So I missed Texas Public School Week last week.  I hate that because I really wanted to write a blogmess about teachers in  a timely instance.  Oh, well.  I guess I'm just a week late and a prize short.  Try as I might, this might take some doin' because I'm going to try and correllate a way-out-there, wouldn't-that-just-be-awesome dream of mine with a salute to teachers.  Hang with me. Here I go.

Each year, Plano ISD has a huge convocation that kicks off the new school year.  Every conceivable employee in the district attends this big hoo-ha pep rally held at a mega-church in town.  At this huge event, the usual run of speakers occurs.  Included in the speaking line-up is a recent graduate of one of the three Plano high schools. The kid usually is a really good student with honors out the wahzoo.  It's great to see a kid pile on the accolades and thanks to a very deserving group of folks.  BUT, it got me to thinkin'.

I would love to see a parent of a Plano ISD student address the convocation.  My reason is very simple.  As much as teachers have taught my kids in the last twelve years, they have taught me.  Seriously.  Yep, I think I could do a bang-up job tellin' these folks what they are doing right, not from a student's, or even educator's, perspective; but from a parent's point of view.  So here goes my dream address to the teachers that have helped me shape my sons.

Before you go gettin' all "I'm not listened" on me, let me assure you that I'm not standing up here to pontificate about any new theory or learning methodology.  I'm not here, necessarily, to make you laugh or even to make you think.  My sole purpose is to enlighten you on how much the group of you teach parents as much as you teach students.  More importantly, I really need to tell you how much I appreciate Plano ISD's educators' ability to impart a very special implicit curriculum (the things you teach without knowing it or planning for it) that is helping me shape my boys into (what I think) really admirable young men.

I don't for one second believe that my boys are prizes.  They're special to me because, well, they're mine.  Yet, as teachers, you have really played a superb role in developing my family into a pretty darn good one.  You have taught me that it's okay to let my boys fail..  Somewhere along the way, you have encouraged me to do all I can to push them in the right direction, but also to let them own their own decisions concerning their learning.  I will always be grateful for this. 

This past year, I went to Digs' teacher about his integrated grade.  Stephanie Losoya and I talked about Digs' seemingly inability to study appropriately for his tests.  I threw up my hands and said, "Stephanie, I say he's gonna have to fail a few tests before he learns that I can't take the test for him and that I can't make him study."  Without missing a beat, Stephanie thanked ME for letting him fail.  She recognized that his ability to do well was not embedded in his knowledge, it was planted firmly in his willingness to do the studying.  Sometimes lessons have to come from what I call Slobberknockin' School.  When my boys get tired of getting the slobber knocked out of them, they do something about it.

 On the other hand, I distinctly remember a phone call when Charley was in fifth grade.   A phone call came from Lydia Formby, his homeroom teacher.  It followed along these lines after the initial chitchat:

Mrs. Formby:  "Why is Charley not in the top language and math groups?"

Me:  "Because he's "average"?

Mrs. Formby:  "He's not average.  His MAP scores are high.  We need to put him in the top group in math and language."

Me: "Okay.  I always thought he wasn't in the top groups because his scores didn't shake out that way.  Looks like the boy has been sand-baggin'."

Reality is that my boys will never be valedictorians of their respective classes.  But they aren't necessarily all that dumb either.  It took a teacher's insistence and absolute belief that he WOULD do "top level" work.  I will always cherish that a teacher believed in my kid to the point of making him jump, if not over, at least to the mark she believed he could attain.  Plano teachers do this time and time again.

 My boys, Charley especially, will usually do only what is required.  In elementary school, I've heard more times that I can count, "the sheet doesn't say that" when I suggest "dollin' up" assignment to make a good impression.  If a teacher assigned XYZ, the teacher got XYZ and not a thing more.  Now that Charley is is at the senior high, he's beginning to understand that first impressions DO make a difference....even in written projects.  He is learning that minimal extra effort is sometimes easily recognizable and rewarded when it is used judicially.  I have teachers to thank for helping me drive this point home with my boys.  Teachers have done an outstanding job at setting the standard at an attainable level and rewarding the efforts of reaching beyond.

