Author: Midwest Storyteller

Trim, Healthy and Tasty!

~ Midwest Storyteller ~ 2 Comments

Today I want to take a moment to make a confession.  I have fallen in love. 

After decades of self-study in the area of health in order to understand my own issues and do the best I can for my family, I have, at last, found a resource that seems to be custom designed for me.

Trim Healthy Books www.midweststoryteller.com

I’ve never struggled with obesity.  In fact, aside from a couple of photos of me as a chubby toddler, I spent most of my life in the string bean category.  Well, maybe a string bean with hips.  That is, until I went through something that is just about the biggest hormone screwer-upper ever – chemotherapy.  You can find more about that part of my story here.

As I sat in the chemo room listening to the others chat, I heard women saying that they’d gained as much as forty-five pounds during treatments.  Forty-five pounds!  The patients and their care-givers blamed it on the steroid anti-nausea drugs.  At that point, I didn’t care as much about the cause as I did the result.  The idea of that type of weight gain stayed in the forefront of my mind and at the top of my prayer list for the next four months.

Well, I didn’t gain forty-five pounds, but I did gain fifteen and in the following years, that fifteen has tried it’s best to turn into twenty.  As is my body’s tendency, it wanted to pack itself disproportionately below the waist, which may have paid off if I’d lived during the Renaissance and cared little for my modesty.  In those days, there was a demand for those who would, at artists’ requests, recline on couches with a bunch of grapes in one hand and a dove perched upon the other.

I tried various diets and joined the well-known support group that counts points. Since points were much simpler to count than calories, this worked for me.  In fact, it worked for me two or three times.  There seemed to be two issues.  They declared that “points are points” and we could consume them in any combination.  After a while, I learned that some foods’ points stuck to me like glue while others slipped off effortlessly after a period of over-indulgence. The other issue – and this one bothered me most – was that while this farm girl had been taken off the farm, the farm appetite hadn’t been taken out of the girl.  I wanted more food, dagnabbit!

After a prolonged period of stress, Stage 3 Adrenal Fatigue showed up, stayed much longer than I preferred, juggled my hormones even further and, if I may cling to that comparison, dropped all the balls.  My holistic M.D., along with treatment, advised a diet that would go easier on the glands and I gave up sugar and most grains.

A couple of years later, a long-time friend of mine lost around thirty pounds.  I had to admit that she maintained more joy than anyone I’d ever known on any type of “diet”.  She absolutely glowed and was enjoying herself.  I asked about it and she told me about Trim Healthy Mama.

Further inquiries led me to understand that the food on the THM plan was nearly identical to the recommendations of my doctor.  The only thing – and it seemed such a logical thing – that they recommended to people who wanted to trim away the pounds would be to separate carbohydrate fuels from fat fuels at mealtimes.

After toying with the idea and reading bits and pieces of their plan for a while as I was coming out of the adrenal struggle, I took their plan and began stepping into it at the beginning of this year, studying it and putting it into practice one day at a time.  Finally, I have enough food to eat!  I promised to grant myself grace to go off plan from time to time and to feel no guilt should I decide to go ahead and use up some off-plan ingredients along the way instead of throwing them out.  I think they’re all gone now (if you don’t count Smuffy’s cheat stash).

I needed to make friends with a few new special ingredients to help me in separating fuels, being kind to blood sugars and getting the extra protein I needed in my diet.  I’ve embraced a lot of new ingredients over the years, so it didn’t rock my world much.

I now have their plan books and cookbooks and since I have a big yard with lots of weeds to pull, have listened to over 130 Trim Healthy Podcasts (or, as we call it in THM Land, “The Poddy”) as of this date.  I feel like I’ve completed a crash course in getting to know the authors, Serene and Pearl.

I have lost several pounds and as my hormones steady themselves further, I’m sure the  number on the scale will continue to drop as I feast on real food and avoid even some of the healthy ones that are known to spike blood sugars and set off hormonal chain reactions.

In case you haven’t had the realization yet – hormones are everything! Messin’ with those will make you ugly inside and out, if you get my drift.

The best part, or what is referred to as a “non scale victory”, is that I feel good and do not feel the slightest hint of deprivation.  In fact, “junk” tastes like junk and I know that’s hard to believe if you’re still addicted to the SAD.  What a perfect name for the “standard American diet”!

I’ll post more about my journey with Trim Healthy Mama in the future, but today I wanted to share with you some of the great meals and treats I’ve discovered on this plan and give an honest review.

THM Mama's Famous Meatloaf and Mashed Fotatoes www.midweststoryteller.com

Today, for lunch, I made “Mama’s Famous Meatloaf” (page 157 of the Trim Healthy Cookbook) and topped it with a sauce made from “Trim Healthy Ketchup” (page 482). It had great texture and was moist with good flavor, just as you’d expect from an old-fashioned meatloaf like Grandma used to make.  However, we tend to like things with a bit more “zip”, so next time, I’ll probably make it my own by adding a bit more spice.  I’m not sure why the topping is more orange than red as I did follow directions, but it was tasty!

The ketchup recipe can be called a tomatoey sauce, but it is not ketchup to me.  However, I had already developed my own recipe without any refined sugars and it tastes just like Heinz.  As soon as I take the THM one and marry it to mine by having one of my kitchen lab brainstorms, I’ll post it here on the blog.

What is meat loaf without mashed potatoes?  Well, it’s fabulous if you serve up “Mashed Fotatoes” (page 264 of the Trim Healthy Table Cookbook).  Who needs all those starches and carbs?  Not me!  I’ll never be sorry I left white potatoes behind after seeing how easy it was to whip of this cauliflower version in the food processor in a matter of seconds. 

I found them heavenly.  Smuffy requests that they have a little less garlic next time.

Smuffy’s been growing okra in his garden, so I served it up alongside just the way we like it.  I stir together my own “baking blend” with equal parts almond flour, golden flax meal and coconut flour.  After slicing the okra into half-inch pieces, I tossed it in about three tablespoons of this mixture and stir fried it in a skillet I had pre-heated on medium-high heat with a tablespoon of refined coconut oil and a tablespoon of real butter.  It’s browned and beautiful in no time at all. 

All this made a delicious Satisfying meal.  (The THM plan defines “S” meals.)

I struggled with whether to assign this post to my “Thrive!” page because of the health benefits of Trim Healthy Mama, to my “Feed Me” page because it is good food or to my “Reviews” page because I can’t say enough good things about Trim Healthy Mama.

I have tried many recipes from their books and have only found a couple that I considered “duds”.  Pearl and Serene, I don’t know what you were thinking.  Perhaps they are a hit in Aussie culture, but “Slender Slaw” (page 266, Trim Healthy Table) and “Tzatziki Cucumber Salad” (page 266, Trim Healthy Table) are both odd.  Not horrible – just odd – and not a hit at our house.

