Happy Hauntings!

From our home to yours, "Happy Halloween!"
And as my son the one-glove doctor would say,

(and he's been practicing for days)

Trick or treat.

Smell my feet.

Give me something good to eat.

If you don't, I don't care.

I'll pull down your underwear!

Ghosts of Halloweens Past

Tell me, where does the time go?

Ren

Clown - (1 month old)

Elephant - (1 yr.)

Winnie the Pooh - (2)

Big Bird - (3)

Lady Bug - (4)

Raggedy Ann - (5)

Wicked Witch of the West - (6)

Egyptian Princess - (7)

Flapper Girl - (8)

I believe this was after we had watched Chicago, another one of my less than prudent moments as a mother.

50's Girl - (9)

Gypsy - (10)

Cat Woman - (11)

This was meant to fit tightly, and boy did it ever! You can tell where the pleather started ripping.

Pricess Leia - (12)

She still has yet to forgive me for making her wear this. I wanted her to match her brother, Yoda.

Mardi Gras Mask - (13)

A Bronco's Fan - (14)

Last year, she was sick and didn't dress up.

John-Heath

Lamb (5 months)

Ghost (1)

Yoda (2)

Cowboy (3)

Pirate (4)

Monster (5)

The Aftermath of Halloween Gluttony.

I just shamelessly ripped off this picture from a friend's Facebook album. She had posted it last year and I remembered how funny I thought it was. This year, I have seen TONS of these non-traditional jack-o-lanterns (jack-o-lanterns giving birth, jack-o-lanterns eating smaller jack-o-lanterns, and the list goes on). You name it, someone's carved it. But Wendy's was the first (at least the first I had ever seen).

I know it's way too lofty a wish, but I hope this is not John-Heath come Tuesday morning.

Trunk or Treat?

The ghooostly trunk in its current place in our media room.

As I was saying last night, Ren, my daughter with a healthy appetite for all things commercially spooky, will not step foot around a certain item in our house unless she’s with someone. While she revels in mass-produced fear, she does not like anything with even the tiniest ingredient of reality.

Years ago, when we were first married and long before Ren was even on our horizon, John and I lived in his family’s...well, I would say ancestral home, but that brings to mind images of castles and large iron gates and I’m only talking about an old farm house...anyway, we lived in the home that had been built by his great-grandfather and, at one time or another, had housed many family members (Great-grandpa John Franklin had 18 children). Once the last of the 18 had grown up and moved away and Granny C had died, the house was occupied by tenant farmers who worked for the family in exchange for a place to stay, etc., until John and I married and decided to restore the house to use as our own residence.

Once we moved in, my husband’s grandmother would often ask if we ever heard or saw anything - indicating she remembered some occurrences during her tenure in the house, but we usually just politely shook our heads in disbelief (although I have to be honest and profess that I have always believed in the possibility of ghosts).

Our little farmhouse consisted of three bedrooms, one bath, a den, kitchen, study (the former parlor), the traditional central hallway common in that style home, and two attic spaces. Directly above our room, which was on the back of the house, was one of the attics which housed a lot of old family stuff, as we were too newly married to have stuff of our own to store .

It wasn’t long until, thanks to Nannie’s tales and the creaks and pops common among old houses, I had scared my young self (I was only 20 at the time) into being afraid to be alone in the house at night, or even being the only one awake in the house at night. Of course, it didn’t help that, in its early years, more than one person had died in the home, another person mad at the family hung himself from a tree not far from the home, still yet another person was killed in an accident at a sawmill located on our land in what would one day become, basically, our front yard, and that the funeral for John’s great-grandfather had actually taken place right there in the home.

Late one night, John and I were simultaneously awakened by a huge crash onto the attic floor above us. After some initial, wide-eyed questioning including "what was that", we lay in bed listening to the sound of the object being dragged across the attic, which ran the length of the house. Whatever the item, it was large and heavy. The only thing in the attic at that time of any significant weight was an old trunk which had belonged to John’s great uncle Floyd who used it when he enrolled at Cumberland Law School upon returning from WWI. During its days of storage in our attic it was chock full of the law books used by Floyd (and all the other brothers who eventually graduated from the same law program). Needless to say, we decided against going up just then to take a peek and saved any further investigating until daylight.

The next morning, upon making our way up the stairs and slowly opening the attic door, we fully expected to find things in disarray. What we found, given what we heard during the night, was even more unsettling. Nothing had been moved. Everything was as it had always been.

Why I Wouldn't Have Won the Mother of the Year Award in 2000.

My daughter is, and has for a very long time been, a horror movie enthusiast. I shamefully admit to allowing her to watch Sleepy Hollow once it had been released on video.

Not this one...


but this one.

She was 5.

I did cover her eyes during all the right scenes, though...or, at least, I hope I did. You know how guilt can sometimes distort a memory over time.