Compassion and generosity are big elements in the character building business for me.  Teachers have done a great job reinforcing that in my boys without insinuating what may be their personal beliefs over those of mine.  I will always be grateful that Digs developed a truly compassionate, benevolent friendship with a special needs student.  I remember that when he was in first grade he would come home and talk about her.  He was curious as to what "wasn't right" with her.  He really wanted to know why she was different.  Not wanting to give more information than necessary, I just let him work through the answers to his questions himself.  Finally, one day he says to me, "Mom, I think I can explain it.  Her brain runs with a different kind of motor than mine." 

Digs continued his friendship with this student  with this understanding for three years, when in third grade something went amiss.  Digs came home one day saying that he didn't want to get her in trouble, but she was embarrassing him trying to tickle him at recess.  I explained to Digs that because her motor was different than most folks, that it was important for him to rely on an adult, in this case his teacher, so that his friend could be taught that ticklin' the fruits in the loom is not appropriate.  I truly appreciate the way in which Edie Blachly handled Digs' concerns and his friend's shortcomings.  You see, Digs is a kid that can be redirected and corrected without having to raise your voice or utter a harsh word.  Apparently, his friend's engine didn't operate quite that way.  She needed a sterner voice that Digs interpreted to be "mad".  I'll never know what was said or how it was done, but I do know that Digs ability to show kindness and compassion was reinforced simply by the actions of his teacher. 

I am also awed by some teachers totally mesmerizing (to me) skill at steadfastness.  I sometimes get worn down by Digs and Charley and make the fatal mistake of negotiating "deals" with them.  My sons have responded well to teachers that purposely do not embrace the whole negotiation idea.  Dawn Inman, my boys' kindergarten teacher, is a master.  She is a nuturer through and through.  That calm and positive voice can be such a gift.  The bonus prize with Dawn is that once the instructions have been given and the quality standard issued there is no negotiation.  How great is that?  Shannon Wallace, Lynne Bryan, Jim Duvall, Amy Elam Robbins, and Lynda Bommarito are also masters in this field of expertise.  Shannon combines her steadfastness with humor.  Lynne Bryan is wonderfully thorough in her ability to let a kid (who thinks he can negotiate a deal) reiterate himself the instructions and the standard.  The youngest of six boys and a former Marine, Jim Duvall's steadfastness in maintaining his students' achievement standards doesn't really need description.  It just IS by virtue of his experiences.  Amy and Lynda can hug a kid with one arm and twist the kid into submission with the other.  All with smiles on their faces and songs in their heart.  WOW!  I want to mother like you guys teach. 

Because I have worn those teacher shoes I am in awe of the job my sons' teachers do daily.  I've done things as a principal that I pray most of you will never experience....going through a rollback election, integrating an elementary school, yankin' a swinging belt out of a parent's hand as he was beating his kid in the parking lot on Grandparents' Day, and giving police identifying information on a fourth grader that had been blugeoned to death.  I KNOW a teacher's job isn't easy.  Neither is any paraprofessional job or hourly worker job in a school district.  The very least I can do is to lead my sons to the realization that no teacher purposely sets out to make their lives miserable.  The very least my boys can do is to give all their teachers is their attention, a good attitude, and their best effort.

I am grateful that my sons' teachers have always made me feel like I was a significant part in the whole scheme of things.  I entered kindergarten a little reluctantly because I knew how schools worked.  I had had my share of bad experiences with obnoxious parents, wrong parents, helicopter parents, clueless parents, and all manner of holier-than-thou parents.  I really didn't want to be one of those.  I hope I haven't.  I have really tried to not make my sons' trip through the system be MY trip.  Yet, I have mostly encountered teachers who are willing to listen and respond thoughtfully to any concerns.  I realize I'm no prize either, so I know what a challenge it is for a teacher to have me as a parent.  Plano teachers have taken my boys and encouraged them to fly with the wings I have given them.  And in doing so, those same teachers have set the realization of my one "mom" dream in motion.

You see, I really don't care that my boys aren't going to be professional athletes.  Or the next great politician.  Or President of the United States. Or the next Bill Gates.  The one BIG mom-goal I have is really off the beaten path.  The goal that marks my success as a mother is a one shot moment with each of the Graves boy.  That moment will be on the day each of them marries.  I will know Keith and I have succeeded when the couple on the OTHER side of the aisle is blubberin' and boohooin' more than me.  Not because their daughter is getting married, but because their daughter is marrying MY son and they know without any doubt they are gaining an educated,  responsible, character-filled man as a son-in-law.  Plano teachers have contributed greatly to my sons' upbringing.  Thanks, in advance, for contributing to the achievement of my goal.