To give a completely honest review, I must make one negative comment on the cookbooks. Pearl and Serene, I love you, but whomever is compiling your indexes needs to be assigned to a new job. You’ll notice how many flags are protruding from the books in the first photo. That’s because, once you find a recipe, you’re going to have a dickens of a time finding it again, and I know how to use an index. Recipes need to be listed by under categories, by actual name and by featured ingredients. Just sayin’.

I’m loving “Wonder Wraps” (page 251, Trim Healthy Table) and the first recipe I made from this cookbook, “Creamy Garlic Spinach Spaghetti Squash Bake (page 135).  That one got me off to a good start and I couldn’t wait to share it with friends.  However, the day I attempted to do so tried my soul and you might want to brace yourself before reading about it here.

I have only two words to say as I prepare to go downstairs and sneak a couple out of the refrigerator – “Superfood Mounds”, people!  Forget about those candy bars we grew up with.  Stir up a batch of these (page 424, Trim Healthy Table) in a saucepan and get ready for awesomeness!  Another super-easy treat is “Two Minute Truffles” (page 422, Trim Healthy Table).  I’d make extra if I were you and skip dusting them.  They are better when smooth.

In case you haven’t met them, Serene Allison and Pearl Barrett are sisters from “down under” who have ended up in the hills of Tennessee along with their husbands, children and extended family.  After writing a book to share with friends and acquaintances who asked them for the science and “how-to” on how they stay so trim and healthy, they found themselves on the best-seller list!  Now their sensible, scientific and doable approach is available to us all.

Thanks, Serene and Pearl!

Are you a Trim Healthy Mama? Are you toying with the idea? Never even heard of it? I’d love to chat about it so leave a comment!

What’s all the fuss about eating healthy?  We shouldn’t just survive, we should thrive!  Check out my Thrive! page.  My Feed Me! page offers recipes with free printables.  Not every recipe there is THM compatible, but most can be altered to work and I’ll try to make edits in the future to help you with that. 

Be sure to SUBSCRIBE, so you’ll receive an email reminder each time Midwest Storyteller has something new.

“Life with Smuffy (Episode 6): “Project Pinky” (or, “The Concrete is in Your Head!”)

~ Midwest Storyteller ~ 4 Comments

As the years go by, I find that events are often recalled in association with something Smuffy has done.  In mid-conversation, one of us is bound to insert, “Wasn’t that around the time that he…?”  As we near the close of August, my mind returns to the events of August 29, 2015 and, I imagine, they always will.

It was a leisurely Sunday afternoon – for some of us.  Pookie had asked if she could come by and have my assistance with an artsy little project that took four hands – well, maybe six, but we had four.  I was happy to oblige.  She wanted to put a fun, fabric cover on a new planner and, like her mother, she aims to be chic at all times.  Why sit at your desk and look at leatherette when a bright and modern print is just a can of spray adhesive and a pair of pinking shears away?  Being the end of August, it reminded me of the good ole’ days when we would prepare for a new year of homeschooling by caressing our shiny new books and covering our binders and folders – a pleasant way to stave off the inevitable fact that anything, even if it’s interesting, takes on a certain dullness when the day-to-day routine really gains a foothold.

I had worked really hard the day before at deep-cleaning the carpets and had claimed this day as my own for rest and rejuvenation.  A craft project, followed by a mug (or two) of my fabulous Not Apologizin’ Hot Chocolate, sounded pretty much ideal.  (The recipe, by the way, can be found here.)

Smuffy, that love of my life, didn’t have it so easy.  One of his summer goals had been to pour a concrete pad under our porch steps, an area that had been nothing more than dirt ever since we’ve lived in this house.  That would’ve made this project overdue by…hmm…let me see…do I need a calculator? …oh yes, that’s right, thirty-six years.  Not that he’s a procrastinator – I’m always swift to admit that Smuffy fixes everything almost before it’s broken – but that in itself, my Dear Readers, is a story for another day.  Feel free to request in the comments, as a reminder to me, to tell the tale of how my furniture was nearly bolted to the walls.

Smuffy prepared the area and built forms in the evenings after work and on Saturday he poured the first part of the L-shaped pad.  Everything went smooth as silk, but the bigger portion remained undone.  He’s learned over the years that Sunday as a day of rest is a glorious and life-restoring gift.  Sometimes, however, a job requires more attention that he can give it in the hours he has after work, so there he was, on this fine afternoon, outside mixing concrete.

Our peaceful measuring and cutting was soon interrupted by the sound of feet rushing up the basement steps, through the hall and into the bathroom.  Nothing unusual – after all, sometimes you’ve really gotta go!  It was the YELP! that followed that pricked my ears.  Smuffy doesn’t yelp.  He always professes, no matter what the injury, that nothing hurts.  A mild stomach flu and he’s practically lost his will to live, but injuries never seem to faze him much.  He’s actually commented in the past that he could probably handle being an amputee with greater grace than if he were afflicted with ongoing nausea.  Hold that thought.

I stepped into the hallway to have a look.  There he was with his hands in the sink.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Get me some paper towels.”

“But what happened?”

“I need paper towels!”

I ran for the towels.

“What happened?” asked Pookie as I flew past.

“He wants paper towels.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know.”

Then came the stand-off.  I had to know and he had to, for whatever reason guys do so, act like it was no big deal.  After a good deal of snappy dialogue we arrived at –

“Is it bad?”

“Pretty bad.”

“Do we need to go to the ER?”

Round two of snappy dialogue occurred as I followed him down the basement steps.  Where is this man going?  He’s messing with concrete and blood is going everywhere.  I tell him to drop everything and let’s go to urgent care or the ER.

“The very least you need is probably stitches.  How bad do you think it is?”

“Do you want to see it?”

Florence Nightingale I am not, but at least I have a nurturing gene that enables me to take care of my own.  As soon as he began moving the wrapping away, my arms and legs physically ached and did their best to curl up and drop me to the floor.  I took my obligatory look.  My gaze didn’t linger long.  Logic tells me that if it is something beyond my range of skill, the person’s life is not in immediate danger, and skilled personnel are nearby, there is no point in looking!  The idea here is to tell what happened, not to give you nightmares, but if Stephen King ever runs out of ideas, I suppose he could write a book about a crazed lunatic who attacks people with a potato peeler.  You know that pointy thing on the end that really enables you to get those eyes out of that potato?  Well, inserting the potato into the gears of a concrete mixer would have a similar result, I suppose.  The end of the pinky finger was – never mind!  I promised not to give you nightmares!

“You have to go to the ER!”

“I have to finish this concrete.”

“You CAN’T finish this concrete!”

“Do you want this big, wet pile of concrete to dry like this and have to stare at it the rest of your life?”

“Ughhhhh!”

“Help me wrap it up and we’ll go as soon as I finish.”

