About Me~, Writing

Where Ya’ll From ?


I just got reminded of something recently . Haven’t thought about it in a while , but some things that got said on the wild and wacky world of FaceBook made me recall it.  Apparently, I have an accent. A Southern one. HA! 🙂 The conversation had started over one of those quizzes that people take on FB. You know the ones I mean; Which color are you?  Can we guess your home state? What magical creature are you? and on it goes.  Well, they had this quiz on there , “Can you translate these southern sayings?” .  So. I’m just going to come right out and say it. I don’t know what people they were talking to but it was NOT anybody from anywhere near the South. I seriously had NEVER heard any of the things they had listed , and don’t know of anyone who has. So in the interest of telling it like it is, let me share with you some true deep South sayin’s.

1. More nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs.

(You’re pretty nervous.)

2. That fence\house\wall is cattywhomped.

(It’s crooked. )

3. Those two just do not geehaw with one another.

(When a team of animals are taught to pull gee is the command to go left and haw the command to go right, they have to work together to accomplish their task, so this saying means ”They don’t get along.”)

4. Ugly as homemade soap.

(You’re in a bad way ugly)

Somebody whooped you with an ugly stick. ( Same thing)

5. I’m feelin’ so poorly, I’d have to get better to die.

(You’re pretty sick.)

6. His bread’s in the oven , but the gas ain’t on.

Dumber than a bag of hammers.

(Both ways of saying of saying someone is very dumb.)

7. Drunker than Cooter Brown.

(Although I have heard this expression from lots of people I never have learned who Cooter was or why he was so drunk.)

8. Don’t mollycoddle that kid.

(You’re spoiling them, and letting them get away with way too much.)

9, The Good Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.

(Meaning , if it’s supposed to happen it will.)

10. You’re payin’ for your raisin’.

( Your child is just like you, and now you are regretting being such a brat to your parents. )

And so on it goes.  So there’s a taste of something real.  I mean , after all , real Southern accents are made by sweet tea sippin’ , front porch sittin’, magnolia bloomin’, swingin’ slow, muggy hot summers.  I suppose maybe those quiz people were just doing the best they could , “Bless their little ole hearts. ”    😀

About Me~


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They lay in his lap at the end of the day, strong still , even after ten hours of working with hot metal, and heavy wood. The fine lines are stained indelibly now with the grease from the axles of the trailers he manufactures. Fine steel pieces of art to carry gleaming boats out into the water . His hands are fine pieces of art too. Muscles wrapped so tightly around the joints, joints so large that when he holds my hand, I feel like a tiny fairy princess. Hands that allow him to hold a hot piece of metal without flinching , and yet still hold a newborn baby as if it were a treasure untold. These gnarled , knitted sculptures have held back my hair while I was sick , caressed my face when I lay close to death in the hospital, cooked me meals, and bathed me when I was unable to bathe myself. I’ve seen those beautiful hands build a building from the ground to the roof, and at the end of the day , turn the pages on a thick cardboard book to read for the baby. One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. Perhaps they are not the manicured hands of a Wall Street economist, or a million dollar lawyer. The nails are thick and bent. But , I would not trade this pair of hands , or this man; for all the perfectly filed , and filled nails, carefully lotioned and trimmed hands in the world. They are his, and they are beautiful.

