Another Favorite: Globes

It was over 10 years ago that I brought home my first vintage metal globe bank. Dub Ingram had the cutest little junk store in an old house on Main Street in Holdenville, and that's where I spotted three globes in a grouping. They were marked $12 each. I took one home that day, then eventually collected the whole trio.

What I love about these metal banks is that they were so common. Most of mine are advertisement pieces, so they were probably given free to customers back in the day (1960s-70s?).

Another thing I love about globes...I'm a peacemaker. I love our earth and all the people on it. Seeing them just reminds me we're all in this thing together.

These days, I collect globes of all sizes, not just banks, but mostly the smaller globes appeal to me. (In other words, I'm running out of room.)

I ordered one from eBay and was especially pleased to find that it was WAY smaller than my smallest globe. I figure it's pretty rare. See him, right there in the middle on the bottom shelf?

Prices on these shabby little globes have steadily gone up since I started collecting them. My rule is $20 or less, and now that I have quite a few,  I have to be sure I don't have the exact globe.

One year I grouped all of them above our mantel in order to make room for the Christmas decor. Vaughn was aggravated when I split them all up again in the spring because he loved the way they looked up there. They DID look awesome as a "club".

Not long ago, I was in Joplin, MO, visiting with friends. Here we are in some funny hats at a super cool antique mall we all loved.

All this to say...this happened to be right after I did Marie Kondo's "tidying up" in my house. I told my friends I would love to go junking with them that day, but wouldn't be bringing anything home because I had just done all this organizing and clearing out of the excess at my house. Well, who was first to claim something for purchase that day? It was me! When a globe is available at a decent price, I just can't resist.

I even use two globe banks in my fourth grade classroom as my bathroom passes. No, they don't take my precious globes to the bathroom with them. If there's a globe on the shelf, students know they can put one on their desk as a sign to me that they're currently away from their desks for personal reasons. Works like a charm.

I got this awesome globe from Kirk at Gatsby's in Wewoka. Not a bank at all, but certainly worthy of my collection. Wonder how many people have a shabby globe with John Glenn's orbit around the earth on it? Very neat!

Collecting Toy Trucks Together

A few years ago, Vaughn and I decided we wanted to start a collection of something. We wanted to collect something we would gather together, which is quite different than it had been before. (He had not been all that interested in my tiny oil cans, plastic reindeer and globes.) Well, that year we opted to collect old toy trucks together, realizing sometimes they're pretty pricey, and sometimes our junking expeditions would be about the thrill of the hunt, and not the number of toy trucks we'd gather.

Off to the junk store I went that Christmas to get Vaughn a truck for under the tree. I was especially hunting a red one. Well, I don't know about you, but when I'm looking for something that's antique, I'm not always able to find it right off. And that's what happened. Instead, right in the place Vaughn's red truck should have been, there sat a PINK pickup truck with a camper. It was Christmas, it was time to get Vaughn his first truck from me, and there I was, WANTING that pink camper, BAD. So, I did what any junker wife would surely do...I bought that pink camper and wrapped it up and hid it under the tree, with a tag that read, "To Tracey, From Vaughn." (I later got on eBay and found a red truck for Vaughn for that Christmas.) But boy, was he surprised when he saw me opening a pink camper from him. 

This pink Tonka with a camper is still a favorite of mine.

We love Buddy L's too.

Wyandotte trucks have such a neat look.

This one is amazing, color-wise. 

This little dump truck was Vaughn's when he was little. 

We've chosen the office to display most of our trucks. So far we have Jeeps, Tonkas, 

Wyandottes, Buddy L's and a few other brands. 

Not sure how many more we'll collect, because we're running out of space. 

Most don't have a purpose, but once in awhile, I put one of these cuties to work, carrying a Christmas tree or ornaments or our remote controls. 

These toy trucks tickle me. They remind me of a time gone-by, when life was simpler. 

I Almost Never Feel Young Anymore

We had planned the roller skating excursion for weeks. I had long anticipated the feeling of being on skates again.

I was a good skater when I was a kid, going to the local rink in Independence, Missouri nearly every week for some of those elementary/junior high years. (Not relevant to the story, but I DID have a slight concussion and spend an entire night in the hospital after a skating fall years ago.)

