Saturday, April 19, 2008

Googly Eyes!

Just found and wanted to share this link to an SNL video of a skit broadcast 2 weeks ago featuring the great Christopher Walken. He's spooky, crazy, BIG-haired, classically trained yet, surprisingly FUNNY!

I didn't realize that "GOOGLY" was a four-syllable word until spoken by Mr. Walken!

Here's the GOOGLY EYES link:

MORE COWBELL? My favorite Christopher Walken skit:

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Senor Don Gato...Part 2

After calling our local Animal Control office, only to be told they didn't DO kitty tree rescues, I spent hours that afternoon trying to coax that kitty down from its lofty perch. In an attempt to quench its obvious thirst, I sprayed water up into the tree, hoping the droplets would gather together and stay in a crevice long enough for kitty to have a good drink.

Late in the afternoon, our neighbor heard my attempts and volunteered to use his mountain-climbing gear to rescue the kitty. The higher he climbed so went the frightened kitty, reaching an estimated height of 40 feet. For the safety of the kitty and our would-be-hero, the rescue was called off in hopes that kitty would finally come down by itself!

That night there was a TERRIBLE thunderstorm! Lightning flashed through the windows like paparazzi. Thunder shook the very foundation of our house as fifty mph winds howled through the trees. As I lie awake it occurred to me that Nature's way of self-pruning its trees was a real and present danger to that unprotected kitty. I worried and prayed for that kitty's safety until long after the storm passed.

The next morning I gingerly approached my garden, desperately hoping that kitty had survived the night. Silence. No mews. No green eyes. No evidence that a NEW kitty grave needed to be dug. Nothing. And that was that! A quick-said prayer of thanks and that was that...until three months later when I spotted a very young cat peeping out the unclosed shed door.


Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Senor Don Gato...Part 1

This is GATO, one of three kitties residing at our home. The other two are his mother, Le Femme Nikita (Niki) and Mercedes (Sadie), his sister. His brother, Buttons, lives with our daughter.

How did we come across this feline family?

In late March of 2003, a brown tabby kept appearing in our backyard. I soon discovered the reason for her daily appearance. Whenever I went for my yard tools, soft mews came from the rafters of the shed. Mama cat moved her kittens soon after my discovery. I didn't hear a WHIMPER until one day in early June.

While weeding my garden I heard an occasional mew coming from SOMEWHERE. The animal seemed to be in minor distress but in looking, I found nothing! It became so aggravating that I stopped working in the yard, leaving the remainder of work for the next day.

Day two began in silence, but soon the mews began again, this time with more urgency in their tone. Having lost Friskey (our twelve year-old buff tabby), a year (almost to the day) earlier and because the mews were strangely emitting from the area surrounding his burial site, I became obsessed in finding their source. Yeah, was a bit like Pet Sematary!

After HOURS searching, I finally narrowed it down to the trees above the garden, but couldn't see ANYTHING! The mews were getting pretty desperate, so I went over into our neighbors yard. I now understand how the CHESHIRE CAT became invisible in WONDERLAND's trees! If not for those huge, piercing-green eyes and that hot-pink tongue (now panting from dehydration), I would never have spotted that kitten looking down at me from 25-30 feet in our neighbor's tree!


A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes...

What is every girl's dream? To become a PRINCESS! Rooty's Fairy God-Nana visited yesterday! The result? PURE GLEE expressed on the face of our Cinderella!
P R I C E L E S S !

Cinderella Panties or Hat?

I'll allow the readers to decide for themselves.

Not wanting to expose her "bits & pieces", my creative granddaughter has figured out a more appropriate way of displaying her new BIG GIRL, PRINCESS panties!

This "fashion statement" was made as a direct response to Nana refusing her request to wear her Princess dress while dining on Mac & Cheese!

Toile + Cheesy Sauce = Panic-Strickened Nana...


BTW, this photo was taken just prior to a 3-minute TIME-OUT... for launching this Beanie leopard at Senor Don Gato! It would appear that Rooty has inherited her throwing skills from the same gene pool as did her cousin Andy.

Saturday, March 22, 2008


ALMOST EVERYONE ON THE PLANET EARTH would likely identify and refer to the above items as Throw Pillows, or Pillers, if you "was reared up country."

MY NEPHEW, ANDY, unfortunately took the "throw" part of the description too literally once when he, as a child, was left at the family's "sitter" for the evening. As these beautifully arranged items sat delicately on his Great-Granny's couch, Andy imagined them as cleverly disguised armaments "lying in wait" until just the right moment...a time when their TRUE identities and purpose could be revealed.

As the evening's excitement waned, Andy, bored from just sitting around (and a little resentful at having to waste his childhood hours being stuck with an old woman) decided that his primary "target" for this evening's mission would be Granny, herself! So Granny, unaware of the impending doom before her, relaxed in the recliner chair, listening to her favorite TNN music videos. Andy, ever watchful for an opportune moment, made his move.

As he manned his position as couch bombardier, he launched his first missile toward the target. Although somewhat deflected by the springy curls of her newly-coiffed head, his giggle confirmed A DIRECT HIT!

