can't afford for you to object any more."  So Uncle Bobby paid his way in dad paid the extra money and we were on our way with less money in our pockets.   
As we left the Border we were warned of the "banditos" after dark.  So we decided not to go to far, we were very frightened.  As we drove along the "highway" we were surrounded by multiple cars which sped up when we sped up and slowed when we did.  Creepy.  We stopped to get gas and the car windows were cracked as we did not have air conditioning but we always had the windows cracked so that was no big deal.  As soon as my father stopped and got out to pump the gas (because no one came out to do so) all of a sudden there were all these guys and they were sticking their hands in through the windows trying to touch us, grabbing at us.  We were having to roll up the windows, you know the old fashioned windows where you actually rolled them.  It was horrible.  No one came out to help us.  Dad finished getting the gas because we had to have it, paid for it and we made it to a camp ground that was enclosed by a six foot tall wall.  We knew the feeling of true exhaustion even though we hadn't actually done much that day.
I will stop there for this week and pick up with my adventures next week.  Viva Mexico.   

Day-cations with the grands

I have simply THE MOST awesome, perfect, beautiful grandchildren that ever walked the face of the earth.  Just ask me and I will tell you all about it.  They are beautiful inside and out.  They are talented, kind, and compassionate.  They are intelligent and courageous.  I have Eleven wonderful Grandchildren.  Haley, Allie, Emily, Meredith, Sarah Kathryn, Rachel, Jocelyn and Natalie are the girls (all picture perfect).  Damien, Joseph and Greyson are the boys (all rough and tumble handsome little boys). 

I have decided to share a couple of pictures from way back in 2011 when we went with all the grandchildren to the space and rocket center in Huntsville, Alabama.  The children had the best time.  The big "children" rode the "adult" space shot many times and it was tremendously fun.  The little ones were a bit jealous even though there was plenty for them to do all over the park.  We were busy with so many activities all morning.

 After our traditional picnic lunch we noticed across from the picnic area there was a junior "space shot".  the big "little kids" were so thrilled.  Haley, Allie, Damien, Meredith and Emily could hardly finish their lunch for wanting to get over to the ride.  You must eat lunch when at one a of Grammy and Pop pop Day-cations in order to continue the rest of the day.  Needless to say lunch progressed at a very quick rate once they remembered the remainder of the day depended on their eating their lunch. 

In the picture above you will see Meredith, Damien, Haley, Emily and Allie at the top of the covered pavilion riding the space shot for the first time.  Their faces are a little apprehensive as they were not sure what to expect.  Once they realized how fun it actually was they rode it so many times they nearly made themselves sick.  Damien had to quit riding because he literally did make himself sick.  Sensible Emily quit before she got to that point.

 

 

Allie, Meredith and Haley ever the adventurers threw up their hands and rode on and on.  We decided that they must have cast iron stomachs.  They rode so long we had to MAKE them stop.  Emily and Damien had long since moved on to a less nauseating ride. 

We love to have day-cations with the grandchildren.  We love any time spent with our grandchildren. Each one is a treasure in their own right.  I guess I should spotlight them individually but I am hesitant to do anything like that on the internet.  I guess that may come from being 58. The only thing that comes close to the joy of being a mother is the joy of being a grandmother. 

