Thrifty Ideas from A Real Southern Girl

 Hello everyone,
I am so very proud to be a Southern girl. But you must understand-- that's all I know. So, no disrespect intended to anyone that was not born in the South.  I think you should be proud of wherever you are from. I found this saying on Facebook and copied it because I think it sets the tone for my project ideas to come.

Southern Born and Southern Bred, where summer starts in April, front porches are wide & words are long, we don't have fireflies, we have lightning bugs, macaroni & cheese is a vegetable, pecan pie is a staple, ya'll is a proper pronoun, chicken is fried, & biscuits come with gravy, everything is darling & someone is always getting their heart blessed. ......

Ooh, I'm hungry after reading that.  Whew!  This idea has nothing to do with food, it just came out of a need that we had at the time.  Believe it or not, my husband came up with this. (Men can surprise you sometimes.lol 
  
We were having an awful time with leaves blowing in our shop when the garage door was open. I was constantly sweeping and sweeping. (Now you don't want me to have to do that lol)  Joe, my husband,  borrowed a 2' x 6' board from our stock pile of "stuff", cut two "handles" and this is what he came up with.

                                     The first rule--THINK--The second rule--what do I HAVE!

As you can see it lays in front of the door and it works great. Unless the wind is blowing real hard, the leaves stay on the outside instead of blowing inside the shop.

Check this out.  A friend of mine was taking a load of stuff to the Disabled Veterans Thrift Store. She asked if I wanted to go "shopping" through her junk before she let it go for good.  Of course I said, "Yes."  I found a CD rack.  This is what I did with it.

Warning: Grandmother's have brains, too

Hey everyone,
My 12 year old grandson spent the night with us this week-end. I can't remember for sure, but I believe this is the age they start thinking that grown-ups are stupid. He shared with me on Saturday that he still had some homework he needed to get done before Monday.I boldly spoke up, "Is there something Nonnee can do to help you?"

He slowly turned his head and looked up at me through a wall of bangs and rolled his eyes. (I hate the rolling eyes, THAT I do remember) and sweetly said, "That's okay, I'll get my mother to help me, because I've got to write some poems on Microsoft Word."&

I replied, "Oh, I've got Microsoft Word on my computer, maybe I can help you."

"That's okay, Nonee, momma can help me."

Not to be outdone and feeling a little frustrated at this point, I tried another direction with my plea. "Honey, I know a lot more about poems than your mother, (if he only knew how many times I helped her with poetry.) No response. I was feeling a little desperate at this point and chimed in that I took two years of typing in high school. Since this conversation had not yet become a dialogue, I knew I had to get serious and bring out the big guns--the "bragging" gadget. I cleared my throat, put my shoulders back,held my head up high and very meticulously raised my voice a few decibals.

"I use to type 83 words a minute." (My arm was getting sore from patting myself on the back) I knew I was beginning to weaken him when he spoke up.

"But, Nonee, I've got to write a limerick."

I quickly replied, "Oh, that is a funny poem with 5 lines isn't it?" Now, I had his attention. I actually knew what a limerick was. (I was beginning to make some progress now after seeing the surprised look on his face.

"Well, I'm having trouble coming up with one. The 1st, 2nd and 5th line have to rhyme, then the 3rd and 4th have to rhyme."

I said, "Oh, okay, I'll write you one." I sat down at the computer and to prove to him how good I was;I wrote six!

I was super confident and beaming from ear to ear as I walked over to the couch and handed him the list. He quickly read over it and promptly laid the paper on the end table beside him. Then without a word, turned his head and went back to watching television. I walked over to a nearby chair and sat down. Well, I sat there and sat there and sat there, waiting for a response from him.; Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. I asked, "What did you think of Nonee's limericks, did you like any of them?";

"They're okay."; The air completely went out of my balloon. My heart sank.

"Well, which one did you like the best?";

"The one about the pig," he said. Then silence.

It really hurt my pride that my grandson thought I was so dumb. I got on the phone and called my daughter, his mother, and told her to please TELL him that Nonee knows about poetry. She assured me she would.

I still see myself as this sophisticated, young, intelligent grandma.

Okay I admit it, I need an ego booster, my grandson has made me doubt the intelligence I have obtained through my many years of experience. So, please feel free to comment on my limerick.








There once was a pig named Bacon,
His brother lived somewhere in Macon,
His mother was porky,
His daddy was dorky
His sister was single but taken                                                



 

My grandson just thinks I don't know anything.  I just made my mom and dad proud! lol
Until later...
Paula the Hillbilly