The dark night approaches when little creatures dressed as their altar-egos knock on doors to beg for candy exclaiming,
"Trick or Treat!"
They just want the sugar treat without a trick to barter in exchange,
Well, this old lady has a Trick in stores for those brave souls who dare knock on our door.
No, this is not a threat of some ghoulish scheme to terrorize little kids. But, I tell you what, there will be no sugar tonight given from my cauldron, for several reasons, in no particular order.
Saving the world
I have pondered this tradition with great care and concern.
My son and I have lovely neighborhood kids whom we do not want to disapoint or alienate.
I sure do no want to look like stingy wicked old witch who might get her yard TP'd out of revenge or something.
I went to the Dollar Tree to keep within our budget. I picked out a variety of non-candy junk to delight the annual beggars in disguise.
This photo shows the kind of orange and black choking hazards. The older kids can poke their eyes out with pencils, but they are old enough to know better.
I figure every one is happy with thes cheap plastic trinkets that last a day or two longer than candy and it will not cause tooth decay, either. The kids can get their tactile stimulation for a few days before Mom and Dad pitch it all in the trash.
So they don't have to stand and choose, I am making up little bags of goodies that will be passed out a few days before Halloween.
Every one is happy! The kids can get their tactile stimulation for a few days before Mom and Dad pitch it all in the trash.
Win-win! I look the good fairy instead of the wicked witch luring children into my oven.
In my photo you will see:
Choking Hazards by No Non-cents Nanna video
I am Malika Bourne the No Non-cents Nanna saying, "Make good choices."
Disclaimer: none of these items are guarenteed to be safe for all children. Please supervise you rchildren very carefully.
I wanted a piece of Wrigley's Juicy Fruit gum.
At age had 5 I tasted that mouth watering gum a few times before.
Standing in the grocery store line with my father I spotted the display of the yellow packages of chewing gum. I wanted to experince that fruity goodness in my mouth.
Yes, I wanted that gum.
I could taste it in my salivating mouth.
I asked my daddy to get the gum for me, but he said, "No, not unless you have your own nickle to buy it."
I wanted that gum!
I took that gum in my little hand just before we walked out of the store onto the sidewalk.
It was so easy to grab and go.
I remember the little pull strip sticking out just enough to pinch between my fingers to tear open the nickel package of gum.
With 6 sticks of the sweet smelling cheiwing delight exposed, I offered to share a piece with my dad.
"Where did you get that from? I told you no you could not have it!"
I hated it when I made my father angry. He was very angry.
"Give me that young lady, right now!"
He snatched the gum right out of my hands... but.. it was mine!
Daddy ripped out every stick of gum from the foil wrappers only to shove them all into his own mouth. He smacked on that gum with his mouth opening wide so I could see the chewed on pieces and the sugary juice dripping out onto his lips.
I was Daddy's right hand man. How could he take all of my gum! What if he did not love me anymore?
Daddy pulled me by the hand to march me back into the store.
"Excuse me, my daughter is a thief. She owes you a nickle for the gum she stole from the store."
Some one had a radio blaring.
Tennesse Earnie Ford was singing, "You load sixteen tons and what do you get? Another day's older and deeper in debth. Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go-o-o-o-o! I own my soul to company store." http://youtu.be/Joo90ZWrUkU
I hung my head low, ashamed to be a thief.
Not only was I embarrased that I had not listened to my father's words about not getting gum...
...But, I abruptly understood why the buckles on my leather shoes were on the inside and not the out side....
...The buckles caught on each other causing me to stumble and fall on my face. My short little dress fipped up over my behind.
The boy who sacked the groceries saw my underpanties. He laughed, adding insult to injury.
Dad paid for the gum even when the checker said it was OK. My dad insisted that I had to learn a lesson to never steal again.
I worried about getting to start Kindergarten soon and having my class mates know I was a thief. I could see my self with a black and white striped pirson uniform.
I would be the only Kindergartener dragging a 16 ton ball and chain.
I wanted to die!
Now, the world knows I am a thief. I published the 1955 incident on the internet! I can't take back the confession.
That poor choice did haunt me the rest of my life as Daddy had predicted. Little did I know at the time that all kids take what they want when they are are 3, 4, 5 years old.
Over the decades whenever I hear the song Sixteen Tons I salivate...just like Pavlov's dogs. Only I taste Juicy Fruit gum.
