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. 

Birthdays

I remember as a child looking forward to my birthday like no other day of the year.

It could be a regular day of going to school or running errands or kicking around at home, but in the back of my mind, in the corner of my giddy heart, I knew it was MY day. 

I knew there was something special to come that day.

Presents!

My favorite meal!

Cake!

Besides all that, it was about the extra bit of attention I could anticipate on that day.

Oh, the year my parents had a Barbie cake made just for me. I was on top of the world!

This year, my 49th year for feeling giddy and special and important, Mom and Dad gathered as many of our local family together at their house (a little early this year...we celebrated on Mother's Day), prepared some of my favorite food, plus the richest banana pudding I love...

The candles wouldn't stand up in the larger bowl of pudding, so Mom made me my very own.

Look at my cute vintage cherry hat I was given for a birthday gift.

I received so many special gifts, carefully chosen for me. A cherry hat, lovely hankies, two small vintage prints of the cutest people, money for Tybee, a Kelly Rae Roberts wall plaque, a vintage girl with bird print.

And this morning, on my actual birthday, the day after school was out at Moss Elementary, two days before our 30th anniversary trip to Tybee Island, I'm feeling exactly as I did as a child.

Special. I'm feeling special because I'm not rushing to get ready for a regular day of school or just running, like normal.

Special. Because of the piles of cards in the mailbox yesterday.

And for so many special Facebook messages, texts and sing-songy birthday phone calls. 

Special food planned by Mom and Dad for lunch (new potatoes are a regular item for my birthday meal but they weren't ready on Mother's Day, so I invited myself out to their house today).

Another special meal planned by Vaughn for this evening.

And he's agreed to my request for a fire in the backyard bathtub this evening (weather permitting). One of my favorite, most special, activities in the world.

Nona

Nona passed away last Sunday after a long illness.

And before that, a difficult struggle with arthritis in her hands. Hands that had done so much for so many.

Nona loved flowers. In fact, she was a gifted arranger of flowers at a shop in Wewoka for years. 

And what a cook she was. People at church fought to get one of her pieces of pie at potlucks.

One time she gave me a clear glass dish with a lid, "perfect for a small meatloaf", she had said. At the time I remember thinking it was such a neat dish, but no way, no how, would it work for our family with two boys who were eating us out of house and home. But our story has changed, with both boys grown, and of course, Nona was so right about the dish's perfectness for a small meatloaf. For two. What a treasure to me now.

Nona gave even when it wasn't easy to give. I could tell lots of stories about her generosity and kindness.

Mom must have told Nona I loved old needlepoint. That's when she gave me the happiest, framed needlework her daughter made. How Nona fretted over Donna's battle with cancer. And how hard it was for her to lose Donna and her husband, Jack, within two months of one another. The needlepoint will be appreciated for many years to come at the Johnson House.

Nona loved Vaughn. If we both stopped by to visit her, she barely noticed I was there. She sometimes called him her "boyfriend". She almost always had a little honey-do for him to take care of when we visited.

She loved her church. She and Jack were regulars at Community of Christ in Seminole, favorite pew and all. When she wasn't able to attend anymore, members stopped by as often as possible with communion and a visit. Sometimes she had us stop at Long John Silvers and bring her some fish.

Nona loved her family. And they loved her.

At the funeral Wednesday, I got to see all the family gathered. I put faces with names, the names Nona had bragged about so often when we visited.

The service was lovely. So many flowers and photos to enjoy. Kind words were shared from everyone who knew her.

I got in the car to join the procession to the cemetery, turned on my lights. As soon as we turned the corner, I watched as people who were on their porches stopped in their tracks and paid respects. I love this about Oklahoma, or maybe all of Small Town America (not sure). For a moment, obligations were put off by those who were walking, or those in cars who pulled to the side of the road. All was quiet.

The police officer escorting the procession got out of his car at the intersection, lights flashing, and stood with his hands behind his back, protecting us as we traveled to Nona's final resting spot, up on the hill with Jack and Donna.