My one hanging "what if" is that I don't really know Charley's middle school and high school teachers personally. My specific intent when Charley began secondary school was to let him assume the resposibility of his "business" . I want him (and next year, Digs) to know that their job is to learn. And with those jobs, there are things that they will not embrace willingly. There are things that are contrary to what Mom and Dad teach at home. And there are situations that will require them to start practicing those grown up skills called "Life". I want them to handle all they can on their own, knowing that Mom is a safe place for counsel and guidance. Charley has always known that if he needs me to step in, I can. I won't always, but I can. The problem with Mom going to bat though is that instead of bolstering his confidence, it will yank his independence right out of his hands. I want my kids to learn NOW the art of coexisting, and strategies for knowing what they believe, and the consequences of acting both benevolently and irresponsibly. Rest assured middle school and high school teachers, I think you rock too! But it is important to me that you think Charley and Digs are great kids and students, because of what they do and NOT what I do.

There is so much more I could say.  There are stories for each and every one of my boys' teachers I could tell to illustrate their great contributions to my sons.  Space is not great enough to include my entire success story.  Thanks to all of you for teaching me how to be a better mom.  I am humbled by your tenacity and graciousness.

I would encourage each of you reading this blogmess to take the time to salute a Texas educator.  Do it today. 

There are many, many great teachers I've known.  Here's my hug, my handshake, and my heartfelt kudos.  You rock! 

This week's prize is the quilt shown below.  To get your name in the hat, simply write the name of a teacher you're going to praise in someway this week because of the impact they have had on your kids (or you).  Drawing will be held on Friday, March 26. 

Winner! Where I Come From

My life-long friend, Dolly Holmes is the winner of the scrap wallerin' quilt.  I really don't want you meet Dolly....she has way too much info about me to be safe....JK, I think!

Where I Come From

More times than I can count, I've been asked about my life pre-Dallas, pre-A&M, pre-principal and so forth. Some day I will give you the whole of my amusement park life. Today, I think I'll focus on where I come from. The place where I grew up and spent the first 25 years of my life. The place was the Rio Grande Valley of Texas, in general, and Edinburg, specifically.



For those of my friends that grew up in The Valley and/or still live there, please understand that I'm not attacking my homeland. The Valley to someone who has never heard of the place, much less shuffled to a rousing Tex-Mex polka, it's pretty darn hard to explain and describe. Admit it. You know I'm right. The Valley is such a completely different experience.


I generally venture into my upbringing by mentioning that I was reared, not raised (thank you very much, Mrs. Harwell) in the nation's only Third World region. In fact, I'm pretty sure there are folks that would prefer The Valley to be part of Mexico with the advantages of being part of the United States. A kind of "friends with benefits" sort of relationship. Per capita, The Valley is probably one of the nation's poorest regions. On the other hand, The Valley remains one of the richest areas of the U.S. because of it's unique culture--a haphazard blend of modern day America and the colorful Mexican traditions.

I don't remember any of my friends being "rich" growing up. Most of our families were low to middle class workin' folk. My mom was a school teacher at Victor Fields Elemetary in McAllen and my dad drove to Starr County and back every day working for Sun Oil. The best thing about growing up in The Valley was that Edinburg was small enough that by the time we got to high school, we pretty much knew everyone in the town. We also consider the other towns and high schools to be rivals. That is to say that we didn't mix so much with other kids from other high schools.

This is a journey through the things I think are funny about where I grew up.  I'm not really makin' fun, just realizin' that to folks on the outside lookin' in....The Valley is a funny place culturally.  I have taken the liberty of using photos posted on one of my favorite FB groups, "Only in the Valley".  They will explain a lot.  The focus will be on

food, fashion, transportation, and langage of Tex-Mex.  Here we go....

Food is good stuff in The Valley.  The best food is found in places most uppity, big-haired Dallas women wouldn't be caught dead eatin'.

That would be correct.  Some of the best places to grab some grub are at mom and pop establishments called tacquerias (tah-kuh-ree-ahs).  These differ from the tacquerias and carts in Mexico simply because there are local health laws that are loosely adhered to.  In Mexico, not so much.  After all, you won't see many old folks or dogs wanderin' the streets of Reynosa.  Just sayin'....  At a Valley taco stand you will find the absolute best tacos.  Take a look at this one:

I can guarantee this taco will be fresher and taste better than anything you can get north of Three Rivers.  And I can say with absolute certainty that that tortilla didn't come in a package from Kroger.  It was probably made by some rotund lady pattin' out dough and tossin' it on a piece of sheet metal heated by a propane burner.  Delish!

