Yaknow, not all Sunday stories are good stories still they to need to be spoken of from time to time. Was checking the temp, 27 degrees, smoking cheese, cheese melts at 99 degrees, so I’m good there. Smoking cheese is something you don’t have to hover over like helicopter parent. I like flowers, not that I have flower beds to took after. I’m more along the lines of rodent removal. No matter their size
So one of the items I’ll be doing planting flowers, cannot be to hard, compress (not bury), seems simple enough. Lots of legends are lore about the flower, it being Sunday and me being a Christian, I’ll stick with the Christian side of things.
One day, it is said that while God was walking in the Garden of Eden, He came across a blue flower and asked for its name. The flower, being shy, whispered that it had forgotten its name. In response, God named the flower “forget-me-not,” promising that He would not forget it.
About that story Leaving chruch, you know, with the preacherman standing at the door like
” go forth! and sin, I’ll see you next Sunday”
Ma was at the head of the column, string of kids behind her all in a line, was maybe 5/6 women standing by pathway, one clearly said, that woman with all those kids, never see her with her husband at church. Another said, He’s probably at home drunk, she is married to an indian. That did it!, Ma stopped, gave us strict orders stay were we are, she walked back towards those women and lit into them, My husband works on Sunday, he’s on the water right now, everyone of my children puts a dime in the basket, they get those dimes from thier father night before as always. None said anything, Ma looked at that preacherman standing hearing everything and didn’t say a word to them. Ma just glared at him to. Come’on children let’s go home. Sips coffee, was thinking dad being Catholic, I still think it was ma who put into practice, ” go forth & multiply” dad just doing his part to keep up.
If you ever read the Song of Solomon, he spoke of a Gazelle, why I think such terms.
she went to jail once wearing a nightgown with bathrobe, Bible in one hand, a paperbag with Harliquinn romance books.
But that’s a story for another time
I have some flowers to plant