Well, actually, I do. Have words, that is. It takes a lot to make a storyteller go speechless, but this week almost did it. That title quotes my friend Lola, who faithfully translates my pages into Spanish so she can read them. She had seen a picture I posted of a boy who has cancer under a quilt given by volunteers. The picture left her speechless.

I’ve felt that way this week, but I want to say this:

I hope that in Japanese those words say:

You can’t always trust what Babel Fish tells you. Sometimes it seems to just babble. So, you are wondering why a gal from Texas is bothering to write in Japanese? Well, because there are some ladies in Japan I would just love to hug.

Over the last several months, as I go to my mail box, I find packages that make the hair stand up on my arms.

In a good way.

Folks have been sending crocheted squares for the Share A Square program. With every package, I’m amazed all over again that people have stopped what they were doing to share their love. They get out yarn and crochet hooks to make granny squares for afghans to be given to children at Camp Sanguinity cancer camp.

I never doubted that I would get squares. I knew that folks in the United States would send them, and I knew I had one friend in Canada who would. I didn’t expect that it would become “International.”

Now let me assure you that it doesn’t matter if the square comes to me from here in Denton, Texas or from across the ocean. Every square is special, and every square makes a difference. With each square, a child with cancer is going to know that one more person cares about them. I can’t thank y’all enough for taking the time to do this.

As I snapped the pictures for this post, I was struck by the enormity of this project. The squares I’m showing you came from Japan. That in itself is a marvel. However, these women did something that I probably wouldn’t bother to do:

I don’t think that Babel Fish offers a translation of “Texan.” Wonder what the word “y’all” translates into in Japanese?

Look at these pictures and admire the handiwork of the ladies who contributed. And, know that if you are interested in helping, there is plenty of time to do so!

Again, ladies, THANK YOU!

Miho, and her son Ken (8) and daughter Izumi (5) collaborated to make these. The children decorated the tags.

Cosava sent these.

These are from Hiro.

Miyo contributed these.

Syuu sent me these (and you gave me no return address to send you my thanks!).

Teru Teru sent these.

If you would like to see squares contributed by other people, you can visit the Share A Square site and scroll through the archives. They are truly beautiful.

Am I going to be able to post squares from you on one of these pages?

Technorati Tags: cancer, crocheted squares, Share A Square, afghans, Camp Sanguinity, Japan

Do y’all know a picky eater? I’ve never been a picky eater. Lordy, one look at me will tell you that! I’m a bona fide member of the Clean Plate Club. I’m happy to eat healthy vegetables and fruits, and I love my bacon, too! I’m not fond of “organ” meats, but other than that I’ll try darn near anything. Perhaps because of that I’m not as sympathetic as I should be when folks have strong preferences about their food. I can understand choosing foods because of health concerns, but other than that, it’s all fair game.

I didn’t have much problem with my children’s eating habits when they were growing up. They were willing to eat anything I put on their plates (they also ate Crayolas, dirt and cat food, but that’s another story). Well, they were willing to eat what I served until they became teenagers. Then, things got a little wacky at mealtime (actually, with teenagers things were wacky ALL the time). One boy eschewed meat and became a vegetarian and the other morphed into a rabid carnivore. At mealtime, I just had to make sure I had plenty of both vegetables and meat, but I never had to worry that there would be leftovers. They scarfed it all up.

If you parents of small children are worried about your children’s eating habits, don’t be. One of my boys, unbeknown to me, ate French fries (that’s all) for lunch every day for an entire school year. He grew up just fine.

Until I met my Sweet Spousal Unit (that would be my SSU), I hadn’t really had to deal with a picky eater. He would not call himself “picky,” he’d say “discriminating.” And, I have to tell you that I don’t care for discrimination of any kind—especially when it’s about my cooking! That boy is NOT a member of the Clean Plate Club, I guarantee! Unless, of course, the plate is filled with steak.

The first indication of his idiosyncrasies at mealtime came when we had a date and decided to sit at the Sonic Drive-In to have hamburgers and share an order of fries from the sack. I took a couple of bites of my hamburger, a sip or two of Coca Cola, and then I reached for a French fry. They were gone! He hadn’t taken a single bite of his hamburger and had eaten all the fries. When I called him on it, he was chagrined. No, he was mortified. He apologized profusely and explained that he always ate his vegetables first. His and mine!

It turns out that when he was a kid, he didn’t like vegetables and his Momma forced him to eat them. The only way he could make the mealtimes enjoyable was to save the meat for “dessert.” I can live with that, but don’t get my French fries, Big Guy! Since then, I’ve learned that if we “share,” I get my portion away from him!

If that was the only “peculiarity” to his eating habits, I wouldn’t chide him. However, I noticed others when I started cooking for him. I absolutely love to eat a baked sweet potato that has a swimming pool of butter in the center of it. It’s part of what I want for my last meal before I leave this earth. My SSU cringes at the site of a sweet potato. He cannot look a sweet potato in the eye (so to speak). This man was born in Charlotte, North Carolina, so you would think he could eat sweet potatoes. I mean, it’s a “Southern thang” and all. But, nooo! He gags when I eat sweet potato in front of him. So, I sit behind him. He’s not gonna stop this gal from eating sweet potatoes. I think his problem is that he grew up in California! Those people out there don’t eat the same foods the rest of the Nation does.