Take a gander at the menu of this tacqueria.

Bet you're thinkin' you can get a spot of a nice Chardonnay with your egg taco.  That would be incorrect.  But you CAN get cut up weiners with eggs in a taco.  Don't knock it until you try it.

Saunterin' through the HEB can be fun experience.  You will see things like "HEB feet" and this

There isn't a meat counter guy at any Market Street or Albertson's in the Dallas area that has the huevos to gussy up the display case like this.  BTW, "HEB feet" are those found on the kids runnin' wild, unsupervised and barefoot in HEB.   Those feet come in dirty and leave even dirtier.  It's a sight to see and one no self-respectin' Plano mom would let happen. 

While on the topic of food, I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Valleyites take their cuein' seriously.  Sometimes neccessity is the brainchild of creativity.  Valleyites are not new to the concept of recycling.  Take a look:

Wouldn't that look just dandy in your backyard?  Only in The Valley, that is more appropriately placed in the front yard...most likely in the driveway.  Sometimes Valleyites travel with their pits.

Don't be jealous.  His house is probably a 400 square foot shanty in a colonia without plumbing or sewer lines.  I'm not kidding.  It's a known fact about Valley life, your car is taken care of better than house and your television is so big that it barely fits through the door.

The Valley has it's delicacies also.  Things like menudo and cabrito.  Cabrito is baby (read "infant") goat that is fired up in a pit.  "They" say it's good.  I don't know.  Couldn't ever get passed the "baby goat" part.  Menudo isn't a young boy band of the eighties.  You'll just have to google it.  It's too disgusting, IMHO.  But there is one thing that every Valley child loves....

In the Valley, there are no snow cones.  There are raspas (rah-spahs).  Can't remember the name of this concoction, but I do remember eatin' them as a child.  It's shaved ice with cherry (or grape) syrup.  Sprinkled on top is Kool-Aid.  I do not lie.  Kool-Aid right out of the package.  Then, on top of that, chopped dill pickle.  Yep! I said dill pickles.  Gives new meaning to the culinary term, "sweet and sour".

Speakin' of sweet and sour, take a gander at this doll.....

This is an example of how a Valley Girl might want to make her face for the work day.  It's not all that uncommon to find women shaving their unibrow and pencilling in two lovely eyebrows.  In Dallas, this would be a dead giveaway for a drag queen.  And the lips....eeee-gads!  I'm glad I was brought up to depend on Merle Norman and Clinique....I'm pretty sure those perfect eyebrows would not have worked for my imperfect self.  If you think that's odd, look at how a Valley Dog gets made up....

I guess Flaca the Chihuahua's owner was worried she might have trouble attracting strays to mate with....can you say, "Aye, Chihuahua?"

Most north Texas moms I hang with will at the very least get up and put on sweats to make it to a early morning soccer game at the local park.  Not a Valley Mom....she gets decked out.  Afterall, you never know who she might see.....

Sad thing is is that she is probably going to a job interview afterward....or to church.  Her dressy shoes are in the car, I'm sure.

Valley women love to dress up for a night out.  Anywhere out of The Valley, these women would be the envy of all transvestites that cross their path....

I'm pretty sure I was at this wedding reception back in 1983.  The whole Madonna look was and IS still huge.  Why is it I can't find foundation garments to fit my rather rotund self and these women are not only wearing them, they're rockin' them?  I know you are having a hard time with the garment part of the picture.  Admit it, you're having a very difficult time getting past the white makeup and eye shadow.

Men also hold their own sense of style in The Valley.  The Mexican Mullet has been big for as long as I can remember.  I don't remember when it was I heard for the first time, "business in the front, party in the back."  I DO know it was a really long, long time ago....teen years, I imagine.

One last note about Valley fashion, no self-respecting Valleyite doesn't have a pair of chanclas. 

That's sandals in Tex-Mex.  Most Valleyites don't abide by the shoe rule of "white only after Easter and before Labor Day."  The Valley shoe rule is "chanclas without socks only after Valentine's Day and before Thanksgiving."  That's how Valleyites tell seasons....there are only two down there.  If folks are wearing socks with their chanclas it's winter.  If not, it's summer.

Valleyites also have a unique view of transportation.  Most of the time, a person's vehicle is worth more than the house where he/she lives.  And since a good majority of a person's income is tied up in a car, that vehicle has to serve many purposes.

