It’s Official, I’m a Big Dummy!

I’m not into country music, but I believe there is a line in a country song that sums up my day.  Some days are diamonds, some days are coal. Don’t fuss at me if I got that wrong.

Today was a coal day for me. Not all day, but part of it.

I went to interview someone for a newspaper article.  Almost every question I asked, she answered, yes, no or I don’t know. I wasn’t able to get her to open up very much at all.  Looks like the article will be full of fluff.

Tonight, I began working on the article.  I had a little over 500 words of what I thought was pretty good stuff.  When I completed it, I decided to exit, but quickly changed my mind because I wanted to save it to a jump drive that I didn’t have close by.  When I went to exit I checked “no” because I didn’t want to exit.  What I should have checked was “cancel”.  I lost the file.  I didn’t save it.  What’s worse, I discovered the setting on my computer wasn’t set to “back-up” files.  After chatting with someone online from HP, I was told the file could not be recovered.  Now, ain’t that just grand!

Has anything like that ever happened with you?  The thing is, this isn’t the first time I’ve exited a file without saving it.  You’d think I’d learn my lesson sometime. 

This little incident made me think of other mistakes I’ve made. 

Like, using a head of cabbage to make a salad and not discovering it until my father bellowed out, “Sissy, this ain’t lettuce, it’s cabbage!” That was after he’d poured a heavy dose of french dressing over it.  I believe that was the same day I forgot to drain the water off the cooked macaroni.  I made macaroni and cheese soup. My family didn’t appreciate it at all.  Of course, I was only a teenager and just didn’t know any better.

I’ve driven on the wrong side of the road before also.  I pulled out of a parking lot and turned into oncoming traffic. The worse thing about that incident wasn’t all those cars coming towards me. I mean they were very nice and pulled over to the side of the road so I could get through.  The worse part was my husband was in the car with me, screaming and yelling the whole time. He needs to learn to relax.

Other mistakes came from believing people I trusted.  For instance, a friend (at least I thought she was a friend) at work left a note on my desk.  It read, “A Mr. Lyons called.  He wants you to return his call at…” she left a number I didn’t recognize.  I dialed the number and they answered, “Louisville Zoo, how may I direct your call?” I was dumb enough to ask for Mr Lion at the Louisville Zoo, while my co-workers looked on – laughing all the while.  Oh, did I tell you that it was on an April Fool’s Day?

Fresh out of high school, I worked at American Greeting Card Factory in Danville in the shipping office.  One day I answered the phone.  It was the telelphone Co. stating that there was a problem on the line and if I didn’t mind, would I help them. I quickly agreed. They asked that I “step back three steps and talk into the phone.”  They wanted to check the line.  Eagerly, I stepped back and yelled, (I kid you not) “can you hear me?” I then went back to the phone and asked, “did you hear me?” The man on the other end told me that he did hear me.  He then asked if I would step even farther back and yell into the phone.  I agreed and once, twice and even three times again I yelled, “can you hear me?” into the phone.  I suppose, I’d still be yelling into the phone had I not seen the audience of co-workers, standing outside of my glassed-in office, bent double from laughter.

Trust me, there are many more mistakes, maybe I’ll tell you about them another time.  Anyway, I guess the little incident tonight pales in comparison to all the other mistakes made in my life.

If you have mistakes that you are brave enough to share, post a comment.  Go ahead, I dare you.


The Green Bicycle and Other High School Memories

Senior PromThe Green Bicycle Pantsuit

Here is the picture of the white pantsuit with the green bicycles that I wore to Garrard County’s 1973 Pep Club Dance.  After pulling out my book of memories, I was happy to read that it wasn’t the prom that I wore that ugly thing to, but it was the pep club dance…now I feel much better about myself!! LOL

The fellow in the picture that I was dancing with is Mike Davis. The other photo is my high school friend, Clelly Preston and me at the prom.  We sure did wear some ugly clothes back then.  It’s a good thing the picture isn’t very clear…kind of blurred or maybe just not good quality since it was taken with one of those instant print polaroid cameras. In case you can’t tell, that’s me on the left.

