The Front Porch Swing

[Blooie]

Is it this turtle shaped ottoman I'm sitting on? It's sort of uncomfortable.

Um, not unless you have a very, VERY tiny hiney....he's just a little dude yet. We kept him hidden under a bucket for a time. No, I don't know where the turtle shaped ottoman came from, but it sure looks more comfy than this overturned bucket!

 

[vehve]

Quote: I think I'm about a 34" waist. Hey, is this ottoman supposed to be moving? I thought I was sitting over there by the fireplace.

 

[Alice28]

Um, not unless you have a very, VERY tiny hiney....he's just a little dude yet.  We kept him hidden under a bucket for a time.  No, I don't know where the turtle shaped ottoman came from, but it sure looks more comfy than this overturned bucket!

One of my daycare kid snuck in m&ms in her pocket yesterday! Maybe she snuck out the turtle hehe

 

[MistyMountain]

Wooooops. Sorry I left my ottoman sitting around...

(too funny you mention that you were sitting by the fireplace... This ottoman was my grandfathers and I used to sit on it in front of his fireplace at Christmas time!!)

 

[Alice28]

Wooooops. Sorry I left my ottoman sitting around...

(too funny you mention that you were sitting by the fireplace... This ottoman was my grandfathers and I used to sit on it in front of his fireplace at Christmas time!!)

That is adorable! Ahhhhh!

 

[LindaB220]

I digitally painted that for my husband. It's his mom who passed away last year. He had no recent pictures of her, except ones of her in the nursing home in bed. She was bedridden for years..

I need to pick up my pencil again, it's been too long. I've worked from home on and off as an artist for hire and it really kills your creativity. Last year I had taken it to the next level and registered myself as a sole proprietor. Never again. Not worth the head ache.

It's hard once you replace art out of love with art for money.. every time you 're making something that little voice in your mind asks "Is this going to make us money?" I just stopped altogether, couldn't stand it anymore. I sold all my supplies, except for my digital tablet.

What a wonderful gesture to your husband. I bet he was stunned.

 

[lazy gardener]

Maybe the turtle crawled in the plant pot... with the spider plant. The evenings have been a bit cooler.

 

[Blooie]

Well since everyone has pulled up a bucket, a stool, or a turtle ottoman, it might be time for a Blooie story. I never listen to the radio when I'm driving. It makes me crazy! But Ken drove the van last and I was running a little late for a council meeting. I jumped in the van and headed for town hall, thinking about the meeting instead of the fact that that annoying piece of electronic gear was turned to an oldies station. It's just a few blocks from the house and just as I parked the car one particular song came on the radio. My hand froze on it's way to turn of the ignition switch...

I don't have a lot of happy high school memories, but it is so true that hearing a song can make a memory suddenly leap into your mind with amazing clarity. I dropped out of high school right after my 16th birthday. I turned 16 December 29th, during Christmas break, and never went back. Then in March I met Ken, and 6 days later I had my diamond. We were inseparable for that short time while he was home on leave from Viet Nam, but my dad said that if it was meant to be, it would survive the time we were apart when he went back to Nam.
Mom, my sisters and I were fixing Thanksgiving dinner that November when the phone rang. It was for me. I remember every word of that conversation.

"Diane *****?"
"Yes, this is Diane."
"This is Bill Proctor, DJ at KISD radio. How're ya doing today?"
I was totally puzzled. "Oh, fine."
"Well, I just wanted to make sure that your radio dial is set for KISD tonight about 6:30. Can you do that?"
"I guess so, but why?"
"Can't tell you that," said the DJ, "But I promise you won't be sorry." Well, I agreed, even though at the time I was working part time with the rival rock and roll station in Sioux Falls. I told Ma, "Okay, this has to be a joke and I'll bet Phil Huer (the DJ I worked for) is behind it."