Sometimes cars will have the family names listed.....don't you bet "Boogers" is proud of that name?

Most of the time, though, Valleyites tend to name their cars.  Don't you know this guy is a babe magnet as he cruises around in his 1986 Chevy Astrovan? 

There are some savvy business peeps in The Valley.  The wind blows and the dust flies ALL the time down there.  Look how this business owner decided to take advantage of nature's blessings and keep costs down.

I'm sure this flower shop owner boosted his profits considerably when he avoided the cost of a car sign AND the price of weekly car washes.

Vehicles in The Valley tend to be multipurpose.  This guy probably got a good deal on the boat at the pulga (flea market) because the trailer was missing.  Not a problem....

I think this is pretty ingenious.  Don't you know this is what Nissan had in mind when they developed this particular pickup? 

The U-Haul business in The Valley isn't just dandy.  Why should it be when you can use a regular sedan to move?

All I can say to the previous four photos is that packin' your car like this north of Austin will get you arrested on suspension of theft before you can get your car out of second gear.  Also, is it surprising there is very little tailgating on Valley streets and highways?

I've gone on way too long in this post and I haven't even scratched the surface of language yet.  I'd best keep the mystery of speakin' in Valley tongue for another post.  It's complicated, kinda.  The most important rule of Tex-Mex is that it is perfectly correct to start speaking in English and finish the sentence in Spanish....or vice-versa.  Then there are the phonetic things that go along with speakin' with Valley tongue.  Let's just suffice it to say that most Valleyites love their pee cups whether they drive a Dotch, Fort, or Shebby.

Thanks for hangin' with me through a few pages of my heritage scrapbook.  To compliment you on your ability to read through this lengthy explanation of where I come from, I am offerin' a Lupelotto.  This time it's a scrap quilt.  It's full-size and is by no means meant to be the basis of your bedroom decor.  A response in either this post's comments section or on my FB page will get you entered.  I'm trying to boost the numbers on my blog to justify getting my own domain name, so if you were to get someone else to read this post and enter, I will enter your name again.   The new reader will need to let me know who suggested the blog.  Up your chances and help me out!  Below is a picture of what you're winnin'.  Keep in mind that there is a reason it's called a Scrap Quilt!  It's meant to be a wallerin' quilt....not a piece of fine art!

Drawing will be held on Friday, March 5th....early mornin'....

Winner! Doesn't Pay to Be Me!

The winner of the makeup bags and Wally World gift card is Renai Lackey.....

Next post....this week....probably by Thursday...depending on the weather and Frat Boys....just sayin'.

Sometimes....It Just Doesn't Pay to Be Me

Recently, the place where I work (on occasion) moved its store. That move from one location closing and packin’ up to the new location unpackin’ and reopening took a week. During that transition week, the store was closed. Not that being closed stopped some folks from droppin’ into the fray to ask “just a little question”….I’m just sayin’.

Not being one to be rude to a customer on purpose, I POLITELY spoke to a lady when she walked into the store that we weren’t opened just yet, but that the next day was the big day for us to reopen. I think her words were exactly, “I can’t wait. I need someone to help me figure out why this border (on a quilt top) is not working.” She proceeds to plop a hand-drawn quilt pattern down on the cutting table where I was working and says, “I just don’t know why this border has a gap in it.”

I was pretty sure from the get-go that the problem was that she drew a pattern on the graph paper that didn’t represent a scale to her actual measurements. What I mean, is that 3 squares on the graph paper didn’t mean 3 inches on fabric AND that whatever she cut the fabric wasn’t divisible by 3 like it should have been. In fact, not only was her matheration wrong, this lady most likely cut wrong too! I know this because I gently suggested that perhaps she miscut.

“I know I did not cut it wrong. I measure very carefully and I KNOW I cut it right! I cut each piece out and know I cut the triangles out correctly,” says the expert quilter that had to crash an unopened quilt store because she needed help.

“You mean you cut out the triangles instead of making half-square triangles from square?” says me.

“Yes. I prefer to sew quilts that way,” Miss Quilter of the Year says.

“I’m wondering…..did you remember to add 7/8 of an inch to your squares before you cut them on the diagonal?” I cautiously ask. I can’t remember her words because the situation took a downhill turn very rapidly from there.

