Thank You Momma

It's almost Mother's Day again. I see the influx of hanging baskets and potted plants at the grocery store with the pastel ribbons. The greeting card racks are overflowing.  And in a few days, desperation shopping in the "As Seen On TV" section of Wal Mart will be in full swing.  

 


As a child we spent many a Mother's Day with my paternal Grandmother, going to her tiny Methodist Church in her tiny town. Every year was exactly the same.  Everyone wearing a flower, red if your mother was still alive and white if she had gone on to be with Jesus. My poor Daddy got a severe tongue lashing one year when he wore what my Grandmother considered a pink flower - she took that to mean that he thought her half dead. (But that is another post all by itself.) And then there was the recognition of the oldest, youngest and newest mothers followed by all the children in the congregation lining up in front of the alter to sing the M-O-T-H-E-R song. 

M...is for the many things she gave me 

O...means only that she's growing old 

T...is for the tears she shed to save me 

H...is for her heart of purest gold 

E...is for her eyes, with love-light shining 

R...means right, and right she'll always be 

Put them all together, they spell "mother"

...a word that means the world to me


I always felt uncomfortable about the O part.  It just didn't seem right to point out that the mothers were getting older.  It especially bothers me now since I am that "growing older" mother.  

But this post is not about mothers or the trappings of one day a year.  It's about my Momma.  

Hardly a day passes when I don't think of a gift Momma gave me or something wonderful she taught me and I am so thankful.  Our family was not Norman Rockwell perfect but Momma made every birthday special, sometimes spending weeks planning the theme, making the party favors, decorations and invitations by hand - long before there was a Martha Stewart or Pinterest.  And the homemade birthday cakes were legendary - from a rocket ship in the year of the moon walk to a ladies hat for a dress up tea party.  

But this time of year I am always thankful for the way she taught me to love a garden and all the things in it.   She taught me to grow flowers and trees - which ones need light and which ones need shade, which ones bloom in spring and which ones bloom all summer, in short, how to create another home outside.  

To enjoy the quiet of a garden, that is one of the best gifts from Momma. And one I never grow tired of sharing with her.  To sit quietly with a cup of coffee and take in all the wonders of creation.  To see God in all of it.  To embrace the renewal and the hope and the promise of a garden. To be thankful.

Last week as we sat and watched the birds feeding in my backyard she said, "How could anyone really look at a bird building a nest and not believe in God?" Good question Momma.  Another gift.  

Please Lord let me remember to be thankful everyday for the blessing that is my Momma.    

Happy Mother's Day, Momma.  

Being a Steel Magnolia is Serious Business.



The Inside-N-Out in McRae, GA.

Small business is our family business.  From accounting to decorating to cooking for the masses, my family has always owned and operated small businesses in small south Georgia towns. 

This is my Momma's shop in McRae, GA.  I wish I had the before pictures to show you how ten years ago she transformed a tiny old house just across the street from the courthouse into this charming and inviting store . 

Besides being the best gift store and bridal and baby registry for local folks, the Inside-N-Out has many customers that stop by on their way to the beautiful Golden Isles of Georgia. And as the name implies, there are great gifts and accessories for your home and garden - inside and out.

New offering! Phickles made in Athens, GA.





Love having Georgia products like Phickles!

The Inside-N-Out loves to showcase and offer Georgia products like Phickles, delicious pickled okra, green tomatoes, carrots and green beans made in Athens, Georgia and recently featured in Garden and Gun Magazine and Atlanta Journal and Constitution.

And if all this shopping makes you hungry, you are in luck because my sister has a wonderful country buffet restaurant just around the corner.

The Depot was founded on the concept of good southern food EVERYDAY!  There is an Erma Bombeck quote that sums up The Depot experience, "I come from a family where gravy is considered a beverage."  And the family tradition continues Sunday through Friday at The Depot in McRae with fried chicken, rice and gravy, cornbread dressing, fruit cobbler, biscuits, cornbread and seasonal vegetables like fried green tomatoes, green beans, squash, butterbeans, peas, corn, okra and whatever else is in the garden. YUM! 

And did I mention that every Thursday is BBQ day at The Depot?  Yep, she smokes chickens, ribs and Boston butts all night every Wednesday.  

I am so proud of my Momma and my sister because they embody everything good about the American South.  They are my favorite Steel Magnolias.

Always Laugh When You Can.

My Momma is amazing.  She has always been her own woman, a tower of strength physically and emotionally and a soft spoken warrior when the requisite situation arose. Petite, blue eyed, blond and beautiful, many a man has been surprised at her knowledge of carpentry, plumbing, finance and politics.  She is savvy and understated - a deadly combination if your are negotiating with her.

My sister and I inherited her work ethic and ingenuity, if not her quite demeanor, and the older we get, the more we appreciate her genetic gifts and her maternal skills. 

For almost seven decades, Momma enjoyed excellent health, but in the last couple of years she become all too familiar with physicians, hospitals, physical therapy, pharmacies and the wonderful world of Medicare.  Thankfully, as I remind her often, her illnesses, while quite serious have all been of a manageable and/or curable nature.  It reminds me of that old southern saying, "If your problems can be solved with money, you don't have any problems,"  but I digress, AGAIN.

Anyway, Momma's new health status created some changes for all of us but some of those changes have been for the better.  My sister and I talk to each other more often and the bond between us is stronger than ever.  While others may come and go, sisters are the only girlfriends that you will have from cradle to grave. And I see Momma and my sister more often now (they live in the same town), even if it is to go to doctor appointments. 