We ate dinner around 4:30 and my sister Linda had to remind me to bring the radio into the kitchen and turn it on while we cleaned up. We suffered through some bad programming, Dad grousing about the kind of music kids listened to then, and then we heard:

"Diane, I hope you're out there listening. I got a special MARS radio call this morning from a young man in ChuLai, Viet Nam, and he told me about some special plans the two of you have for the spring. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

I don't know why I thought he could see me nod. I was in my kitchen and he was in the studio. Duh, Diane!
He went on to say, "He asked me to do him a favor and made a request for a special song. I'm proud to be part of this and to play this for you now, with love from Ken."
And my entire family sat in teary silence while the Mamas and Papas sang, "Dedicated to the One I Love."
When it was over, Dad stood up, cleared his throat and said, "I think it might be 'meant to be' after all."

I still remember exactly the smell of the Palmolive dish soap in the sink where the stubborn roasting pan was soaking. the tinkling sound of the dried silverware being put away, and the low murmurs of Ma's and Dad's voices in the living room every time I hear that song. I remember that the kitchen was still warm from having the oven on all day, and my littlest sister Bev was trying to sneak the flaky crust off the edges of the leftover pumpkin pie instead of wrapping it in foil and putting it in the fridge..
And I remember how it felt when love was young. Forty seven years later, the love has a slightly different, more comfortable feel to it, but just for the 3 minutes of that song, I am 16, in love, and a little scared all over again. I felt it again tonight while I sat in the parking lot in a small town in Wyoming, late for a meeting and not caring one bit.

 

[Alice28]

Well since everyone has pulled up a bucket, a stool, or a turtle ottoman, it might be time for a Blooie story. I never listen to the radio when I'm driving. It makes me crazy! But Ken drove the van last and I was running a little late for a council meeting. I jumped in the van and headed for town hall, thinking about the meeting instead of the fact that that annoying piece of electronic gear was turned to an oldies station. It's just a few blocks from the house and just as I parked the car one particular song came on the radio. My hand froze on it's way to turn of the ignition switch...
[TR]
[COLOR=000000]I don't have a lot of happy high school memories, but it is so true that hearing a song can make a memory suddenly leap into your mind with amazing clarity. I dropped out of high school right after my 16th birthday. I turned 16 December 29th, during Christmas break, and never went back. Then in March I met Ken, and 6 days later I had my diamond. We were inseparable for that short time while he was home on leave from Viet Nam, but my dad said that if it was meant to be, it would survive the time we were apart when he went back to Nam. Mom, my sisters and I were fixing Thanksgiving dinner that November when the phone rang. It was for me. I remember every word of that conversation.
"Diane *****?" "Yes, this is Diane." "This is Bill Proctor, DJ at KISD radio. How're ya doing today?" I was totally puzzled. "Oh, fine." "Well, I just wanted to make sure that your radio dial is set for KISD tonight about 6:30. Can you do that?" "I guess so, but why?" "Can't tell you that," said the DJ, "But I promise you won't be sorry." Well, I agreed, even though at the time I was working part time with the rival rock and roll station in Sioux Falls. I told Ma, "Okay, this has to be a joke and I'll bet Phil Huer (the DJ I worked for) is behind it."
We ate dinner around 4:30 and my sister Linda had to remind me to bring the radio into the kitchen and turn it on while we cleaned up. We suffered through some bad programming, Dad grousing about the kind of music kids listened to then, and then we heard:
"Diane, I hope you're out there listening. I got a special MARS radio call this morning from a young man in ChuLai, Viet Nam, and he told me about some special plans the two of you have for the spring. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
I don't know why I thought he could see me nod. I was in my kitchen and he was in the studio. Duh, Diane! He went on to say, "He asked me to do him a favor and made a request for a special song. I'm proud to be part of this and to play this for you now, with love from Ken." And my entire family sat in teary silence while the Mamas and Papas sang, "Dedicated to the One I Love." [/COLOR] [COLOR=000000]When it was over, Dad stood up, cleared his throat and said, "I think it might be 'meant to be' after all."
I still remember exactly the smell of the Palmolive dish soap in the sink where the stubborn roasting pan was soaking. the tinkling sound of the dried silverware being put away, and the low murmurs of Ma's and Dad's voices in the living room every time I hear that song. I remember that the kitchen was still warm from having the oven on all day, and my littlest sister Bev was trying to sneak the flaky crust off the edges of the leftover pumpkin pie instead of wrapping it in foil and putting it in the fridge.. And I remember how it felt when love was young. Forty seven years later, the love has a slightly different, more comfortable feel to it, but just for the 3 minutes of that song, I am 16, in love, and a little scared all over again. I felt it again tonight while I sat in the parking lot in a small town in Wyoming, late for a meeting and not caring one bit.[/COLOR]
[/TR]

