Biscuits & Ice Cream

At our favorite fast-food dive, we finished our morning biscuits, then began to talk about ice cream... real, satisfying ice cream.  We're both under stress as caregivers for loved ones who live with us:  a husband with Alzheimer's and a mother who is wheel-chair bound.  So, food, comfort food, is an important conversation topic.

"I don't cook much anymore, because he's satisfied with just a sandwich, even peanut butter & jelly."

"Me, either.  But, I did open two cans of black-eyed peas last night.  Threw some sliced ham in the skillet, and they thought I had cooked a feast.  They're still talking about it this morning!"

"Did you ever find Blue Bell's Christmas Cookie that I told you about?"

"No, I gave up looking for it once I tried their Strawberry Pie flavor.  Oh, girl.... you were right.  It's to die for!"

"Well, I've got a half-gallon of it in the bottom of my chest freezer.  It's there for my son-in-law when he comes up to visit, and it's his favorite.  It will keep for up to six months.  I'll just let him get it himself, since he's so much taller than I am.  He will love me forever!"

"And, if he doesn't happen to come in the next few months, then you will just have to eat it.  Right?"

"Of course!"

We fiddled with our jelly wrappers then rolled our napkins placing them on the plastic tray.

"But I do have another carton in the freezer that I've saved just for emergencies, and last night I really needed it:  Chocolate Mint with the biggest chocolate chunks you've ever seen."

"Hmmmmm."

"But I couldn't reach it.  You know how far down the bottom of the ice chest is?  I thought I was going to fall in... really, I couldn't reach it.  So, I thought about that long-arm, grabber thingy (pinching fingers together), and I was ready to go get it, but I wasn't sure where it was.  So, I gave it one last try, and by golly, I did it... I got my finger nails under the rim of that lid and managed to get it out.  It was heaven."

"Hmmmm..."
"Hmmmm..."

After that, silence surrounded our little dining booth, and we sat there with goofy grins on our faces.  We sat there satisfied with the simple comforts of ice cream, morning breakfast biscuits and conversation with a good friend... a friend who really understood.  Life did not seem so difficult after all. 

Thank you, my friend...
Love,
Cindy



@Copyright  2012 Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Pioneer Woman...the Wagon Ride

  
I envision a pioneer as an adventurer and explorer:  a bold and curious, nosy soul who travels the distance to satisfy her curiosity, to settle her dream.  My Grandmother is a fine example, or maybe it was more her husband, my Grand Daddy Kemp.

During the early 1900's they traveled from Arkansas to Oklahoma in a covered wagon... twice!  As newlyweds, the "just opened" Indian Territory offered opportunity, land and adventure:  just what a young couple desired.  But, the Oklahoma plains proved too forlorn for them.  Terribly homesick and overwhelmed, they packed everything back into their wagon and retreated back home to Arkansas.  

However, once replenished and emotionally restored, they took off again, for that same rugged, covered wagon ride.  This time they stayed and raised their five children on Oklahoma's red soil.  Maybe they had fallen in love with Oklahoma the newly titled "forty-sixth state" and its open skies, or maybe they were too weary to travel back to known opportunities, or maybe... they were just too proud.  For some reason, they dug in their toenails and stayed near the southern Red River, taming their parcel of land, parcel of possibilities.  With grit, determination, hard work and pure "hardheadedness" they conquered their "West" and carved out a homeland for their generations to follow.   They were true adventurers, and most definitely... pioneers!

That was my grand daddy Jesse Samuel and my grand mother Lizzie, and even though their "Pioneer" title appropriately applies to them, it cannot be passed on to their children or children's children. My ancestral history may contribute to my pioneer longings, but family credentials do not prove me a pioneer.  The title "Pioneer" can not be given.  It must be earned.  

Hence, I continue my quest, and ask myself again... "Am I a pioneer?".

Sincerely, 

Cindy Lou Kemp Hodges

Jesse Samuel & Elizabeth Kemp, Wedding Picture 1919

Note their eyes:  Grandpa's look of adventure, Grandma's look of steadfastness

Webster's New World Dictionary... Pioneer:  noun  1. a person who is among those who first enter or settle a region, thus opening it for occupation and development by others.
 


 

@Copyright 2012, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Speaking of worms...