In fact, the last trip to a doctor is why I am writing this post now.  Momma's appointment this time was in Macon, halfway between my house and where they live, so we took the opportunity to spend that day together.  It was also the day before my sister's birthday so she got to make all the decisions about where we would shop, visit and most importantly EAT.   

We talked and teased each other as we always do, but all day we laughed more, and harder, and louder than I ever remember. You know that kind of  nearly hysterical laughter when you can't catch your breath and you think you might wet your pants?  It was like that.  I loved every minute and although I was bone tired and ready to get to my bed, when it came time to go our separate ways, my heart nearly broke.  I didn't want it to be over. 

Then this morning I stumbled upon this quote from Lord Byron and it seemed to sum up that lovely day so well that I just had to share.

Always laugh when you can.  It is cheap medicine. - Lord Byron

My, how you talk...

I met a wonderful gentleman recently. We had exchanged some electronic communication but we had never met personally. As I shook his hand and said "Hello" he gave me the nicest compliment by saying to me, "I have just discovered the greatest drawback to Twitter. There is no way to capture that charming accent."

Now I realize that there is no way to capture my accent on this blog either. My hands will surely not hold out for me to type the way I talk. For you see all my words are looooong and sloooooow. Even the short ones.

My southern drawl is so strong that when I made my way from south Georgia to the big city as a college student, the folks from Atlanta thought I was "puttin' on." In fact, at my first collegiate football party, one student asked me to sit by his parents at lunch so they could "hear me talk".  I was amazed - they were born and raised in Atlanta for goodness sake, not New York City.

I soon learned that it was not just my accent that my new city dwelling friends found entertaining but the southern sayings that were then and are still part of my everyday speech. With just a few words, wonderful pictures come to mind and make your point.  A few of my favorites are:

Go whole hog.

Hollar like a stuck pig.

Even a blind hog finds an acorn now and then.

Useless as teats on a boar hog.

You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.

(Have you noticed that I am a BIG fan of pigs? I love to cook and eat them!)

In high cotton.

The sun don't shine on the same dog's tail all the time. (My Daddy used to say this ALL THE TIME.)

Either fish or cut bait.

What are your favorite southern sayings and what memories do they bring to mind?

 

Too Much Pumpkin For A Nickel.

I love this old Southern saying.  Of course to everyone else it means that something is more trouble than it's worth.  But to me it conjures up a wonderful childhood memory and a foretelling of the woman I would become.

It was a grand fall day, perfect for a road trip to the North Georgia mountains in search of fall leaves, Indian corn and fresh pressed apple cider.  I was only about 5 years old but there are parts of that day that I recall so vividly I can almost be transformed back in time.  

 Momma and Daddy were notorious for taking off on a whim.  They loved all things beautiful, unusual and old so no country store, antique/junk shed or road side vegetable stand was too far off the beaten path for exploration.  At the beginning of the day Daddy gave me a dollar bill.  Now that was when a dollar was a dollar. I was RICH! 

About lunchtime that day we passed an old general store with a hand painted sign advertising homemade fried apple pies.  Without any discussion, because none was necessary, Daddy wheeled that big Chevy into the dirt parking lot and Momma got ready to spread our lunch on one of the picnic tables.  Our lunch on these car trips ALWAYS consisted of ham sandwiches on white bread, a bag of potato chips and a LARGE red and white thermos filled with grape Kool-Aid. ALWAYS. I refer to it as the 60s version of the Happy Meal.

Anyway, once I had eaten enough of my sandwich to garner permission for dessert, we went for the fried pies.  And yes, those pies were just as good as you are imagining right now.  But as good as that fried pie was to me, it was nothing compared to what I spotted on the store counter next to the old brass cash register. The Great Pumpkin of Charlie Brown lore. It was HUGE.  When I say HUGE, I mean that I thought surely this must be the pumpkin that Cinderella’s fairy godmother used to make her carriage for the ball.  It was perfect. And I wanted it.

So I asked the older gentleman behind the counter, "What would you take for that pumpkin?" because that was how my Daddy always started these kind of conversations.  The old man was startled I think at first and after giving me a good once over look he slyly said, "Well little lady, I am mighty fond of this pumpkin.  How much money do you have?"  I proudly flashed my dollar bill at him and he stifled a laugh and said, "I guess I could let you have it for a dollar."  I was horrified.  He wanted my whole dollar.  Not only would I not be rich anymore but I would be penniless for the rest of the day and I knew there were LOTS of other stops to be made and treasures to be uncovered.  What to do?

"What if I give you half of my dollar?" I said to him.  After giving into a full out belly laugh the old man said, "Deal."  I was delighted.  I would have money and my pumpkin.  I had negotiated my first deal.  

I have no memory of what happened to that pumpkin, although I feel sure we carved it into a jack o lantern for Halloween and Momma made a pie. But I will never forget the ride home that night - my fingers wraped tightly around two quarters in one hand and the other hand resting on my prize pumpkin. 

I like to talk.

Photo by Millie LaMonica

Anyone that knows me at all, knows that I like to talk.  And I talk alot.  I talk more than I should sometimes...well most of the time...ok all the time.

I always have talked alot.  In the first grade under the "Conduct Report" my dear, sweet teacher Mrs. Williams always wrote "talks too much".  It must be a genetic thing because when my oldest daughter was very small we used to give her a quarter for every 5 minutes she could go without saying anything.  We called it the "quiet game".  She didn't get many quarters.  And now her daughter, my precious, flawless, most beautiful granddaughter talks ALL the time too.  Sometimes I wonder if her jaws ache at night from all her talking.  But I never tire of her voice and I am always happy when I hear it. 

So Magnolia Matters is just me "talking" electronically.  Come talk with me.