Old Fashioned Is Just Who I Am.

Let’s set the scene….

The music is playing… Easy on the ears with a nice melody to welcome someone in the door after a long day of working.

The home is warm.. with the wafting scent of freshly baked cornbread in the air.

The sausage and bean soup my man loves is on the stove-top staying warm.

The house is picked up.  The Christmas lights are on and smell of pine is lingering in the air….

Lights… are turned down to a medium level….

I am dressed…. casually… with my hair up and the stained shirt changed.

I’m not wearing pearls…. But….

I am what some would call ‘old fashioned’ and while I used to think of that as offensive, I don’t anymore.  20181211_1731171

I was raised with old fashioned values.  I was also raised in the 70’s in California!  Which meant life was a dream!  Literally!

I remember Mrs. Turner up the road would spend the day with her girlfriends… which included my mother.. and at precisely 3:30 pm she would kick us all out of her house and as we were leaving we could see her do a mad dash of picking up and starting dinner.  Her ability to multi-task was amazing.

My mother would go home.. after a morning of cleaning she would calmly start dinner and as my father came home we would sit as a family and eat dinner.

Dinner was the time when we ALL talked and shared our days.  Lessons were learned on what not to do and how to do things properly and we caught up on the going on’s of the block or relatives.  The phone hung on the wall behind us and if it rang an adult would pick it up, sweetly ask, who it was and then promptly take a message after explaining it was dinner time.

It was a time when the phrase ‘It’s dinner time’ meant… we can’t talk right now.   And as a child it was my most favorite time of the day… and my most hated and terrorizing!

Favorite because we were family at this table.  We were all together and watching us exchange our daily comings and goings filled my little soul with happiness.

Hated because I was pulled in by the sound of my mothers voice from the streets where we were in the middle of a game with the whole Ohlone Gang.

Terrorizing because there would be quite possibly a stalk of broccoli or cauliflower on my plate!  Oh how I hated those few veggies that I used to have to eat.  Ironic now, if you think of it, that I actually grow them and willingly eat them every chance I get.

Brussels Sprouts are actually still waiting for harvest… after the first freeze they will be perfect with their sugars all heightened and ready for cooking!  I can not wait….

Back in those days I could make one lone little stalk of broccoli last me till the 11 o’clock news chimed on the TV… When my mother would release me from the table and have me brush my teeth and go straight to bed.  Tears in my eyes as I knew I missed evening play time.

I knew it was all my fault… My fault I missed the fun.. and I just prayed that stalk of broccoli didn’t mysteriously resurrect on my plate in the morning for breakfast….

It could happen….

I didn’t realize it then… the lessons I was learning.  The lesson of family time being so important.  How important a good balanced meal was and vegetables had to be part of that meal.  A lesson I am glad I learned before I became familiar with who/what McDonald’s was.

But the lesson the mother’s on that block taught me without saying a word.. but solely by example shine louder then anything in my life today.

Your husband is important.  Family time is everything.  A clean house is important… and community with friends is something to be valued!  Cherish your life in the process and enjoy it with all your heart.

I hear my husband driving up as I finish this… He will come in, change, do the last evening chore and while he is out in the storm closing up our chickens.. I will get our dinner on the table….

I have made his favorite soup… and his favorite corn bread.. I can hear him now walking down the stairs.. and into the house… He will take a deep breath in and exclaim… “Oh man corn bread!!!!!”  as he peers to the counter and see’s it waiting…. for him!

I know, I am old fashioned.  The art of pleasing my man is something I LOVE to do.  It fills my heart to see him happy and well cared for.  It brings me joy to make sure the house is clean and the mood is set for him to come home and enjoy his time off.  Honestly, I don’t see anything wrong with being old fashion.


It fills MY heart to love on my man!

May you have a wonderful evening on this stormy night tonight!


Published by thebettencourts

Jesus lover. Wife. Mother. Writer. Homesteader. Permaculturist. Do'er of the odd things as I take you on my daily journey's of what I find beautiful. If you are reading this... I am treating you as a dear friend. Or one of our beautiful daughters. Life is worth fighting for and excelling in. Never give up!

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