“When will that be?”

“I don’t know.  When I’m finished!  We’re wasting time!”

With lots of gauze and tape and a latex glove stretched over the whole thing, he went out to pour the rest of the concrete while Pookie and I stared at one another, wondering how to stop the madness.  She was filled with frustration at knowing that her husband would run to our aid if she called him, but he was too far away to get there in time to do any good.  She busied herself by running in and out and holding one end of Smuffy’s leveling board when necessary.  I busied myself with glancing out the window and muttering under my breath, “Jesus, You know my wonderful man and You know when he’s being a dope!  You’re going to have to take care of this one.”  I made calls to the local hospital and two urgent cares to check on how our new insurance worked with this type of thing.  You don’t really get good answers to those questions on weekends.

Time marched on and we thought the man would never come in the house.  Each time we questioned him we got the same answer, “When I’m done!”  After a while, there was really nothing else to do but go about our business and wait it out.

Finally, I looked at Pookie, exclaiming, “I feel ridiculous!  I’m going to be telling people, ‘Smuffy mangled his hand in the concrete mixer!’ and then they’re going to say, ‘Oh my!  Then what happened?’ and I’m going to say, ‘Oh, we finished up a craft project and made hot chocolate!’  This is CRAZY!”

At one point we actually lost him.  Pookie couldn’t find him out by the concrete job and I couldn’t find him in the basement.  We found him, at last, in the back yard sitting in the swing – just chillin’.  That was when I should have gone back in the house and started calling mental hospitals.

Two hours after the accident, we pulled out of the driveway, but not before Smuffy had a concrete pad that looked perfect, had taken a bath and changed clothes, eaten some supper and rewrapped the gruesome digit, all the while saying he felt fine and that it didn’t hurt a bit.

This is when we had our third round of snappy dialogue, which concluded with me saying, “No, you will NOT drive, you BONEHEAD!  I’m driving!  GET IN THE CAR!”

Pinky Emergency www.midweststoryteller.com

We pulled into urgent care first, which was a waste of time, as that doctor took one look, informed us that the finger was 7/8 amputated and we needed a hand surgeon.  We sped on over to the hospital and were very pleased with the experienced surgeon who brought his operating kit to the ER and, perching his glasses with their attached microscopes atop his nose, did a two-hour delicate surgery, reattaching Smuffy’s finger and each of the tiny nerves and sinews inside.  His experience and expertise led him to estimate that the precise location of the injury would miraculously enable the regrowth of the nail, which I would have said was impossible.  I had to admit that when I saw it after the surgery was complete, I thought it looked very good in comparison to the mangled mess I’d seen six hours earlier. 

Smuffy, of course, assisted with surgery any way he could and chatted away with the doctor the whole time about hobbies, vocations and grotesque injuries that belonged in the category of “Truth is Stranger than Fiction.”  I stayed in the room, sitting by my man with my chair strategically positioned to avoid the slightest glimpse of the action.

Despite his brave front, when it was all over I thought he looked as though he’d lost a bit of his polish.

Smuffy Survives www.midweststoryteller.com

Smuffy went back to work the next day, and it’s not a desk job.  “Yes, Lord, he’s being a dope again, and You’re going to have to take care of my sweetie.”  He took no pain killers, either prescription or over-the-counter, aside from what the doctor administered in order to perform surgery, because he said it didn’t hurt.

I followed up the whole incident by doing a Google search on “people who have their pain receptors turned off”.  Sometimes there’s no escaping it – you just have to shake your head at Smuffy and admit that something is wonky here.

Smuffy is endowed with swift and thorough healing and if you’ve been keeping up with my “Life With Smuffy” here on the blog, you know how much he needs it! 

Just last week, he carried a couple of water heaters down full flights of stairs by himself because, you know, somebody had to do it and just to refresh himself, came home with a new motor scooter. Ever since, I’ve heard him muttering about how all it needs is a little more power – as if all I needed were bigger hills to stand upon in order to phone an ambulance!

I think of Smuffy sometimes when Pookie and I sit down for our favorite movie, “The Sound of Music” and watch Maria and Captain von Trapp gaze into each other’s eyes and muse that somewhere in their youths or childhoods, they must have done something good – for, somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have asked for a dynamic prayer life and by doing so, had it enhanced when I received the Gift of Smuffy.

Real adventure lovers will love joining Smuffy for life on the river here and here.  You go all the way back to the beginning of my Life With Smuffy with our Smokin’ Hot Honeymoon.  Just for laughs, find out how Smuffy Takes the Cure.  He also restores classic cars and will teach you how A Studebaker in the Hand is NOT Worth Two in the Bush.

Comments?  I’d love to hear from you.  Just scroll back up and click on “Leave a Comment” under the title of this post.  On a mobile device, this may appear all the way to the bottom of the post.

Here’s August’s Freebie Winner!

~ Midwest Storyteller

We welcomed August with a pineapple, a symbol of welcome, or perhaps not, as we discussed in the original post.  Let’s see who won the drawing for the First Friday Freebie and welcomed it into their home –

Freebie Winner Eva www.midweststoryteller.com

Eva from New Franklin, Missouri!

This shabby little bit of metal décor from Hobby Lobby will liven up Eva’s walls, that is, if her daughter doesn’t latch onto it for her own room.  I’m told she’s enjoying a pineapple craze at the moment. Do teenagers do that? 

Congratulations and enjoy, Eva – whichever one of you ends up with it!

Eva has entered to win multiple times as one of my faithful subscribers.  She commented as instructed when she received her email on the first Friday of the month.  That’s all it took to enter her name into the drawing.

Freebies are my way of reaching out to more folks who might enjoy the various stories, recipes and more here at Midwest Storyteller.  Seriously now, would you want one of your friends to miss an episode of my Life with Smuffy? Why not share with all your friends via Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest so they’ll be able to subscribe?  Subscribing is every bit as free as the freebie!

Freebies happen every month.  Check out my Freebies page to see the winner and the free gifts they’ve won.

 The August drawing is coming on up Friday, September 6th.

A winner is chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight on the day of the drawing by leaving a comment as instructed in the post. 

An important thing to remember is that should your name be drawn as the winner, you will be notified via the email you used to subscribe.  That means you’ll need to check your email often in the days following the drawing so that you can respond and keep the prize from being offered to someone else.

Be sure to take a moment make yourself familiar with the Freebie Rules by clicking HERE.

These four simple steps will have you ready to enter to win on September 6th, 2019.

Leave a comment!  On a desktop computer, scroll back up under the title of this post and let me know what you’re thinking.  On various devices, you may find “Leave a Comment” at the bottom of the post.

It’s August! Say “Hello” to the Freebie (or is it “Goodbye”)?

