Funny You Should Ask

Butts and Ashes is having a GIVEAWAY and you can enter. Yes, you. All you have to do is play Truth or Dare with me. How easy is that? So what are you waiting for? Get over here and enter!

I'll be answering your questions and dares every day so without further ado, here are the first three I randomly chose.


Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life wants to know:


If we woke up in jail together, what four words would you say to me?

“Well, that was fun.”



“Let’s order room service.”



“May I borrow bail?”



I am pretty sure it would be one of those choices, Teresa.



Kristen had a double for me…



I DARE you to read my blog ;) and Tell us what you do regularly but hate doing it?

Well, Kristen, I can never pass up such an easy dare as reading a blog, so I not only read your blog, I became a follower and peppered it with my amazingly witty comments. Call me an over-achiever.



As for your question of what do I do regularly but hate doing it, well that is an easy one to answer because I complain about it all the time.



I use the bathroom. That’s correct, I hate going to the bathroom. Not the actual walking into the room itself but having to “use” the bathroom. It is nothing but a waste of time and I hate having to stop what I am doing to “do” it. This is why I have nothing but sympathy for small children who wet their pants because they wait too long to go potty. I don’t blame them for choosing to continue playing over using the bathroom. Waste of time!



By the way, my sister Kelly agrees with me on this one hundred percent. Wouldn’t you know the one thing we would agree on would be this bizarre?



TruthHole asked:



What’s the worst thing you have ever been caught doing?

Let me just say how beyond happy I am, no make that seriously thrilled out of my mind, that you asked about the worst thing I have ever been "caught" doing. There are so many horrendous things I have done and never been caught doing that I would have had to quit blogging if that had been asked. Oh, and now that I have brought that piece of information to the light the question does not count so don’t bother asking. You had your chance, too bad, so sad.



Anyway, I was trying to think of the worst thing I was ever caught doing and I must say, I was surprised that finding an answer was harder than I thought. I think the answer might have something to do with the guy I am married to being under my bed before we were married. He had to be there because my dad came home and decided it was a good night to bond. So, my dad and I were sitting on my bed, my dad was talking my ear off saying nice things to me which wasn’t our usual way of relating, the guy under the bed was shaking uncontrollably because he knew he was about to meet Jesus if he so much as sneezed or broke wind and I began to cry thinking my dad knew there was a guy under my bed and that was why he was being so nice to me. You know, to torture me.



Of course, years later this is one of the things that made me and under the bed guy such good parents. We knew all the dastardly deeds that rot in the brains of young minds. Oh yeah, we were on to them and did under the bed checks on a regular basis.

Truth or Dare, Chicken Poop Bingo and a Giveaway!!

Butts and Ashes is having it’s first ever GIVEAWAY!! The great folks over at CSN Stores have contacted me offering to give one lucky reader a $45 gift certificate which is good for use on any of their 200+ websites. If you're not familiar with CSN Stores, they are an online retailer that sells practically anything you could want. Need a new end table for your living room? They’ve got it. Looking for the perfect pair of shoes? They’ve got it. How about doing some Christmas shopping for the kids? They’ve got that covered too. CSN Stores are awesome!

So, how do you enter this fabulous GIVEAWAY? I’m so glad you asked.

Play truth or dare with me. I know, I know, I need to grow up already but since the likelihood of that is slim to none, play along. Go ahead. Ask me anything and I will tell you the absolute truth. Or will I?  Dare me to blog about whatever your little heart desires and I'll start typing. Come on. Here’s your chance to drive me crazy. Speaking of crazy...

Disclaimer: All sisters of mine, biological or otherwise are not invited to ask or dare since great bodily and psychological harm could come to all parties involved.



Now for the details…



The contest begins today, October 11th and ends next Monday, October 18th. This is open to all U.S. and Canadian residents. The lucky winner will have their $45 gift certificate shipped directly to them from CSN Stores. But how will the lucky winner be chosen? So glad you asked.



Chicken Poop Bingo!

That’s right, those baby chicks of ours have grown a lot and are ready to get to work a peckin and a pickin their way to a lucky Butts and Ashes winner. Each entry will be painted into a grid square in the chicken coop. The first grid to be “chosen” by a chicken wins. I even promise pictures of the entire process, from painting the names into the grids to, well, the final pick. Just think of it sort of like playing fantasy football only with chickens. Tell your friends, tell your neighbors, tell every cotton pickin chicken you know.


Good luck and may the best chicken win!

Sundays In My City

Sunday has always meant church to me.

When I was a kid, church looked like this.

Saint Helen

When I was a teenager, it looked like this.

The Jesus Movement

As a young adult, church looked like this.

Insert Mega Church of Your Choice Here

The older I got, the more church began to look like this to me...