Vaughn had never been a skater as a kid, so I was quite surprised when he ordered his size 10s at the skate counter.

Putting the skates on didn't frighten me one bit. In fact, it seemed very familiar in a weird way, since it had been about 20 years since I'd been on a pair last.

I have to admit when I first stood up on them and started trying to roll around on the carpet, before entering the rink, I wondered if I could do this thing anymore. I mean, I'm 48 these days. It seemed like I needed more effort to make the wheels go than I had remembered as a youngster.

Fast forward about a minute, the time it took me to get to the entry of the coolest rink ever (Norman Star Skate).

Instantaneously, I transformed into this young girl again, feeling free and fun, giddy and girlish, my hair blowing as I traveled faster than I had even anticipated. I went around the rink once, twice, several more times, then went back to the short wall to see Vaughn and check to see if the grandgirls had arrived. Sure enough, there they came. I kissed Magnolia and helped Cora get her skates on and assisted her on her first ring around the rosy, I mean the rink. Brie came along and we made it around again with Cora in tow. I had found my skating legs again and was loving every minute.

This is where something went bad wrong. I was standing, not moving, along a short wall, visiting mostly. Some friends and I had all stopped to rest/visit while some kind of Hokey Pokey or something like that was going on. Maybe it was the Limbo. (Oh, I used to be good at that too.) I was talking with some friends about the good ol' days of skating and was dragging my skate sideways to show how I used to stop myself. Next thing I know I'm falling, for like forever. I reached out for the short wall and my skates took my legs and bottom half the other direction, pulling my arm really hard. I felt the pain in my arm instantly and couldn't put any weight on it to get myself up. I recovered in a few seconds and was able to stand. For a little while I tried to tell myself I was okay. I swung my arms around and everything seemed okay. I ate some Hot Tamales and drank a root beer while the grandgirls ate their snacks.

As I began to feel more pain when raising my arm, I realized it would be a good idea to get it x-rayed while in a larger town. Vaughn talked me into leaving the skating party then and going on over to Immediate Care to let them check me out. As we drove away I cried a few tears. That feeling of being young again, that fleeting feeling, was gone, gone, gone. That YES feeling was quickly replaced with a NO feeling of humiliation and even stupidity for thinking I could still do an activity from my childhood. I was so sad to leave the party. Magnolia, in Offey's lap, my sons skating and talking, Brie making rounds with Cora, friends laughing and enjoying time together...the time I had so looked forward to.

The results from that day's x-rays came back as no breaks, just a sprain. I got a sling to keep my arm still and took my prescriptions on home. I managed Monday at school with very few problems, although it was quickly apparent I should keep my right elbow stuck to my waist. By no means was I to try to lift my arm up to write on the board or pull or push anything. Late in the day on Monday I got a call from Immediate Care, advising me a second-opinion radiologist had looked over my x-rays and thought something looked suspicious on my shoulder. I have a CT scan set up for Wed. afternoon.

When people at work have asked me what I did to myself (the sling catches a lot of attention), I admit "roller skating". Almost everyone laughs. I figure they're thinking I shouldn't have been on skates at my age. Most everyone has a comment about skating and how dangerous it is.

But me, I secretly dream of the day I can do it again, maybe to a song like "S-A-T-U-R, D-A-Y NIGHT" or "The Locomotion".  I'm thinking it might be worth falling to get that feeling of joy I had before my fall. I mean, I almost never feel young anymore.

Today Takes the Cake

Mrs. Dowell's Five-Flavor Cake

I have written in a diary or journal most of my life. When I started my blog a few years ago, it sort of took the place of a written journal, and for that reason, I just loved it. I loved writing the happenings of my life, even if no one read them. I was inspired by some of the bloggers I was hooked on at the time, and wanted to be as creative in my writing as I found them.