~ Midwest Storyteller ~ 8 Comments

I’ve heard for years that the pineapple is a symbol, especially in Hawaiian culture, used to give one’s guests a hearty “Welcome!”  A pineapple in your entry hall or used in your tablescape can indicate more than just a liking for tropical décor. 

Recently, however, a friend told me of another custom.  It seems that when you’ve had house guests and enjoyed their company for just about as long as you can stand it, you leave a pineapple in their room.  It’s meant to imply, more or less, “Here’s a lovely parting gift, because it’s time for you to go!”

The latter is a fabulous idea as a mannerly way to avoid conflict or hurt feelings.  Of course, it does little good and merely provides a nutritious snack if your house guests haven’t heard of the custom.  I promise that this month’s First Friday Freebie is meant to welcome you to Midwest Storyteller and to invite you to stay as long as you like!

Pineapple Metal Wall Art www.midweststoryteller,com

This pineapple from Hobby Lobby, at 10 inches tall and 5 inches wide, will be a great addition various styles of décor, including farmhouse styles, due to its neutral color and weathered appearance.  A shabby bit of metal art that sits close to the wall or nestles into the back of a bookshelf, it’s a great way to welcome guests to your home. It’s shown in the photo above hanging on my fence, so it could also welcome guests to your back yard.

I suppose you could let it make a sudden appearance on the nightstand should you have some guests who linger a bit long, but I’ll leave that up to you.

To enter to win the metal pineapple décor, all you need to do is “Leave a Comment” on this post, saying, “I welcome First Friday Freebies!”  You’ll need to do that before midnight TONIGHT, August 2nd, 2019!  Important:  Once you’ve entered, you MUST keep checking the email address you used to subscribe or you may not know you’ve won and have to forfeit your free gift.

All my Freebies occur on the First Friday of each month and last for one day only, so share with all your friends and family TODAY through social media, send them the link in an email or just plain tell them, “Hey!  It’s Freebie Day!”    

Good intentions will not help you enter to win before midnight tonight so you had better navigate to the comment section now before you forget!

First Friday Freebies are for email SUBSCRIBERS ONLY.  You can subscribe by going to the right sidebar or use the menu to navigate to the “Contact” page and subscribe to Midwest Storyteller if you haven’t done so already.  Confirming your subscription through the confirmation email you’ll receive is absolutely necessary, so don’t forget that!

Use the Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest icons on this page to help you share with friends.

See past gifts and their winners on my “Freebies” page.

Remember, a winner will be chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight tonight by leaving a comment which says, “I welcome First Friday Freebies!”

I send Freebies to any winner who lives within the continental United States.  For the complete First Friday Freebie rules, CLICK HERE. 

Glitches happen.  If you subscribe and do not receive a confirmation email for some reason, please email me and let me know at barb@midweststoryteller.com

Enjoy this last full month of summer and prepare yourself!  I have a couple of things I’d like to tell you about my Life With Smuffy.

Announcing July’s Freebie Winner!

~ Midwest Storyteller

My last First Friday Freebie was a small thing reminding us to enjoy the small things.  Let’s meet July’s winner –

July Freebie Winner Elise www.midweststoryteller.com

Elise from Sterling, Illinois!

This 6”X6” bit of wood and metal décor with metal lettering will perch on Elise’s shelf or hang on the wall. 

I know you’ll find the perfect spot for it, Elise.  I’m so glad you entered to win!

Congratulations!

All Elise had to do was to become one of my faithful subscribers (which she was already) and comment as directed when she received her email on the first Friday of the month.  Then, POOF, just like that, her name entered into the drawing for the Freebie.

It’s that simple, folks!  Why not share Midwest Storyteller with all your friends via Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest so they’ll be able to subscribe and do the same?  Subscribing is every bit as free as the freebie!

Freebies happen every month.  Check out my Freebies page to see the winner and the free gifts they’ve won here at Midwest Storyteller. To see July’s original Freebie offer, click here.

 The August drawing is coming on up Friday, August 2nd.

A winner is chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight on the day of the drawing by leaving a comment as instructed in the post. 

An important thing to remember is that should your name be drawn as the winner, you will be notified via the email you used to subscribe.  That means you’ll be needing to check your email often in the days following the drawing so that you can respond and keep the prize from being offered to someone else.

Be sure to take a moment make yourself familiar with the Freebie Rules by clicking HERE.

These four simple steps will have you ready to enter to win on August 2nd, 2019.

Enjoying the Freebies?  Leave a comment!  If you’re on your computer, scroll back up under the title of this post and let me know what you’re thinking.  On various devices, you may find “Leave a Comment” at the bottom of the post.

Smuffy’s latest adventure, “A Studebaker in the Hand is Not Worth Two in the Bush” got a lot of attention!  I’m glad so many of you enjoyed it.  The incident reminds me of the time we went to pick up some new living room furniture…  Stay tuned, for Smuffy, quite literally, is “on a roll”! 

“Life with Smuffy (Episode 5): A Studebaker in the Hand is Not Worth Two in the Bush”

~ Midwest Storyteller ~ 2 Comments

Each summer, our town celebrates its annual Heritage Days Festival.  There are arts and crafts, quilt shows, entertainment, a carnival, fireworks and lots more, all to celebrate the rich history that all started when a widow and her nine children settled here in 1810.

This event can never pass without bringing to mind an incident that occurred during Heritage Days.  While everyone else frittered away their time downtown, I was at home with Smuffy, where the real action took place.  I may not have journeyed via rough country in a wagon or crossed rivers with nine children in search of a better life, but I do live with Smuffy and that has to count for something in the annals of courageous women.

1965 Studebaker Cruiser - Bermuda Brown www.midweststoryteller.com

I paid the man at the muffler shop, hopped in my classic 1965 Studebaker Cruiser and headed for home.  Now that the exhaust had been fixed and the tires rotated, my snazzy ride purred like a kitten and was ready for the road.  Smuffy, with more of my help than I ever intended to supply, had re-built the car from the rusted floor boards up, given it a new coat of its original Bermuda Brown, and we were enjoying our love affair with it at last. It would become my everyday driver. When the sun hit those purple metallic flecks in the paint, it made me smile.

When I arrived home, Smuffy announced that the brakes needed fine tuning.  “Park it anywhere you like,” he said.  “I have to move it to flat ground so I can take it out of gear.”  I left the car halfway down the hill that is our driveway and went into the house.

A breeze stirred through the open windows, making it a perfect summer evening.  I paused as I loaded the dishwasher to answer the door and took the friend who dropped by to the kitchen with me for a chat while my daughter wandered off to her room for a bit.

Outside my kitchen window, a giant yew hedge grew along the side of the driveway at the bottom of the hill, screening in our patio.  These bushes were Smuffy’s pets and in his pride over their prosperity, he’d let them grow so tall that they now stretched to over twelve feet in height, flaunting their tops above the railing of the upper deck.  Being a lover of natural light, I hated the things.