Now it is your turn
How did you learn right from wrong? How did you feel when you got caught in a mistake when you were 5? Are there any senses that stick with out about what you did wrong?
I am Malika Bourne the No Non-cent Nanna saying, "Make good choices."
The image is of me when I was about 5 years old. wiht the name of Nancy Bakehous. This was photographed by Ken Rene' Studio, my father copyright 1955. All rights reserved by the Bakehouse sisters.
The 14 year old service dog stretched his old black, white and liver body after waking form his long nap. He looked around the bed expecting to to see his self appointed charge, Phia, to still be sleeping, but she was not on the bed.
Tacks, the service dog jumped off the bed to scurry on the slippery wood floor. Where is Phia? I must find the little girl.
The old dog looked through the glass on the French doors that open to the patio. No, the 2 year old was not there, either.
He frantically rushed to the front door. Maybe the little tyke was in the lanudry room with Nanna.
He barked for the girl. There was no reply.
Then he barked again, then nosed the man's hand and pawed his knee.
His man, the one for whom he works for, snapped with annoyance. "Shut-up Tacks. There is no one at the door."
The dog's eye got bigger and bigger. He looked under his man's bed and in the chair where Phia might sit to watch TV with Nanna.
Phi-a-a-a-! the dog barked with a frenzy.
Full blown anxiety set into Attacks With Love, the service dog. He ebgan to cry, as dogs sometimes do when they love so very much. Tacks felt he had failed his self-appointed babysitting job he has one day a week with his man's niece and Nanna's grand daughter. That lively little person needs him. He did not know why he could not find her. she had been sleeping safely and soundly in Nanna's bed.
Phia, where are you? I love you little one?
Tacks turned to Nanna hoping she would not dispaooint his. He nosed her arm with his cold wet nose. He nosed her arm, again.
"Hey, Buddy,what is up?" Nanna scratched the favorite spot behind the dogs ears. "Do you need to go potty? Go get your leash. I will take outside."
Nanna asked David, the man, if he knew what his service dog's unusual problem was. Neither adult human had any idea why the dog was so upset.
Nanna and dog walked outside. Scratch that. The dog ran fast as he sniffed the ground like he was a blood hound searching for an escaped prisoner. He about pulled Nanna's arm out of the socket trying to get to the parking spot where Phia's mom parks her car when Phia comes to his house.
He had not seen her leave, so she stll must be here.
Phia-a-a-! Phia! Ph-i-a-a-a! PHI-A!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tacks whined loud and clear at the pain that stabbed him straight though the heart. He did not understand why Nanna did not respond to his cries for the child. She should be holding her hand.
Tacks' odd behavior went on for over 24 hours. He would fall asleep, as old dogs tend to do. He would then awaken with a start. He would move as fast and furrious as he could from room to room in search of Phia. He even pulled all of the bedding off of Nanna's bed hunting for the girl. (Nanna's was not amused, but still did not get it. Phia had disappeared.)
Finally, Tacks got a brilliant idea. He found one of Phia's little pink socks hidden under bed. He picked up the cotton object in his mouth to carry it to his man.
"Mom, I think Tacks has Phia's sock."
The old gentleman dog dropped the slobbery sock to pant. His tongue hanging out of his mouth dripped slobber on the wood floors.
"David, I think I know what his panic attack is all about. Hand me the phone, please."
Nanna called Phia's mother. "Hey, you will never guess what Tacks has been doing. Tacks did not say goodbye to Phia when she left the other day. I think he misses her. Can you put Phia on the speaker phone? Tell her to say something to Tacks."
Suprisingly Sophia talked at the phone so the dog could hear her.
"Hi Tacks! Are you a good dog?" The high pitched little voice came over the speaker.
Tacks' head turned to sound of the soft voice. His ears perked up. He smiled a big smile. (Yes, this dog smiles, and winks.)
Phia sang one of her little songs to her so-called baby-sitter the not so frantic, anymore, old dog. It sounded like Tacks was humming under his breath with the Twitnkle Little Star.
The baby-sitter seemd to relax his tired old body.
David rolled his wheel chair closer to his faithful service dog. "Buddy, I am sorry that I did not understand your problem. You missed Sophia, didn't you? I know, Phia is so much fun to play with isn't she? I miss her, too, boy."
Attacks With Love, the service dog was calm, once again. He had found the little girl to be safe and sound. All was right with the world, now. He laid his head on his man's lap to absord as much lovin' as one dog could absorb.