Here is the real scoop – actual entries of what I wrote back then about my high school days…

  • “A slumber party at Sheryl Hall’s house. We really had a lot of fun. If we even tried to go to sleep, Jenny Merriman and Rita Sherrow put mustard or catsup in our hair.  We took some pictures and tried on Dora Sue’s wig.  A Great Party.”
  • Senior Skip Day  “One of the best days in my senior year.  Sheryl Hall drove. The people who went were Dora Sue Stathers, Clelly Preston, Charlene Robinson, and me. (We went to Boonesboro State Park in Madison County) I took frozen hamburgers (I didn’t know that I should have thawed them). Me and Dora Sue played on the merry-go-round (remember-we were seniors!) and other things like that. We stopped at Howard Johnson’s to eat on our way back. Here’s a souvenier.” NOTE: I saved an empty sugar packet and taped it into my memory book!
  • Staying after school to go to ballgames. “Clelly, Charlene and I went to a lot of football games (not to watch the game – of course!). The one that stands out the most is when me and Charlene thought we would be smart (by saving money) and bye (note spelling) a coke to take with us. Well when we got around to drink it, it was hot! and we couldn’t get any ice at the consession stand.”
  • “Once we stayed after school and FROZE to death! We had to go over to the hospital to wait for the game cos we went to early. We wore boots and our feet FROZE! We had fun though. Very good memories!”
  • “We did not have track at our school, but if there is a sport called walking we shore (note spelling again) done (can you tell grammar was my best subject in school) a lot of that! After school everybody would get in there cars and take off. Me, Clelly and Charlene would take off walking.  It was a lot of fun!”

Well, at least I had a lot of fun in high school. From what I have been reading, it looks like I didn’t pay to much attention in Mrs. Jones English Class. The rest of the entries are about the same as far as the grammar, spelling and the all important fun times. I won’t bore you with the rest of the memories cos you would shore  be jealous!

Scared Silly

The following is a true story.  I wrote it a few months ago about an incident that happened at our house.  It just goes to show that Mike and I are a couple of nutty folks.  I hope you enjoy reading.  Let me know what you think about it. 



The white socks on her feet barely touched the floor as she tip toed through the house.  She inched toward her target, stopping often to listen for any sound of his movement.  Not wanting to warn him of her presence, she stood just outside the doorway leading to his temporary sanctuary – his music room; the place he often escapes to for a few hours. 

Sliding along the wall soundlessly, she stopped at the open door, peeped around the corner and watched him for a moment.  He was just sitting there, listening to his music. 

She felt a twinge of guilt, knowing what she was about to do was wrong, but she wasn’t willing to stop.  She had to do it…had to get even with the monster in the music room.

Quietly inhaling, it’s now or never, she thought.  Slow, take it slow, she coaxed herself.  Don’t let him catch you

Moving effortlessly, like a feline crawling toward her prey, she stood directly behind him and he never knew she was there. Lifting her right arm ever so slowly, her eyes never leaving her target, she straightened her hand and aimed for the middle of his back.  Using her index finger, she gave him a quick hard poke.

“Waugh!” He squalled, grabbing his heart as he shot up like an rocket.

Her laughter rang through the house.

“You got me again,” he said.  His wide grin lit up the room.


She never tired of scaring him.  He was always so easy and she loved hearing him scream like a girl.  She knew this was a crazy inclination, but she could hardly resist when opportunities arose.

In the past, she jumped out at him, clapped her hands loudly when he was immersed in an intense movie, or stood in front of a closed door that she knew he would be entering.  She never failed to scare him.  He was jumpy and she ate it up, but always felt guilty for these evil deeds, yet she continued in her game.

He wasn’t Mr. Innocent, either.  He enjoyed scaring her too.  Just thirty minutes earlier, she was reading in bed when he jumped through the door, growling like some wild bear. Totally engrossed in her book, she hadn’t heard him coming.

He should’ve known she would have to get even.

Later that evening, she called her son and talked to him on the phone about their evening. 

“I couldn’t resist,” she told him.  “He must have known I’d get him.”

“You two are going to keep on with your silly playing until one of you ends up having a heart attack,” he said, laughing.

She could just imagine him shaking his head and thinking that his parents are a couple of nuts.  “Now you see son, what you have to look forward to when you get old,” she quipped.

She knew he was right though, but she was already planning her next move.









Looking Forward to my Weekend

It is definitely June.  It seems like I am attending a wedding every weekend this month. Last weekend it was my nephew Matthew and Jessica’s wedding.  This weekend my daughter-in-law’s niece, Amy is getting married.


Amy’s wedding is going to be outside at a local country club.  Her reception will be indoors.  I went shopping for something to wear and was determined that I wouldn’t buy a dress.  I wanted a dressy pantsuit – I found one – in black.  I love it and what I really like about it most is that it makes me look a few pounds lighter than I normally look.  That’s a good thing.  The bad thing is, I’m wearing black to a wedding. 


The reason I wanted to wear pants to the wedding, is I am taking my two-month-old grandson and will be watching him.  I want to be comfortable and not in heels.  I’m not comfortable in a dress or heels and I’d be afraid I’d fall. After all, my parents didn’t name me Grace and there was a reason behind that.  Besides, if I’m careful and don’t do anything stupid I likely won’t be noticed andyway.  The bride and her party will be the center of attention.  I plan to just go and blend in with the crowd.  I hope that the black blends in and doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb.