Suddenly, an unidentifiable noise interrupted our conversation.  My head jerked in the direction of the window and I saw the tops of the yew bushes jerk violently east and west – mostly east.

I’ve lived with Smuffy for a long time.  “What is that man doing now?” I thought to myself and my first assumption was that he had climbed into our boat and fallen out into the bushes while trying to do some oddball repair that really should only have been tackled by a crew of six.  These occurrences are common enough at my house and, besides, I didn’t really feel like disrupting the flow of conversation with my friend to go outside and investigate.

Our daughter, known as Pookie here on the blog, appeared in the kitchen.  She’d heard the noise as well and told me later than her first thought was, That sounds like the exact same noise I heard the time Dad left the truck in gear and it rolled down the driveway and into a tree.  Well…

My friend showed more concern than either of us.  She seemed convinced that the sort of noise we’d heard could only mean an accident.  Her insistence, the fact that I didn’t hear Smuffy holler and the fact that the tops of those bushes had never sprung back into place finally gave me the nudge I needed to venture outside.

I opened the side door and started down the deck steps.  The first things I saw were the wide eyes of my neighbor as she rushed down my driveway.  When we all reached the bottom and turned to see what she saw, we got the full picture.  Our boat, a 1957 all-wood run-a-bout, had been parked on flat ground at the bottom of the driveway.  Rather than move it, Smuffy had decided to adjust the car’s brakes on the flat area at the top of the driveway, where he had jacked it up and taken it out of “park”, which, apparently, is a must in these situations.

The important thing for a mechanic to remember, which he didn’t, was to put the car back in “park” before letting the jack back down.  Our excited neighbor said she’d seen poor Smuffy sitting on the asphalt, gripping the back bumper with all his might and with heels dug in, but all to no avail.  He finally turned it loose and, as usual, God blessed us in the midst of our own stupidity.

The Stude (pronounced STOO-dee), as we say in classic car lingo, rolled all the way down the driveway and struck the spare tire attached to the side of the front end of the boat trailer.  This sent the trailer and boat back and north, into our rock wall flower border.  The boat jolted off the back of the trailer and onto the rock wall, coming to rest in the rose bushes and day lilies.  The car continued north-ish and plowed into the yew bushes, becoming wedged in such a great tightness that it could not be driven out.  Though it had left the driveway, the bushes had kept it from hitting the deck supports and from falling onto the patio below.  The driver’s front wheel nested firmly in the large lower branches and there she sat.

The application of a chain and a truck to pull on it with had no effect whatsoever.  Smuffy was forced to forget the chain and get the chain saw.  After the bushes were sufficiently mangled beyond any hope of salvation, the truck and chain were, at last, put to good use and I tried to stifle my inward YIPPEE! lest it crush the spirit of my beloved.

Afterward, we made an assessment of just how blessed we were.  The wood boat, though displaced to be sure, came out unscathed!  Ruining that would have been a sad thing, for it was a beauty.  One year, pulled behind Smuffy’s 1963 Studebaker Champ pickup and filled with area homeschoolers celebrating summer vacation, it won first place float in the Heritage Days parade.

Smuffy's 1957 Wood Boat

Its trailer suffered minor damages.  The rock wall proved to be sturdy and didn’t have a single rock dislodged.  Believe it or not, our classic Stude received only scratches!  Over time, we’ve often been compensated for doing without such things as automatic windows and other modern frills and felt the warm gladness that comes from driving an antique made out of real metal! Later, finding the original color discontinued, I used my creative influence and Smuffy repainted it in Prowler Purple!

Prowler Purple Studebaker www.midweststoryteller.com

The yew hedge suffered total loss, but since I’d been begging for years for it to be cut down, I could only shout, “Hallelujah!” and offer up a great big, “Thank You, Jesus!” that it was the back bumper Smuffy had been attached to when the car went rolling and not the front.

Smuffy Was Here www.midweststoryteller.com

The seat of Smuffy’s jeans, a portion of his backside and a smidgeon of his pride received a chafing that healed in due time – well, maybe not the jeans.  He admitted later that he’d actually been able to use his brute strength to stop the car from going down the hill – he just couldn’t answer the question that entered his mind as to what to do with it once he’d captured it, so he let go, closed his eyes and hoped for the best.  In retrospect, I’m glad he didn’t start shouting for me to come outside, jump in and apply the brakes because, odds are, I would have tried!

After the fact, we came to enjoy the whole incident as an unplanned burst of excitement.  How often in this life do you get to provide that much entertainment for your neighbors?  Most of them missed it, though.  The neighborhood had emptied out when they all went downtown for Heritage Days, leaving only our neighbors to the North to join us in the fun.

The aftermath left the crash site in a state that took a good amount of time and effort to restore and although I took several photos of the Stude stuck in the hedge with Smuffy employing every means at his disposal to dislodge it, not a single one turned out.  We can blame that on the dim light of the setting sun, but more than likely it’s because I laughed so hard I couldn’t steady the camera.

Time has passed – much time – and still I wait patiently for someone else’s husband to do something ridiculous that causes their car to come careening along our street and, without harming a single soul, wipe out the thorny, icky bushes Smuffy planted at the top of the driveway that I can’t stand.

Oh, well, God will find a way!

You might want to start at the beginning of my Life With Smuffy and read about our Smokin’ Hot Honeymoon.  For sheer entertainment, you’ll want to see how Smuffy Takes the Cure and catch up on his river adventures here and here.

Once in a while, I have a “Lucille Ball moment” of my own and if you missed it, you might want to check out, Don’t Blame the Cat – The Spaghetti Squash Did It! 

Comments?  I’d love to hear from you.  Just scroll back up and click on “Leave a Comment” under the title of this post.  On a mobile device, this may appear all the way to the bottom of the post.

Enjoy Your Family, Your Freedom and a Freebie!

~ Midwest Storyteller ~ 6 Comments

We’ve been in celebration mode around here and midnight approaches as I type this post.  Independence Day is big stuff in our family.  Not only is it the birthday of the Good Ole’ USA – it’s Smuffy’s birthday as well.  I’m afraid the announcement of July’s First Friday Freebie has only existed in the recesses of my mind due to all the other things at the top of my list.

Now that the fireworks ash has settled, let’s take a look at July’s Freebie –

Enjoy the Little Things Metal Art Freebie www.midweststoryteller.com

Everyone loves a little word art these days and this bit of wood and metal is just the thing to remind us that the smallest things in life that bring us the most joy.  When we lose the ability to appreciate a baby’s cooing, a flaming sunset, the purring of a kitten or the idea of winning a gift we can keep for ourselves or give away to bless someone else, we likely have become obsessed with things that don’t really matter in the long run.

