!!!!

Imagine confetti and fireworks and spangles and bangles:

 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

now excuse me, i have to go get kissed.  ;-)

i hear an owl...

On Friday, my mother called and asked me to call her clinic and see if one of the physicians there would see her because hers was out of town.  And I did.  And when I went to pick Mom up, Dad was trying to get her dressed.  She didn't have the breath to do it herself.

We got her dressed, I bypassed the clinic appointment and took her straight to the ER where she revealed during triage that it was not her cold that sent her there, but the chest pains for which she had to take nitro sprays.  I did not know this.  I thought she was having another bout with pneumonia.  She was admitted into ICU, moved out to a different floor on Sunday, and today she had the final part of her stress test.  She tolerated it well, but is very tired.

In the meantime, Dad has the same upper respiratory infection that Mom has and was spurred into seeing his own doctor.  He is medicated and in bed now.  Everyone is safe if not healthy, and they are where they need to be.

And here I sit on New Year's Eve.  As I type, I'm listening to an owl hooting somewhere nearby.  This is the first time I've heard one this close and at night.  I know it's my anxiety getting to me, and know, too, that my grandmother's voice echoing in my memory "Hearing a hooty owl means there will be a death!" is just an old wives tale.  But you know what - it still worries me.

And so I looked up owls and folklore just for the heck of it, and found some corroboration for grandma's dire warning, but also some very interesting facts that kind of make me laugh at myself for getting all nervous.  Read this link when you have time.  I'd like to read a little more in depth, myself.  http://www.pauldfrost.co.uk/intro_o2.html

Y'all...have a safe and happy New Year.  And thank you for your company in 2007.  You are all dear to me.

for all animal lovers. bring tissues.

http://wral.com/golo/blogpost/2214235/#commentform

:-D

 When four of Santa's elves got sick, and the trainee elves did not
produce the toys as fast as the regular ones, Santa was beginning to
feel the pressure of being behind schedule.
 Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her Mom was coming to visit. This
 stressed Santa even more.

When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were
 about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven
 knows where. More stress.

 Then when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards cracked, and
 the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys.

So, frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of apple cider and 
a  shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered that the
 elves had hidden the liquor, and there was nothing to drink. In his
frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider pot, and it broke into
 hundreds of little pieces! all over the kitchen floor. He went to get
the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw end of the broom.

 Just then the doorbell rang, and irritable Santa trudged to the door.
 He opened the door, and there was a little angel with a great big
 Christmas tree. The angel said, very cheerfully, "Merry Christmas,
Santa. Isn't it a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where
would you like me to stick it?"

And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas
 tree.

Rambling

The shopping is almost done, still have cookies to bake and (i cheated) a cake to pay for.  Tomorrow is a day off, and everything should be done by Sunday (except the sausage balls), and then it will be time to sit back and relax.

Don't you enjoy the hustle and bustle?  I do.  Sure, you encounter a few sour faces out there in the trenches, but you also encounter some of the nicest people, and it makes the work of it go easier.  And how could you enjoy the quiet without it?

And soon it will be time for the New Year.  I have a very special project lined up for 2008, and Santa has helped make it possible.  He called me at work last week to tell me about it:

Santa:  I have your Christmas present with me, and it's bigger than a bread box.

Me:     Is it a stove??

Santa:  No.

Me:    Is it a dishwasher?  (I could hide the dishes in there).

Santa:  Nope.  It's a laptop.  And you can't have it until Christmas.

I had to smile and wonder what kind of bread box was the size of a laptop, or vice versa.  He was so excited.

But I decided right then and there that this present will benefit someone besides me:  my children and grandchildren.

There will be quite a few empty spaces around the table this year...my aunts and uncles, almost all gone.  And the stories my father tells...well, it's difficult for him to talk, now, post chemo and radiation to his face.  His salivary glands are cooked.  But I remember those stories well.

