Heyz Everyone, thanks for coming by. Well its that time of the year again, so "Merry Christmas", Happy Holidays, or whatever your thang is for this time of the year. Here on Poverty Hill its "Merry Christmas". I honestly believe this time of the year produces more memories than any other time of the year. There are just all kinds of different feelings, happiness, excitement, wonder, and thrill, but there is also sadness and reflection as we remember loved ones and friends who have passed and will not be here. Remembrance of Christmas's past when they were with us is like a Christmas present that you will always have and as long as we have those memories in our hearts they will never be forgotten. So remember the good times you had with them but focus on the now, the memories we are about to make, and make sure it will be memories that you will always reflect back on.
Judi and I want to take time to wish each and every one that reads this a Happy Holiday and heartfelt thanks for being our friends and family. We are truly blessed to have each and every one of you. We hope that this holiday brings each of you happiness and good cheer, and wish you even more for the following year.
Remember, yall be good cause Santa Claus is watchin, and I want each of you to get what ya want for Christmas. Yall come when ya can, the door is always open to my friends. Oh and remember, Jesus is the reason for the season.

Hugs & Handshakes

TW

Christmas Magic

Heyz to everyone, hope you're all doing great. Well its my favorite time of the year again, Christmas. Judi and I both have always been worse than kids this time of the year. One thing that many of you may not know though is that I'm one of Santa's magical elves. Yep thats right TW the magical Santa's helper. Its well known in my family and the families of my friends that I have a "Santa's Magical Mailbox", and I"m tight with the jolly ole Santa, me being a magical elf and all. ....laffin. This all started about 20 years ago when one of my nieces wanted to write Santa a letter to let him know what she wanted. At the time she was about 4 years old, and was the number one Santa fan in the world. Being Santa's big elf buddy, I had to keep her informed year around as to what he and the rest of the elves at the North Pole were doing. Well I sat her down and helped her write Santa a letter, being sure not to leave out anything. We checked and double checked to make sure nothing had been left out, down to the accessories for Barbie and makeup.
Of course I helped her add things that she might want besides the ones she had already mentioned, being the professional elf that I am, and being in the know of the
stuff a lil girl like her might get. After the letter was all finished and Regan my niece had decided that she had everything written down, of course we had to draw the magical North Pole Star on the envelope, or it just would not go. Her eyes were all lit up and she had a grin so wide that I was sure her jaws were gonna burst. Yep it was time to go to the "Magical Santa's Mailbox". Excited was not the word for it, there just aren't any words to describe it. She was a little skeptical at first about me being a magical elf due to the fact that I was quite tall for an elf, but I quickly assured her that I shrank to elf size at midnight on Christmas Eve so that I could perform my Santa's elf duties. She was quick to take that as pure fact, due to the magic quarter I had in my pocket that turned me elf sized.
Anyway away we went to the road to the "Magical Santas Mailbox", Regan with her letter requesting all kinds of goodies held tight in her hand. By this time she had gathered up quite a crowd to come watch her send her letter to Santa in the "Magical Santa's Mailbox". Arriving at the mailbox she excitedly opened to mailbox door and put her letter in and turned to me and asked, Now what? I asked if she'd said the magic words to send the letter off and she replied no, that I had forgotten to tell them to her. Silly me, what kind of magical elf am I.....sheeshhhhh.
I told her that she had to be real serious and believe that the letter would go to Santa at the North Pole. Of course the trick was she had to close her eyes, turn three turns repeating "Go To Santa, Go To Santa, Go To Santa, and tap the "Magical Santas Mailbox" three times, but of course her yes MUST be closed tight. She did this perfectly and "Walllllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" the letter was magically sent to Santa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!She opened the box and the letter was gone and her mouth flew wide open in amazement, she jumped and screamed all excited telling everyone that her Uncle Terry really was a magical elf and we'd sent her letter to Santa in the "Magical Santa's Mailbox". Talk about making someones day.........laffin....it did mine.
Well the "Magical Santa's Mailbox" has sent many a letter to Santa since then, sons, nieces, nephews, friends children and many many more. Well now I have Grandchildren and I'm ready to break out the magical mailbox again, I don't know who looks more forward to it.........yes I do!!!!
Now i love listening to my kids, my neices and nephews all telling their children about me being a magical Santa's elf and the "Magical Santa's Mailbox". Their eyes still light up when telling about it. Ahh......the memories.
Well yall come when ya can, the door is always open to my friends.