This 6”X6” wooden reverse box-top is deep enough to sit on a shelf without toppling if you choose not to hang it on the wall and the raised metal lettering is eye-catching and stylish for anyone’s décor. I left the corner protectors on for this photo, but you get the idea.

All my Freebies occur on the First Friday of each month and last for one day only, so share with all your friends and family TODAY through social media, that dinosaur of a thing called email or that rarely used technique of communicating called conversation.    

Good intentions will not help you enter to win before midnight tonight so you had better navigate to the comment section now and do that before you forget!

To enter to win the wood and metal reverse box-top décor, all you need to do is “Leave a Comment” on this post, saying, “I enjoy the little freebies!”  You’ll need to do that before midnight TONIGHT, June 5th, 2019!

First Friday Freebies are for email SUBSCRIBERS ONLY.  You can subscribe by going to the right sidebar or use the menu to navigate to the “Contact” page and subscribe to Midwest Storyteller if you haven’t done so already.  Confirming your subscription through the confirmation email you’ll receive is absolutely necessary, so don’t forget that!

Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest are great ways to share First Friday Freebies with your friends.  They won’t know if you don’t tell them!

Subscribers win every single month!  See past gifts and their winners on my “Freebies” page.

Remember, a winner will be chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight tonight by leaving a comment which says, “I enjoy the little freebies!”

I send First Friday Freebies out to any winner who lives within the continental United States.  For the complete First Friday Freebie rules, CLICK HERE. 

Glitches happen.  If you subscribe and do not receive a confirmation email for some reason, please email me and let me know at barb@midweststoryteller.com

Freebies last one day only!  Enter now so you don’t forget!

A Belated Happy Independence Day Everyone!

June’s Freebie Winner!

~ Midwest Storyteller

I’m always excited to see who wins my monthly giveaway.  Let’s meet June’s winner of the First Friday Freebie –

June's Freebie Winner Francine www.midweststoryteller.com

Francine from Boonville, Missouri!

Congratulations, Francine!

I know you’ll find plenty of things to do with these fancy, tasseled, copper paper clips and all six rolls of that nifty color-coordinated washi tape.

The fun paper clips are from Paige Evans’ line called Pink Paislee.  They are just the type of thing I love to use as a bookmark for favorite spots in a recipe book, planner or anything else I want to make a quick grab for.

The washi tape by Pebbles at pebblesinc.com and all the colors and patterns go great with the tassled paper clips.  If you’re new to the washi tape scene, you can find out more about it in the original Freebie post here.

You can enter to win every month on the first Friday.  Share Midwest Storyteller with all your friends via Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest (or be old fashioned about it and just tell them)!  Subscribers receive an email on the first Friday each month reminding them to leave a comment that will enter their name in the drawing.

Check out my Freebies page to see the winners and the gifts they’ve won here at Midwest Storyteller.

Don’t dawdle!  The next drawing happens on Friday, July 5th.  With the holiday, you’re bound to forget, so subscribe now and you’ll receive an email reminder.

Only SUBSCRIBERS can win!

A winner will be chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight on the day of the drawing by leaving a comment as instructed in the post.  See the recently revised rules below.

Be sure to take a moment make yourself familiar with the Freebie Rules by clicking HERE.

These four simple steps will have you ready to enter to win on July 5th.  

Enjoying the Freebies?  Leave a comment!  If you’re on your computer, scroll back up under the title of this post and let me know what you’re thinking.  On various devices, you may find “Leave a Comment” at the bottom of the post.

Don’t Blame the Cat – the Spaghetti Squash Did It!

~ Midwest Storyteller ~ 6 Comments

If you live in the United States (and perhaps even if you don’t), you’ve heard about and seen video of the flooding that is devastating the Midwest.  Though it didn’t arrive here as early as in other places, it did come in full force.  Although the experts tell us that it hasn’t reached the Great Flood of ’93 levels, you couldn’t tell it by appearances.  I thought the best example I might give you is a photo of the same location that I used as the background to the heading of this blog.

Katy Bridge View, Flood of 2019 www.midweststoryteller.com

Where, O where, you ask, did the railroad tracks go?  They’re under all that water somewhere.  I’m not so sure that journey would lead you to a better place! We have a picturesque park that offers visitors a breathtaking view of the Missouri River and all the beautiful countryside of the neighboring county to the north of us. This became our new view from Lookout Point of all those farms, fields and homes. 

Missouri River Flood of 2019 www.midweststoryteller.com

The sight of that barn roof poking out of the water is enough to sicken you.  While the water mark may not have reached the previous record, “Enough,” as Mary Poppins said, “is as good as a feast.”  Enough!

Though we live on high ground, we have not been immune to watery woes.  If the river reaches my door, we are all in trouble, folks!  The rains, coming often and lasting long, did give us a bit of a taste of what’s happening on the other side of the river and since it is better to laugh than cry when life gives you lemons and enough water to make lemonade for everyone in the country, I thought I’d share a what happened here during the flooding in May.  No photos, though – no time for that!  Read on, for this one goes to show you that it is not always Smuffy who finds himself in the middle of mayhem and mishap.

A glance at the clock told me I had two hours to go unless someone showed up early and someone always does.  I was in my element!  Over the years, I’d lost count of friends who’d referred to me as Martha Stewart, June Cleaver, Mary Poppins or Emily Post.  Yes, I was born to host!

If it’s one thing I hate, it’s cancelling my carefully pre-planned shindig.  The previous day’s downpour had lingered on into the day of my Ladies Backyard Picnic and I had already sent out a notice that we would be picnicking indoors.

I forced myself to brush off the let-down, for my yard, always at its glory in the month of May, was having an exceptional year.

The second blow had come when the patio drain clogged, forcing the all-day deluge from the gutters up through the basement drain the night before.

This hadn’t come as a total surprise.  Smuffy had been muttering about the thing for a week or so, making a priority of getting the sewer machine he has access to at work fixed so that he could bring it home to use.  When the weather forecast predicted a few days of what he calls toad-strangling downpours, he’d hauled it home to give it his undivided attention.  It didn’t seem to want to cooperate with his efforts and the day before the party, we started taking on water. 

Finally, he declared it fixed and sent it down the pipe to do its job of ripping out a wad of tree roots.  Smuffy, with the finesse and intuition of one who, through the years, has become a pipe whisperer, declared victory and threw the machine into reverse.

Things got stuck.  Perhaps the root wad dingled while the sewer cable dangled or possibly it may have happened the other way around, but now we seemed to have the machine permanently attached to our patio. 

Poor Smuffy, after sitting in the rain over the drain for hours, called for my help.  Heaving on the count of three with all our might, we couldn’t budge it.  By the time he’d applied a removal tool (which didn’t fit) and installed a pump in the basement with a hose out the door to take the water out, we were reduced to taking turns with the knee-high rubber boots.