It’s not just sweet potatoes, though, it’s anything yellow or orange. He’s not that fond of carrots (though he will eat them raw), nor does he love pumpkin, and prefers not to touch summer squash. In fact he doesn’t like squash of any kind. Dang! He sure cut into my repertoire of recipes.

He was not proud to partake of my pecan pie. He doesn’t like pecan pie! Incredible! In fact, he didn’t care for pie much at all until recently. I don’t know whether the “calf slobber” (meringue) bothered him, or what.

I fried okra for him, and at first he wouldn’t try it. Then, he smelled the bacon that I fry so that I have grease for the okra. He took a taste, and now I have to cook a double batch when I fry it. As long as I get my share, I’m glad that he learned to like it.

Recently, I made a BIG mistake. I mean HUGE. We went to eat at a Mexican food restaurant. My SSU never would eat guacamole. I didn’t mind, because if it came on a plate, he gave his to me. I ordered Guacamole en Molcajete (which basically means they prepare it at your table in a bowl that looks like a mortar and pestle). Since he didn’t like guacamole, I just placed a “half-order.”

Well, y’all I started wolfin’ that down, and I guess that when I moaned and my eyes rolled back in my head in ecstasy, my SSU thought, “I’ll have what she’s having!”

We fought tooth and nail until it was all gone.

I guess the “moral” to my story (if y’all think you need morals) is that if you have a picky eater in your family, don’t try to change them. If they won’t eat it, it leaves more for you!

The Parent Bloggers Network and Deceptively Delicious are sponsoring a Blog Blast writer’s contest this week. Do you have a picky eater in your family? If so, you might want to write about it and enter for a chance to win in a random drawing.

I’m hoping I have some luck with a random drawing. I entered a “judged” contest last week that was sponsored by Sick of Lawsuits. I told about a hemorrhoid cream. I haven’t heard who won. I sure wanted that money! Should I file a lawsuit, ya think? I don’t know, maybe I didn’t deserve it. There was some awesome competition. Check them out for a laugh:

A Few Moronic Warning Labels

A Pain In the What?

Come on Crayola; Is It Washable or Not?

Crazy Warning Labels

Damn! Adult Supervision Required?

Eww, Ouch, Yikes & Duhhhhh

I Am Not Making This Up

I Mean, For Reals, Y’all?

In a Word: Yes

Just in Case You Wanted to Shred Your Hair

Okay For Levitating, But Not Floating

Positive IQ Required

Really? It’s a Fish?

Shaken Not Stirred - With a Splash of Detergent

The Warnings I Have Forgotten to Pass On to the Children

Wacky Warning Labels

Warning! Not For Use By Idiots!

What!?! No Smoking Near Fireworks?

Wow, Ultimate Baby Wrap

Technorati Tags: picky eater, The Parent Bloggers Network, Deceptively Delicious, Sick of Lawsuits

I can laugh about it now. But, when we walked into our room at the Mendocino Hotel, I was not amused! This was the extent of my “bathroom.”

The toilets and showers were down the hall!

People, people, people!

Do I look like the kind of person who would be OK with sharing bathrooms? If so, look harder! We did enough camping when I was a child that I prefer at least a four star hotel these days. After those vacations having to shower in skanky old KOA bathrooms, I won’t shower in a “public” bathroom without flip flops for my feet. I’m not exactly phobic about germs, but I don’t want someone else’s fungus. I also prefer to “do my business” in private, thank you.

“It is a minor glitch. The room is really quite charming, although tiny. No, no, it’s charming. The sink is pretty. It’s only a sink! At least you have that, Shelly. It is only for one night. A whole night? Can I “hold it” that long? Yes, you can, you’ve done it before.” This was the mantra I chanted while we stayed there. It wasn’t so bad. And, on the up side, I came home and discovered that I can make my closet into a bedroom that is as big as that hotel room!

I’m trying to see “only the good,” and I think I’m doing a fantastic job at it.

Look at the picture, and tell me the good that you see. It isn’t that hard to do. At least, it isn’t if we practice now and then. In fact, I credit this very exercise with helping me stay calm and in control when I saw I didn’t have a dadgum bathroom! OK, I didn’t stay totally calm, but it wasn’t a total rant.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that we had gotten to stay at The Hill House in Mendocino the night before. Its exterior was used as The Hill House of Cabot Cove in the television series called Murder, She Wrote. You can see that they kept one of the signs. That room was spacious AND had a bathroom!

I can tell that you don’t feel the least bit sorry for me.

If you’d like, you can visit some other sites that participate in this exercise at Soliloquy, Inside Mo’s Mind, Life in Westcliffe, Lives Less Ordinary, and Miscellaneous Matters. Try it. It’s good for you.

Technorati Tags: Mendocino Hotel, only the good, Hill House in Mendocino