I used to love being the fly on the wall and listen to them all talk about growing up, about their parents and grandparents.  It gave me a sense of history and continuity, and after listening to how it used to be, I'm not so sure our progress has been for the best.  Or perhaps I romanticise the good old days I never lived.  Those cornshuck mattresses don't sound like they could compete with my Sealy.

But I want Sara Pie, Josh and Mason to know their great- great-grandfather couldn't read or write and "courted" his wife by having someone write postcards to her for him and he signed his X so she would know it was from him, and that my father used to make mom madder than a woman experiencing intense PMS by saying that when he met her, she didn't know what shoes were, until he bought her a pair.  They should know about AuntRobbie and Uncle Tracy, and how they baked together at Christmas (the best mounds candy and carrot cake you could ever sink your teeth into).  And the grandkids will read in disbelief of days when there were no drive-by shootings and you could leave your doors unlocked and windows open at night.

Omigod, this might as well be Little House on the Prairie.  But I want them to know where they came from, so I will write it - type it - on my bread box laptop, from wherever I might haul it...and maybe when they're older, perhaps their aunts and uncles and  my mom and dad will be a more vivid memory.  And if the world hasn't changed so drastically by then and there is a Christmas table at which they gather, there will be family there that can't be seen.

 

 

amazing...

About three weeks ago, I heard an unfamiliar bark in my yard.  I went out to investigate and there she was - a very beautiful yet scary pitt bull that did not like that I had stepped out into my own yard.  I thought she could have been a stray, but she was too well fed for that, and then found he belongs to my neighbor's son.

My neighbor Bill is a great guy.  He's always there if you need him and doesn't mind asking for help if he needs it, too.  Never had a problem with him at all.  He puts up with my dogs (they don't charge at him, though) and always has a kind word for Queen Teddy, the yard cat.  And..he doesn't mind my dogs because they stay on their side of the fence.

Well, Bill is seldom home, and to shorten this story, I decided to gain the dog's trust.  It wasn't working.  She charged at me every time I stepped outside.  And foolish me, I just stood still.  Frankly, I was afraid moving too fast would only incite her to the unthinkable.

I talked to her.  Every now and then I had to chase her away from the cat, but that had to be done.  She eventually started coming closer and I decided to lay in wait for Bill to come home (don't have his unlisted number) and ask him to put her in a kennel.

Wouldn't you know it...

Today when I got home, she came running like she always does.  Spike and You were getting there hello pats and she charged right in the middle..and licked my hand.  Apparently, You thought she was taste-testing, because he chased her away with bared teeth and lots of growls.  But she came back..and this time, she let me pet her.  An hour later, she went back to barking, charging and running circles around me.

I'm still very leary of her. I believe You would protect me if I needed it, but..I wouldn't trust her with my grandkids outside.  I wonder why people bother to have pets that they don't socialize?  And even more, I wonder why people have a breed that's known to be dangerous (although I've encountered pitts that were big babies) and let it run free?  I guess Bill and I will have to talk.

the best day

we were racing the rain - there was wood to be cut, delivered and stacked and kitchens to clean and trees to assemble. 

we started early, before the temps began dropping.  he cut the wood and i cleaned the kitchen - although he tried to swap jobs with me.  we took breaks every now and then for listening to my father reminisce, worry about the coming cold because he just can't get warm enough anymore, and the icy weather would keep him indoors.  he laughed and was glad of the company, and he offered us deer stew because he knew i was planning to make vegetable soup and he saw no reason we should spend money on meat when he had a freezer full of it.

mom slept the whole time we were there, and i took extra care in cleaning so she would be suprised when she woke.  a fresh pot of coffee.  the counters all scrubbed as white as she used to keep them.  her laptop in its customary place at the end of the table, a coaster for her coffee mug.  floors swept and mopped.  no vacuuming lest she should wake.

aaron and his friend stewart helped jim split the wood - small pieces so they wouldn't be too heavy for dad to lift.  they stacked it on the porch and filled the wagon dad keeps by the wood heater so he wouldn't have to go outside. 

