Anyone who has known me for any length of time knows that I love chocolate.
They also know that I am not much of a wine drinker.
But that has changed!
I can now say I am truly a Chocaholic!
Today, I think…Viva la Vino!
Category: Tossing It Out A to Z Challenge
Tuesday, U is for underwear…
When I was doing laundry the other day I got to thinking about my Gramma. About her underwear to be specific. Maybe it’s weird but one of my favorite memories of her is her underwear.
Gramma was short–not quite five feet tall. And she was—not exactly what you would call fat—but she was—well—round. Her shape was more of a small barrel than an hourglass.
What was interesting about her underwear was her choice of underwear. She wore a corset.
I mean every single day she wore a corset.
Sort of like this one
And yes, she wore stockings. Elastic support hose. Except in summer. Then she wore cotton hose.
The fun part was when she took her corset off to put her nightie on. She would hang the corset on the closet door. It looked like her body was still in it. It was shaped just like her! I am not sure if her corset was shaped by her body or her body by the corset. Anyway, it would hang on the closet door until morning when she would put it on again under her house dress.
Oh, and under the corset she wore something like this
Quite the stylish gramma she was!
I wonder what she would think of underwear today?
Today, I think…though I am not really a Victoria’s Angel kinda gal I am definitely glad Gramma’s underwear is not in my drawer…or hanging on the closet door…
Monday, T is for Teddy’s treasure…
Hi Peoples!
There was a mystery here for a while!
This is my ESS. It is a treasured toy of mine.
See that little thing hanging underneath? That is a feather. It is supposed to be there all the time. But one day it was gone.
Just gone!
We looked everywhere for the feather. But it was gone! And the feather is the treasure part of the ESS without it the ESS is just an ess.
Then one day Mama was doing some cleaning and decided to vacuum 
the furniture. She got that old blue house monster out and went to work. When she got to the sofa and took the cushions off there was this faint but familiar smell.
I immediately started to check it out. And look at what I found!
The ESS feather!
What a wonder! I am so happy!
I played for a long time with the ESS feather. I played until I just couldn’t play anymore.
I’ll tell you I am so glad we found the feather but I think maybe Mama needs to reconsider her cleaning schedule. My treasured ESS feather was missing for a LONG time!
Saturday, S is for silly…
Amália, a Gata Christie (Photo credit: ines saraiva)
Sometimes serious things are surprisingly silly.
Friday, R is for Rescue; a review…
A Black cat Book Review
Rescue by Anita Shreve
Webster is a paramedic who saves the life of a beautiful young woman, Sheila. They fall in love. They marry and have a daughter, Rowan, and do not live happily ever after.
When Rowan is two years old, Sheila leaves them and father and daughter go on without her. All seems fine until Rowan’s last year of high school when she begins to quietly rebel and distance herself from Webster. On the night of the Senior Dance there is an accident…and the return of Sheila into their lives.
There are times in the early years of Sheila and Webster’s relationship that are touching and beautiful as only young love can be. But in the midst of that love is also great sadness and the knowledge that love does not always conquer all. When they see each other again years later it is with acceptance of who they were together and who they have become while apart; the one thing that has not changed is their love for Rowan.
Well written with brutal honesty of emotion there are many questions and few answers, much like real life. Anita Shreve deftly explores the deeper and more tender places of the heart.
Thursday, Q is for Queenie…
I have been called by different names over the years. All derivatives of my given name.
My father always called me PJ. Sometimes my big brudder still calls me PJ. For most of my life everyone called me Pat.
I called myself Pat.
In my mid-forties I had a mid-life crisis or something and decided that from then on I would be called Patricia. So, since then the world has called me Patricia.
I call myself Patricia.
I like it.
Sometimes someone will call me Patty. Ugh, I hate that! I quickly correct them. Except for one young man many years ago…he could have called me Poop if he wanted. But that is a story for another time.
I still answer to PJ and Pat. Pat and PJ are ok but I prefer Patricia. You can tell how long someone has known me by what name they use.
One thing I am never called anymore is Queenie or The Queen. That was my mother’s name for me. It started out as being a way for her to say I was acting like a spoiled brat, which I was most of the time. But over time it became a term of endearment.
I think she was spot on with the name. I loved it. It has been years, 31 to be exact, since anyone has called me Queenie. I miss my nickname.
I miss being Queenie.
Patricia's Place 
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