Oh, she'll be missed. But what a reunion Nona had last Sunday morning in Heaven. No more pain, no more loneliness, no more struggles.

When the Grandgirls Aren't Here

When the grandgirls ARE here, there's usually popcorn, Diet Coke and movies. There's usually toys everywhere upstairs because we like to play with a lot of stuff at once, especially "tickets", as Cora calls it, where we use the Monopoly money and real estate cards to zip to and fro on the train. I'm told I'm the conductor and they are the passengers. We visit the American Girl store in Chicago, special museums there too. (We even went to Hawaii on the train last time the girls were here.) When they're here, the girls have certain things they love to do, like swing on the tire swing and "the blue swing" and the front porch swing, pick up pecans, read books, put together puzzles, play in the backyard. They love bubbles on the front step too.

But then it's time for the girls to go home.

And when the grandgirls AREN'T here, especially right after they've left, that's when we start reliving the time we had together. We laugh about their differing personalities and some of their demands requests. I ask Vaughn if he heard Goo say what she said. He, of course, heard it, or heard about it, but wants to hear it again. I do my best to use the same voice she used to tell Cora, "HEY, it's MY turn!" We look back through the photos we attempted to take (usually with little success...they aren't ever BOTH ready to pose). We get to use our technology again (when they're here, they love to play with our iPhones and iPad and computers and...). We get the house all back together again, but immediately look forward to the day they come back and enjoy it with us again.

Snippets from the last few visits with the girls:

Cora's vocabulary is extensive for a just-turned-5 girl. She used a recent third grade vocabulary word to tell me she "caught a glimpse of a episode" on television. Wow.

Magnolia is very much a second child and wants to claim what's hers. She and Brannon (Becky's grandson) are both quite vocal about MINE and HEY when playing together.

When I asked Magnolia where Parker lives, she knew. She said "Colo-raw-doe" in the cutest voice.

Cora and I worked quite a lot on reading. She would read a chapter, then notice Magnolia playing something on the iPad and want to put the book down, but within a few minutes, she'd be back, intrigued by her new-found reading skills. Minutes later, Goo wanted to draw on the giant chalkboard in our entryway, and while drawing she was sounding out words like she had just heard Cora do with me. It was so cute, her wanting to be a big girl and read too.

Tangles happened when the girls were here last. Offey says we have to buy some special conditioner or something. He didn't like the tears when he was in charge of combing.

Magnolia usually wears cloth diapers, but at my house, we go disposable. She loves Mickey Mouse diapers and talks during every diaper change about Mickey and Minnie. She also loves Elmo diapers. She's not willing to discuss using the toilet at this point. 

Both girls know my Jeep's name is "Joe". Magnolia can't wait to ride in "Joe COR", pronounced a little like someone might say it who was from New York. She's still in a rear-facing car seat and has been known lately to pinch or poke Cora in Joe Car when we can't see her.

Cora has called us "Tracey" and "Vaughn" off and on for years. Now it's Magnolia's turn to do that. Cracks us up. When she does call me Gram, it comes out like "GREM". I love it any ol' way she wants to say it.

And last, but not-at-all the end of the cuteness my grandgirls displayed while here, instead of kisses, Cora is in a phase (I hope) of licking her loved ones.

The Family Stone Takes Us Into Christmas Break

It's Wednesday and today was my final day of school this year. The basketball concession I worked last night till 9:00 p.m., plus the day today, which involved taking a windy, noisy bus ride to McAlester to the movies with all of our elementary school, plus cookie decorating and WAY too much sugar intake for all involved, caused me to hurry home by 3:30, unload my goodies given by the cutest students yet, then head STRAIGHT to the bathtub to begin my vacation.

I lazed around for about an hour before Parker and Vaughn got home.  Oh, I think I folded a towel or two. But nothing significant.

After scraping together a meal of sandwiches and chips and some more of my gifted goodies, we gathered upstairs for The Family Stone, one of the Johnson's favorite Christmas movies.