April is the Matron of Honor and Eric is performing the wedding. I get Braxton all to myself.  Now, that definitely is a good thing.  The rehearsal dinner is tonight.  I’ll be babysitting and I’m liking that idea- this granny stuff is pretty cool!


Mike and I were married in June.  In fact, next Friday we celebrate our thirty-third wedding anniversary.  The last two years we celebrated by taking a ride on our motorcycle to Lancaster’s Burger Barn for one of their famous chuck wagon sandwiches and then ate an ice cream cone.  Do we know how to celebrate or what?


Our wedding, I thought was pretty.  My maid of honor was my sister and I had four or five bridesmaids.  They wore long pastel dresses and floppy hats. The guys wore suits because I don’t think I even knew what a tux was back then. I have lost touch with two of my bridesmaids.  I don’t even remember their last names.  That’s kind of sad, isn’t it?


Now when I look back at my wedding pictures, they look funny.  The hairstyles, the suits, dresses and even the pastels all look antiquated. It seems surreal to look at the pictures and recall those days.  Seems like a whole different world than the one I’m living in now.  I guess it was.


I’m looking forward to my weekend.  This week’s Bible school was fun, but very tiring.  My kids will be spending the night with us tonight.  I see no better way to start the weekend.



It’s Vacation Bible School Time Again

Tonight was the start of our annual Vacation Bible School (VBS).  Although I’m helping with the babies this time, in years past I’ve taught every age group at one time or another. This year I chose to help with babies because I’m out of practice teaching older children and I have recent practice with newborns and babies.

I held the five week old baby of one of the VBS teachers most of the night.  He reminded me of my Braxton.  Seth was his name.  He also had big blue eyes and loved for us to talk to him.  He slept for a while then I fed him a bottle just before his mother came to get him. I changed lots of diapers too.

Watching for a moment as the older children worked in the craft section reminded me of my own time in VBS.  As a child I made everything imaginable with craft sticks.  We made jewlery boxes, crosses, and other decorative art with the sticks.  The biggest thing I recall making is a wooden tray.  Actually, the trays were already made, we just painted and decorated them.  We had clay praying hands that we painted then the teachers would bake them so the paint would stay. We made bookends too.  They came in kits and we’d put them together, paint them and put a cross in the middle of each one.  We’d finish them off with a coat of varnish.

The crafts used today don’t seem to be as time consuming and as difficult, but they are more age appropriate and they go along with the lessons that are taught. 

Another thing that is much different than the VBS’s of yesteryear is the snacks they offer.  Our snack table was set up outside. The table was actually a desk.  When it came to snack time, we’d line up in front of the desk and a crippled woman named Margaret, gave out the cookies and the cup of kool-aid. I don’t recall Margaret ever doing anything else in Bible school other than hand out the snacks, but that is the memory that is most vivid of all to me. She may not have felt her job was important, but for me it is the one thing I remember the most. After playing hard and getting hot, that kool-aid always seemed to hit the spot.  Her job was important to me.

The food offered tonight was a choice between a hot dog or chicken nuggets, chips, one of those squeeze package drinks and cookies. Of course our VBS is now held in the evening.  The VBS of my childhood was held in the early mornings.  We’d go home for lunch.  Now, most children and adults arrive in a rush, come early, and don’t have time to think about supper.  The food offered is most welcomed by the teachers and parents – especially those who worked all day to rush home just in time to leave for VBS.

The children I saw seemed to be having a good time.  I got quiet a few hugs from many of them.  I like that – kids can be so sweet.

I really didn’t plan to work in VBS all week, but with all the babies that were there tonight and will be there the rest of the week, we need all hands on deck.  My hands will be there.

High School Reunion Time

By Darlene G. Snyder (find me on facebook)


Another picture of beautiful Kentucky River at Buckeye in Garrard County


No way.  Unbelivable. Has it really been that long?


The invitation came in the mail today – so, it’s true.

Reading the names on the reunion committee brought a flood of memories. The flood though, must have garbled my brain somewhat for I had to pull the old 1973 yearbook off the shelf to match committee member names to the faces in the yearbook.

In the past, I’ve received invitations from another high school’s 1973 class reunion.  I’d grown up in one county with a certain group who I went all through grade school, middle school and even went to high school with them for a year and half.  Then my family and I moved.  Those people at my first school are the ones I know the best – spent the most time with – I’d fit in better if I could attend thier reunion and just pretend I did graduate with them.  Wonder if anyone would figure it out.  I mean, if they invite me surely they want me there, shouldn’t I just go?