Because of her love for this goose-bump-inducing genre, she is rarely fearful of “scary” Halloweenish things. She can sit through movies, read books and walk through most any haunted house (of the commercial variety) with nary a whimper.

But she will not, under any circumstance, go near a certain trunk in our house alone. Why? Well, check back later tomorrow and I’ll tell you.

Right now I have got to get warm. I just got in from the football game and I'm absolutely chilled to the bone. Brrrrr. A chilly night in Middle Tennessee for sure.

The Definition of October

The tenth month of the year creates different feelings among the members of my household. For John, it’s Will this month ever end? For Ren and John-Heath and, yes, even me it’s like Ahhh, October!

Fall is always an active time for our family. Ren’s birthday falls at the end of September but is inevitably celebrated in October. My father and sister also have October birthdays. And, of course, there are church hayrides, fall parties, football games, the all-important Halloween costume, and numerous trips to the stores in search of items for the previously mentioned. I think I shop more in October than I even do in December.

Then there’s the crème de la crème of the season (especially among small town kids)– a time-honored, yet shrinking tradition which single-handedly makes this Ren’s favorite month of the year…rolling!

Our new, temporary landscaping.

Now, some of my city friends may be wondering what “rolling” is. Well, basically, it involves decorating a person’s lawn with toilet paper, TP as the younger generation calls it. I know some of you may be thinking this would be a terribly ill-mannered thing to do, and it would be if done to the home of someone you didn’t like, but for the most part around here, it means you’re a friend and you’re worth the time and money I am going to spend pulling this prank. Kids in our town, and even here it is not done as much as it once was, will strike their friends, good neighbors, and favorite teachers and/or coaches. And, though John can quickly tire of Saturday mornings spent collecting (i.e. cleaning up) the evidence from a night of frolicking, even he admits he feels left out if we’re not hit at least once. So far this month we’ve had visitors four times.

Two of the newly placed hay bales. This had to take some effort. Round bales are usually moved with the assistance of an engine.

I must say my daughter’s buddies are getting more creative in their escapades. Recently, they managed to move several, large, round hay bales from our fields into our drive. This most recent time they came with a ladder. I’m not sure if they were planning on “kidnapping” Ren from her second story bedroom or wanted to lure her and her girlfriends out of the house and strike from behind and above, but that part of their plan was foiled. Anyway, the girls were waiting for them this time, staking out a spot on the front of our property in their darkest clothing and a little face paint with vinegar, honey, and Vaseline in hand. If they were going down, they were doing so with a fight.

Ready to protect the homefront.

Ahhhh...October!

P.S. The Vaseline idea backfired on Ren, though, as one of her visitors was able to wrangle it from her hands. Even after repeated washings she was left looking as though she had had a lice treatment for days afterwards.

Rats! Ren Writes a Tell-All.

I found this idea somewhere out in blogland last year. The kids (okay, John-Heath) liked it so much I just had to do it again. Of course, one of Ren's friends didn't make a seasonal connection and asked, "What's with all the mice?". This little project is one of the Halloween crafts featured on Martha Stewart's website. I printed templates from my computer, made master templates from cardboard, and cut the mice you see from plain old black construction paper.

Speaking of Ms. S...I recently read that her daughter has written a tell-all about her. I feel for old Martha. Really. I do. Not a lot, but a little. Ren has often hinted at doing this to me one day when she becomes famous. That would be nice in a way, though, knowing that your offspring is so successful people pay money to read their rantings.


I can just see it now, with chapter titles like I Don't Care If You Were Just Trying to Keep Me Warm, I Hated Wearing Sweatsuits... and... Spite: Why I Refused to Keep Seeing the Really Great Guy Who Took Me on My First Date the Moment I Knew You and Dad Liked Him...or... See? I Told You Hollywood Doesn't Care About GPA's.

Fall Mantel

You may want to sit down for this, but I have actually posted pictures of my fall mantel within the time frame I said I would. Who would have thunk it? And just in case the English teachers from my school are reading...I do know the correct word is thought. Thunk is just a funner word :)

Well, here she is. Miss Fall Mantel 2011.

If you'd like to see what it looked like last year go here. Not a huge change.

I don't know what I like the most. I think it's a toss-up between the white owl and orange plumes which I bought at a nifty little cafe or...

...these cherub bookends, which I think I got at Home Goods last year (but can't swear on it). Don't they look just like something you'd see on a gravestone? They're perfect for Halloween. Sadly, they've been on my mantel since January. Hmmm. I wonder what that says about me?

A few of the books in our Halloween collection here in the Tire Swings household. Ghosts Along the Cumberland is an old favorite introduced to me by my husband when he was still just a really cool boyfriend. If you suffer from ADD like a certain blogger I know, then this is the book for you, as it is a collection of tales from folklore and most are very short.