Game on. Christmas is coming.

A Gathered Collection: Treasured Ornaments and Decorations

Christmas has come down from the attic closet, this year with a tornadic whirlwind of just a few hours time. NEVER in the history of all my Christmas decorating have I finished putting out my collections in three hours, but this year, that has happened. Mostly this decorating frenzy occurred because of my broken arm and the pain and frustration I've been dealing with. Vaughn and Parker pitched in and we conquered, and I mean it exactly like that, People, CONQUERED the Christmas decorating. I have to admit it didn't turn out half-bad, considering I didn't mess with it much, you know, sitting and contemplating and rearranging and CLEANING...(nah, none of that this year). 

But now that it's done and my pain is a lot less, I'm thinking about my favorite Christmas doo-dads and thought you might like to hear more about them.

The Willow Tree nativity was collected with great sacrifice through a 3 or 4 year period, each set or piece added being as special as the next. The idea was sparked in Colorado, I think, at a Christmas store. The large collection on the store shelf was so big and powerful, yet quiet and still. I wanted my Christmas home to include the "O Holy Night" feeling this set gave me...the reason for the season. I started with Jesus and Mary and Joseph, then kept collecting at quite a slow pace. Some came from that Christmas store, some from online sales I found once and awhile. Some pieces were gifts from friends. Vaughn made the creche (when he saw the price they were asking). I'm glad he's so talented (and willing to help me).

Of course the grandgirls love this nativity and have moved and rearranged the pieces before, but this vintage plastic set is right on their level on the coffee table, put there on purpose so they can live and relive that special night as they please (and without Gram hovering quite so much).

It totally blows my mind that this tree topper from the 50's (I would think) has made it through to 2012. You know me, you have to know the story. It belonged to Willard and Oleta Turpin, who were neighbors of ours when we bought our first house. Jake was 2 months old when we got to know them. I have the box (that's one reason I suppose it's survived) and I love taking it out each year and admiring it's color and style. I don't think I've ever put it on the top of the tree, strangely enough. It usually ends up in a bowl with other vintage friends like it has this year.

I have a serious love affair going on with Jim Shore snowmen. My gathering of 7 snowmen is totally enough (the class and I have been studying wants and needs this week) but I sure wouldn't hate it if another one or two came to stay at my house. The collection was started with my friends Sue and Judy in Estes Park, Colorado one year. Of course we've contributed to the collections of our friends and that's helped them grow. I decorate with this adorable crew through January. They've been other places, but since I have this many and love them together better than apart, they have lived on the piano for the past few winters, where we'll later-on-in-the-season enjoy lots of Christmas carols with Jake playing. Oh what sweet times these snowmen have seen, watching faces filled with Christmas joy gather around them, singing and loving. That.was.mushy.

Speaking of caroling, sweet, little, vintage carolers are becoming a problem. The junkier-looking, the better. Shabby fits in perfectly at my house. If it looks like it was on Grandma's end table every year for 50 years, I couldn't be happier. Since we were decorating this year at super-speed, it was easy to gather them and plop them in one space in the dining area.  They like it here.

Plastic reindeer that were more than likely 29 cents or less at a TG&Y or a Ben Franklin somewhere are another love for me. I have a few hanging on the tree and some gathered here in the kitchen. They're still and quiet, like I need to remember to be sometimes.

As each year goes by, I plus and minus a little Christmas decor; adding the nostalgic, the wabi-sabi, subtracting the trendy.

You're off the hook. Because it's a sunny December, my photos are giving me fits, so I'll stop here. Next year I'll continue my tour of Christmas at the Johnson house, probably with some of the same displays.

(Don't be surprised if we decorate family-style again next year...I sorta liked getting it all accomplished with less time involved.) That way I got to spend good quality time doing what I love to do during the holidays...turning the lights down low and enjoying the lights on the tree and the feeling of Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

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.