Miss QOY went off on me about how she knew how to quilt. She knew how to cut. She knew that she hadn’t made any mistakes. She just needed to make this quilt border fit the quilt center. I’m thinkin’, “Good luck with that!” But I say instead, “Do you have the quilt with you?”

“No, I didn’t bring it with me because I know I didn’t make any mistakes,” says Miss Quilt Perfect. God shined His grace upon me at that moment and sent His personality angels to put a choke hold on my tongue because I simply responded, “I can’t really help you anymore. I’m one of those quilters that has to look and touch it to get it done.” Ignorant me.

God continued to show mercy because He infiltrated that woman’s good sense. She decided that I wasn’t gonna be able to measure up to her level of expertise. She told me she would figure out how to make it work….thank me very much.

Thank goodness and all things that are right that that little comeuppance (for me) happened at the end of the day. There wasn’t enough of my more than hide left to take on another crasher that day.

The very next day was opening day at the new store. It was such an exciting and hectic day. Things were rockin’ along really well until THE WALMART LADY.

The WML brought her Walmart Husband with her on this particular occasion.  A tag-team effort...Oh, boy!

It just so happens that The WML had secured three of the tackiest (IMHO) nursery panels from the fabric department of the Walmart in the dinkiest town south of the Oklahoma border. These panels were designed to be cut apart and made into soft books for toddlers. I’m feelin’ a twinge of remorse for talkin’ trash about these panels since the particular one I was helpin’ her find fabric to match was a series of children’s prayers.

See what I mean. Not exactly somethin’ THIS old gal is gonna send for a baby gift. Go ahead, call me a gift snob. My theory is that if I’m gonna take time to make it, it’s gonna be fabulous and not made from flammable fabric from Bangledesh. It was obvious that The WML didn’t subscribe to the same theory. I can live with that.

The problem came when she asked for help figurin’ out how much fabric she needed to buy to make a quilt out of the book pages. She had two panels with 12 book paghes on each panel. She needed to double some of the pages to get 20 blocks to make this quilt. I walk into the classroom with WML where she has conveniently spread this accumulation of Walmart worthiness across two tables. Yep, I was thinkin’, “Oh, MY! This isn’t goin’ to be quick.”

I did all the matheratin’ for her. I told her one yard would be plenty to get a two-inch sashing around each block. The WML looked at me and said, “Are you sure? My friend got a yard to do hers and she barely had enough.” I told her that she could get a yard and a quarter to be on the safe side.

“I don’t see how,” says the WML. At this juncture in this little quiltin’ tutorial, she takes hold of my materatin’ paper and scoots it across the tacky prayer panel.

WH pipes up, “Darlin’, you asked her for help. She’s tellin’ you what you need.”

I took the opportunity to avoid a domestic argument in a quilt store full of folk to explain further. I started drawin’ a picture of what she told me she wanted to do. Keep in mind that the matheratin’ scratch paper was on top of the prayer panel on top of the table. As I was drawin’ the border on the quilt picture, the worst thing happened.

My pen took a detour off the matheratin’ scratch paper and left its mark on the tacky Walmart prayer panel. I gasped. The WML said, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

I responded with , “Yes, ‘mam. I shouldn’t have. I’ll make it right. I’ll go to the Walmart (in the dinkiest town just south of the Oklahoma border) and buy a replacement. If you will give me your address, I will deliver it to you tonight or in the morning.”

“What if they don’t have anymore?” WML challenges me.

“I’ll find one somewhere. I promise you,” I managed to confidently eek out.

WML continues to whip me. She berates me in all her triple-knit glory so badly that WH says to her, “She didn’t do it on purpose.”

The wrath of The WML goes on and on so badly that a customer perusing the books in the classroom mentioned my metaphorical water boarding to another employee. Soon the rally to extradite me from polyester torture was on. One employee (and true comrade) hustled to the local Walmart. She was able to find the exact panel for a whopping $3.96 for all its Third World splendor. Another employee jumped on Google to search a method for ball point ink removal on fabric. This quilting colleague rushed to the neighboring box pharmacy to grab a can of aerosol hairspray as prescribed by Google. She races back to the store to grab the offended, yet oh-so-revered Golden Book of Prayers panel. A short time later, the insulting ballpoint ink was gone from the fabric. Meanwhile, the first buddy returned with a newly purchased panel.

Fortunately, by the time all these convergent remedies for my survival happened, the WML was standing in the checkout line. She was grateful to receive the new panel, not because someone took the time to track another one down for her. The reason she was glad “we” found a new panel was because “that hairspray stuff took some of the color out of the material.”