Do you have a favorite book you like to pull out each Halloween?

I Might Finish Decorating for Fall by Christmas.

Hello again, friends. This past week was our fall break. I apologize for not posting any during that time. However, because our nutty coach thought it was important to practice for the weekly game, the football team had to stay in town for the duration of the break, and since our daughter is a water girl, we had to stay put, too. Staying put really kept us busy doing a lot of nothing so I just wasn't able to fit in a post. Okay, so our coach isn't really insane and I suppose I could have managed to squeeze in a little something. Anyway, today was the last day of our break and we head back to the daily grind tomorrow. Actually, the only part of my day that I consider grinding is getting up and getting ready - makes me wish I was a little like Samantha Stevens, then I could just wrinkle my nose and POOF...all ready to go.

Speaking of witches, don't you love fall? I do. It is my most favorite season. I love the whole look of it - from apples in September right on through pumpkins in October and November. One of the nice things about decorating for Halloween is being able to just remove a few black cats and mice on Nov. 1 and you're practically ready for Thanksgiving. Of course, in true Tyla fashion I only started decorating for the holiday today. Yep. Been off a whole week and I wait until the night before we go back to begin. I'll try to post pictures tomorrow evening.


P.S. A former co-worker's husband, from my days as a third grade teacher, passed away suddenly today. I'm sure my friend is just beside herself with grief. Please lift her and her family up in your prayers. I love you, Debbie.

A Homecoming, Plane Crash, and Birthday...Oh My!

Well, friends, the past twenty-four hours or so have been a tad bit more eventful for my family than most of our Sunday/Monday combos. Oh, it began and ended quite normal enough, but with some excitement thrown in the middle courtesy of my sister-n-law's husband, it will go down as a weekend to remember in our family for some time to come.

First up, we celebrated my church's birthday, with something we call a homecoming service. Thirty-three years ago our little, white Baptist church was founded by a group which included my father, who was its first pastor (he's also our current pastor in an interim position as we look for someone else to fill the role). Actually, my dad is the one who built the church, too. A fond memory I have of that time is of playing with my Barbie dolls atop a large stack of sheetrock or plywood inside what would become the sanctuary while dad was working there one day.

Dad at our chuch homecoming doing one of his most favorite things...eating dessert. Make that dessertS.

Now, homecoming services for us always include a meal - which we call dinner on the ground. It's a thousand wonders the message the following Sunday is never on gluttony, because we Baptists like to eat, especially fried chicken and all the fixings. Of course, I'm hoping the good fellowship we have with one another cancels out any wrongdoing on our parts when it comes to this particular deadly sin.

Some of the boys at church doing their favorite after-church activity...climbing trees.

As we headed home from church I think John and I were of the same idea...a nap would be excellent. However, the nap would have to wait.

When we pulled in the drive we noticed Blake, my sister-n-law's husband, flying. Blake has two planes, a vintage WWII L3 and a Beechcraft Bonanza. On this day, he was up in the L3.

John-Heath loves to watch him fly and walked down to position himself between our house and Blake's landing strip for a better view. As John was unloading the back of the SUV I headed into the house to change clothes. I was in no more than a minute when I heard what sounded like some pops. My first thought was that the plane had sputtered or stalled. As I walked back toward the garage, it hit me that I did not hear the sound of the plane anymore. When I walked into the garage I saw John running off the hill from our house and then I saw the plane down. By the time I got into the drive John was at the plane and yelled for me to call 911.

Turns out, while doing touch-and-go landings (something he had done countless times before) his right wing clipped a recently rolled bale of hay which sent the plane out of control through the field and across the edge of a pond where it came to rest just a few feet from the bank.

Thankfully, this story has a happy ending. While the plane was damaged beyond a feasible repair, my brother-n-law walked away with only minor injuries. We all feel very blessed. The outcome of this could have been so much worse.

And once the heart-racing excitement was over, John-Heath made an already memorable day even more so for him, by making friends with the rescue workers.

Now, on to a little less surreal event...my sister Sheila's birthday. Of course, if I told you how many candles she's blowing out this year, you may say that does seem surreal. I had better keep that number to myself though. You know how these old women get when it comes to revealing their age!

Well, happy birthday, Sissy! You look good for someone creeping toward official retirement age. Love ya!

We Want to Know Q and A

Thankfully, Mamarazzi and Queso's Q&A came along just in the nick of time.

{1} If you had an extra hour to do ANYTHING for yourself each day what would you do?
Lock myself in a nice, dark room and meditate to white noise.

{2} Are you a morning person or a night owl?
To answer that let me say this...I try to be a loyal friend and loved one. I will do nearly anything for anyone and because I will do nearly anything for anyone I have only one rule for people wishing to be my friend or family members wishing to remain in my will, and that is this...please, for the love of all that is good and decent, never, ever ask anything of me in the morning. Try your best to run out of gas, need advice on a term paper, have a nervous breakdown, or need someone to watch your children AFTER 10:00 a.m.

