tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20153585438157886732024-02-06T20:13:12.087-08:00TIDBITS TODAYMusings as I Meander Through LifeM. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-11759465139670361332012-02-17T13:55:00.000-08:002012-02-17T14:01:09.750-08:00ARCHIVING BLOGBeginning today, February 17, 2012, with the exception of http://mylivinglens.blogspot.com/ each of my other blogs will either be archived or completely removed from access, in favor of a new and different way at: http://suesmuse.weebly.com/ Please visit soon and let me know if you like what you see. M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-25180786393947810792011-12-07T13:53:00.000-08:002011-12-07T13:53:38.407-08:00ANNIVERSARY TIMES TWO<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 <![endif]-->
Today is an anniversary of which I am well aware, Pearl Harbor Day. I am convinced it changed my life. I was a happy toddler with three big brothers. Within a matter of a few short months, two of those big brothers were whisked away in US Navy Blue to serve our country plus my dad started working nights and sleeping days. M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-67634815670525753182011-11-11T03:46:00.000-08:002011-11-11T03:46:39.972-08:00A TRIBUTE TO ALL WHO HAVE SERVED AND DO SERVEWRITTEN BY MY MOM:
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MY SONS, 1944
'Neath a tall stately maple's shade,
Plans for a glowing future were laid;
As two small boys on bended knees, Worked with small trucks as busy as bees.
The sun glistened on gold and coppery hair,
God's benediction--they happily knelt there. Now, clad in Uncle Sam's Navy Blue, M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-83237121520005381542011-10-18T20:59:00.000-07:002011-10-18T21:05:50.009-07:00THE MIND THAT SPAWNED WATERBOARDINGEvery time I shampoo in the shower, I have the strange sensation that somebody’s mother invented waterboarding. Before you think I have lost all manner of sense, consider some of the following with me.
Let me take you back to the WW 2 kitchen in which I spent some of the first years of my life. As we entered the doorway, immediately to the left was the end of our black cast iron cooking stove.M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-66921217537734002922011-09-11T05:35:00.000-07:002011-09-11T05:44:14.210-07:00JOHN E. MOORE SHARES 9-11-2001 MEMORIESOur local newspaper, THE SAN ANGELO STANDARD TIMES, invited readers to share their 9-11-2001 memories in 250 words or less. The following is the recall by my husband JOHN E. MOORE:
On September 11, 2001, I was teaching Air Force personnel at the Naval Air Station in Jacksonville, Florida. The students, from bases throughout the world, had come to learn Air Staff approved policies M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-73368484979350390952011-09-01T13:48:00.000-07:002011-09-01T13:48:38.884-07:00COLORSColors make me feel happy inside. Unless you know the sensation, there seems no way I can explain it to you. It is just there.
Years ago we lived near a mill where yarn was manufactured. One of my greatest joys was being able to go to their factory outlet to buy yarn by the pound. Seeing those colors through the clear plastic bags brought my imagination to life as I envisioned a crocheted M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-11484003780478105892011-08-24T17:38:00.000-07:002011-08-24T17:39:21.993-07:00SPECIAL PEOPLE IN MY LIFERecently there has been some discussion on Facebook as to whether or not the friends we meet there are real or not. Some have pointed out that Facebook friends cannot be in your immediate presence so are not the same as “real” friends.
I thought about that this morning as I wrote the following to my Facebook friends: “Good Morning, Special People in my life. Because I see your faces* when your M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-29193674878836443582011-08-10T13:39:00.000-07:002011-08-11T04:13:47.267-07:00USPS ---- Uh-h-h, REALLY?My husband is the Internet greeting card sender for our family. While he is preparing his list and checking it twice, often I am also at my computer doing my own thing, that of creating a snail mail greeting card for the same person. This way, on their birthdays, special people are twice-blessed; once with the lovely or lively interactive Internet card he chooses and once with the one I design M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-52570312725394261832011-05-01T09:15:00.000-07:002011-05-01T09:18:40.768-07:00THE MERRY MONTH OF MAYAs a little girl, I lived in a village in central Maine. The month of May meant creating, decorating, and hanging May Baskets.I don’t remember how old I was when I started, but I do recall an almost abrupt end when we moved away from the village into the country where the houses were farther apart, then later into the city where, I had also grown older and the customs were different. Some M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-48530924945939499612011-04-16T13:58:00.000-07:002011-04-16T14:23:09.413-07:00A LETTER TO MY DAUGHTER Dear Beth~ I’ve been meaning to tell you how much the digital picture frame you gave us means to me. I realized today that Dad finds pleasure in my latest downloads to it, too, when he mentioned one particularly beautiful flower, describing it so well I knew exactly THE ONE from around thirty I had just added! I confess I keep wondering just how many pictures the frame will hold before it hops M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-80427968713372265132011-04-13T16:46:00.000-07:002011-04-13T16:53:35.308-07:00THE THREE-QUARTER-CENTURY-CLUB Picture of Kent and me taken in June of 2003It was the summer of 1948. I was eight years old. My mother and I were invited to go to Augusta, the capital city of the State of Maine, for a special afternoon celebration of the Three-Quarter-Century-Club. Since I have already explained my age, it should be obvious, that the three-quarter-century, wouldn’t describe my mother, but if you guessed it toM. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-58343885134415593202011-04-05T04:51:00.000-07:002011-04-05T04:55:14.786-07:00REMEMBERING WANDAToday, April 5th, would have been my friend Wanda's birthday. I miss her in so many ways.M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-56239207261241709832011-03-22T05:55:00.001-07:002011-03-22T06:31:17.281-07:00BELONGINGSUSIE MABEL GRANT GLIDDEN BORN MARCH 21, 1878 DIED MARCH 31, 1951 This photo of my maternal grandmother, Susie Mabel Grant Glidden, the grandmother for whom I was named, was taken to celebrate her 25th wedding anniversary.She married at eighteen and gave birth to ten children, eight of whom lived. The first time I saw this picture, I, too, had just celebrated my 25th wedding anniversary. Having M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-47141242822426618702011-03-19T17:36:00.000-07:002011-03-19T17:40:44.413-07:00TRAIN RIDESOur eldest daughter, Beth, recently reminisced briefly on her blog about a train ride we took the night we left Cleethorpes, on our way into London, England, the summer of 1971. That was a unique trip in that each of our children, ages seven, ten, and twelve, were old enough to have memories to remember it.Train rides were common during my husband’s and my earlier years. During World War II, we M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-87516530556781303632011-03-18T08:38:00.001-07:002011-03-18T08:54:01.487-07:00THE QUILT CONNECTIONLong gone is the little pink and white calico Scottie-dog quilt mentioned a couple of days ago. Childhood days turned to those of maturity. God’s paintbrush has frosted those coppery-colored curls with touches of silver, though the eyes still softly glow with the well-worn copper of youth. No longer either a mother or stairs is present when naptime arrives.Toys that once would have covered the M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-22206948574104255682011-03-16T14:03:00.001-07:002011-03-16T14:12:25.008-07:00QUILT MEMORIESWith the writing prompt to write about a quilt or a blanket, it took little to get the memories moving.She was a cute toddler with coppery-colored curly hair and eyes. She lived in a two-story house. When it came time for a nap, her mother took her by the hand as they started to climb the stairs and made a game of learning while they counted the steps as they went up…one, two, three…Once in her M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-26311736885885798142011-03-12T10:10:00.000-08:002011-03-12T10:11:47.175-08:00SOMETIMES ANGELS WEAR DOCTOR’S COATSThe recent surgery of a dear friend brought to mind a similar time of my own.Mine came following what was the most difficult decision-making time in my life: that being admitting my aging mother to the care of a nursing home. In the few weeks she had been there, it had already been a rough time. I was dealing with emotional and physical pain. Necessity caused the physical pain to win out.It was M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-46513917708856512552011-03-03T19:12:00.000-08:002011-03-03T19:14:23.662-08:00PERCEPTION“Just wait ‘til your father gets home!”When our grown children visit, that’s a phrase I frequently hear when our son is reminiscing about his upbringing and how I, as a mother, chose to discipline. Need I say his memory and mine differ?I neither deny nor doubt using that phase but I definitely deny using it as frequently as he recalls its being touted. Could it be that he, as a child, seldom M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-5581858903542910072011-02-24T14:39:00.000-08:002011-02-24T14:45:20.428-08:00GIFTS FROM THE HEARTThey’re thinking about me, these friends of mine.She’s out shopping when she sees a book to buy. She picks up two, one for herself, but one for her friend…me. Later she sees another book she likes, but after a thorough search, realizes there’s only one. When telling me about it, she says she is planning to share. We go to another store in the same chain, look on the bookshelves, and after a M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-63098242409107517862011-01-28T10:28:00.000-08:002011-01-28T21:37:22.743-08:00BEFORE YOU CAN DRY ANOTHER’S TEARSToday we received word that a dear friend has hours, at most, left on this earth. Over the past five years as she has battled her illness, we have reached out with prayers requests. There have been many heart-touching kindnesses shown along the way that have lifted and cheered us. Sometimes kindnesses appear when we least expect them and in most unexpected ways.One such thing occurred just two M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-20258804047562157532011-01-05T19:48:00.000-08:002011-01-05T19:52:42.555-08:00THE MOST EXPENSIVE CHIPS AND SALSA I NEVER ORDEREDI once read about a mortifying mistake, never dreaming I’d live through one, but such was the case this past Sunday when we took out-of-town guests out to lunch. The problem seemed to be the restaurateur and his minions were the ones out to lunch.We arrived at the restaurant at 11:50 a.m., promptly requested a table for seven and were told there would be a twenty-minute wait. Elderly friends who M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-33787825164269914172010-12-11T07:11:00.000-08:002010-12-11T07:15:50.391-08:00MEMORIES OF MAMA’S CHRISTMAS IN THE CITYI don't have to hear the words. The music alone gives me images in my mind that set me back six decades every time I hear the song."City sidewalks, busy sidewalks dressed in holiday style; in the air, there's a feeling of Christmas..."Those words conjure up a more than just Christmas memories, but Christmas is a good place to begin.In my mind's eye, I see those so well-dressed city sidewalks. My M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-45475394430227371722010-11-22T18:28:00.000-08:002010-11-22T18:30:52.521-08:00OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS“Over the river and through the woods…”Whatever happened to those rushing rivers I recall from my childhood?And what about the snow-covered woods?Well, at least, there’s still grandmother’s house, right? Oh, but it’s not a farmhouse way out in the country anymore, is it? No, a patio home in the city is more like it, or a condo on the beach. And “Grandmother?” When is the last time you called her M. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-62437843938670798352010-11-11T19:20:00.000-08:002010-11-11T19:24:57.263-08:00FREEDOM IS NOT FREECLICK ON PHOTO TO ENLARGEM. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015358543815788673.post-1208572121226264752010-11-04T14:22:00.000-07:002010-11-04T14:23:42.540-07:00THE LONELY, QUIET LIFE OF A WRITERWhat is this description I keep hearing of the lonely, quiet life of the writer? Either I am not the writer I purport myself to be, or somebody has been misleading me!I sit down with a story in my mind, eager to get it into my computer so I can share it with my fellow writers. I no sooner place my laptop in my...well, in my lap…when one of our small dogs jumps up beside my leg, stretching herselfM. SUEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18152197689606538410noreply@blogger.com0