You won't believe what I found this morning... in my bed, under my pillow.   I found what no one expects to find, or ever, ever wants to find  under her pillow.  You might accept the concept of it fairly easily if you find it under your covers at your feet.  Maybe.  Most likely not.  You would think nothing of it if you were outdoors camping.  But, I found it at the top of my bed, precisely in the middle, under my pillow where you're supposed to find nice surprises like candy and pretty things, and money from the tooth fairy.

Isn't your bed supposed to be your sanctuary?  Your place of safety and shelter?  Isn't that where you run to when your world crashes?  Isn't that the place you rush to when you need to cry your eyes out, when your heart is broken and where you hide when you're afraid?  Isn't that your place, your space, your domain, your cradle of love?  Isn't that forbidden territory to all creatures unless invited???

Then tell me why, when, how, and who gave that worm permission to crawl under MY pillow?  Spit fire and toe nails!   I am disgusted, grossed out, and mad!  Now, I'm a girl that grew up in a rural neighborhood in Oklahoma, and I used to play with butterflies, bugs and even worms.  I played in the dirt and made mud pies of every shape and size.  I knew what every kind of manure looked like and smelled like.  I collected crawdads and  caterpillars and dug up earth worms for fish bait, and I even baited my own fish hooks.   I crammed crazy looking creatures into my pockets and carried these pets around with me all day.  But, this brown hairy, one & one half inch worm received no warm welcome from me. 

Times have changed, and so have I.  I live in Texas in a city surrounded by concrete.  I live in a house made of brick.  Oh, I am blessed.  I have a roof over my head, and it doesn't leak.  Oh, I am so blessed.  I sleep in a bed with clean white sheets and warm covers to blanket me.  Yes, I am truly blessed.   I sleep on a mattress that's soft, and my pillow even softer.  I sleep in a bed up off the floor with critters on the outside and me on the inside, or so I thought.

Today's invasion crossed the line of no return.  Judge and jury I became.  Today's critter received no mercy.  Ignoring forbidden boundaries, this worm wiggled and wormed its way into my cozy bed, under my downy, soft pillow, on my clean white sheets, and slept soundly... once.  Only once. 

Now he sleeps in peace. Forever!

As they now say here in my house, and for years have said in my beloved state of  Texas.... "don't mess with Texas!"

Sincerely becoming more and more of a crazy old lady, and surprisingly... enjoying it!

Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2012, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Pioneer Woman

"I feel like a, a pioneer woman," I said.  "I feel so all alone with no where to go, but forward."  "That's great," he said.  "Did you just hear yourself?  Don't you know the definition of a pioneer?"

I fumbled for words.  I thought I knew the definition, but all I could think of was a tree standing alone by a stream of water:  a tree still standing when all others had fallen.

His positive response surprised me, and I'm wondering what is so good about it?  I don't feel a rush of excitement, or a sense of accomplishment, but he made it sound like something wonderful.  What am I missing here?  I don't know, but it might be worth digging into and sorting out.  So, I'm taking the time to find out if I am what I said I am.  Am I a "Pioneer Woman", or am I not?

(to be continued...)



@Copyright 2012, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Go Fish...

He bent over and over again, right in front of my house.  Who was he and what was he doing?

I opened the mini blind a little wider and looked closer.  He had a stick in his hand, one about the size of a pencil, and a jar in the other.  As he bent over, he touched the stick to the ground, and as he stood back up I could see what was on the stick:  worms.  He was fishing for worms... my worms!

In all my life of watching people, this I had never seen!  He was slow and deliberate, an easy going kind of fellow, and he obviously had planned his expedition because he had the jar, and our joggers around here don't carry jars.  They carry Ipods.  My phone conversation kept me tied to my desk, otherwise, I would have been out the door investigating this most unusual Saturday morning activity.  I would have asked, "Hey, what's going on here?"  "What on earth are you gonna' do with MY worms?"  "Do you live around here?"  "Who do you think you are, anyway?". 

I've enjoyed telling this story to my family & friends, and we all laugh at the thought of "fishing for worms".  Sounds kind of backwards, doesn't it?  And it paints a funny picture.   But, what bothers me about all this, is how defensive I immediately became over a few silly, washed-up worms.  I never, ever would have thought about worms floating out of my yard, and my loss of them.  Never, until I saw someone else benefiting from my minute loss.