Vaughn and Vespa

Jake and BrieAnn bought a new toy recently. A bright red Vespa. Vaughn and Vespa hit it off right away.

Living the Good Life

We didn't go out to dinner.

We didn't even exchange gifts.

We didn't even take this photo that day.

But we spent our 28th anniversary doing something we love. We spent it with our kids. Jake and Brie were moving from a house to a home so Vaughn helped set things up and I helped with the girls a little. And Parker arrived at our house later that evening to visit for the weekend.

Good marriage.
Good kids.
Good life.

A New Kid on the Blog (I Mean Block)

Vaughn's Cabinets now has a blog. It will be a great way to keep up with a lot of Vaughn's projects. He usually has quite a few big jobs going at once, like kitchens or bathrooms or custom furniture.

This is a new kitchen Vaughn's Cabinets just finished, made to look quite established. I love so many aspects of this kitchen, don't you?

http://vaughnscabinetshop.blogspot.com/

But in between all that busy-ness, he creates some pretty unique items, sometimes from scratch and sometimes by repurposing one thing into another.

If you're in the neighborhood (even in the blogland neighborhood) stop by often. You'll be glad you did!

Our Story of Love

Once upon a time, two 19 year olds (who dated for two months) said "I do."

That was 27 years ago today.

Vaughn actually worked till 5:30 p.m. that day at Sharpe's Department Store. They got married at 6:00. He was almost late, which might have caused a girl to get worried. Not Tracey. She knew he was coming. 

They were married in the back yard of her parents home on North John. It was about a 100 dollar wedding. Seriously. The only expenses she can remember would be the cake, which was small, a tiny silk bouquet and whatever her mom spent on the barbeque dinner their very few guests (just family) enjoyed after they left.

The wallpaper in her mom's kitchen is cracking her up today. But it was pretty back then, really.

He wore his brown suit (brown!), the one he had owned for a couple of years. She wore a sleeveless white eyelet dress that she'd also worn before. She remembers going to the store to get some pastel ribbons to put around her waist to fancy it up.

It was a big decision...not the ribbon for her waist, but the man she would marry. She chose wisely.

He has loved her every single day for 27 years. And she him.

Come and Sit

Once upon a time, some nice friends gave us four very charming chairs.

I especially loved the chippy green paint.

We immediately put some black/white checked fabric on one

and parked it in the master bathroom.
(I usually throw clothes on it when company's not coming.)

The other three have been in storage for almost two years.
That means they were in a corner of Vaughn's shop,
gathering sawdust and such.

Not anymore.

This week our newly established Forsythia
asked for one
of the chairs to hang out with her.

It was past her beautiful yellow blooming days, but you can see she's happy.

And Vaughn finally got sick of the other two in the shop, so now look.

A bench. Full of whimsy and charm.

Today's spring weather is making me even more anxious to
add more flowers,
cushions and junky junk to our patio.

The patio is really coming along, don't you think?
We built our house less than 2 years ago.
It takes a lot of effort to make a place look established.
But it's getting there.

There are plans for a campfire pit soon. 
Did you know I am a campfire fanatic?

I can just see it...weiner roasts, singin', oh yeah.
All in my backyard.
In town.
On a regular Tuesday night or something.

When the campfire is burning...
goodness, even before that,

(because who really knows when
that thing will show up???...)

come and sit with me on the patio.

Love,
Tracey

Sew in Love

We met in our junior year in high school.

I wish I could say I knew from the day I met him that we'd marry someday. 

That was true for him.

I was new in town, back in 1980. 

Vaughn remembers what I was wearing the day we met in the hallway,

that first day of school.

Jill Johnson introduced us, he says. 

(Beats me.)

I DO remember meeting him.

He always gives me a hard time about it.

He says, "I've loved you longer" or "I love you MORE."

So I caught on a little later than him?

So.

All I know is...he's my world.

And has been for more than 26 years.

Happy Valentine's Day, People.

Love,

Tracey