There are moments in life when, like it or not, one must admit temporary defeat. I ran madly around the basement (in boots big enough for Smuffy) lifting things to higher ground, hoping that I’d gotten everything I needed out of the freezer for my party the following day.

Then, it hit me – Phoebe June!  She’d been watching the proceedings from the basement steps, taking it all in with great interest and a look that told us that if we’d only bothered to ask her opinion, the whole thing would have been sorted out long ago.  She accepted with a great deal of grace and dignity, I thought, the fact that rather than furnish her with a small set of oars, we’d moved her potty pan up to the dining room and plugged her kitty-sized hole in the basement door to keep her from exploring the flood zone.

Worn out but undaunted, I’d gone to bed with a prayer that if we actually started to float away during the night, God would wake me.

Now, on the day of the Indoor Ladies Backyard Picnic, I felt like I’d spent the day summoning my Martha-June-Mary-Emily powers with a reasonable amount of success.  The ladies would arrive at six o’clock.  Why not?  The flood was in the basement and the party on the main floor. We would ignore the sound of the pump. The rain continued to add moisture to my mess and the weather radar promised a dandy storm somewhere in mid-afternoon – and dandy it was!

As I cleaned and double-checked my list of preparations like any good hostess would, the wind and rain beat against the house and thunder and lightning did their best to get me to worry that the power might go out.  I pushed these thoughts aside.  Whatever happened, all would be right with the world by six o’clock.

At four o’clock, right on schedule, I grabbed my sturdiest meat fork and poked holes all over my first spaghetti squash.  The garlicky, cheesy, spaghetti squash and chicken casserole had become a favorite and I couldn’t wait for the ladies to try it.  I shoved the squash onto a plate and inserted it into the microwave, giving it my usual twenty-two minutes.

Rounding the corner to the living room, I crossed to the mantle to tweak the peonies I had arranged in vases.  When my foot slipped on the hardwood floor, I looked down to find myself standing in water.

Phoebe June?  No!  Not even with the indignity of having her potty pan parked in public would she consider such a sin!  I followed the trail of water across the floor where it oozed from beneath the area rug and disappeared under Smuffy’s chair.  Then, I saw it.  The gutter above the window behind the chair had clogged and the downpour was being forced in around the window somehow.  I ran for towels, began soaking up the mess and called Smuffy.

His phone rang.  To be exact, it rang right next to me.  He’d forgotten to take it to work.  I called the office, only to discover that he’d gone out and they had no idea where he was or when he’d be back.

At times like this, I sometimes just go on auto-pilot.  It beats panic.  The abundance of towels seemed to be taking care of the flow so I donned the boots again and made my way back down to the swamp to gather the fixings for my picnic beverages, hoping that the refrigerator and freezer, located some distance from the drain area, hadn’t gotten their electrical parts moistened to the point where I’d get zapped.  Besides, I told myself, rubber boots prevent that sort of thing.

After sloshing over to the major appliances and begging them to be gentle with me, I pulled out the ice and seltzer water.  Somewhere, from up above, I heard a loud ka-BANG!  A solid THUD followed it before silence fell.

“Oh, Phoebe June,” I muttered.  “What is that cat up to now?” 

Wisdom tempered my urge to run. The volume of the sound indicated that something of grand proportion had just occurred on the main floor.  I took it slow, however, knowing that breaking into a full run would send gallons of water up my back, all over my clothes and into my hair, ruining my last chances of appearing as the elegant hostess.

Hugging my supplies (for I vowed to make no more adventures into the swamp), I made it to the top of the stairs and headed through the dining room toward the kitchen.  I stopped at the sight that met my eyes and I’m pretty sure my mouth fell open.

The microwave door stood wide open.  The spaghetti squash had exited entirely and the greater portion now lay on the counter in Humpty Dumpty fashion.  The remainder dangled all around the kitchen without prejudice against any surface.  The walls, windows, valances, woodwork, range, floor, cabinetry, small appliances – they all had their portion of spaghetti squash.

The only thing lacking a good dollop of squash seemed to be Phoebe June, who sat behind me, her wide eyes asking, “What happened?”  I gave her an apology for my false assumptions, heaved a sigh and peeked inside the microwave.

Phoebe June the Innocent www.midweststoryteller.com

The inside, looking as though its portion of spaghetti squash had been applied with a trowel by someone who knew their business well, brought a moan from the depths of my soul.  The clock screamed 4:20 when I dared glance at it.  I had another squash to cook in order to make the casserole, but the mess would have to be dealt with first.  I grabbed a spatula.  I would do this, by gosh and by golly, even if the ladies all arrived before the casserole came out of the oven!

While I scraped, wiped and picked, my mind raced.  I needed to decide which of my plans remained top priority and which could be scrapped.  I needed to clean the kitchen.  I must change into some lovely outfit, bejewel myself and perform a quick maintenance to make-up and hair which, thankfully, didn’t have squash in it.  I’d been saving the bathroom for last and it had to be cleaned.

Once having gotten the inside of the microwave restored and Spaghetti Squash #2 inserted with a prayer and extra deep puncture wounds, I turned on the water to wash my hands.  Water!  I’d forgotten about the water.

I raced to the living room, fearful of how much water may have come in around the window while I’d been dealing with squash.  The towels seemed to be taking care of the flow.  I looked up at the window, feeling helpless as to how to do anything about the overflowing gutter for the rain still came down in buckets.  Then, my eyes focused on the scene beyond.

One of the city’s street drains is located a few feet from the top of our driveway and it had clogged as though it had gotten word about it being National Clogging Day.  Water came over the top of the driveway like a waterfall, crashed around the wheels of my car (which Smuffy had moved to the top of the hill to keep it away from a suspicious tree limb during the storm) and roared down the driveway.  Years of experience told me that when it reached bottom it would go straight onto our patio and since that drain remained clogged, it would enter the basement.

I suppose I do have a panic button, because this pushed it.  I grabbed my phone in a desperate attempt to reach Smuffy because Smuffy makes everything right – eventually.  Then, I nearly cried as I remembered that he’d left his phone behind.  I called the city.

While they didn’t exactly say, “Too bad.  So sad.” or “Kiss my grits!”, they did inform me that things were tough all over, that the problem was city-wide and that none of their drains were equipped to handle this amount of water all at once.  What it amounted to was that no one was coming to unclog anything.  I hung up and went back to the kitchen to scrape the squash off the windows.

With Squash #2 into the casserole and oven and Squash #1 under control, I wiped up the bathroom and went to change clothes.  The sound of the rain beating against the house had lessened to the point that I began to believe the weather reports that promised that all this nonsense would come to a complete stop by the time my guests needed to drive to my house.  I began to breathe again. A few of them had been messaging me concerning their fears about leaving home in such a torrent.