Hugz N Handshakes

TW(Terry)

Reality Check

Hey Everyone, thanks for stopping by ole TW's lil blog. I've been doing the same trying to surf around and catch up on reading my friends blogs, which I enjoy very much. You can tell a lot about a person just by reading their blogs, well except mine because I never make a whole lotta sense.....laffin. Guess thats why I call it Rambling.
I learned to face a reality this past week that really upset me and just made me see that PH sucks even more than ever. About this time of the year my youngest son, Steve, and I go on our annual big Duck hunt up in the northern Delta part of the State. This is a once a year thing for me and I always look forward to spending it with Steve and our hunting buddies. This year was no exception, I was ready to go for weeks before it got here, guns all cleaned, duck decoys ready, just all excited to get going. Its about a six hour drive from Poverty hill to where we were going to hunt, almost on the Arkansas state line. The trip went great with the usual lies being told, and the bragging about who was gonna kill the most ducks, just the regular man thing ya know. We arrived at the hunting camp and slept for about 3 hours before getting up at 3:30 am and eating breakfast and preparing for the first day of the hunt. I felt great even with just the few hours sleep. Sometimes I guess I need a reality check, because I don't seem to want to accept that I just can't do what I want to do, the mind is willing but the body just says "No Way."
The first day was a memory jogger though. We had to wade in waist high water for about a quarter of a mile wearing chest wader boots that weight what feels like a ton, especially when you're wading through mud and water. Well as you could understand I'd walk about 20 or 30 yards before I'd have to stop to rest, out of breath and gasping for air. Finally with Steves help though I made it to the place we were going and we had a great time taking our limit of ducks. The only thing the whole time I was hunting all I was thinking about was how I dreaded the walk back out. With about 20 rest stops though I make it back to the truck but was so tired I couldn't hardly muster enough energy to get up into it without my buddies help. What a dose of reality, and a hard shot to my ego. The next day we hunted in a place where I could just drive my ATV to the spot we were hunting, now this was great. I can do this!!! I was tired from hunting the day before but I felt manly again now, I didn't have to have any help, Hallelujah, but my energy level was bottomed out. On the third day I was short of breath just walking 20 feet, reality had set in, I sat down with Steve and told him that I was afraid that this would be my last duck hunt that I couldn't do it anymore. I explained to him that I wanted to hunt as much as I ever did, but my body just wouldn't allow me to. This in itself was a hard thing for me to do, I felt as though I were disappointing my son, who had always looked up to me as his mentor and hunting buddy. Steven looked at me and smiled and said, Dad you are and always have been an inspiration to me, for you to come out and do the things you have done these past few days is amazing, I just hope I can grow to be the caliber and man that you are.
Not only did I leave hunting camp with my dignity intact, I realized that my youngest son has grown up and is already that caliber of man. Thank You Lord.
Well let me get outta here I've still got chores to do. Yall come when ya can, the door is always open to my friends.