Here I am, years later, barely blogging for some reason. I guess I'm letting life get in the way of my love of writing. Then on September 5, 2012, I get the anonymous comment on my June, 2011 post that makes my day. The idea that I can write a post about Vaughn's grandmother's cake over a year ago, then receive a sweet message today from the great-granddaughter of the original recipe holder...totally wows me. How did Mrs. Dowell's great-granddaughter find my post? I'll be forever imagining how we were connected, but I'm sure glad we were. My words met up with her words out in the wild blue yonder. And sparks flew. Perhaps we're keepers of the cake. Grandmothers from years gone by were remembered in the same story. Sheer happiness.

So I'll get back to my love of writing in my journals through this blog that I now know means more than just what it means to me.

Day 1: Amsterdam to Basel on the SS Antoinette

It was the trip of this girl's lifetime.

Up until the day my bosom buddy, Sue, and I left, it had been only a dream, but beginning on July 12th, it became very real (although I kept pinching myself throughout).

My son Parker took us to the airport in Oklahoma City. He knows a lot about airports, especially Will Rogers World Airport, so when he decided to pull in the parking garage and find a spot, Sue mentioned to him that there was an easier way. She suggested he could have parked up at the top (where we usually park, actually). I was confused by his parking in the garage too, but later we both realized what he was trying to do, or not do.

You see, BrieAnn and the little grandgirls were trying desperately to get to the airport to surprise us as we left and Parker was concerned the surprise would be spoiled if he parked on top and BrieAnn did too.

Two darling little granddaughters came up with their ever-so-thoughtful mama, carrying a glittered over-the-top cute banner that read "Bon Voyage Gram & Sue!" We snapped a couple of pictures and did some kissing and hugging, then went on our way. What a blessed way to begin our trip.

Is this not the cutest thing? Magnolia was still sleepy from her afternoon nap, but Cora was pumped about the surprise.

Looking back at my waving family, I couldn't help but think I was the luckiest girl in the world. Such love.

Our flight from OKC took off a little late, so we narrowly made our connection in Detroit (1 minute to board). That was too close! No restroom break even! We were served a big meal (10:00 p.m. by now) and attempted to sleep while flying. So many people around us were totally zonked. We decided they must have been medicated.

I tried not to let the turbulence over the ocean and the fact that it was Friday the 13th by now get to me. We landed around 11:30 a.m. (their time...7 hours ahead of Oklahoma time) and headed through customs. The guy at the desk asked us why we were in Amsterdam...we told him a river cruise...he said to have a good time. That was all of the interrogation Amsterdam could muster, I guess. I had heard Amsterdam was a pretty do-whatever-you-like place and so far it was proving to be just that.

Banana Pudding. Never Too Rich.

People in my circle often say certain desserts are "too rich". As in, "Oh my" (pushing 1/2 of their yummy dessert away), "I can't eat all of it. It's just too rich!"

Hmmm. I wonder what's wrong with me?

Truth is, I lick my "too rich" dessert plate clean and secretly would like to have another helping.

Got up this morning and created this masterpiece for a little "Hey, it's Saturday and we're eating banana pudding" treat. Can't wait to lick my plate clean (then walk another lap around the park).

Creamy Banana Pudding

Serves: 12

1 can Eagle Brand
1 1/2 cups cold water
1 small instant vanilla pudding
2 cups whipped cream (I don't measure. Put the whole tub in.)
36 vanilla wafers
3 medium bananas sliced
ReaLemon lemon juice

In large bowl, combine sweetened condensed milk and water.  Add pudding mix; beat well.  Chill 5 minutes.  Fold in whipped cream.  Spoon 1 cup banana mixture into 2 1/2 quart glass serving bowl.  Top with one third each of the wafers, bananas and pudding.  Repeat layering twice, ending with pudding.  Chill.  Garnish as desired.  Refrigerate leftovers.

People

When I was young I learned a song about people. It went something like this:

"Up, up with people, ya meet 'em wherever you go...up, up with people, the best kind of folks to know...If more people were FOR people, more people everywhere, There'd be a lot less people to worry about and a lot more people who care."

Once and awhile it becomes painfully clear to me that not all people are FOR me or my success in life.

And the world is full of people who don't want the best for:
a. me or you (their fellow men)
b. the town
c. our school system
d. the country
e. the earth

The list could go on and on, Folks.

This painful realization comes when I least expect it. And it's always a big bummer.

