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