I picked up a pair of dangly earrings and put them on as I made another trip to the living room.  The window leak seemed to have stopped.  I picked up the wet towels and looked around the room, abandoning my plans to move all the furniture back and set up long tables down the center with checkered cloths and bandana napkins.  There simply wasn’t time.  The ladies would have to get their food in the dining room and be content with the coffee table and TV trays.  I glanced out the window to see if the whitewater falls had slowed any.  That’s when I noticed that my car was missing.

I gasped.  My brain did a few somersaults while it asked itself if it were sure Smuffy had left the car at the top of the hill.  Visions of nightly news reports raced through my mind as I recalled the oft issued warning that a mere foot of rushing water might cause a vehicle to be carried away. 

I turned and ran, arriving at the kitchen window out of breath, only to peer over the edge of the porch and see my car parked in its usual spot.  I sighed with relief that it hadn’t ended up on the patio, in the garden or in the neighbors’ back yard.

I’ve been rattled in my time, but this day had earned red letter status in the rattling department.  I longed to know one way or the other – had Smuffy stopped by unannounced and moved my car or had it been swept away and miraculously carried in the hands of angels to its perfect resting place?  Another glance at Smuffy’s phone told me this story was “to be continued…”

The doorbell rang.  My daughter and sister were among the first to arrive, full of offers to help if I would only tell them what needed to be done.  All I could tell them was that their guess was as good as mine and we stumbled through receiving guests and putting out food and drinks.

I can think of no other time when I’ve felt so grateful to stop, sit, relax with friends and enjoy good food!  Though their hostess did not offer up the mostest in terms of fashionable tablescape and seating arrangements, they seemed to feel fully compensated by the fact that the day’s events provided the evening entertainment.

Smuffy made an appearance, admitting that he had, indeed, stopped by and moved my car without telling me.  And Phoebe June, you ask?  She mingled, managing to assert her cattitude and be rude to a guest only once after being ignored and feeling like the accused all day. 

You can’t ask for more than that.

I crawled into my warm, safe and dry bed that night offering up thanks that I hadn’t been in the kitchen when things exploded.  As I drifted off to sleep, I pondered the mystery of it all.  Why, after at least twenty years of the same cooking method, did this particular squash become a ballistic missile?  With a team of experts and a few million dollars, the military might be able to come up with something that, if nothing else, would frustrate and exhaust our enemies to the point of surrender.

Next up – it’s time to join Smuffy as he endeavors to make a few adjustments to the car.  No seat belts needed.  Just clear the area!

Subscribe so you don’t miss it!  If you haven’t taken the deep dive into my “Life with Smuffy”, you really don’t know what you’re missing, so check it out! Why not start with the story of our Smokin’ Hot Honeymoon? Phoebe June has her own page so if you haven’t gotten to know her, click here.

Make someone smile.  Share this post via Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and by all means, “Pin it”!

June Has Arrived and So Has Its Freebie!

~ Midwest Storyteller ~ 7 Comments

June is when those of us in the Midwest can truly feel that summer has arrived.  Even though the official first day is a few weeks away, the First Friday Freebie is here today, right on schedule!

I hope you’ve been spreading the word about my monthly freebies by sharing with all your friends and family through social media, that dinosaur of a thing called email and that nearly out of style thing known as actually speaking to people. 

Some of you have good intentions, but forget to enter to win before midnight on the first Friday of the month and you know what that means – you increase the odds that the freebie may go to my sister, Donna, the subscriber who never forgets!

Let’s take a look at June’s free gift (and remember, I’ll send it anywhere in the continental United States)

June 2019 Freebie www.midweststoryteller.com

Don’t you just love to fancy things up for no reason at all?  Recently, as I gathered with several friends, I mentioned having used washi tape.  Several eyebrows went up and I discovered that I sat in the midst of a bunch of people who, for the most part, had never heard of the stuff.  Well, what can I say?  Washi tape just makes your day a little happier!  What really sends it over the top is a set of copper-colored paper clips with (yes!) tassles and what really lifts the soul is that the whole thing is color-coordinated in bright summer shades!

Can I help it if I’ve always been tickled pink over the small things?

These fun paper clips are from Paige Evans’ line called Pink Paislee.  They are just the type of thing I love to use as a bookmark for favorite spots in a recipe book, planner or anything else I want to make a quick grab for.

Now about washi tape – like sour cream, you can’t really fall in love with it until you try it, because why would you try a thing with a name like that?  This pack of washi tape by Pebbles at pebblesinc.com has six rolls of coordinating narrow tape!  Washi tape is unusual in that it sticks well, but comes off when you want it to.  Totally unlike the adhesive on the typical sticky note, it seems more permanent to the touch.  Yet, with gentle persuasion, it will even lift right off most surfaces, even paper, allowing you to rearrange things easily.  It’s a great way to highlight a special day or week in your planner.  I recently used the ½” size to tape a long list to a cabinet door, framing the list with the cute pattern around all four sides.  Then, when I got ready to take the list down, I simply lifted off the whole thing without leaving any icky residue and walked straight over and taped it neatly onto another surface as it still had plenty of adhesive left.  That makes it great for those things on the refrigerator that tend to wave in the breeze and look messy.

Washi tape comes in all patterns and sizes and is great for taping tags onto gift bags or just jazzing up something for the kids.  It gets heavy use on school lockers as a great way to express oneself without leaving gooey stuff behind.

Washi tape is just plain fun.  Washi tape with coordinating tassled paper clips is more fun!

Both these items are a Tuesday Morning find, a store that draws me through its doors like a moth to a flame with it’s varied selections of home goods, personal care items, décor, outdoor living, pets supplies, arts, crafts and more.

You can’t spend all your days outdoors in the summer sun, so why not have a little fun during your indoor time?

To enter to win the whimsical paper lips and washi tape set, all you need to do is “Leave a Comment” on this post, saying, “Color my summer fun!”  You’ll need to do that before midnight TONIGHT, June 7th, 2019!

First Friday Freebies are for email SUBSCRIBERS ONLY.  You can subscribe by going to the right sidebar or use the menu to navigate to the “Contact” page and subscribe to Midwest Storyteller if you haven’t done so already.  Confirming your subscription through the confirmation email you’ll receive is absolutely necessary, so don’t forget that!

Share this post with your friends through Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest.  They won’t know if you don’t tell them!

Subscribers win every single month!  See past gifts and their winners on my “Freebies” page. This will include, of course, at least three photos of my sister, Donna. (This contest is not rigged.)

Remember, a winner will be chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight tonight by leaving a comment which says, “Color my summer fun!”

For the complete First Friday Freebie rules, CLICK HERE. 

Glitches happen.  If you subscribe and do not receive a confirmation email for some reason, please email me and let me know at barb@midweststoryteller.com

Freebies last one day only!  Enter now so you don’t forget! If that happens, you’re giving Donna even greater odds of becoming like Jeopardy James!