It Started with a Dying Azalea Bush

Funny how one thing leads to another.

It was a bush I was fighting to keep, only because it partially hid a bedroom I didn't want passersby to see into. It was becoming pretty straggly, even after D trimmed it back. It was old. It was tired. I understood.

One day, a couple of weeks ago, Dennis took me out to look at a gaping hole that had eaten its way into the front of the bush. I knew it was time. So we called our guy that had helped set a foundation for the incoming greenhouse around this same time last year. 

As Andrew looked the front of the house over, and after I had shared my vision with him, he said, "You know what would make the landscaping look really great?" In unison, he and I both said, "Paint the house."

I just looked at Dennis. He knew. We've had this discussion for several years now, but neither of us wanted to spend what it would cost to do something so time consuming. But that dang Azalea bush was now demanding something change quickly.

Plans were drawn up, and approved. A long-time neighbor of ours gave Dennis the phone number of a friend of his who has been in the painting business for 20 years, or so, and we dove headlong into a complete home make-over. Exterior only. Full house power-wash and paint job, and then front landscaping. It was time. Past time, actually. 

The painter and his power-washing guy, was first on the list, while our landscaper drew up a precise design, and had his crew make a trip out to pull all remaining bushes from in front of the house. It had to be a clean sweep of all things bushy. Now the painters had full access to the house.

Side Note: If you have ever thought about power-washing your house and driveway, but thought it an unnecessary project, you should reconsider. I was amazed at the difference it made. Everything (and I mean everything) looked so fresh and clean! Top to bottom. Even the screened in back porch. Everything looked almost new, with a 1900's vibe.

Time for the paint to show us what a difference it could make on an old house desperately needing....something. Choosing the "just right" paint color was a decently difficult task. After several considerations, we settled upon a color called "Cityscape" from Sherwin Williams. We had never met the guys assigned the task, but they were thorough, detailed, and so very friendly. What a job they had! We have a fireplace, so the brick on the chimney had to be painted as well. They made quick work of it, though, and was finished sooner than I had imagined possible. Everything had to be gone over twice. Once for the prepping and putting on a primer, and then the actual paint.

Rain got in the way a couple of days, but all is well that ends well. Right? We had to reschedule our landscaper, but he was facing the same rain issues with a previous job he was trying to get done. So it all worked out just fine.

I will get to water the newly planted trees and bushes, every morning for at least 2 weeks, simply because they were put in the ground a bit late. No worries, though. Even with watering (front and back yard together takes about an hour), I still go out a couple (or 3) times a day and just look at everything. It's so refreshing to see our house looking a bit more like the neighborhood. Well...SOME of the neighborhood. 😂 

The custom made shutters will go up when they arrive, and then....we will be done. I think. I hope. 

I did take a pretty cold shower a few minutes ago. Which can mean only one thing. Our tankless heater is about to retire. UGH!!! 

Let me know what you think of the before and after pics, below. Quite a difference. Yes?

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

P.S.

Shutters hung and I'm questioning the stain color of choice. Hummmmmm....They may end up being re-stained black. We shall see. We shall see. 

What do you think? Let the dark brown shutters stay? Or stain them black?

BEFORE PIC

BEFORE PIC

BEFORE PIC:

Now that you know these are the "BEFORE" pictures... This is the Azalea bush that started it all. That and the rotting shutters you see behind it. 

Poor little house. I'm so sorry we ignored your needs for so long.

ARGGGHHHH... Can you believe the condition of those shutters? I'm sorry you have to see how your retired hair stylist let her house become something you might see on the "wrong side of the tracks." But life can be messy at times.

Time had come to let go of a bit of the money meant for retirement. Change had to happen at some point. Agreed? 🤦‍♀️ 

Just call me the tight wad that lives down the street.

And now, for the AFTER pictures. Please proceed with a tiny scroll...

AFTER PICS

AFTER PICs

AFTER PICS

South end of the house (where the dying Azalea bush was), now stands a Japanese Bloodgood Maple. Sorry about the light reflection on my camera lens. Makes it a bit hard to see.