About Me~

The Way It Was~


Ending of spring and coming of the summer here in southern Arkansas. I used to love this time of year.(Now to give you an idea of the area where we live and how rural it is, I didn’t realize this, at the time, when I was growing up in the 1980’s , 90’s , that our area really ran about 30 years culturally behind from everywhere else. Now with the availability of the internet , and all, and everyone pretty much having it , we are maybe only 5 years behind , but you get the idea. ) When I was a kid, we had a party line telephone way longer than anyone else. We walked where we went, or biked, or rode our horses. I had two girlfriends that lived 2 miles down the road from me one way, and two boy “friends” who lived down the road two miles the other direction, and we spent every minute of every summer together. We tore down the road screaming at the top our lungs to the river just a hop skip and a jump from any of our houses, and spent our days getting so burned, mosquito bitten and water logged, that we couldn’t wait to do it again the next day. We didn’t have cell phones for our parents to call, or to call our other friends. We stayed gone from daylight til dark, and as far as I know , don’t guess our parents worried about anybody carryin’ us off. When we needed spare spending money , we earned it by helping one another’s Grandparents , hauling hay into the back of old Chevys , drinking ice cold cokes out of the beat up cooler Uncle Cecil threw in the back. Or working for Granny Jo, standing barefooted in the garden picking green beans until our fingers were just as green as the beans themselves. Shucking corn, covering ourselves in the silk of those golden rods like some kind of Central American princesses with tangled woven necklaces, we ‘d throw ourselves up in the hay loft when we were through, and work out our plans for the next day. The boys would walk home to their house, and if we had the strength we’d go into bed, and if we didn’t we’d just sleep in the loft. You don’t know at the time that it is the magic time of your life, that gilt – dipped year that you can never get back. Or maybe you do, and you are just too afraid to speak of it. I got my first “real ” job not long after that, when I was 13. Waitressing. I met people from other places. “Real ” towns. Big towns. I heard that tone in their voice when they heard my accent. I didn’t realize at the time that it was condescension. That they thought I was just a hillbilly. A redneck child who knew no better than to think that my world was all there was. But now that I know, I am not angry. I only feel sorry that they feel that their life IS all that matters. That they will never know the feel of fresh tilled garden dirt underneath their feet. Or the joy of ice cold river water on hay-burnt , mosquito-bitten skin. I wouldn’t trade my corner of the world for theirs, or the way it was back then, for anything.

About Me~



Use what talent you possess: The woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those that sang the best. ~ Henry Van Dyke

I like to sing. I don’t know that I’m any good at it, but I enjoy it. I especially like turning the radio up loud when I’m in the car by myself, and just letting it all go. I know the people at stop lights probably wonder if I’m cleared to drive, but hey, life is too short to worry about what the person in the next car thinks, right? Music is good for the soul, they say, and I have found that to be true. When I don’t feel well, I love turning the music channel on the t.v. and listening to depressing songs. Sounds weird probably, but it helps me feel better. Hearing other people sing about how their life sucks just kind of makes you realize that maybe yours isn’t so bad. I had never seen the above quote before today. I think it’s great, though. I wish more people felt like that. When I was little my dad used to take me out in the woods a lot. I loved sitting with him and listening to all the sounds of the outdoors. I hadn’t really thought about what the forest would sound like if only the best birds sang. You don’t really imagine one bird saying to another, “Geez, Bill, you are SO off-key! What is with you?!? Thinking you can sing and crap? Get real!” No, I guess they are probably all just happy with what the Good Lord gave them, and just happy with the fact that they didn’t get eaten overnight or anything. If we were more grateful for the small things in life, we might have more to sing about……..Hmmmmm…..well, I didn’t get eaten overnight……believe I’ll sing! 🙂

About Me~

Play On~


Life is like playing a violin solo in public, and learning the instrument as one goes on. ~ Samuel Butler

Life is what happens while we are making other plans. ~ John Lennon

When we are young we hear our parents or maybe our grandparents say things like this. Life isn’t fair. Or, life doesn’t turn out the way we plan. Or life doesn’t play favorites. And when we are young and strong and full of energy and good health, we look at them with our heads slightly turned, and maybe roll our eyes a little when they look away. As in, “They are old. What could they possibly know?” We are in those glorious teenage years and know all there is to know about living, and people, and the world around us, and think , “Nothing can touch me!” Then suddenly we are grown and employed and parents . We have bills, and children , and homes to keep up. Then the worst happens. Our own bodies fail us. The very immune systems set up to watch over our health suddenly go rogue and turn into vampiric assassins of all that we hold dear. Our lungs, heart, liver, kidneys, blood, skin, bones and anything else you can think of become daily snack food for this leech of a disease. It’s lupus and it’s not anything you can ever be schooled for. No matter what your parents tell you growing up, you are never prepared for something like this. It really is like performing a solo in public, on an instrument that you don’t know how to play. And no matter how much you wish it, you can’t get off the stage . You just have to keep playing. Maybe you hit some of the notes, and maybe you don’t. Hopefully, though, by the end, I will have learned the song well enough to teach the next student in line, and help them play a little better.