Oddly enough the WML returned the next week to get fabric to make another ugly quilt out of the same panel. No wonder, she had an extra.

Some days it just doesn’t pay to be me. Because it's the season of  love and to makeup for my current distaste of most things Walmart, I am offering for Lupelotto two makeup zip pouches (in seasonally appropriate colors). Also included is a $10 Walmart gift card.

To hit the jackpot, leave a three word response to my knack for attracting the creatively diverse and craftily ignorant.  Drawing will be held on Monday, February 22.  Winner will be announced shortly there after.

Next post will be another doozy.....Where I Come From.

WINNER-Pink Tote Bag

Trudy Harris Kampa is the winner of the pink tote bag!  FYI-Trudy and I went to school together....haven't seen each other since high school....will have dinner together in Boerne THIS Friday night.....YIPPEE!

Next Lupelotto at the end of this week.....will be the story of the cranky woman crashin' the quilt shop during the move and the Walmart Lady during opening weekend (at the quilt shop).....trust me...I'm a crazy magnet!

Lupelotto, THE RULES

thought it was time to 'splain the rules a little better.....I'm just sayin'.

First, Lupelotto came about as a result of me gettin' completely disgusted with the way my sewing room was lookin'....that was back last fall.  I really didn't want to give half-completed projects to Goodwill since I knew no one in that receiving department would have the dimmest idea or appreciation of my works-in-progress.  I also didn't want to send them to the landfill, never to be seen again...just doin' my tree-huggin' part.  So, I came up with the idea to hold drawings for those projects via my FB page.  The whole notion was to finish projects and offer 'em up to folks that would maybe, just maybe be glad to get them.

Lupelotto got it's name from an instance where my dad told my mom that I wasn't Bettepat.  He insisted that I was Lupe Gonzalez.  Go figure.  I liked it.  Lupe for the front end....lotto for the back end because it's a lotto of sorts.  Plain and simple.

There is no money involved.  I write a blog.  I  pose a question. If you want to enter the drawing, you must answer the question in the comments section.   Now that I have a blog place, entries/responses will be taken in the comments section of that blog entry (as opposed to the previous FB entries).  You won't hurt my feelins' if you thing what I'm offerin' up is tacky...or stupid....or otherwise not your cup of tea.  Sometimes the prizes are pretty darn good.  Sometimes they are less than stellar.  Sometimes the  prizes are things I used and I'm tired of them.  Sometimes I'll make a project just for Lupelotto.

That's about all the rules.  'Cept that you will need to give me your mailing address if you win.

Today's prize is a tote bag I've used travelin' to and fro many a sons' activities.  It's my favorite color....pink.  I need something I favor to give away today because yesterday wasn't so hot...but that's the next blog entry-probably tomorrow.....and that will be the story of the Walmart Lady at the quilt shop.....oh, MY SWEET BEEJEEBERS!

All you need to do is to tell me what your favorite color is.....pretty easy!

Winner announced Monday, February 8....probably before I have my root canal at 10:30am....I'm NOT just sayin'!

Off and Runnin' a Huffin' and Puffin'

I'm up and runnin' this stinkin' blog.  Not sure what to expect, but as I delved deeper into my latest book purchase, Google Blogger for Dummies, I know I'll get better at this and have a fancier blogsite.  Just hang with me as I meander through my assignments in the blogbook of life on the internet.

Finding a name for my blog was more work than I expected.  I wanted my URL to eventually be it's own domain name.  I wanted to have my domain name the same as my blog name.  Welp, that's not gonna happen. "Just Sayin'" was already taken.  So, for the time being, my blog address will remain http://www.bettepat.blogspot.com/ .  The blog's name will say "Just Sayin'". 

Hang with me as I get the hang of this whole blog shebang.  It's not perfect, but I'm workin' on a fun site that will allow me to parlay the shenanigans of The Frat Boys, the joys of making things with my own hands, and the opinions I hold on such earth-shattering topics as schools, social commentary, and generally funny things that happen to me.    I also hope to continue the whole Lupelotto fiasco of frivolity.

Who knows what will come of my desires to write.  Probably not much, but oh what a journey it will be.  You are welcomed to come play with me and laugh with me anytime.  Laughin' is what I do best.

Tomorrow, a brief narrative about my where I've been and where I think I'm going.