What a wonderful storey ! Music can sure bring back memories and what a nice one

 

[perchie.girl]

Well since everyone has pulled up a bucket, a stool, or a turtle ottoman, it might be time for a Blooie story. I never listen to the radio when I'm driving. It makes me crazy! But Ken drove the van last and I was running a little late for a council meeting. I jumped in the van and headed for town hall, thinking about the meeting instead of the fact that that annoying piece of electronic gear was turned to an oldies station. It's just a few blocks from the house and just as I parked the car one particular song came on the radio. My hand froze on it's way to turn of the ignition switch...

I don't have a lot of happy high school memories, but it is so true that hearing a song can make a memory suddenly leap into your mind with amazing clarity. I dropped out of high school right after my 16th birthday. I turned 16 December 29th, during Christmas break, and never went back. Then in March I met Ken, and 6 days later I had my diamond. We were inseparable for that short time while he was home on leave from Viet Nam, but my dad said that if it was meant to be, it would survive the time we were apart when he went back to Nam.
Mom, my sisters and I were fixing Thanksgiving dinner that November when the phone rang. It was for me. I remember every word of that conversation.

"Diane *****?"
"Yes, this is Diane."
"This is Bill Proctor, DJ at KISD radio. How're ya doing today?"
I was totally puzzled. "Oh, fine."
"Well, I just wanted to make sure that your radio dial is set for KISD tonight about 6:30. Can you do that?"
"I guess so, but why?"
"Can't tell you that," said the DJ, "But I promise you won't be sorry." Well, I agreed, even though at the time I was working part time with the rival rock and roll station in Sioux Falls. I told Ma, "Okay, this has to be a joke and I'll bet Phil Huer (the DJ I worked for) is behind it."

We ate dinner around 4:30 and my sister Linda had to remind me to bring the radio into the kitchen and turn it on while we cleaned up. We suffered through some bad programming, Dad grousing about the kind of music kids listened to then, and then we heard:

"Diane, I hope you're out there listening. I got a special MARS radio call this morning from a young man in ChuLai, Viet Nam, and he told me about some special plans the two of you have for the spring. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

I don't know why I thought he could see me nod. I was in my kitchen and he was in the studio. Duh, Diane!
He went on to say, "He asked me to do him a favor and made a request for a special song. I'm proud to be part of this and to play this for you now, with love from Ken."
And my entire family sat in teary silence while the Mamas and Papas sang, "Dedicated to the One I Love."
When it was over, Dad stood up, cleared his throat and said, "I think it might be 'meant to be' after all."

I still remember exactly the smell of the Palmolive dish soap in the sink where the stubborn roasting pan was soaking. the tinkling sound of the dried silverware being put away, and the low murmurs of Ma's and Dad's voices in the living room every time I hear that song. I remember that the kitchen was still warm from having the oven on all day, and my littlest sister Bev was trying to sneak the flaky crust off the edges of the leftover pumpkin pie instead of wrapping it in foil and putting it in the fridge..
And I remember how it felt when love was young. Forty seven years later, the love has a slightly different, more comfortable feel to it, but just for the 3 minutes of that song, I am 16, in love, and a little scared all over again. I felt it again tonight while I sat in the parking lot in a small town in Wyoming, late for a meeting and not caring one bit.

Oh Blooie.... sniff sniff.... If you dont write that book I am coming over there and .... and.... sniff sniff....

deb