Ouch!  That's an "uhg-ly" side of me that I'm not proud of, and one that sure needs "fixin".  Maybe I've been in the city too long.  Maybe I've forgotten the simple things of life.  Maybe I'm just human.  You think???  Whatever is wrong, I can tell...  it's time to go grab a pole or grab a jar and throw down the phone.  Hey, it's past time.. it's time to get back to the basics of life.  It's time to go fishin'.

Sigh...
Cindy Lou


@Copyright 2012, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

He Signed His Valentine... "Rocky"

That was his name,
and he was my flame,
My tender 4th grade flame.
We never kissed.
Wonder what I missed.
Or did we, and I just forgot?

Oh, he was cute, and so mature, much more so than the others.
Maturity, you know, is important at that age,
Thoughtfulness,
Tenderness, too.

He moved away, far too soon,
but left two things behind:  
a heart on a chain, left in my box,
my shoebox covered with hearts,
with a slit on the top
and a place in my heart.
He signed his Valentine... "Rocky."

Ah... the sweet memory of young love.  He was ahead of his times, and I wonder where he is these days.  He didn't stay long in my life, but his legacy lives on, and sometimes I allow my heart to go back to those "once upon a time" days.

The heart he gave me was black.  It was a faceted black heart-shaped pendant that swung beautifully on a silver-toned chain.  Striking it was in appearance and most unusual for a 4th grader of the 1960's to possess.  Wish I had it now.  Wish I could hold it in my hand, but its memory will have to do.  Perhaps that's even better than a heart made of plastic... or... one made of stone.

Rocky, where are you?  I really liked you, you know.

And now... now that you are a memory of those innocent days gone by, I realize what a treasure you were. You see, you gave me more than a heart of stone... you gave me sweet memories to hold in my heart... and THAT, my old flame...  is the real treasure!
 

Silly me, but I love the memory...


Cindy...
the girl from Plato Elementary School



(Note from the author:  Saying, "I like you." or "I love you." is more important than we realize.  Say it.  Mean it.  Live it.  And do it today.  Everyday should be Valentine's Day!)



@Copyright 2012, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Massage

Originally posted January, 2012...

I sort of staggered out of the spa.  My legs were jello, and my mind like mush. But, wow... what a massage!

It was a gift to myself.  Premeditated.  Deliberate.  Cleansing.  I've only had three in my entire life, and I assure you, that is not enough.  I will go back.  I will return.  But, not today.

No, today I am recovering from that massage.  Nobody had told me to drink lots of water afterwards.  The therapist handed me a cup of cold water after the treatment, but I thought it was just a gracious gesture.  I poured it out in the bathroom.  (Which, by the way, I had wondered halfway through the massage, if I could make it through the hour WITHOUT going to the bathroom.)

Then I drove, (yes, I operated  heavy machinery), to Starbuck's and ordered "something dreamy-creamy", as I told the kid. "I just had a massage and I need 'something' ".  He suggested green tea, strong green tea, but I opted for coffee, decaf, and decided on the pumpkin spice, no whipped cream.  He looked at me rather funny.  Or, was it the other way around?  Don't know, and I really don't remember walking back to the car.  But, I must have because I ended up at a friend's house, and she and I chatted about... about... hmmm, well... I really don't remember that either.

I did tell her that my experience was "wonderful", and she should try it.  She looked at me rather funny.  Or, was it the other way around?  Don't know, but, we both chuckled, well, sort of.  I did my best to calm her qualms about half-stripping, crawling under the covers, and allowing someone "experienced" to rub their oily hands all over her body.  I reassured her that the dim lights, and the soft, mood music just made it that much easier to relax.

Not so sure that I had convinced her, but convinced I had given it my all, I swigged my last drop of coffee and asked to use her bathroom.  It had only been thirty minutes ago that I staggered into the spa's bathroom, but never mind.  When a bathroom is handy, take advantage of it.  Right?  That's what Mama always said.

Now feeling good about myself, and so glad that I had finally done something for "me", I reached for the soap and glanced in the mirror.  Oh, my GOSH!  Double... double.. GOOD GOSH!  What in the world had happened to me? 