These are only babies waiting to show us their full beauty. They are so pretty! So amazingly beautiful! 

North end of the house where other bushes were...some not so bad, others needing gone. So we had them all taken out so Andrew could work some magic for us. 

It's so fun going outside now, and just looking at the house.

Neighbors must be thinking that's a bit weird. That's okay. I like weird. Occasionally...

Front view of the house (now that I'm not embarrassed to show it). 😏😆

Unless one stretches the picture, it's hard to tell this used to be a red brick house. Partially. Some siding.

Soooo...dark brown shutters, or black???

Comment below. We all have an opinion. What is yours?

First the Natural...

In just a couple of days, I'll be another year older than this time last year, and although my mind tells me I haven't aged since 1987 (when mid-life hit), my body tells me otherwise. "Yes, my dear. You most certainly can now be identified as an 'elder' ready to stock pile Tylenol."

Although I still do well in the day-to-day, a different story emerges when my intelligence tells me I can still do the work I did as a 40 year old person. I don't particularly like being wrong.

We started a project last Wednesday (May 20th) and are set to finish it by this coming Tuesday (June 2nd), which just happens to be my birthday. We're calling it Mary's Final Wishes...only because it puts a decently sized hole in our budget. There won't be any more wishes this size, for sure.

There's one final touch to complete, then all is done! Hopefully. I may need to gather side items, but nothing as dramatic as this project has been. There may be before and after pictures, later, when things are completed. No promises...just thoughts hanging out in my head this morning.

But, like most posts of mine, this one is no different, in that what you just read is similar to most others. What I began with has nothing to do with what is mainly on my mind. Welllll....maybe a tiny bit. But not much more than that. 

Don't try to figure me out. Dennis has tried for 51 + years, to no avail.

While working on my Planner for the upcoming week, I noticed an encouragement, a challenge of sorts, I had written to myself just last week. Since retirement, I have gotten really lazy. Seriously! Well, lazy in my eyes. I haven't completely stopped moving, but it's getting too close for comfort now. 

Thus, the picture for this post. Bet you were wondering, right? I'm tellin' you ladies (and guys), once you stop being, stop doing, what you've done for eons of time, the Devil's Workshop shows up. We settle in and rest from all the busyness of past years, only to wake up feeling a bit useless. At least I have. It has taken me a full year to get my mojo back and now my body is screaming at me for ignoring it. UGH!!!

Life with purpose is coming back to a life well lived. A life filled with challenges amongst the pleasures. The year of a slate wiped clean is beginning to find actions put to the words written upon it...once again.

There's simply no one to blame, but myself, and since I am used to blaming Dennis for everything, I have been (for the last year) wallowing in my own demise. 

Note to Self: Transformation comes only after the physical is challenged.

Here's to forward movement!

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Shadows That Don't Move

I can tell when I have too much going on in my head. Too many concerns. Too many anxious thoughts. 

I do have them from time to time. This is one of them. So, now I'm up at 3:33 AM holding my head in my hands. It's not that I WANT to be up at 3:33 AM. It's just that when my body woke me as nature called, my mind picked back up where it left off last night while preparing to retire for the day. I told it not to, but, alas...it apparently has a will all its own.

Trying to distract my ever active brain, this early morning, I scheduled 3 months worth of Dr. Livingood's supplements. No worries...the last go-around was about to run out. After patting myself on the back, I ventured into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee, and remembered I thought I had heard Dennis washing his hands about 15 minutes earlier, but he was not up and around that I could tell. Better go check on him, since hearing what sounded like moaning come from an area close to his bathroom.

