About Me


I have entered a Zero to Hero Blogger contest, that will last thru the month of January.  The first entry is supposed to be about me.  So what do I say about me?

I have been 39 years old for several years, younger than my youngest child, and can’t really figure out how he was born before I was.  Okay, I spent 30 years as a farm wife (married very young as you can see), then divorced and moved to Owensboro ,KY where I have lived since.  I was diagnosed with Multiple Schelorsis after years of being misdiagnosed as a hypochondriac, lazy, and just plain good for nothing by family, some of which still see me that way.

Learning that I have MS was a relief, after the initial shock, because it was then that I realized I wasn’t really clumsy, but actually as graceful as a ballerina.  It was the MS that made me walk into the walls, door facings, furniture and everything else I walked into.  So I decided to embrace the inner ballerina, and laugh at the clumsy reality, thus the name of my blog: A Train Wreck Looking For A Home.


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I Had A Thought

Don’t worry, lost it again.  Found whisk though.  Sure wish could remember thought.  Seemed good at time.  Prob’ly ‘member it when tryin’ to sleep.

So other random thoughts.  ‘Member how talk ’bout countin’ flowers on wall while waitin’ for elevator?  Waitin’ for elevator today, noticed not flowers, curlicues.  Been countin’ curlicues all time an’ thought countin’ flowers.  Lot like when first rented apartment.  Mom asked what color carpet.  Tole her beige.  She fin’ly came to see it ‘n pointed out carpet blue.  Not color blind, jest don’ notice the small stuff.  Don’t look at carpet unless vacuumin’ an’ then jest to see if missed anythin’.  Don’ care what color carpet is.

Got burnt stuff off pan baked stromboli on.  Put bakin’ soda on then poured on vinegar.  Boy howdy, it sure did fizz.  All that mess jest fizzed up an’ disappeared.  Even got off other burnt on stains.  Almos’ look new now.  Guess hafta make somethin’ else now, see what other kinda mess we can make.

goldenrod by seedbud Goldenrod by seedbud.  KY state flower.  Instant sneeze machine.  Wish could sneeze.  Open sinuses up.  Almost comes then goes away.  Don’ like that.  Sneezin’s fun.  Not sneezin’ no fun.  Jus’ stop head up more.  Not fun.  Rather have fun.  Retired.  S’posed to have fun when retired.  S’posed to be golden years.  Can’t find gold.  Don’ think Kentucky ever have gold — just soft coal.  Can’t even make diamond with soft coal.

Wish could remember thought.  Bro would say “Can’t remember if I forgot that or not.” or somethin’ like that.  Thinks he’s funny, but remember when he was kid.  Always in trouble.  Then grew up ‘n got himself ordained priest.  ‘Magine that!  Troublemaker to trouble solver.  Even teaches at University now.  Highest IQ in high school history, but failed ‘most every class ’cause kept gettin’ bored.  Tole me once thought he would git good grades ’cause of last name.  Jist cause rest of us got good grades.  Hahaha.  Showed him thang or twenny.

2 squirrley Cuttin’ it short ’cause ah’m hongry!  So leavin’ you with warnin’ here.  If’n them squirrels git ya, don’ ya go a blamin’ me fer it.  Ya’ got yer warnin’ here.


Cuzzins, Part Two

Last night I shared some of the photos of the Blandfords.  I have more for tonight.  I scanned several into my computer, but they refuse to show up when I try to download them to this link.  My computer and I frequently duke it out over things like this.  It usually wins.  A lot of the photos I wanted to include were distorted from time spent on the CD.  They are lost to me forever I guess, but here we go with some of the rest.

Motorcycle MamasThis one may have been included last night, but I love it.  Ray titled it “Motorcycle Mamas”.  And I do remember posting it already.  No clues on identity though.  I’ve lost a lot of brain cells since mom told me who’s who.

Vird My Uncle Vird’s family.  Since there are only four little girls, it was before Krista was born.  Don’t ask what year though.  I can’t even remember what year I was born half the time.  Or maybe I just try to forget.  I blame it on MS.  Others may get dementia, but not I.  I have MS and I’ll stick to that story even after they lock me away in an Alzheimer’s unit.

Tony Barbara Diane Patty  Tony, Barbara, Diane and Patty.  I think the order is right.  Tony and Diane made their first communion, Barbara was a flower girl, and Patty an angel.  She still is, even though she insists on living in Texas instead of Kentucky.  Everyone knows KY women are all angels. (That means I am too.)

angiecarolbarbara My first communion, along with Carol and Barbara.  Behind us are Father Saffer and Sister Marita.  Aren’t we all so cute in our pretty white dresses and veils?  More KY angels, even though Barbara also now lives in Texas, and Carol is in heaven.  Back then we thought we would live forever.

Steve1Communion Steve’s first communion.  Obviously, this was taken in our back yard.  Left to right we have Sylvia, mom, Ray, Steve and Larry.  Elaine wasn’t born yet, but I don’t know why Tony and I are not there.  I think I’ll claim discrimination here.

tonyangela Okay, just to make things better, this one is of Tony and me.  We used to have a lot of snow in this area, but not so much lately.  We tend to get ice now.  But aren’t we the cutest?

virdsdaughter This is one of Vird’s daughters.  I’m thinking Sheila, but could be wrong.  They are all a generation a bit younger than mine, so I got to play with them as if they were dolls.  She looks like one, doesn’t she?

Paul Michael Ronald Michael, Paul and Ronald.  Uncle Hubert’s boys.  And more Texans.  Now what does Texas have that KY doesn’t?  We lost Michael a few years ago too.  They are Patty and Barbara’s brothers.  The photo I had of all of them together was one that was contaminated and couldn’t be saved.  I hate that.

graduates Ah, yes.  Eighth grade graduation.  Dan, Diane, Carol and yours truly.  Barbara had moved to town by then, or she would have been in there with us.

There was a story Barbara told of how much her dad loved ice cream.  We would have to churn it in the country, but when they moved to Owensboro he could walk down the block to a small neighborhood grocery and buy a gallon any time he wanted it.  I guess there are some good things about living in town, but if I had my druthers, well, I’m just a country girl, transplanted to town.

Come back tomorrow for Part Three, and remember, this is still only one side of the family.