Hugz N Handshakes

TW(Terry)

The Other Side of PHTony's Story

Heyz Everyone, I just read PHTony's Thanksgiving story and laughed so hard I almost cried. But as with every story you know theres usually two sides. Being of Indian heritage I figured it was only right that I tell our side of the story.
"One day a young indian brave, Rowanka(meaning short of breath), was hunting by the big rock, called moon rock, and he looked up and saw the biggest canoe he'd ever seen. It had many sick people hanging over the side that seemed very sick, he supposed that was the reason for their whitish colored skin. They came ashore at Moon Rock and everyone headed for the alderberry bushes, tarnishing Mother Earth with the worst stink He'd ever smelled. Hiding in the bushes Rowanka watched as the sick white people started cutting trees and were muttering in a language he didn't understand, something about a Plymouth Rock or Hard Rock, anyway he didn't understand, he figured they must be blessing Moon Rock where their giant canoe had come ashore.
Rowanka watched the skinny half starved white people with great interest as they talked in their native tongue until four men left the camp. In wonderment Rowanka followed as the four men left going into the woods. He followed as the men went towards his village, wondering what they were up to. He knew today was the day his tribe celebrated the Feast of the Harvest to show their thanks to their Gods for the food they were provided. Just outside the village Rowanka ran up to the men and tried to communicate with them and they just kept trying to stick him with long knives. Finally he got them calmed down and found out they were hungry and needed food. Being a helpful brave he took the men to the village market and gave them some corn, collard greens, turnips and turkeys to take back to the poor starving white people. As they were leaving, being a gracious host, Rowanka told them to come again. Little did he know they were going to bring every darn one of those sick white people to the dance that night. Being a gracious host, the Chief, Squanto and his wife, Pokeehauntus, invited the whole bunch to stay and have dinner and join in the celebration. The tribe medicine man made up some medicine for the sick white people, herbs and spices he called coumadin, viagra and tracleer to mention a few. Finally after almost eating the tribe out of their teepee's the poor sick white people left. The white man chief, John Smith, told Squanto and Rowanka, Thanks for Giving(now called Thanksgiving) them food and they hoped that they could live together in peace. Squanto told him he was most welcome and gave the white chief a fruitcake that his mother-in-law had made for him that was terrible and he was glad to finally get rid of. Thinking the white man would only be in their land for a short period of time the indians taught the white men to grow corn and vegetable from the rich land. The only thing is, THEY NEVER LEFT.
And thats, THE END OF THE STORY.

Thanks Tony for such a great story, keep up the writing. Yall come when ya can the door is always open for my friends.

Hugs N Handshakes

TW(Terry)

The Great Feast

Wavin,,,hey everybody, hope today finds all of ya doing good. Things are going good here on Poverty Hill. Looks like we're in for a cold winter this year, it seems to have started getting cold a lot earlier than it has the past few years. Thats fine though, I've done broke out the long johns and my cold weather wardrobe, you know insulated overalls, thermo socks, all the good stuff.
I'm preparing for the GREAT FEAST, the yearly eating of wonderful stuff that I know I shouldn't be eating.........but hey its just once a year.....grins. I can just smell the aroma of ham cooking in the kitchen, and the turkey, and the dressing.....omg.....my mouth is watering now. I take my preparations for the Thanksgiving feast seriously. I all but quit eating two dayz before, just eating sandwiches and lil snacks so I'll be good and hungry and have lots of room in the old gullet so I can make a pig of myself........laffin. And I do a good job of it!
This is expected of me, I come from a family of great cooks, and each one expects you to eat a belly full of what they cooked or else you'll hurt their feelings. Wellllllllllllllllllllllllll...........I don't hurt anyones feelings.....laffin...I make em all feel good.
Like all families, this is a time for everyone to get together and talk about things that are happening with them and talk about the old days of growing up and the funny things that happened during these times. Mostly just being thankful for this time we have to spend together as a family.
I hope everyone reading this lil blog has a Happy Thanksgiving and a wonderful holiday spending time with their loved ones. One more thing, please take time during your dinner blessing to remember those soldiers overseas that are spending their Thanksgving away from their families.
Well I guess I need to get outta here for now, I just wanted to write a lil note to everyone and wish em a Happy Holiday and hope ya have many more...
Yall come when ya can, the door is always open to my friends.

Hugz N Handshakes

TW