About Me~, Uncategorized

Forever and a Day~


Well, It is the 11th day of March and my first day to post in 2013! It seems like forever and a day since I’ve posted! This has been a very rough year for me so far. Lupus has been kicking my tuckus.   How are you all? Is the new year going to suit you? How in the world have you all been?!? I feel like I have dropped off the face of the earth! It’s good to be back in the blogosphere as they say! I hope you are all doing well, or as well as you can. 

  My health had been great ! I suppose that must be one of THE most frustrating things about lupus EVER. To be fine, and then BAM! You just wake up and have to start all over again from scratch.  I just had a three year remission period , with NO medications needed.  It was fab.  I was able to really get out of the house , I was even able to go with my kiddos to activities, and lost a ton of weight. Yay, me! 

  But , starting late summer 2012 , I really started to go downhill again. I had to go back on chemotherapy, and steroids.  These were the drugs that sent me into remission before so we had no reason to think that it wouldn’t work this time. Well, surprise.  Chemotherapy not only decided to make me seriously sick  ( crazy nausea, anyone?) , but it didn’t help the lupus any either.  My rheumatologist told me about this fairly new treatment called Benlysta, and thought that I might be  a very good candidate for it. 

So after much paper work and waiting , I got approved and had my first infusion today. Tomorrow, I’m going to post about the whole process, and how it all went, but for today, I’m just checking in with you all, and saying hello , my old friends, glad to be back “home”. Much love, and as always, ((HUGS)) Ruby

About Me~, Poetry

In This Moment~

Death. It has a funny way of making us think of the past , present, and future, all at the same time. The should haves, the I’m going tos , and the what -could- have beens.
Death is a difficult topic. People don’t like to think about it. We humans are funny that way. We do that whole ostrich thing. You know the one I mean , “If can’t see IT then maybe that means it can’t see ME, and will go away.” Of course we all know that this doesn’t actually work for us any better than it does for the ostrich, but it helps us deal sometimes, I guess. The process of death and burial also comes with a whole host of familial and financial obligations as well. I think of the plans each person should make before they die. Not just the spiritual side of things, because that, obviously is the most important, but the physical side. Now, what I am about to say is my own opinion, please take it as that, and NOT a comment on the way any one else feels. This is JUST me. I don’t want a funeral. I don’t go to funerals. I am not afraid of death or dying, that is not the reason. I just want to remember the people I knew as they were when they were living, and not remember them in a casket. I’m sure I will receive a lot of flak for this opinion, as some of my own family think I am sacrilegous. I know I am not alone in my view of this , though, as my husband feels the same. He does not wish for people to say words over his dead body. I know death and dying is a very sensitive subject for some people, but really it is a part of life, and will eventually come to us all. I say this not to be a Negative Nelly, but to provoke thought. I guess the best way to say it is to leave you with the words of my Grandpa. “Give me my roses while I still live. Everybody who cares about me, REALLY cares about me, comes to see me now. If you don’t come to see me while I’m livin’ , don’t bother to come to my funeral.” Here is a poem I wrote after Grandpa told me that. I may have this printed as my obituary in the paper.
In This Moment~

Give me my roses , while I yet live,
Don’t leave them on my tomb.
Bring me the flowers, to share with you,
When I still can smell the blooms.
For a visit now, is worth much more,
Than one when I am gone,
So give me my roses , while I still live,
Don’t place them on my stone.


I hope I haven’t offended anyone, as this was not my intent. This is after all an opinion forum, and the opinions here are my own, and not meant to harm. I only wish to help people remember, death is really not far away for any of us. Please let the people you care about , know now how you feel, and don’t wait until you stand over a cold stone to say the words we that we all most long to hear,