I want the Lord to know I was really here ~ Marjory Hinckley

I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails.


I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp.

I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children.

I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden.

I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.

I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.”

~ Marjory Pay Hinckley



Sister Hinckley was the cutest little lady wasn't she. 
I loved her to pieces, her parenting ideas and her ways were so special. 

Her kids were hers and nobody else had the right to keep them after school etc., she wanted them home with her. One time she marched to the school and told the teacher exactly that when one of her kids had been kept after school and she was missing them. 

She believed that her children should have time to lie on their backs and look at the clouds in the summer too. 

She would have been such a fun mom to have. 

Love, Grammy T. 

What fun memories do you have of being little and just having fun? Tell us below in the comments. 

I Hate Little Chicken Pens

I borrowed this picture from one of my favorite blogs,  Old Picture of the Day

 Yes, I hate little chicken pens because they are cruel. 
Yes, I said cruel. 

How would you like to live in such a tiny space. 

If I was a chicken and I was let out everyday to roam that would be one thing but 
to live in one of those tiny ones 24-7 is not happy. 

So here is a picture of a chicken pen as I remember them back in the day. 
You notice the size. 

My Nana and Papa Pillsbury, who lived in Sutter Creek CA. had a big pen except their pen was taller and had chicken wire on the top so the red tail hawks couldn't sweep down and get themselves a cheap chicken dinner. 

I loved walking barefoot in the pen because the soil felt so soft on my bare feet. It was soft because it was the ashes from my Papa's wood burning stove that was kept on his enclosed back porch. He would sit their and read the newspaper and relax. He needed to relax because he worked so hard for PG and E as an electrician. You know climbing poles, fixing downed lines and getting up at 2 in the morning when the storms took the power out. 

Anyway it was one of my favorite things to walk in that pen. Nana decided it could be dangerous to do because I could get a splinter from the unburned wood in my foot so I had to wear shoes in the pen.  

I loved her very much and she wasn't a wimpy, bossy kind of Nazi Grandma 
so I didn't argue a bit, out loud. 

But I still think it was the funnest thing ever to walk barefoot in those ashes. 

Chicken poop?
Who thought of chicken poop in those days.

There are lots of really cute chicken coops now days but make a bigger pen OK.  
 Don't be cruel. 

Love, Grammy T.

Life Is Like A Box Of Chocolates

REALLY?

That would be just too predictable 
and you could order your box 

just how you like it. 

Did you ever take a bite out of the prettiest one 

and then hurry and stick it back in the box 

and take another one to only find that it 

had that creamy stuff too?


And nobody wanted your old pieces, 

the one's you had taken a bite out of.

So then you learned to just order a 
box of the Nuts and Chews.

Yep.... It's a cute saying but 
not at all like 
real life. 


Love,
Grammy T.