and then we had to go - another delivery to make to a woman i call mama - the mother of my friend and coworker, roberta.  we pulled into the yard unannounced, and laughed at roberta trying to hide the scarf she had wrapped around her head.  mama thought she was going to help unload the truck - i think NOT - and by the time she found her gloves and came back out, her porch was stacked with small pieces, like dad's.  small enough for an elderly lady to handle with no problem.  she said, is this your christmas present to me?  and we laughed and said - Yes!

this isn't bragging or calling deeds into focus because in my opinion, it's no more than should be done, and not enough, by a long shot.  it's about feeling good about something, stepping outside of self and loving it, and i want to do it some more! - but most of all, it's about the smile on my dad's face and the twinkle in roberta's mama's eyes.  it doesn't get much better than that.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, and other ramblings

It sure hasn't felt like Christmas in Carolina.  Last week, the temperatures climbed to 85+ degrees and didn't stray far from that mark for days.  Nights weren't much better - I would wake up, drenched, and think - this MUST be a hot flash!  But of course, it wasn't.  It was just plain HOT.

On top of the weird weather, we are in the grip of a dust-dry drought.  Luminaries have been banned this year...too much of a fire hazard.  I never thought I would want something to dampen the Christmas Spirit, but we have wished for rain, and today...

We're going to get it - significant amounts.  We and the weather station will be looking for raindrops the way we used to look for snow.  And it's turning c-c-cold.  And Jess and I are finally putting up the tree - I broke down and bought a pre-lit one and new decorations, and the baby will be here and there will be hot ginger tea, homemade beef stew and buttermilk cornbread.

Idyllic, we may not get, but cozy is not such a bad alternative.

oh, another meme! a christmasy one.

I got this from mary who got it from coelha, and i would hyperlink the names, but every time i try it screws up on me.

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate? 

                                 Hot chocolate, of course!  with whipped cream.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?   santa wraps everything that won't fit in a gift bag! 3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?   colored and twinkly ones. 4. Do you hang mistletoe? I have, in the past.  I'm afraid one of the flock (lacy, george, coot or rosie) will somehow get one of the berries and become deathly ill, so no mistletoe in the house anymore.  5. When do you put up your decorations? the minute i find them!

                    6. What is your favorite holiday dish?

                      man, i'm not sure...chicken dressing, i think. we only have it twice a year, and it's a meal in itself.  who needs anything else after that?

7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child:  omigolly, i can't remember...what comes to mind is the family gatherings with my mom's sisters and all the cousins.  just being with them all was the greatest.   8. When and how did you learn the truthabout Santa? truth?  what are you talking about?  9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? no, we make everybody wait until christmas morning.  it's fun (and a little sadistic) to watch the mounting anticipation! 10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree? i used to decorate it with all the ornaments collected over the years, the special ones (windchimes, etc) but...last year, SOMEONE UNNAMED HERE didn't put the lid on the box when it was stored in the shop, and somehow all my decorations disappeared..    11. Snow! Love it or Dread it? Oh, I love snow.  We don't see enough of it to get tired of it, so bring it on! 12. Can you ice skate? No.  Never have.   
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? It was a tape recorder.  I had the most fun with that thing.. 14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you? fellowship with family and friends. 15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?  pineapple cake and 13-layer fudge cake. 16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?   that's hard to say.  i love getting together with the whole family on christmas eve or christmas day, but after all the hustle and bustle, i have made it a yearly tradition to stay up after everyone has gone to bed on christmas eve, turn out the lights, plug in the tree and light candles, and listen to music.  peace...  17. What tops your tree?   an angel. 18. Which do you prefer giving or receiving?   I like giving; but I also like being surprised.
19. What is your favorite Christmas Song?  Away in a Manger, all male choir, a capella and Sinfonia. 20. Candy Canes?  Yes.  21. Do you feel Christmas is too commercialized? Or is it still magical for you? It's commercialized a bit too much...one store here had christmas stock out before halloween.  But I have found that the magic is there if you look for it (i've found it in the most odd places - among them, around the breakfast table on christmas day, in a barrel of popcorn, and kneeling under the tree, small hands holding a gift and excitedly giving it to someone else. 