I stared at mascara and eye shadow streaks all down my face, rubbed off makeup exposing my naked face, smushed-crushed bangs sticking to my forehead, and my "Come-here" coral lipstick smeared all over my chin.  I looked like... well... I looked like.. well... I looked like crap!

No wonder that kid at Starbucks looked at me so funny!  No wonder my friend looked at me questioningly!  No wonder I couldn't talk her into a massage!!!  No wonder, indeed!!!

The mirror didn't lie.  It never does.  "Well, what do you do now, Cindy Lou, you fool?"

Nothing... nothing at all, but laugh and crawl out of the bathroom and beg for mercy and a make-over!  Thank goodness this was a long-time, dear, understanding friend who loves me and accepts me for who I am, regardless of what I look like.  We laughed and laughed, and laughed until we cried.  And then, I went home, and I laughed some more.

Now, that I look back at that afternoon of surprises, I can see that I've learned quite a lot about life and massages.  I whole-heartily recommend message therapy by a trained professional. It's a healing experience for body and soul.  Just be prepared, better than I was:

Wear minimal make-up. I had forgotten that you lay face-down which is hard on a made-up face. 

Be aware that you may cry.  I did:  big tears that I couldn't stop.

Afterwards, drink lots of water.   Yes, it makes you go "potty", but that's a good thing.

Then, go straight home.  Do not go into any  Starbuck's.  Do not pass "Go".  Do not go visit a friend.  Go straight home!

And, finally... this is very important... for heaven's sake, before you leave the spa, before you say "good-bye", before you face the world... look in the mirror!!!

Now... go book yourself a massage, and call me afterwards.  I want to hear ALL about it!

Sincerely me,  always me, and re-discovering me...
Cindy Lou

p.s.  
Laugh, laugh, laugh... and, allow others to join in!  It's so much more fun with a buddy! 



@Copyright 2012, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

If Only...

If only...

If only I had time to see,
if  time would wait for me,
then I would, I'm sure
give glory to the Giver.
Give praise for what I see.
Give thanks for all that's given,
but deadlines beckon me.

If only I would stop and listen,
take time so I could hear.
If only life would wait for me,
then I would, I'm sure,
listen to the music
that The Giver has given me.

But friends and family beckon.
Urgent moments drain my all.
So how can I still listen?
Still hear?
How can I see?

For this I should be grateful.
For all I should give praise.
I must take pause,
be still because,
What if...
God hadn't given to me?


Someone once said that the hard times define us, destroy us, or strengthen us.  Think I'll choose two out of those three:  define & strengthen, even though some days I wobble on the brink of disaster.

For me, the brink is built upon exhaustion:  physical and emotional.  For some reason the two go hand in hand, and they dare to pull each other over the edge.   But, like I said, I will choose to be defined or strengthened... not destroyed, for once destroyed, I cannot go back and try again.

Someone once said, "when you fall out of the saddle, climb back on it."  So, I do.  And, I have.  And now I ask just how many MORE times do I have to do that?  The answer is, of course... every time.  Every bloomin', every stinkin', every cotton-pickin' time!

Alas, if only I were "perfect".  If only I could enjoy all the "saddle rides", and if only I could enjoy the view from the "edge of brink".  Seems to me that these "if only's" are mere excuses for not doing what should be done.  They waste time.  They waste energy.  And they consume a part of me that is needed elsewhere.

So, I shall cease balking.  I shall quit procrastinating.  I shall stop whining.  I shall, and I will.  I will because it's all so much easier to handle when I take time, when I make time to be still... and to know God.

King David once wrote, "Commit your way to the Lord;  trust in him and he will do this:  He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.  Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him."  --Psalm 37:5-7

This is the way I look at it:  since this was the answer for King David, a mighty warrior and successful leader of tens of thousands, then why shouldn't it be the answer for me, a mere saddle-sore woman???  It's something to think about, for certain.

As I sign off and leave my desk, I go to get defined or strengthened, to find the music, to enjoy the view, and... just to be still, very, very still.

Thank you, God... for all you have given.

Sincerely,

Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Peanut Butter Crispies

Here's a fall snack that's extremely easy to prepare.  My suggestion:  buy 2 boxes of Rice Chex cereal because these disappear before you know it!