The old dog was ready to rest from the trauma of the missing child. He pulled the baby blanket that he and the two year had compeated against for the last year, on to his dog bed. The weary worn dog gently laid his head on the Phia scented blanket. His brown eyes closed within the tear stained fur.
Attacks with Love could rest, now. The lost was found. She was safe. He knew she would be back one day, soon, so he could baby-sit the little girl as best as any service dog could. He was dog that lived to love; love with his whole heart.
This is how I, Malika Bourne the No Non-cents Nanna interpreted the service dog's strange anixous behavior. The phone call, where Tacks could her that the 2 year old was alive and well, calmed him down.
I never would have thought there could ever be a real live dog as protective as Lassie.
Now it is your turn
Do you have a dog who loves you so much?
7/16/14 Update. Sadly Attacks with Love passed away in Feburary 2014 atan aproximate age of 16.RIP Buddy!
As living beings we breath in and breath out every day no matter if the sunshines or not or if we even have dime to spend or not.
Our hearts beat.
We breathe in...we breathe out...
We eat drink sleep, wake up, walk around and do what we do everyday without much thought.
Somewhere in our daily routine life can turn on a dime. You know, make an unexpected change. (Pun intended.)
I don't know about you, but I seem to settle into a comfortable routine. I need to have routines to keep balance in my life.
Yesterday it seemed like every thing was off kilter.
I was doing it all wrong! Well, in the eyes of my boomerang son I was the big old _itch afterall his complaining at me.
I was ready to scream!
Shortly later my nearly 40 year old son, who sits on his butt all day long, asked, "Mom will you help me get into bed, please?
For any new readers who don't know my family,yet, I love complaining about my son sitting on his butt all day to provoke emotions in you.
The truth is my son came home to live with me, not becasue he is a free-loader mooch.
He has severe mulitple sclerosis. He can no longer stadn let a alone walk so he depends on a wheelchair.
Yes, he gets so cranky from the chronic painful spasms that he has... and who could be nice all thetiem if in chronic pain.
To say it nicely, I love my son even though he is a challenge to live with. (I do not always like to be around him.)
I helped him into bed then drained his urine bag.
His urine smelled bad and it had chunks of sediment.
I am sure that is much more information than you want to know, but that is life. Foul smelling urine from a cranky disabled person signals a urinary track infection.
By 3 pm, yesterday, with my son in bed, I shut down to recover myself.
I was emotionally drained.
At that point I knew I should not take his irritablity personal.
The middle aged man was not himself.
Life turns on a dime
I knew that I had to re-assess my priorities around my disabled sons needs.
There are things in our lives that none of us has control over. I have learned to work with the MS. I also am learning to work with my own aging process.
I have found that when life seems to feel really crappy that it is time to sit down to make a new temporary plan. I can control my own choices to nurture my self along with my son's prioritized needs. I do no thave to do everything on my list.
The rule I have always had for my family has been People before things.
Stuff can wait!
Now it is your turn to share how you manage life when you get thrown a curve ball or that dime turns and falls in the toilet.
I am Malika Bourne the No Non-cents Nanna saying, "Make good choices.
I had set an enormous goal for myself to try to get as many toxic chemicals out of our home as it is possible, back in 2013.
Today, I am updating this year old post to share with you if I met my goal or if I caved because my mission was impossible.
I have always been a natural person. I grew up organic since the 1950's when most people thought natural foods or organic was weird.
Some how I slowly let the crap seep in to our lives like a leaking sewer. ( Does this mean I am a human?)
Why the goal to go more natural?
To be honest, I would prefer to serve a meal in my own home rather than drive through a fast-food resturant like most us lazy, junk eating Americans.
YIKES! Did I just type that?
I am a mother and grand mother. I love each member of my family so much that I would do what ever it takes to try to care for them.
My oldest child will be 40 year old in a few weeks.
My boomerang son suffers from severe multiple sclerosis. I suffer watching his pain and the uncontrolable spasms. The disease is also incredibly mentally exhausting for both of us.
Research gives evidence that toxic chemicals sure won't make any of us healthier at all. I feel that if I can reduce x% of stress on my son's body by ridding our home of toxic chemicals then perhaps I could affect my son's enjoyment of life in a more postive way.
How am I doing so far?
9/26/14 71/6/15 1266