Love Is Grand

But divorce is 100 grand.  Jessica left that message on my Dale's myspace page last week, and he thought it was hilarious.

You might remember an entry I wrote a few months ago about my son and daughter-in-law (Dale and Jessica) breaking up.  He moved back home and she went to live with her parents.  The baby was back and forth between the two homes.  There was much wailing and cursing and gnashing of teeth and a zillion ugly telephone calls on both parts.  The son was being reminded of what it's like to be single again during the separation - and liking it - and the daughter-in-law was just plain angry.  I don't believe either of them stopped screaming at each other long enough to think that all the pressures and responsibilities of a new marriage and new baby (nt to mention lack of sleep and post partum depression) are enough to drive any couple apart - IF you didn't pause and take stock of the situation and realize that you have to work at ANY relationship if you want it to survive.

After nearly 3 months of all of that, I gave up on them.  I figured it was over, but made it clear to Dale that Jessica is the mother of my grandson, and I would not turn my back on her anymore than I would turn from him.  And then I stopped putting in my 2 cents (moms have to say something, sometime and I probably said more than I should have since they have been separated).  Well, as soon as I shut my mouth...

He invited her over for Thanksgiving.  She was ecstatic.  He invited her over the Saturday after Thanksgiving.  She came, he had to work, the baby got sick with a terrible virus which quickly spread to the rest of us. Jess was sick Saturday and Sunday night so we kept the baby for her to rest.

On Monday, Dale got sick with it and just knew he was dying.  He sure sounded like he was.  That very day, the rest of us in the house were sick - all of us at once.  That night, he kept text messaging someone.  When I woke around 1 a.m. and made my way to the ginger ale bottle, I noticed that..the Soup Fairy had been.  Not only were there cans of chicken noodle littering my counter, there were gallons of Gator Ade and boxes of crackers.  Now I knew Dale, being at death's door, couldn't have driven to Walmart.  So when I asked him the next morning just who the Soup Fairy was, he muttered "Jessica."

She drove 30 miles to bring him what she thought might help him.

And as I type, she and the baby and Dale are in the living room, being a family. 

You know what...there certainly is a lot to be thankful for.

:-)

 

:-)

Happy Thanksgiving!  You are a blessing.

a day late and a dollar short, usually

Today was the Great American Smoke Out, and I almost made it.  SO close.  For the past few weeks, I have been taking Chantix, trying to wean myself from nicotine.  The good news is, I'm down from a pack of cigarettes to maybe 5 a day, give or take one.  I wanted to make a statement with the Smoke Out, and did not have one all day long - until 5:30, and since then, I've had 2 cigarettes.  Damn. I couldn't do it.  But there's tomorrow, and I will try again.

The Chantix has helped a immensely.  The side effects haven't been too bad - there have been vivid dreams, but they weren't the nightmares of which the accompanying literature warned.  As a matter of fact, they've been pretty darned good.  One night, Tom Selleck invited me to our own private coffee house for lattes.  Another night, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself back in medium custody, greeting my friends.  I woke with that warm feeling you get with good dreams so real you can feel every hug and recall every expression. 

Wish me luck.

 

putting it in park

Ok, I've stopped driving long enough to come back and write a journal entry.

I remember my first car - it was a bright yellow Ford Pinto station wagon.  You could see it barreling down the road from a mile away.  My dad picked it out, even though I had worked for it (summers, evenings and weekends at the restaurant) because he wanted me to have something reliable and hard to kill.

He did a great job. I tried my best to kill that ugly car, but it would not die, and 4 years later, I traded it in for another Pinto - a sportier, less conspicuous model that eventually did die.

Somewhere down the line, I fell in love with a red Thunderbird, so I got it.  By that time, I was known as the County Breakdown Queen and God looked after me by allowing my cars to die in front of garages.  Anyway, I picked the Thunderbird because I knew I would look great sitting beside the road in it should the break down occur outside of city limits.  To be fair, I did get my money's worth out of that car - it lasted me for years until one night, on my way home, it broke down in the middle of an intersection.  I figured that was it. for me and it was time to get something that would respond to automobile CPR.