Loving God from the front row of a wheat field

and this...

Loving God on the streets

and this...

I love Sundays. I love Church. But what I really, really, absolutely really love is being the Church!

Well, isn't that special!!

Happy Sunday!!!

What do YOU love about Sundays?

Stop by Unknown Mami's and tell the world!

Everyday Is Thanksgiving

My father-in-law use to drive me crazy every November. I would call him and my mother-in-law to make plans for Thanksgiving. You know, the really important detail stuff like their house or ours, how many are coming, should we have yams or sweet potatoes and is there really a difference. Anyway, as I would be babbling away on my end of the line, Rob would eventually say, “Marla, the details don’t matter to me because everyday is Thanksgiving.” That yearly declaration just about drove me insane. Did this man not realize the efforts by so many to plan and execute the perfect Thanksgiving? Rob has been gone now for fifteen years. The saddest part of that to me is not being able to tell him, “I get it, Dad. I truly get it. Every day really is Thanksgiving when we have a thankful heart and the details, well, they just don’t matter.”


Last night our kitchen was filled to overflowing with the usual plus a few. There were fourteen of us in all. I cooked a twenty-five pound turkey, mashed a huge pot of potatoes, whipped up homemade gravy and filled my favorite red basket with rolls to be served with real butter. There was steamed broccoli and chunky applesauce alongside a salad filled with everything but the kitchen sink. Bottles of wine sat on the table waiting to be served and the apple and pumpkin pies topped with whipped cream were ready and waiting on the counter top.



We all gathered in the kitchen, held hands and thanked God for my sister Kelly still being here after all she has been through. We thanked Him for my daughter-in-law Amy’s mother, Ellen, who left us an incredible legacy because of her loving endurance through her entire battle. We thanked Him for Denalee aka Silver Strands and her beautiful mother and asked that God would continue to walk with her mom through her treatments and recovery. We thanked him for my friend Monkey Man, who is healthy three years post treatment. We thanked Him that every day truly is Thanksgiving when we open our eyes and really see the people around us.



Then we ate and laughed and drank and laughed and ate and drank and laughed some more. Finally, it was time to do what we had come together for.

DeLinda showed up with her scissors and OU painted fingernails. We were ready!

First DeLinda had to get my hair wet and comb it out. I think she may have mentioned something about giving me a Swirly which I declined. Boy, OU fans just can't take a joke. 

Then my mane was braided.

Finally, those OU faithful fingers exacted their revenge on my bobble head.

Whoa! That thing is HUGE! What kinda bait did ya use?

I could wear it as an evening wrap. Or maybe a muffler to cover up those extra chins.

Buh Bye Braid!

Thanks DeLinda! Go Pokes!!  :-)

This makes me really, really happy!!

What are you thankful for today?

Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time

I just love the news media. They never fail to bring us the latest in truly entertaining need-to-know information. I mean, seriously, my life would not be as full and rich if I had not read about Weed Dating. Single Vermont farmers meet with single females looking for single Vermont farmers and they weed a field together. It’s about bonding, finding your soul mate and getting your crops to market minus any dandelions. Those Vermontians are practical even in matters of the heart. Might explain why they are still single however. Just a thought. Here’s another thought. I just might try weed dating here in Oklahoma. I know I’m married but my flower beds are a shambles. Hey, it could work!

The next necessary to know news is sad, morbid, distressing…well, it’s my kind of story. I know, I need Jesus. Anyway, seems this poor man passed away and his family carried out his final wish to be buried at sea. Now I understand the burial at sea thing. I have been personally involved in such burial at sea fiascos myself. Don’t believe me? Well, read it for yourself! Anyway, we had our loved ones cremated before the actual going overboard. This guys family placed him on a block of dry ice and set him adrift, figuring the ice would melt, he would sink and…the best laid plans of mice and men. Poor guy! It made me rethink my last wishes. I always liked the Eskimos way of sticking their elderly on an ice drift and sending them on their way to eternity so I told my family to stick me on a raft and send me out to the middle of our pond when I got old and senile. The problem is, my version of old and theirs does not seem to match. Dear family, stop inviting me for a boat ride. I’m on to you people!

Finally, there’s this beauty of a news gem. A man in Florida was stopped for speeding, searched because the officer smelled pot and lo and behold, the guy was concealing his stash in his, well, his…lower extremities. Now as if that wasn’t bad enough, the officer did a little further digging, so to speak, and found crack. Yep, the brilliant young man was hiding crack in his crack. And people say the youth of America have no creativity. Of course, the guy had to admit the weed was his but he vehemently denied owning the crack. Of course, this got me to wondering. What things might be hiding in unexplored parts of my own vast wasteland? I believe, some things are better left unanswered.