Walking down the hall, now, to set the coffee on it's heating pad in the study because it takes priority over making sure D is okay. Done. Now to check in on Dennis. Heading to his bathroom, I hear another noise and now fears began their job of worst case scenarios. All is mostly quiet (as it should be at this hour), a shadow emerges from the left side of my peripheral vision. D's bathroom is on the right. 😳😳😳

I don't think I have EVER, in my entire life, lifted to a boxing stance. Intruders, take notice. Both arms fixed in place, much like a real life professional boxer. Ready! Come at me!!! Adrenaline doing its best to keep me level headed, I did not scream. Another phenomenon... 

Screaming is my normal response to surprise. ANY surprise. I just scream. 🤷‍♀️ Loudly...

Still in position to knock the shadow out, it steadies itself by standing very still. All I could see was the shadow of a decently large being. Where's the scream???!!! Lodged inside somewhere, I suppose. But that shadow came really close to having a bloody nose, which, I am pretty sure would have reciprocated with a similar action. OMG!!! Could you just make yourself KNOWN???!!! 

Of course not. That would have been way too easy. We don't do easy in this house...

Synopsis: Mind cleared. Ready to start the day, now.

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World

P.S.

One decently large shadow for sale.

The Prater Name Tells All...

 

I've heard this to be a true statement, more times than I can count. The curiosity comes from why I am told this. Why is this something I need to hear? Is it because I like to talk...maybe a little too much?

Years ago, I sent off a DNA test for a look-see into our family history. Ancestry.com turns out to be an amazing site. Oh wow! So many interesting surprises coming down from my ancestors. 

One that intrigued me was the meaning of our last name. "Prater: the one who talks a lot." 🥴

Well...that puts things in perspective. LOL So, is there simply no hope that we Praters will ever experience wisdom? I'm going to say that cannot be a true statement. Completely, at least. I know of a significant amount of people baring the Prater name that have wisdom coming out their pores. 

While it may be true that the quiet is able to attain more wisdom, simply by listening, I can agree...but simply not as a stand alone truth. If one does nothing but talk, leaving no air space for anyone else in the room, how do they learn anything about those who are not talking? For which I need to apologize for this past weekend in the mountains. You know who you are...

But, questions were asked that took more time to answer than a mere sentence or two. However, I do wish I had shortened those sentences. I do wish I had heard more of the stories of those sitting quietly. I had questions, too. Their answers were much shorter than mine...even though one of them had Prater blood flowing through his veins. Must not have been a significant amount. Maybe more Johnson blood? I need to find out what THEIR name means. Hmmmm....

Looks like I still have work to do...

As always, here you will find me...in Marys World.

Stories for the Generations

MOTHER'S DAY 2026! 

It's a day that brings moms into the limelight. A day that recognizes if it weren't for mom's, this world would eventually die. Mom's built this world, in a sense. Am I right?

I've wished, so many times, to be able to hear my Momma's voice again. To be able to see her standing in front of me. Being able to visit, like we rarely were able to do during my growing years.

This year, my Mother's Day gift from our girls was unique. A gift I wish my own mom could have made use of. I had never heard of Remento before today. Created by a very inspired and talented young man, specifically for his mom, is now offered to the masses. How cool is that?!

A message from Lindsey & Warner and Meghan & Reagan...was tucked inside the intro. "I'm gifting you Remento so that we can have a book of your best stories. Simply talk to share your memories...no writing is needed! Together, we'll create a life story book that captures your voice and memories for generations to come."

At first, I was a bit concerned. Concerned that I wouldn't be able to come up with anything, or with things they would want to know about. But then...Remento (and Lindsey) has made it soooo easy by giving "prompts" for what the girls would like to know about. Meg may also be in on this, just didn't see her name in the collaboration section. Maybe she'll be feeding Lindsey questions she'd like answered, and along with Lindsey's, the stories will happen. 

I'm pretty excited about this. I can either do an audio, or a video of what I want for the day. My choice. Which is great...cause some days I'm pretty chill and the evidence shows in the mirror. 😁 Thankfully, it will only be 3 days a week. I can do that. Yet, I think I did read where I could record anytime I want. Doesn't matter how many times a day, or how many days. The prompts never go away. I can even hit "pause" if I get distracted (which is likely), and get back to it when I'm ready to.