And so THEN I got an ugly Chevrolet - a big boat of a car that I named Edgar.  It was incredibly undented when I got knocked for six while sitting at another intersection waiting to make a left-hand turn.

I suppose I could go on and on, but the point is, the uglier the car, the longer it seems to last.  As of late, I had been driving a Chevy S10 - a great little truck that got me where I was going and would let nothing stop it - especially not the coyote that threw itself in front of us on the way to work one morning.  Poor coyote.

But I wanted a CAR.  And so, while visiting my brother at work, I spied it from across the parking lot.  It said SHARP in big red letters, calling me, and when I walked over to it, it winked at me.  My brother, ever the salesman, said, Girlie, you'd look mighty SHARP driving that down the road.  I had to agree.  And then he unlocked the door and said..sit in it!  And then he gave me the key and said...drive it!  And I did, and it was sharp and it was smooth and it flirted with the road and when I stepped on the brake, it was very obedient (that won BIG points with me), and  less than a week later, my silver Dodge Stratus sedan brought me home.

It's sporty.  It's reliable.  It's SHARP, and now it's mine and I have enjoyed every second of driving it EVERYwhere, and plan to drive some more.  So, if I'm conspicuously absent from J-Land and you happen to see a SHARP silver streak zoom past, it might be me and my baby.  Or it might be a comet, ya never know..

By the way, I haven't named it yet.  Any ideas?

Squeal!!!!!!

I'm heading out to bring home my NEW CAR!!!!!  i have an entry all ready to write on this topic, but i'm so excited i had to squeal!  :-D

hmm..let's see if i remember how to do this...

Seems like the past 100 weekends have gone by in such a blur of racing and running and not being home.  I didn’t realize how much my nose had been in the roses and not to the grindstone until Friday, when I looked - REALLY LOOKED - at my house.

It looked like a laundromat had exploded in here.  I could have carved my name in the dust on the furniture, and if I kicked a path, I might have been able to shove some things to the side in order to sit on the sofa - or what’s left of it - to watch TV through the gray haze that surely would defy Windex.  Something had to give.

But…I was so tired.  At work on Thursday, I was almost comatose.  Friday was a little better, but still felt like I was slogging through cold molasses, and this house could not wait another minute.  I half-expected the county to come in and condemn it!

So what’s a girl to do?

Well, one thing she does is keep her ears open at the smoking area at the hospital.  You would be surprised at the things you hear there.  Delta was muttering something about Red Bull - heck, knowing how she loves it, I thought it was a beer until she said, “I drank two of those and didn’t close my eyes for three days! I’ll only drink one, this time, to be on the safe side.  Got to get the grass mowed, ya know.”

And so I asked her…”What is this thing called Red Bull?”

“An energy drink!”

Ah, yeah, energy drinks. Chock full of caffeine?  No thanks.  When my heart goes pitter-patter for hours, I would rather it be precipitated by a good looking guy, rather than induced by a drug.  But Delta assured me her heart did not palpitate once during her three days of wakefulness.

By Saturday morning, I was desperate.  I could not dredge up enough energy to pour coffee, and that wasn’t worth a flip for what I needed, anyway.  Lo and behold, I opened my refrigerator and inside was a 4-pack of some kind of energy drink - not Red Bull, but it would do.

“Son!” I said.  “Are these yours?”

“Yep.  You can have one, if you want.”

I didn’t want, but need overcame my lack of desire.  I chugged what probably amounted to four ounces.  ICK!  Held my nose and chugged some more.  Sat down at the computer to play Bingo while more dust accumulated, everywhere.  It was probably ten minutes later when I had to STAND UP and MOVE.