{3} How much sleep do you get on an average night?
Between a bladder with a sense of humor and a son who, all too often, winds up in my bed and roots his little legs under me better than any weed in a sidewalk, not a lot.

{4} When do you find the time to blog/surf the ol' interweb?
I get to surf the web quite a lot through work (I'm a librarian). Just today, I read about all sorts of things in helping kids out...the Holocaust, Memphis, news about the new Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and some really fun things like Bloom's Taxonomy, Tennessee curriculum guides, and evaluation rubrics. Blogging, on the other hand, must wait until I get home.

{5} What is the ONE thing you're never too busy for?
Talking to my friends...so long as it is after 10 in the morning.

BFFs: Charlie Brown, Eeyore, and Me (for the moment, at least)

Do you ever feel as if you are a day late and dollar short when it comes to something? I do, and while I have always been on the late side, I am now broke, as well, which does not a good blogger make. I started this little blogging adventure almost two years ago as a way to record thoughts and events for my children, so that they may read and bask in fond memories long after I have gone -either physically or mentally, but life can sometimes get in the way, which is not to say that we lack blog-worthy experiences during my ever frequent gaps in posting, it just seems increasingly difficult to write about them.

It could be that I am going through some sort of mid-blogging crisis...or maybe it’s just that, since school has started back, writing feels more like work than a hobby...and it could also be because of a lot of crap going on in my profession (especially on the state and district level - we’ve even been featured on the Fox and Friends morning news show a couple times in the last week or so), but I feel that much of what I have to say would be on those migraine-inducing, school-related topics and, frankly, that would not make for such pleasant reading for you...that and I’d probably be fired or sued or both. Okay, so maybe “fired or sued” was a bit dramatic, but you never know anymore. I know what you're thinking... just shut up and go to bed, Tyla.

I will try to press on, dear readers. The three of you and my children deserve it.

"It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily.
"So it is."
"And freezing."
"Is it?"
"Yes," said Eeyore. "However," he said, brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately."

Image via

Daddy Turns 80!

Dad in his early teens.

Birthdays in my family always come in groups. The last of September/first of October brings us four celebrations. Yesterday, it was time to sing to my father. Daddy turned 80! That seems almost unreal as I type that number. 80. My dad is an octogenarian. Now, as a teen growing up, my parents always seemed old to me. I was born to them almost 17 years after my sister and they were the oldest parents among my social circle. But as an adult, especially as I creep into those years in which I regarded my parents as somewhat old, outdated, and not so cool, I realize just how young my parents really were and are.

At 18.

Lately, dad has slowed down some, but even at 80 he still keeps busy. He continues to work contracting out jobs in construction (though more on a part-time, small job basis, as the last house he built from start to finish was mine in 2006/07), he still preaches, and, if you were to ask my mom, he still spends way too much time running the roads.

Lookin' cool and dapper on the beach in the late 50s/early 60s. The laugh on my uncle's face says it all.

For this celebratory milestone my sister and I decided to keep it somewhat low-key by having a lunch at my house after church for just our immediate family and a few aunts and uncles. There was bbq (made by my brother-n-law), fried chicken (bought by me at KFC because, if you’ll remember, I don’t do fried chicken so well) and a bunch of good side dishes, including Harper’s coleslaw (dad’s favorite). For dessert we had chocolate cake and banana pudding. Have I ever told you what a sweet tooth my dad has?

Dad and his first grandchild Shane, only a couple years before he(Shane)passed away.

After a good lunch and conversation with family, it was time to open the gifts. What does one get an eighty year-old man? Restaurant gift cards! And that’s a good thing because my mom doesn’t cook much anymore.

He's still got it!

I decided at somewhat the last minute that it would be nice to show a slide show at his party, so this was my gift to him. I spent a few days furiously searching through, and scanning pictures from, old albums, boxes, and discs and a friend at work compiled all the pictures and set the show to music for me. Everyone thought it turned out really good and I’m glad that I was able to record for him some of the highlights of his life. My nephew joked I killed two birds with one stone...a birthday montage and his funeral slideshow all rolled into one. Oh, don’t think it morbid or cruel of him. That’s just the way we roll. We can be a PC-less family at times.

Dad standing in the drive of his soon-to-be new home. The red brick house behind him is my sister's, which daddy was building at the same time he was building his.

Well, happy birthday, Daddy. I love you and am thankful for the Godly, kind, patient, loving, hardworking, humorous father you have been to me all these years. I’ll be sure to tell you this in person again, too, since you don’t own a computer and rarely, if ever, have read this blog. ;)

My daddy.