We should all support, encourage, care for the people we meet along life's way. And all of us PEOPLE should work together for the BEST world possible, expecting the extraordinary, making small changes when necessary and big ones when essential.

Sunshine

Magnolia Jane McInnes Johnson: One cute one-year-old.

The theme of the party was Sunshine. Very appropriate, since this sweet little one makes you feel all sunny inside.

BrieAnn found some cute ideas online, then we combined our efforts to create a special, yellow, light-hearted Sunday afternoon birthday party.

My mom and I made cutesy banners with a discarded yellow chenille bedspread.

M is for Magnolia. And much-loved.

Brie made the prettiest cupcakes. It was hard to get this shot because Nolia wanted to try one....BAD.

These little doodads say: Magnolia Is One!

Duh. You knew the sunflower Fiesta would come to the show.

Mason jars and yellow daisies and balloons too.

 

 

Uh-oh. Instant sadness. We hope she forgets this part.

She didn't forget at the party, that's for sure. She had nothing to do with the cupcakes.

Big sister Cora sure did.

She had several. She especially loved the fluffy, yellow-sprinkled frosting.

She got gifts too. Not just packaging.

Love.

Showing off those new teeth. Three on bottom. In! Two teeth on top and one still playing peek-a-boo.

Finger foods: Nolia's favorites. Fruit, veggies, dips.

Fizzy Lemonade was a hit.

Oh, you want to know about Fizzy Lemonade. Take a gallon pitcher. Put in one package of Koolaid Lemonade, one large frozen lemonade, one cup sugar and one two-liter bottle of 7-Up. Fill the rest of the pitcher with water. Wonderful, fizzy, delicious lemonade. (Plan to drink all of it before the fizz dies. Then it's not so good. Perfect for parties.)

I got her the Happy Apple at a garage sale last week. She loves it.

Happy Birthday, Sunshine!

Be Tracey.

I've been reading again.

In Gretchen Ruben's book...you know, the one I've blogged about a few times before...

She tries to live by a rule. The rule is: Be Gretchen.

That's hard sometimes. To be (insert your name here).

To be authentic and real.

We start out pretty REAL. I mean, look at Magnolia. She's pretty much herself at 8 months.

When does it happen that we begin to think we're not enough, just like we are?

A friend of mine was telling me her 4 year old son came home from preschool saying his shoes were stupid. A classmate had shared that knowledge with him. That's too young to be questioning your shoes, your style. Your YOU.

I've been known to twist into something unknown to me (before I hopefully realize it and pull myself back together again). I change ME in order to do what I think will please someone else.

I like my style, but sometimes I think I should go with the flow. Not rock the boat. Comply. Wear what they wear. Do what she does. Live their life, not mine.

Does this ever happen to you?

This Gretchen. She's smart. I'm going to try to live by her rule.  And Be Tracey.

What I Liked To Do When I Was Ten

This book is making me think.

Gretchen Ruben suggests if I want to know what will bring happiness to my 46 year old days, I should think back to my 10 year old days. She says I should think about what I liked to do when I was 10.

It's called "self-knowledge". To know myself. What do I find fun? What is my passion?

Let's see.

At ten. Hmmmm. I remember liking kickball, but maybe that was because certain 5th grade boys thought I as good at it.  I definitely don't think kickball would be fun for me at this point. No hidden desires here for kickball.

Moving on. I remember enjoying compliments about my handwriting and taking great pride in that. Oh, and I made lists. List after list after list. What I'd wear to camp each day...things to do for the week, what homework I needed for school each day. I enjoyed drawing and doodling too. But above all, I liked writing in a diary, keeping track of my days.

So now I've found it. The thing I have a passion for is what I did with me at 10 and continue to do with me at 46. Instead of keeping a diary with a little lock and key, these days I blog at Whimsical Cottage (http://ourlifeofwhimsy.blogspot.com/). I enjoy writing about my journey through life, sharing my ordinary days and my extraordinary days.

I like the idea that I've kept a record of what happened, what was important to me, how I chose to handle a situation, what we felt like, how we looked. There are things to be learned from the recording of history, of thoughts, of happenings. And since it's FUN, why not?