Like everything in my Libra life, there is the constant balancing of the scales. Before Christmas, I worked hard; during Christmas, I played hard; and afterwards, I crashed hard.
Little Rock, Arkansas has a wonderful and long running non-profit called Quapaw Quarters Association (QQA). Founded in 1968, in response to urban renewal teardowns, the QQA has fought to preserve and save many of our town’s old buildings. Their mission statement is simple and near to mine and son, Matthew’s heart, “To preserve Greater Little Rock’s historic places.”
Many things are coming back; like the return of shopping catalogs in my overflowing mailbox, conventions are making a comeback, too.
Gran Ann and Daddy Mac are the grandparent-names given, by my children, to husband Grady’s parents.
Last week, against Daddy Mac’s objection, we planned and invited friends and neighbors to their house to celebrate his 90th birthday.
Need to get your party started? Call the McCoy Clan.
Ever wonder what that smooth-talking son of mine looks like on the radio? Meet son Grady McCoy IV who, with the rest of his family, is having the time of his life while celebrating the newlyweds Olivia and James in the photo above.
Another “McCoy Boy!”Meet Arthur Ellis McCoy, weighing in at 8lbs. 3 oz. on Tuesday, August 16th. He is beyond precious.
We’ve had backyard chickens for years. We first got them when the boys were still living at home. Taking care of pets is a great way to learn responsibility. After the kids left and the last chicken died, we were chicken-less, for a time; all our chicks had flown the coop.
“Baby Wedding” is the name son Jack coined for this past weekend’s whirlwind of baby showers and parties.
What a week. After the Supreme Court’s overturn of Roe vs Wade that has ALL women reeling in their emotions, I went to Florida to work.
Son Mattie’s time is about to get more precious.
Did I tell you that, in August, I am going to be a grandmother, again? It has been 12 years since we have had a new baby in the family and everybody, including the menfolk, are vying for the new baby’s attention.
At the end of a long Mother’s Day, Grady said to me, “Sorry you had to work so hard.” My reply was honest and simple: “I enjoyed it.”
My mother always said, no matter how old her children got, she wanted to see where they lived. That it made her rest better. And now, that is the way I feel, too.
After a year of good citizenship, social distancing, and following the vaccine protocol of the CDC, we McCoy’s decided it…
There is no scientific proof that war is ingrained in human nature, according to a study by Brian Ferguson, professor of anthropology at Rutgers University-Newark.
But I don’t need scientific proof to know that every Fall, as deer season approaches, my husband and late father would get an itch. A drive to get outdoors, feel the change of season, and shoot something.
During our second Miami work week, Grady’s parents came to town.
Ann, having grown up on the beach in California, was energized by the childhood sensory memories created by the sights, sounds, and beach smells.
My ex-husband, Ron Thompson, used to say I was the only person he knew that could wear ten colors below the ankle.
Marking time with important life events is as old as time as itself. There is the birth of your children, when you moved into your home, the death of a loved one and, of course, anniversaries, which grow more astounding as you grow older.
When getting ready for work or play, I occasionally enjoy listening to Pitbull’s Sirius XM station and jumping up, half-dressed, to dance in front of the mirror. This past Sunday morning, as I painted on my face, I tuned in and noticed the DJ kept asking callers if their family’s Easter celebration was more religious or social. Many listeners said both–and all followed up with praise and gratitude for their full family and life.
For many of us, this Christmas will be different. As I sit and think about my growing grandchildren, I reflect on Christmases past.
My parent’s generation thought of dogs as animals. In my generation, they were elevated to family pets. And now, in the homes of millennials, they are treated as children.