A Novel Creation www.WatersWords.com

  The Value of Vicks Growing up, I can remember my mom treating a chest cold with a poultice of Vicks VapoRub salve. A head cold called for Vicks on the nose. If the congestion was severe, you might find yourself under a towel tent leaning over a steamy Vicks salve, deeply inhaling the treatment.  Colds. Congestion. That was my experience with the clear, soft, aromatic salve. I knew it was made of menthol, camphor, and eucalyptus. And I knew it came in a little blue jar. That was the limit of my understanding.  Then I married Mike.  Mike is a champion for Vicks Salve.  Meet "Dr. Mike" Dr. Mike prescribes the stuff for…well, everything. No matter what I have going on, Mike asks, “Did you try putting a little Vicks on it?” It is his “go to” for healing. (My go-to has always been chocolate pudding. Just saying.) You strain a muscle? Mike says, “Rub a little Vicks on it, baby.”  Your throat hurts? Mike says, “Rub some Vicks on it.” You have a hea...

  Dinner Hacks I learned early in my adult life that when the dinner bell rings everyone is suddenly hungry. Okay, no…I do not have a dinner bell. However, the same flurry of activity and the anticipation of food arrives nearly the same time every day.  There is often the “What’s for dinner?” question thrown around. I have learned answering that question with, “I don’t know…what did you cook?” is not met with the humor intended. Well, the sarcastic humor intended, anyway. I grew up in a time when women did most of the cooking in the household. That isn’t necessarily true anymore. For example, my son-in-law, David is a great cook and Mike, though more comfortable at the grill, is willing to pitch in if I need him.  Actually, I enjoy cooking. Most of the time. Grandma always said, "Set the table first."   There are times however, I get busy writing or completing some project and don’t enjoy the pressure of having to come up with something. On some of those occasions, M...

Home is Where You Cut the Grass Is it possible to be in two places at the same time? No. And yes.  Physically we cannot be in two places at the same time. Yet as Mike and I visited family in Ohio this week, I realized we recognize our Ohio house as our "home” as we do our Florida house. Since, for the present we spend most of our time in Florida, we have a young man who comes to mow the lawn in Ohio regularly. Mow. Nothing more. When we arrived on the scene, we could see clearly our “visit” would include workdays. The flowerbeds needed weeding and we had honeysuckle growing up places we didn’t want it.  Actually, I don’t want honeysuckle anywhere. (I’ll leave a link at the bottom for an earlier post on the invasive weed with the beautiful name.) Mike visited his favorite store (Ace Hardware) and purchased what he described as a “MacDaddy Weed Eater.” He put a blade on it instead of string-trimmer line. Mike chopped, pulled, and dug up everything he could. The pile was growing....

The Secret  My mother always told me the secret to being a good hostess is to treat your family like company and your company like family.  In fact, I shared a story about that in the  Chicken Soup for the Soul  book titled  “The Best Advice I Ever Heard.”  They not only published it they did a podcast about it. Cool, huh? It  is  good advice. Mike and I recently hosted a couple from church for dinner. Those words rang in my ears as I prepared our house and planned the menu. “Treat your family like company and your company like family.” A couple of weeks later, Mike and I traveled to Ohio for a family visit. On the way we stopped at our favorite gas station, Buc-ee’s. I first heard of Buc-ee’s while heading to South Carolina several years ago with my oldest daughter. Allision suggested we stop there for gas and maybe get something for breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I’m not generally keen on “gas station food.” Still, I figured there might ...

  Alligator Annie I learned long ago alligators are part of the Florida landscape. I know they live in any and every body of water around. You may not see them, but they are there. I respect them, but I don’t fear them. Understand…I don’t necessarily like them either. They’re sort of…I don’t know…prehistoric looking. Am I going to knowingly swim alongside a five-foot gator? No. Will I still swim in a lake or river or spring where they may or may not be? Sure. I don’t bother them and they don’t bother me. Most “alligator incidents” happen when people don’t respect them or go places they ought not be going. That said, this past week, Mike and I were outside. I was on the dock and had a piece of rope in my hand, the end of which was dangling in the water. A small alligator…really small…swam over and, intrigued by my dangling rope, opened his mouth and took a big bite. Well, not exactly a bite. He sunk his teeth into the knot on the end of the rope.   I squealed and Mike came runn...