I little piercing

I had planned to start the "relative" posts off with an entirely different story but one came to mind that would give you an idea of just how hilarious and spontaneous and well, how testosterone filled my father and my uncle were.  Yes, you all know what I mean by that and if you don't (sure you don't) you will by the time I finish my little story. 
This little story is about how I got my ears pierced at about (about mind you) the age of 10ish.  I along with my older sister had voiced our desire to have our ears pierced after all everyone was getting them pierced.  Mom and Aunt Susan even had theirs pierced, EVERYBODY had their ears pierced.  You know the drill, lots of drama lots of begging.  My sister was a couple of years older than I and was better at it than I was.  I had two girl cousins that wanted their ears done two.  Then their were the "babies", my younger sisters and the one younger girl cousin.  That was seven girls that NEEDED their ears pierced. 
Back in the day, you know, the 1960's, the stone age, you got your ears pierced at the doctors office, it was a procedure.  It was a big deal and was quite expensive.  Well, seven girls, four of which were in my family would be out of the question.  At least that was what we were told.  My mother and Aunt Susan put their collective foot down and said, "no."  So we moped about because as you can imagine we were the only human females on the planet that did not have pierced ears. 
It wasn't too long after the moping began that my mother and aunt planned a shopping day for the two of them and left us to be watched after by our two fathers.  We lived next to one another and both men had been police officers for a number of years and were of high intelligence.  Our mothers were confident in their decision to leave us in the care of our fathers.  They had, after all, left us in their care with a successful outcome before. 
Once the mothers left and we nine children were playing outside, seven girls, two boys, the fathers did what ever fathers do.  At least we children paid no attention to them because we were behaving and having a great time as usual playing with one another.  (As usual playing with one another not necessarily as usual behaving, lol)  After a while out fathers called us up to Uncle Bobby's house where they had been visiting together and asked us girls if we wanted our ears pierced.  Of course we jumped up and down and shouted "yes" repeatedly.  So, they gave us the plan.  They laid it out thusly, All the children would go over to my house next door and wait by the phone until called.  Uncle Bobby and dad would prepare the necessary "tools" for the job and call when they were ready.  We were all so excited so we rushed right over to my house and excitedly waited for the phone to ring. All the girls chatted excitedly and the boys couldn't wait to see our new ears.
At my uncles house my father and he heated a sewing needle with a lighter to sterilize it, washed and skinned a potato, found two clothes clips and prepared a bowl of ice, these were the "tools" they needed to prepare for the process.
My father or Uncle Bobby called the house and had the oldest girl, my cousin Vickie, go over.  We did not know any of the details of her ear piercing because she did not return, next the phone rang again, my sister Vickie was called over and the same result, she did not return.  Excitement built, the girls were getting their ears pierced, the phone rang again and I was the next oldest, it was my turn, I was called next door for my turn.  I went over with all the enthusiasm of a girls whose dream is about to come true.  I entered the back door into the kitchen where I was ushered into a seat.  My father put two clothes pins on my earl lobes to numb them.  Let me tell you before they go numb the nerve endings object rather strenuously.  After he decided they were "numb" he took one of the pins off and my uncle swooped in with a potato behind the ear and stuck that needle through my earlobe before I knew what was happening.  I let out a scream that sounded like someone had stepped on a cat.  Oh my stars did it hurt.  My dad said, "if it hurts I can put some ice on it for you." As I sat crying Uncle Bobby goes to do the other ear right off and I start to object and they use logic on a poor traumatized little kid, "but you will look all lopsided, you need to get this one done too".  No, it did not occur to me that I could just let the one grow up.  If it had I would have never proceeded.  I don't know who came up with this logic but it worked, I cried but I let the second one be done.
After the massacre of my earlobes, which later gave me great joy and pleasure for 45 years, they sent me up the stairs to my cousins room which was the furthest room from the kitchen and sent for the next victim, uh hum , cousin to pierce her ears, Julie, her experience much he same as mine and the others huddling in the same room.
To our surprise the mothers came home before the "babies" (who were not babies at all and are still called babies even though they are in their 50's now) were sent for and they put an immediate and permanent stop to the ear piercing factory.  Those men were scolded like the bad little boys that they were.  I think they were satisfied though that they had gotten as far as they had.  They didn't seem a bit sorry and I caught them laughing about it on occasion after a while had passed. 
This is the kind of thing that happened when you left my father and my uncle together for too long with nothing to do but think.  They were a barrel of fun as were the cousins.  I have Lots of cousins:
Fredda, Bill, Penny, Lynn, Brenda, Jamie, Elesa, Joseph, Vickie, Russell, Julie, Tommy and Paula. A few Uncles: Jimmy, Buck and Bobby and a few Aunts: Noresa, Naomi, Sandy, Jeanette, and Susan not many of the aunts and uncles are still with me here but every single one are always with me in my heart. 