1 cup white Karo syrup
1 cup white granulated sugar
1 cup peanut butter, creamy or crunchy
1 box Rice Chex cereal


Simplest Directions:  melt the sugar, syrup & peanut butter in a big sauce pan.   Add cereal.  Stir until coated.  Pour out in mounds.  Let cool.

My Way:  Pour out half the cereal into a large mixing bowl.  In sauce pan, combine karo syrup and sugar until melted together.  Stir in peanut butter until well blended. Pour half of peanut butter syrup over cereal.  Quickly add remaining cereal, then syrup mixture.  Stir until cereal is coated. Scoop spoonful sizes onto wax paper.  Let cool.  Store in airtight container to stay fresh.


This is a delicious light snack that my niece shared at our family reunion.  It's very difficult to eat just one, so beware... it is addictive!

@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Will I Wake Up?

Question #1:  Will I wake up?
Answer:  Yes.
My Reply: Great!

Question #2:  If so, will I still be me?
Answer:  Yes.
Reply:  Darn.

I did wake up after a successful surgery.  The wearing-out body has been repaired, and I am on the mend, just about ready to take on the world.  But before I do, I have to figure out which "world" it will be. Will it be my "old world", the things I did prior to surgery, or will it be the "new world", the things yet to be discovered and experienced?

I had hoped that when I awakened after surgery, that I would be a blessedly different woman:  forty pounds lighter, twenty years younger, and ten times smarter would have been lovely.  I thought it possible that my vocal range might even increase an octave or two and that the novel brewing inside of me just might emerge, finally.  I dreamed that I just might wake up as a new, exciting woman... maybe even one that is mysterious and enticing, so much so that reporters clamor to ask me questions about who I am and photographers anxiously await my appearance, hoping to frame a snippet of me that no one else has ever seen.

That was the desired outcome.  It didn't happen.  There were no photographers, no reporters, no paparazzi.  I am not younger:  I actually am older.  I have not lost forty pounds:  maybe four.  I am not mysterious:  I am, pretty much, an open book, and certainly the idea of writing a novel must have been propelled by pain medications, or by the pain itself.  I don't know where that idea came from.

But, I did wake up, and I did wake up "blessed"...that, I know.  The desired changes didn't happen.  I am still "me", and "me" is what I have to work with.  So, I'm just going to have to get over my disappointment, trust God, deal with the reality, and change my attitude.  And, who knows... someday, I may give them something to write about, after all.

So, let's start over...

Question #1:  Will I wake up?
Answer:  Yes.
My Reply: Great!

Question #2:  If so, will I still be me? 
Answer:  Yes. 
Reply:  How about that... let's celebrate!

Look out world, old & new... here I come!

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou



@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

September

September

Temperatures drop.
Tempers cool.
Dust rides the breeze.
Summer's scorn still scorches
Earth, lakes...memories.

Grasslands beg for mercy.
Sun-dried soil's too dry to weep.
But, I believe in Texas
September does not sleep.

Press on, my state of Texas.
Oh, bend your stubborn knees.
Seek him who sends September...
Seek him who never sleeps.

Oh, long, long sought September...
Send rain, stop drought,
Break heat.
Oh, God, who sends September...
Restore, remember... me.
             --Cindy Lou Hodges

                          
One of the worst droughts in history is plaguing  my home state of Texas.  Record heat waves of temperatures 100 degrees or higher wreck havoc upon health, agriculture and ranching industries.  For nature, there is no escape from the sweltering heat, other than rain... blessed rain.  Let us return to our roots of faith, as we fall down in prayer and humbly ask God to send us rain... sweet, blessed rain.  

Praise God from whom all blessings flow!  Blessed be the name of the Lord...!

    
                 
                        __________________________________________

                                            SCRIPTURE REFRENCES

"Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed.  The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.  Elias was a man subject to like passions as we are, and he prayed earnestly that it might not rain:  and it rained not on the earth by the space of three years and six months.  And he prayed again, and the heaven gave rain, and the earth brought forth her fruit."
--Holy Bible, James 5:16-18

"For the eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and his ears are open unto their prayers:  but the face of the Lord is against them that do evil."
--Holy Bible, I Peter 3:12

"And I say unto you, Ask and it shall be given you;  seek and ye shall find;  knock, and it shall be opened unto you."  --Holy Bible, Luke 11:9

                        __________________________________________


@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.