"Andy, stop throwing pillers at me or I'm gonna tell yer Daddy what you done!" is all she said. As the second, rather obscene-looking (neck roll) missile was hurled into the air, Andy thought to himself, "What does this little old woman think will save her? THAT lame threat?" Andy's roar of laughter at Granny's now askew glasses gave witness to his successful attempt.

"Alright, keep on throwing them pillers! I'm gonna tell yer Daddy what you done!"
"WOW! Now she's giving me permission!" thought Andy as he launched A FRENZY of decorative bombardments among peals of his own laughter. The relentless attack, which descended upon the now-rocking figure, was much like the finale of a fireworks display.

Battle-weary, with all stores of ammunition launched and his mission successfully completed, Andy laid himself down upon the cushion-less couch. Granny sat quietly, rocking back and forth in her chair... with both arms crossed...a definite signal of extreme dissatisfaction to those who knew her best.

A short while later, Andy's Dad returned to pick up his son. As was customary, the previously ignored (by Andy) question was raised to Granny, "Did you have any trouble?" With the THROWn "pillers" lying around her chair, bearing witness of the attack, Granny described the battle to a 'T.'

"Fast as a duck on a June bug," is appropriate in describing the volcanic eruption of movement and sound which immediately and unexpectedly rained down upon Andy. As Andy's Dad explained the error of his way, he duly received a rear-pounding with each spoken syllable, possibly equivalent in length to both The Preamble to the Constitution and The Star-Spangled Banner (all four verses) combined.

It was reported by witnesses that the disciplinary action ended at about the same time as was heard the resounding BLAM against the front door heralding the delivery of the next morning's paper.

It is said that, at his NEXT visit, Andy sat ONLY on the floor, far away from the couch and the temptation of its accouterments. Granny never had another problem with him or anyone else, including the paper boy!

Friday, March 21, 2008

Easter Bonnet 1954

The little one with Granny's hand fluffing out her dress (as if it NEEDED it) is ME at around age one (1). First girl born in our family for 50 years, or so they said. I think the picture is self-evident of that claim...puffy sleeves, lace, pinafore, bonnet and GLOVES??? Fortunately, the picture cut off just before revealing the conventional lace-bottomed panties and black patent-leather "Mary Jane's." A protective coating of petroleum jelly was ritually applied every Saturday night. If "This Little Light of Mine" was glowing a bit dim in Sunday School , at least I could always depend on the blinding sparkle of my tiny shoes " shine before all men!"

Above...Granny then and 17 years later just after my high school graduation.

She was a remarkable woman! I was 37 years old when she died. We were the BEST of friends until the end and I miss her EVERY DAY. Much more about her in later posts. She was HILARIOUS! A real HOOT!

Happy Easter
He Is Risen!

Hurry Back Y'all
Nancy Binky

Tuesday, March 18, 2008


146 Days, 11 Hours, 56 minutes...since I smoked the last cigarette of my life.

I read about all the different people, places, events, and situations to avoid during the initial process of QUITTING. Before October 24, 2007, I could have easily taken the "GOLD" in Olympic Smoking, lighting up in front of anyone, anywhere, anytime, during any event or situation. As a matter of fact, I sometimes got up in the middle of the night just to smoke a cigarette!

So, in order to fully comply with the avoidance part of my recovery process, I have pretty much become a hermitic recluse. I closely resemble Howard Hughes at the pinnacle of his reclusiveness except I am a much more "rotund" version.


I've followed the Quit Smoking plan to a "T." However, the experts left out one humongous trigger...THIN MINT GIRL SCOUT COOKIES!!!

Last week, a neighbor innocently brought us over a box of these delicious treats; a thank you for watching her dogs while she had attended an out-of-town conference. After downing a few cookies, for some strange reason I began to feel a bit shameful; almost guilt-ridden. I noticed myself inhaling large gulps of air, just to feel the...menthol...I mean, MINTY cool freshness inside my mouth. I realized the severity of the situation when I began holding the cookies between my "Pointer" and "Tall Man" fingers...just like a...CIGARETTE! YIKES!

Before this pseudo-relapse, the strong nicotine urges and cravings had finally reached a tolerable level with occurances few and far between. It's taken a week to even get close to my previous level of solitude and serenity! But I DIDN'T SMOKE! YAY!

So all Non-Nicotene Novices...BE FOREWARNED about this potential obstacle in your process!

Hurry back,

Nancy Binky


First, I'd like to dedicate this blog to Granny Eunice, the person who frequently quoted the phrase used as this blog's title. A testament to her keen sense of humor, she chanted this hand-me-down saying as a mantra of tolerance for anyone who might have a differing opinion.

Also, to Mama and Daddy. They lived 54 years together, daily proving how love conquers all!

"She said you came to the place where they buried her. Asked her a question? She said the answer is...'Every day.' What did you ask?"

"Do... Do I make her proud?" --from The Sixth Sense

Y'all hurry back...

Nancy Binky