There wasn’t anything wrong with the school from where I did graduate.  In fact, I made some wonderful friends there. During my senior year, my friends, Charlene, Clelly and I became best friends.  On senior skip day, we drove to a state park, met other classmates and had a picnic.  On ballgame nights, we’d stay in town after school, walk to the courthouse square, eat in the local drug store restaurant and meet-up with some of our favorite guy friends. During the ballgames, most of which we never watched, we’d roam around to see who was with whom. Those were the days.

Moving to another school in the middle of my tenth grade year really wasn’t that tough.  I made friends pretty quick and before I knew it, I was a junior in high school , then a senior. You know how time flies.  Some of my friends were dating, but I wasn’t allowed to go on dates until I graduated from high school.  Sounds crazy, I know, but daddy wanted to hang on to his girls for as long as he possibly could.  Not dating didn’t really cause me or my sister too much trouble though.  We were rather shy in nature, not in the “popular” crowd, and besides, it wasn’t like we were even being asked out.  I don’t know why though, neither one of us was ugly…

Daddy did allow me to go on a double date to the prom with someone whom he knew I didn’t like as a boyfriend.  I want to tell you what I wore to my senior prom.  I swear it’s true.  I have pictures to prove it. My mom made me a pantsuit.  The pantsuit was white with big, humongous, kelly green bicycles all over it. I kid you not.  I bet had I looked close enough, I would have seen the word ugly written in the spokes of the bicycle wheels.

Now, I always considered myself to be very fashion minded.  However, it is evident from wearing that pantsuit that there was a time when I must have not been thinking clearly.  Even if it were 1973, wearing a pantsuit was one thing, but an ugly one?  I can’t for the life of me even guess why I thought that it was ok to wear that thing – ever, especially to my senior prom. And I wondered why no one ever asked me out, ha!

My high school days were filled with fun.  I was lucky enough to have attended two different schools in that four year period.  I have friends from both and I wouldn’t trade memories of one place for the other. I must admit though, I’ve never attended a class reunion from either school.  This year though, I might just attend the reunion…maybe both if I’m invited.

If I find time to hunt down that picture of me in the pantsuit, I’ll scan it into my computer and post it here later. Come back and look for it, it’s too funny to miss!



Talking Horse

Blurred Vision

I named this horse Blurred Vision because I was on the motorcyle when I snapped the picture.  He isn’t my horse, we were just passing by when I saw him. I like how the leaves on the tree are blurred and the colors blend together. 

The picture was taken last fall. We were on one of the Kentucky backroads when I saw this horse. Sometimes when we ride in the Lexington area, I find the beautiful homes where the horses actually live to be unbelievable. The horse barns are nicer than most houses in Kentucky. 

The horse farms are also a sight to behold.  Most have wooden fences painted white or black that surround the farm.  There are flowers, trees and ponds that look more like small lakes and of course the beautiful beasts in the fields. Some areas have one horse farm right after another and it is difficult to tell where one farm ends and another begins. The mansions the owners live in are nothing to sneeze at either.

While those farms house mostly race horses and horses that will sell for more money than I’ll see in a lifetime, the horses I love are those that you’d find on a typical farm with a stinky black barn where many different animals have lived.

As a teenager, I lived on a farm.  We had a horse named Star; he was a big sorrel work horse. My dad used him somtimes to plow tobacco fields.  I loved riding the horse.  I’d get one of my brothers to put a bridle and saddle on him for me.  I was always too finicky to touch the slobbering mouth to put the bridle on and too scared to put the saddle on the sweaty beast, but I loved riding him.  Actually, I wasn’t to scared to climb on, kick him in the sides and yell “yah!” really loud to get him to take off running. 

I’ve always been a little frightened around most farm animals.  I recall dad taking mom, my brother, sister and me to my grandparents farm and into the barn where he’d feed and milk the cows. He’d take turns putting my sister and brother on the back of the milk cows that were in stalls and unable to move.  When it came my turn, I kicked and screamed because I didn’t want to sit on or touch the milk cows. Dad sat me on one once and I remember the skanky sweaty smell to this day.  I yelled and screamed until he took me off the animal.

A few years after Mike and I married, we bought me an Appaloosa Gilding named Chico.  I loved riding the horse and he was so gentle that I could ride right up to Mike while he was sitting on a loud running tractor that would have scared most horses. Once when we were on a trail ride, I spotted an wide open field which I promptly rode over to and pushed Chico into a run.  Mike didn’t know I’d purposely ran the horse and he thought Chico was running wild until he saw me pulling on the reigns to slow the horse to a trot.

There is just something about me loving the feel of the wind blowing in my hair whether it is from riding a horse or on the back of a motorcycle.  If Mike’s hands don’t get well soon, I’m buying a horse.