Little Baby Brent

This picture was taken shortly after I became a Mommy for the first time, right after delivering my first child Brent.  I labored 36 hours, 18 of which was considered "hard labor".  After laboring so long with my son the doctor FINALLY decided I was not going to have him on my own and wheeled me into the delivery room to use forceps to deliver him into the world.  I was never so grateful for anything in my life both for the delivery and the child.  Brent was 10 pounds 9 1/2 ounces and 22 inches long.  I was a little size 5 woman, and that was after the baby weight.  You know that size 5 was back when I THOUGHT I was huge.  He was so adorable with his little binky nose, olive skin, manly hands, blue eyes and dark brown hair.  In spite of my exhaustion I was so happy, I have always wanted to be a mother and here my life as a mother had just begun with the chubby little guy that had just worn me out beyond anything I had ever experienced before.
As family and friends came to visit and see my new little man I noticed strangers were stopping by my door and looking in my room, pointing and smiling.  I became a little paranoid and wondered what was going on so I shut my door until I finally asked the nurse if she knew what was going on when she was in my room checking on me.  She explained that people were coming by looking at who had had the largest baby in the nursery and that some of the nurses had passed around the information that the smallest patient on the floor had had the largest baby in the nursery so I had somehow become an oddity.  Brent, actually, was the largest baby to ever be born at that hospital at that time.  So, for the rest of that first day when people stopped outside my door I invited them in and talked with them and accepted their congratulations.  It was rather fun.  A note here is that Brent had to spend extra time in the nursery that first day since he had such a long delivery, he had a few little issues but he was fine within a few hours.  That gave people plenty of time to see the huge baby in the nursery.
One crazy thing that happened the day after Brent was born will have you wondering but have no fear, Brent is my son, the little rascal is mine for sure.  I decided that I would send Brent back to the nursery in the evenings since I was never going to sleep again once we went home (I am 58 and still don't sleep, lol).  I figured it would allow me to recuperate faster and therefore be a better mother in the end.  You know how the nursery will bring you your child in the mornings after they have bathed them so you can have them in the room all day?  Well that was what was supposed to happen.  I woke up and had my breakfast, had showered and was anxiously waiting for my sweet baby to arrive when the nurse began wheeling in an isolet.  She parks the little bed near the foot of my bed because that is the area left open for it.  I take my time getting off the bed because, well, you know, it's not so easy to do when you've just had a baby.  Once I make it to the little bed I reach down to pick up my baby boy and first pull back the little blanket to reveal the whitest white baby I have ever seen in my life, the baby even has white hair and is so tiny it cannot possibly weight more that 6 pounds.  I shriek as I realize this is not my child.  I press the nurse call button and she comes back in and finds me with a wild look in my eyes pointing at the poor baby in the bed like it is an alien yelling, "that's not my baby" repeatedly.  She checks my arm band and the baby's arm band and tells me that they match.  "Oh no they can't", I shriek again.  I continue to shriek, "that's not my baby".  I am about to have a nervous break down for sure.  I can't imagine what I am going to do about this.  How can this possibly be happening.  It can't, it simply can't.
Luckily, because of the unique situation of the largest baby in the nursery being born to the smallest woman on the floor and nearly everyone remembering that, it did not take long for them to find my child.  For reasons I cannot understand the mother who got Brent did not realized she had the wrong child.  My only guess was that perhaps she had a c section and had not met her child in a "sober" state and therefore did not recognize him (or her I didn't check) when it was brought to her.  Any way only a few minutes passed before the mistake was corrected and the little nurse that had bathed the babies was in trouble.  It seems that she had removed both babies identification bands at the same time and then took a guess when she put them back on the babies.  Well, she guessed wrong.  What if the babies had looked enough alike that the mothers had not noticed.  Crisis averted by the blessing of the biggest baby being born to the smallest mom and everyone being amazed by it.   Who would have ever guessed.  Not me, never in a million years.

Law Enforcement in MY life.