Remento will save all my stories, videos, and audios...to be compiled into a book at the end of the first year of recording. I can upload pictures of years gone by, or anything I want. They may even get to see some of my beautiful flower garden projects. What an amazing idea!!!

In book form, each story that has taken the audio (or video) and put into written words, will also have a QR code that will give access to the video (or audio..whichever I've chosen that day) for that particular session. See what I mean?!!! 

Hopefully, this will be a cherished book, as it says, "for generations to come." I may be gone, but my girls (and their girls) will always have access to me...through this very thoughtful gift. Memories fade, but now they don't have to.  

Thank you, my beautiful girls!!!

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World

Narrow Miss

It seems so very long ago. The year was 1973. I had just came back to my home grown stomping grounds. Not sure where that phrase came from, but this girl never "stomped" a day in her life. That would have been completely off her radar...until 1970. That's the year she got as far away from her ex as possible.

I had moved to Madison, TN. to start a "new life" and get my head on straight. An older sister and her husband had welcomed me into their home until I could find a place of my own. And I did that within a couple of months. The years between 1970 and mid 1973, were, ummmm....interesting. 

A story for another time. Possibly...

Why this memory is front and center of my thinking this early a.m. is curious to me. I had awaken from a dream of impossible circumstances that I had made it through. Mostly unscathed. Along a fence line were a few rows of strong, very tall trees and saplings. I was in a car that would by no means be possible to push through. They grew close together making it a challenge to even walk between them. But I knew there must be a way.

Thinking about this dream, I'm still in awe of how the trees gave way to me. It had been a challenge I accepted and it was as if the trees felt my determination and so granted me access. They simply leaned over to make a way through, when the car made first contact.

There's a story of excellence in there...

Time spent in Tennessee had to come to an end, however. I had stepped into a world I didn't belong in and soon found I was in over my head. The trees in the dream??? One would have to know from whence I came, to fully understand just how desperate I had become. Much like my thoughts of the "how can I get through this" in the dream.

The letter I had penned, ended with, "Please help me!" A letter written to the sister back home I could always count on to be there for me. 

Side Note: I'm pretty sure any of my siblings would have responded to that cry for help, should I have asked. However, coming from the large family that I did, there was only one, close in age, that I leaned on, and fully knew, during the growing years. She was the one making sure I didn't die.

Beck had came for me. Along with a brother and sister-in-law. Rush and Linda. They flew out from Oklahoma, to Tennessee, to rescue a little lost lamb. I am the "baby" of the family and I think may have been the most spoiled. At least that's what I've been told. Way too many times...

There are too many stories to tell of this trip to, and from, to lay out here. This particular post is about an event that took place once I returned to Miami, Oklahoma. With no job promise (another story to tell), for when I arrived back home, I took a job doing what I had done for the better part of my stay in Tennessee. Cocktail waitressing. It's where the real money was. Get 'em drunk and they will leave a wad of cash as a tip for serving them. I don't think I ever thought about what might happen to them after they left the establishment. As far as I was concerned, it would be of their own making anyway. Yep. I was a jewel back then.

It was what was suppose to be my 3rd night working, when everything went down. I hadn't liked the place from the first night there and by the second night had made my decision to leave. I had become accustomed to taking home everything I had made in a nights time of serving those who were out for what they perceived to be a good time. But, this place...well, they thought it would be great having the servers SHARE their tips with all the crew. Because, hey! We were a team! Right? 🙄 I think we all know how that works in an environment of this sort. 

You guessed it. Of course, the new girl gets to do most of the work, especially knowing where she came from and what she was capable of. They thought it great fun to watch while they stood at the bar and snickered. Talk about a party pooper. This new girl wasn't about to let that happen.

By the end of the second night of a very heavy shift, I had made my decision this was not the place for me. I had raked in a LOT of money working my booty off, while the others served only a table or two the whole night. They did help clean up my tables, however. Good call, so more could be seated and let the bimbo make their earnings for the night, while they sipped on whatever they wanted.

