Memorial Day

Memorial Day is a day of remembrance of those who have perished serving our country in the armed services.  Originally it was called 'Decoration Day', and the history of this day goes back to the Civil War when former slaves honored Union Soldiers.  With World War I, the holiday was extended to all Americans who have died in all wars.  In these modern times, Memorial Day has evolved to be a day of remembrance for all those who are gone from us, military or civilian. 

As a teenager, I can remember going with my parents to Scenic Hill cemetery to lay flowers at my grandparent's graves.  My friend, Diane, was with us. Diane and I walked through the cemetery, reading the headstones and in a expression of compassion, or thievery, I don't know which, we felt badly for the graves that didn't have flowers on them so we 'borrowed' flowers from those graves that did and put them on the empty graves.

Cemeteries do not bother me.  Okay, maybe if it was after dark and I was alone, but then again, wouldn't most places these days make us all a bit nervous after dark?  I happen to think that cemeteries are very interesting.  There is a lot of history within a cemetery. Whether beautifully groomed or crumbling, gravestones are pretty.

There is only one thing in this world that really, really creeps me out ...

... That would be eggs.  Icky, gross, nasty eggs.

This would be a testament to how I feel about my dog and how much I spoil her.  I am more than willing to make her scrambled eggs to mix into her dry dog food as a special treat.

Anyway ~

These days it seems that Memorial Day more about an extra day off from work, great weekend sales at the mall, and the knowledge that it is now okay to wear white pants than about remembering our fallen.

This morning, about 11am, I wanted to dash into town.  The town square was all decked out in American Flags and I wanted to take some pictures.  Randy and Roxy decided to go with me.  Unbeknownst to us, Mountain Home was having their Memorial Day festivities at the square right at that time.

This was not a large gathering by any means.  But that didn't make the speeches, the music and the tributes any less moving.  The statistic that I can't get out of my mind is that almost 2.5 million military personnel have either died or been wounded since 1775.

It can't be that difficult to come across a flag today.  When you do, say a prayer of gratitude to those who serve our country who can't be home today celebrating the start of summer with a hot dog, a cold (root) beer and their families.

Have the BEST day ever!
~ Dorothy

Spring in the Ozarks

Before moving here last year, Randy and I had been coming to the Mountain Home area for a couple of years to vacation.  This, however, is actually our first spring here.  We are fall and winter travelers, having the luxury of being able to travel when kids are back in school.  It has been a wonderful time to watch the spectacular change from winter to spring. One of my most favorite things is discovering all the different breeds of wildflowers.  Every day I find a new type of beautiful flower.  Of course, there are daisies and recently I found wild roses.  I have also found a tall grass that has a beautiful blue flower with bright yellow stamens.  I love to go outside, especially in the morning after a storm as I most always find something new that has bloomed.

Rub-A-Dub-Dub

It used to be a joke between Randy and I that he collected barbecues like I collected purses.

For many years, I was on the quest for the perfect purse.  Over time and painful shoulders, I finally came to the conclusion that I did not need to be prepared for every single crisis that I could possibly dream up.  Isn't that why there are CVS and Walgreen drug stores on every corner in America?

Thus, I have whittled away at what I do carry in my purse to probably one third of the weight I used to lug around.

My shoulders, while still a bit angry at me at times, do appreciate the effort.

Acrylic Adventures

I have often described my hands as man hands.  Which, in light of mentioning on my Mother's Day post that I had inherited Mom's hands from her, insinuates that she had man hands as well.

I intend not to insult my mom or not be very, very thankful that I have two perfectly good hands attached where they are supposed to be attached - at my wrists.

I knew one thing early on - my life's calling was never going to be a hand model.  While functional, my hands are not the prettiest.  My hands aren't large, nor are they small and petite.  I guess there aint nothin' small and petite about me.  My fingers are kind of thick and the middle one on each hand curves outward in a strange way.  My cuticles, without a daily treatment of my special homemade concoction of olive oil, baby oil and which ever essential oil I am in the mood for, would be a consistant dry and cracked mess riddled with hangnails.

Imperfect

Maybe it's waking up to sunshine after a couple of days of clouds.

Maybe its a warm and cuddly Roxy Dog sleeping in my lap.

Maybe its because of Rob finally winning Survivor last night and now the world can move on.

More than likely, it's the Bible verse that I read this morning.

You should clothe yourselves instead with the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God.

1 Peter 3:4 NLT