I had planned to keep with my "foot" theme because I thought it might be cute to stay with that for an entire week.  I could have as I have plenty of stories that would work quite well.  I had one story in mind and knew of a photograph I wanted to include so began to look for it.  Once I started looking in my photo boxes and so many memories came to me I knew I would change my direction. 

Today is "It's a Dad's life" for the blog and I bet you wondered where I would go with that since I am a girl.  Well, I didn't use the formal word Father for a reason.  My father was not a formal man, he expected me to act like a young woman but he also expected me to have fun.  My father was truly a "dad", he was there at all times and for all reasons, no matter how silly those reasons were and boy could they be silly, it makes me laugh just thinking about some of the things he had to put up with being the father of four girls.  He never had a son, poor guy.  He was such a manly man and had no guy to pass all that on too.  I will discuss that later though.  He was my hero, you will notice that trust me. 

In the news lately there has been so much hatred toward those men and women who have sworn to protect you and I from those who would use, abuse, rob, threaten, murder and mistreat your rights and being by those who would do those very things.  It breaks my heart to watch the news to see the things that are happening in the name of justice.  My father was a Norfolk City police officer and I know he believed in his job, in the oath he took to protect the innocent.  I know he did his best based on what he was able to discern.  I know he made mistakes, my goodness he was human after all, but he did his best with the training he received and under the circumstances he found himself in.  To my knowledge he never found himself in anything like what is happening now, thank goodness. 



 



 

When I became a teenager my father went to work for U.S. Customs as an undercover agent.  It was not an easy life for him or us.  There are many, many, many hair raising stories I can and will share that will help you know the type of hero that raised me.  He was a wonderful man with a heart the size of this old world.  Let me just tell you one little story that he agonized over for a good while.  I will say here that my father has been dead for 34 years so no one has any reason to fear anything I have to say.  He died a relatively young man not specifically at his job but indirectly related to his job. 

My father was chasing a car with a man and a woman driving through the Arizona desert at a very high rate of speed in the dead of night.  He had gotten a tip that there was to be a drug run coming over the border at a particular point at a particular time.  Dad and his partner were ready and waiting lights off behind a predetermined hiding location.  The car came flying down the road also with it's lights off and dad and his partner take off to make the stop.  They try to make the stop several times, then they start trying to slam into the cars side hard to knock them off the road to stop the high speed chase.  The driver manages to control the car with effort.  Dad and his partner continue to pound the car, knowing there is a hefty load expected to be in the car and with the determination of the driver to get away they know there is a large haul involved.  When what Dad and his partner determine will be the last shot, the one that will be hard enough to take them off the road for sure, they "wind up" to get ready to hit them hard when a little child's head comes up into the window in the back seat with tears of fear streaming down it's little face.  My father, seeing the child, yells, the child is not buckled, to slam the car off the road is certain death for the child.  The driver seeing the shock and fear on the faces of my father and his partner throws back his head and laughs at their hearts, at their compassion, presses the accelerator further to the floor and eventually escapes because my father cannot kill or allow a child to be killed even if the child's own father is willing to use it in an illegal act. 

I am sure there are a lot of different emotions in your head right now, there were in my fathers for years.  But it came down to one thing, he could not take an innocent life.  I choose to believe that most of our law enforcement would make the same choice, to NOT take an innocent life, whatever the situation, if it is discernible.  

 

 

 

 