Oh and by the way…tonight’s the night I lose my braid! The big reveal is tomorrow. You won’t want to miss it because who knows what has been hidden inside that rat’s nest for safe keeping.

You Know You're From Oklahoma If...

October 1st has come and gone and yet, my ridiculously long, braided hair remains attached to my head. I know, I know, how can that be when I have already told the blog world of my plans to chop my locks off for donation on the 1st of October?

OU vs. Texas. That’s right. The big football game between Oklahoma and Texas was this weekend and any decent, God-fearing, commie-hating Oklahoman and Texan was at that game. My friend DeLinda, the only one I will allow to chop my braid off, is a decent, God-fearing, commie-hating Oklahoman. Yep, she kicked me to the curb and went to Texas in order to have a sideline seat at the Red River Rivalry.

I hope you’re happy, DeLinda! I hope seeing OU beat Texas, 28 to 20 was worth knowing I sat here all weekend twirling my braid. I hope seeing that sea of Crimson and Crème wash Texas out was worth breaking my hairy little heart. I hope……

Oh who am I kidding? BOOMER SOONER BABY!!!!!

By the way….she better show up on Wednesday for the big snip or there just might be some personal ads placed on Texas’ Craigslist. I’m just saying…

Baby You Can Drive My Car

My dad had the ability to drive me crazy. No, seriously. I am talking absolutely out of my mind, over the edge, certifiable loony tunes crazy. I don’t think he did it on purpose and he also didn’t do it all in one big push over the sanity edge. No, it was a slow drip, day after day…after day…after day…after day… We are talking Groundhog Day here!




One of the things out of the many the old coot would do is announce upcoming sights every time we were driving in the car. Sounds cute…and sweet…and old man darling, right? It was…the first 847 times. After that, I needed a valium just thinking about those daily trips we took.



We would get in the car and the conversation would go like this…every…single…time.



“Be careful backing up out of this driveway. Do you want me to back the car out of the garage for you so you don’t hit anything?”



“Um, no dad, thanks but I think I can handle it.”



“Suit yourself.”



Then we would head down the street.



“You’re driving awfully fast. There are little kids on the street. You better be careful.”



“I’m only going 20 miles an hour, dad. You watch for the little kids. They’re worth 20 points each.”



“Ah, don’t start that foolishness again. 20 points. What’s wrong with you?”



“Indeed, what is wrong with me?”



That would get his mind off the road and onto what was wrong with me long enough for us to reach the highway. Then, the actual FUN would begin.



“See that cemetery? It’s a Mexican cemetery.”



“Dad, that is not a Mexican cemetery. It’s a cemetery for anybody that’s dead. They only discriminate if you’re still breathing.”



“Whatever.” …………. “Look at those cows! I use to have a ranch with 1,000 head of cattle. Do you remember that?”



“No because you didn’t. You had 100 baby calves that we had to bottle feed. I know because I slept in the barn with them.”



“You’re crazy!”



“Yes, I am. Next point.”



“Morgan Road…County Line…Council Road…Rockwell Avenue …there’s a Taco Bell…Home Depot…IHOP…Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Tijuana and I created the Caesar Salad?”



Yep, these are the all too true conversations I enjoyed with my dad every time we got in the car which was every day. I never thought I’d say this but I really missed those drives to the edge of insanity after he died. Then I met Jesse. Jesse is my 93 year old friend. We hang out four times a week and go driving quite often. Here is today’s vehicular conversation between Jesse and me.


“Be careful backing up out of this driveway. Do you want me to back the car out of the garage for you so you don’t hit anything?”



“Um, no Jesse, thanks but I think I can handle it.”



“Alright then.”



“You’re driving awfully fast. If a cop sees ya, you‘ll get a ticket. You better be careful.”



“I’m only going 25 miles an hour, Jesse. The speed limit is 25 so I’m good.”



“You’re good? I didn’t ask if you were good. I said ya need to slow down.”



“Indeed, what is wrong with me? Slowing down…”



Once we reached the highway, the actual FUN began.



“See those cows? Oh no, you can‘t see em cuz you‘re driving so fast.”



“I’m doing 50 in a 55 zone. That’s not really fast, silly.”



“Well, drive 35 in here. That’s what I do so I can enjoy the scenery. Look at those horses over there.”



“Now Jesse, if I drive 35 in a 55 zone, I will get arrested and sent to prison for driving too slow. You don‘t want me to go to prison do you?”



“Prison? Well, I’ll be! You’re funny!”



“Yes, I am. Next point.”



“There‘s a red roof…Now, that’s a green roof… Well, I’ll be, look at that blue roof. Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Hawaii and Don Ho took me to dinner?”



I can’t wait for my turn in the passenger seat. Did I ever tell you about the time….