At the end of the shift, and after my tips (and their few pennies) had been laid out on the bar and divided up, I was one angry girl. I ended up with a fourth of what I had earned. I said, "How is this even close to being right? Enjoy the fruits of my labor," and left. Never to go back. 

Taking from the one who makes the money, to give to those who do nothing, sounds a little familiar, don't you think? I'll just leave that right here...

The very next evening, police raided the establishment. ALL the workers were hauled off to jail. 🤣🤣🤣❤️. I don't remember the why, but I do remember the consequences.. 

I think I missed a bullet with the decision made the previous night. When reading it in the Miami News Record, our local newspaper, my first reaction was shock, then I became very amused. No need explaining why.

And that is the story of how I escaped being a jail bird. Interesting...don't you think? LOL 

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

The Demons We Fight

Photo by Lindsey Lewis

Break downs. Emotional deficits. As years of feeling invisible, or unheard often deplete value, so do the years of being "too much," or "extra," deplete self-acceptance. Self-esteem plummets.

There. I said it.

It feels much like a hammer that consistently pounds, having no control to stop, will sub-consciously strike again, and  again...until the thing it is pounding is flattened completely.

Until there is no sign of resistance. Ever. 

Unless it wasn't what the hammerer perceived to be true, one could say, "Mission accomplished."

Deep sorrow. Deep sadness overtakes the individual that is fighting for their life. For the life they were given, but haven't  quite lived out as it was meant to be. Are they only imagining the feeling of unimportance, as they've been told time and time again?  

So many repetitive questions of, "Why are you like this?' "And, "Why are you always...(fill in the blanks)?"

Are they simply believing the insecurities that became a part of life while being convinced they weren't good enough? That they weren't pretty enough? Or lovable enough? After all, they should be grateful for what they have. Even if it verifies what they have feared all along.

At this moment in time, I do think it may be the key that unlocks the whys...

When we finally arrive at the end of ourselves...at the end of our abilities to become something different than what we've been made to believe; those are the times we see more clearly. Truth has a way of coming forward when lies have extended their stay and have been exposed through death. Death of spirit. Or of the ability to care any longer. With the crushing of the soul, comes the ousting of a once burning flame.

What we don't understand at the time of lifting our truce flag, is that even though the fire may have lost it's needed fuel to burn brightly, the embers still live beneath...unnoticed by many on-lookers, just waiting for the day the abused rustles, and gently blows on what remains hidden.

That's when truth becomes apparent. It's when truth becomes obvious. It's when truth shouts, "You are more than this!" "You've allowed another's voice to tell you who you are and you have listened to a voice other than the Father's."

It was He who sent you to be born into this world, and it is He who asks you to let him be the guide. For a purpose that no one, other than He, can show you. It is He who laughs at the storm and commands it to be still. 

Maybe she was "too much" most of the time. It showed up as she was fighting to live. As she was trying her best to see the real person that had been created by a loving God, but choosing the way of wrong choices, had unknowingly became less than what was promised her. 

Her ear was turned to the accuser, stopping the flow of goodness that had been poured out over her, as she turned a deaf ear towards the one who convicts (not condemns) of sinful nature. Waiting to free her.

Less than what was possible. Less than all the gifts she knew had been placed inside her, from the first burst of creativity to the last hope of importance. Never to be revealed because fear demanded those thoughts be left to collect dusty neurons that crusted over and cracked with age. Unusable... ~Psalm 139, Philippians 4:8

It's the battle demons love as they watch a life crumble. Demons who have been instructed to render God's kids useless while they walk this earth. Their job is to disable. Mentally bind the impressionable so they will never inspire another, encourage masses, or mentor nations with the truth of God's love for them. ~Matthew 28:19-20

The good news? 

It's a battle that can be won...if we but allow. ~2 Chronicles 20:15

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World

#LifeIssues #myjourneyamongtheunseen #greatisHisfaithfulness #mindpower #winningthebattle