Sticking with the feet

I was laying in the bed with an enormous head ache keeping me from sleeping so I decided just to get up and work on the blog.  Before I go on I have learned one thing about blogging, I have no idea how to edit.  Yesterday I was missing an "n" on a word and spent a good amount of time trying to figure it out.  I then decided enough people had seen it so it didn't really matter any more so I gave up.  Maybe I will learn how to edit, maybe not.  It's a gamble.
I was thinking about today's theme of "Medical update".  Since I really can't do to much by way of updating I thought I would share one of my, well, klutz attacks.  Yeah, imagine me, a klutz attack.  Shocking isn't it.  No more than 50 in any given day.  This particular one was in, I think, September of this year and involved my foot.  Ah, you see a pattern here?
 I had decided to give a diaper shower for my sweet daughter-in-law for their seventh child, my sweet, perfect, Natalie.  They have three girlies in diapers so I thought, by way of suggestion of my other sweet daughter-in-law Hana, that a diaper shower would be a perfect idea.  I live 2 1/2 hours away from Laura's house so it involved a trunk full of stuff and a few last minute things to purchase.  My schedule was pretty tight once I got there to get the food put together and the site set up while six perfect angels asked questions and helped me out by nibbling on the goodies. 
Daddy had to go out of town for work so it was Mom, me and the children making all the preparations, setting up and such.  It wasn't the original plan but I have learned to go with the flow as much as I can.  Laura, like all my children and in-law children tend to try to protect and take care of me so I try to work around all their overprotectiveness.  This night was no exception.  I had worked as quickly as I could (remember I am old and forget to factor that in to the equation) and did not get everything done that I had planned to in a timely fashion.  I tried to figure a time line in my mind for the next day that would work but it just wouldn't come together so I had to go to the store that night.  I knew if I mentioned that to Laura that would not fly.  So, like a teenager I made my "sneak out of the house plan".  I decided to wait until she went to her room to lay down then I would sneak out.  Luckily she lays down early, heck who wouldn't with 7 children.
So I slip my flip flops on, I have a key to the house, I can be really quiet (if I try really hard even though Robin doesn't believe it) and I didn't turn the lights to the car on until I got out of the drive way.  I zipped off to the store so proud of my little plan.  I picked up the balloons, the extra plates and all the other things I needed and was so happy with myself.  I cranked up the radio, I really thought I was getting away with it all.  I never snuck out of the house when I was a teenager but man I was doing a great job of it as a 57 year old.  Laura would NEVER KNOW!
I got back to the house and decided to park on the drive way instead of the grass because I really couldn't see where all the scooters were parked and I didn't want to accidently squish one.  I pull up and open my door.  I was so thrilled that it worked so well that I decided that I should load some of the decorations I had made with the kids to save time in the morning so I open the back door of the car and take off for the side door of the house but if forgot about the landscaping logs that are right at the edge of the garden.  The garden that runs right at the edge of the drive way so as I rog which is a run/jog.  When you are 57 and southern you cannot run and if you have boobs it is not advisable to jog so you sort of "rog".  In the process of rogging past the landscaping logs I clip the stupid (of course it's stupid it's an inanimate object) thing with my left big toe hard enough to cause me to lose my balance.  I nearly fall and so naturally I throw my right foot forward to catch myself only to kick the car door right where the upper and lower edges of the door come together nicely to a very pointy point!  I hit it about an inch above the toe next to the pinky toe. 
Now you have to know I have a VERY high tolerance for pain and I nearly passed out.  I can't scream.  My daughter-in-law thinks I am in the house.  I can't make a sound, my son isn't home, there are 6 children sleeping and a pregnant woman protecting them.  I can't walk the pain is so bad.  I am now thinking this was the worst idea I have ever had in my life.  I reel in pain wondering how I am going to get to the door before morning and if I even HAVE to get into the house before morning.  I haven't closed the cursed car door yet because I may want to sleep in the car if I can pull myself up into it. 
After what seems forever, I finally force myself to hobble up to the house and let myself in (you know I have been having a serious talk with myself the whole time I have been sitting on the ground rocking back and forth in pain right?), which I actually manage to do quietly.  Laura sweetly comes through the kitchen after a while (where I have deposited myself and can get no further) and gets a drink and discusses how sweet it is that I am doing the shower for her.  I am doing all I can not to cry and laugh at the same time.  I got what I deserved for sneaking out of the house. 
It ended up I did some nerve damage that took several weeks of wearing no shoe and only a sock in public for it to heal but it did heal.  Currently I am waiting for the toenail on the left big toe to finish falling off and growing back.  I wear a bandaid on it because I can't paint the thing and I don't like to have unpainted toenails. 
Oh, and I did fess up to Laura though I never did tell her just how bad it was.  It was BAAAAD.