Here’s what the Energy Drink helped me do:

Went to the grocery store, bought a ton of fruits and veggies.  Came home, washed 40 loads of clothes.  Chopped all the veggies and put in containers.  Washed all dishes. Dusted.  Made the bed.  Cleaned bedroom.  Washed the television screen.  Swept.  Mopped. Stopped short of washing windows.  Didn’t want a clear view of the yard.  Cooked.  Folded clothes.  Ironed clothes and put away.  Washed the dog. Turned cartwheels (just kidding).  And when all that was done, around 7:00, I decided it was time to wash ME and so I took a shower, cleaned the bathroom, and for some mysterious reason, put on makeup and did my hair.

So…just what is in the energy drinks?  A little research (read the side of the can) revealed that  energy drinks  contain B-complex vitamins, glucuronolactone, which is a naturally occuring chemical compound produced by the metabolism of glucose in the human liver, and taurine, an aminoethanesulfonic acid. Oh, and around 80 mg of caffeine. And a lot of sugar - although you can buy low carb ones.

My opinion is, it’s speed in a can.  I might invest in a 4-pack for those emergency weekends when slogging through cold molasses is not an option.  I was skeptical at first, but this stuff has made a true believer out of me.

Ah, salvation. 

It is difficult

My breaking news alerts are often of a frivolous (I think) nature.  For instance - "Duke President Apologizes to LaCrosse Members".  I could have waited until the actual newscast to hear that one.  But last Friday, a news alert caught my eye and broke hearts across the state.

A 12-year-old girl in a neighboring town who had stayed home - alone -from school was murdered. Her grandfather stopped in to check on her and found her...Four teenagers - TEENAGERS! - who had broken in and were surprised to find her there have been arrested.

The same weekend, 4 children died in a fire.  The oldest was 11.  Their mother was across town at a party.

This post is not about being judgmental.  It's about horror and shock and 12-year-olds with strep throat being shot and 11-year-olds being left in charge of young children.  And the question has arisen - At what age is it safe to leave children home alone?

Frankly, I don't believe it's safe for an adult to be alone during the day, anymore.  I heard a man say - "We're buying into media-created fear."  I don't know about that...But I do believe, as far as children being on their own for hours, that a lot depends on the location of the home (secluded?) and the maturity of the child and if younger kids have been left in his/her care. 

My heart goes out to the parents of these children.  I cannot imagine the what-ifs running through their heads or the enormity of their grief.  Hug your kids, and be safe.

 

 

 

Running away from home.

Perhaps it's my inexperience at doing such, but making online reservations was not the easiest thing to do.  And so - after searching the hotel site for telephone numbers, I called the reservation specialist.  :-)

A specialist she was, indeed.  The good thing about telephone reservations is, the site does not go down the minute you enter your information, and in less than 5 minutes, I'm set for a long weekend in Myrtle Beach, my big indulgence this year.  An ocean-front room, private balcony, exercise room, indoor pool...free bowling! 

This is gonna be great.  Myrtle Beach in October is perfect.  The crowds have thinned, early morning is cool, almost nippy.  The last time I was there in October, I slept with the balcony doors open so I could hear the ocean and did picturesque things like watched the dolphins leap, close to shore. It was wonderful.
______________________________________________________

You know, there's plenty on my mind this morning, but I'll just bask in the glow of my upcoming escape for now.

WHY is it??

Why is it that, the week or day you haven't had a chance to clean and your living room has been littered with movies and clothes and socks (none of them your own), and pop cans are littering the place - WHY is it that THAT is when someone visits?

You can't really call this a visit because it's the EMBARQ guy, connecting the satellite.  But geeze. 

I do clean.  He probably doesn't think so.  There has been a parade of guys and buds and pals of my son's over for the last week, and I haven't been able to get near the living room to do more than rush through it and...

now the satellite guy has seen this mess.

it's enough to make a girl leave town for the weekend - after handing the son a bucket of cleaning supplies and instructions.  so i'm gonna do all that.

have a great weekend, everybody.

An Overflowing Nest

In December, my son got married.  I remember how I cried because he was leaving, how empty the house seemed, how I brought Georgie-bear from PetSmart because it needed some noise.  And then Lacy, who spooks me when I,upon waking in the middle of the night, catch her in the eerie blue glow of the television antenna with her nose turned skyward, possibly worshiping some dark deity only she can see, and to which she sacrifices our sofas, came to feather the nest.

