With the Grace of God...: Where I Come From

I've already become a slacker on my new blog - it's true, but with good reason. Unfortunately, all I can say about that reason is my life in surprisingly hectic for someone without a full-time job!

On that same note, I have to say that a lot of the time, the "hectic-ness" is usually brought on by my own anxiety and panicky nature:( It's not ideal, but it is a great introduction to what I've been thinking about recently. The other day, I was driving down the road in worry mode - I can't even remember about what. I just remember making my mind stop racing for just a moment to think about what a very wise person told me years ago: When you start to worry and panic, determine what the real issue is that is motivating the worry, and then decide if it is worth the trouble of overanalyzing or has your mind blown it out of proportion. 9 times out of 10, my mind has automatically made a mountain...

The real point I'm making (and don't worry the point is not that I'm a worry wort) is that my character traits - good and bad - are part of my personality and are inherited! Yes, I have stretched my introduction clear across topics to show you my origins:) So badly I want to tell you that I have a "Dear Photograph" photo to share, but sadly I wasn't thinking at the time and didn't take the perfect opportunity while at my Granny's house a few weeks ago. In fact, for some reason and not because we ever do this, my Mom pulled out the photo books and we sat on Granny's couch for probably two hours looking through the 50+ year old photos. Some of which were of my Papa and his family standing around the yard on a Sunday, in the shade, playing croquet. I'll even admit that I thought "I know my uncle is going to pull out the mallets and ball at any moment, and I should get a photo of that so that the next generation can see that the tradition survived"...BUT I did not think to make a "Dear Photograph" photo.

I can't show photos of the boys of my family standing around in Granny's yard playing croquet anyway, because I haven't asked for their permission, but I did take some photos that represent where I come from...

This garage, though I don't think it has always been this bright of a color, is where my Papa fixed and improved all sorts of gadgets that he found. It's also where he did all his wood working. I can remember when I was very young and into Cabbage Patch dolls, and he made me a bed for each of them, and I got to help! I didn't take a photo of the basement where he also spent a lot of time with all of his many collections of bottles and vintage toys, because it has changed into a game room since he passed away in 2006.

This photo makes me chuckle - mainly because that's a straw in the poured beer, but I can't say that this represents where I came from, because I don't remember a lot of drinking while visiting the grandparents'.

Again, I've never seen this set-up before, but it definitely didn't surprise me to see it there. This is a homemade chicken spit! The container: an old, rusted barrel with an electronic spit attached somehow to continuously turn the chicken. I have to say, when I first saw it I was impressed with my uncle's ingenuity, but I was glad there were plenty of side dishes to go with the chicken. Once I tried it I was more impressed by the juiciest, most flavorful chicken I think I've ever had!