Life was pretty good, between sweeping up George's blonde hair and restuffing the sofas.  The kids were happy and on their own.  I became accustomed to doing pretty much what I wanted, which may or may not include watching TV all night from what's left of the sofa.

And then last Sunday, my son called his dad.  "Come get me..." and because of circumstances that won't be mentioned here, his dad "went and got him."

The baby has spent three nights with us.  And it's nice to have them here, but I wish - and am sure my son does, too - that it was not because a family might break up for good.

In Marc's recent journal entry, he wrote about the inner voice.  I'm listening to mine...it says to say as little as possible, but make what you do say count.  Like..Don't rush into anything.  Take a little time to think about what you can both make better, what you can compromise on.  I love you.  To both of them.

Ah, all we can do is let them make their own decisions.  But a little guidance never hurts, if it's presented in the right way, in a fair and neutral way.  I hope.

 

the bride

It has been..

a long, hot summer.  On a whim, I pulled up the weather this morning, and lost my breath at what the forecast said - 59 on Saturday night.  58 on Monday night.  And then I slumped in my chair with gratitude.

No more breathing super-heated air that burns the lungs.  No more sweltering in a century-old building in which the AC unit has died - for the 3rd time this summer.  Ah, sweet relief!  Autumn is coming, and I hope it brings rains with it to relieve the drought.

_________________________________________________________________

We attended my niece's wedding this past Saturday.  It was a unique ceremony, all planned by Catherine to be the wedding she wanted, and if there was a theme, then that theme would have been called "simple elegance."

It was held in the gardens by the lily pond.  The aisle the bride walked down was a sidewalk flanked with lillies.  The music was guitar and flute - pure strains that held not one note of pretention.  She wore a simple gown with sequins, and flowers in her hair, and both bride and groom spoke their vows matter-of-factly - no quaver, no hesitation.  Each presented the other with a white rose - a symbol of new beginnings.  And then each took their rose and presented it to the parents.

To me, it was symbolic that love simply is and reaches far.

At the end of the ceremony the musicians played a Celtic tune.  The bride gave a sassy toss of her head, like - THERE.  I've got ya!  And one of the couples in the wedding party did a little hop and skip mid-aisle that set the tone for the reception.  It was nothing short of lovely.

50th wedding anniversary

It was a wonderful party - just the right number of people, lots of fellowship and, of course, food.  The cake was made by Kathy, a coworker at the hospital.  Picture 2 is mom and dad, although you can't see mom very well.  Picture 3 is of the grandkids and mom.  From left, my Beth, Catherine, Dad, Mom, Michael and my son Dale.  Picture 4 is of the great grandkids.  Mom is holding Mason, Sara Pie and Josh are seated on the sofa. See the look on Sara's face?  She's upset because Josh wouldn't let her hug him.

Everyone had a good time.  Mom and Dad are still talking about it.

Me

well, i think this is the first photo of myself i've posted.  it's small - the smaller the better.  heheh.  i have more photos to upload.  want to show you party pictures from the weekend.

a neat christmas gift!

Not long ago, a friend gave me a jar of sea salt scrub.  I procrastinated about trying it, but when I finally did - YEAH!  It's excellent!  And now it's running low...so I researched the brand and price on the net.  It's a bit more expensive than I'm willing to pay, but the search also netted recipes.

I decided to experiment with the most simple one - 1/2 cup fine sea salt and 1/2 cup of olive oil (but you can substitute sweet almond oil) and 10 drops of essential oil, your choice of scent.

My experiment sat on the counter for a week before I decided to try it, and it is JUST as excellent as the $30 jar!  I'm making a boatload of the stuff and giving it for Christmas gifts!

IRS.gov

Just a quick note this morning. 

Yesterday, I caught the tail-end of a news report concerning an email scam.  If you receive mail from IRS.gov, you can be certain something phishy is going on. 

Sure enough, there's a letter from IRS.gov in my email this morning.

If you should receive that email, don't open any of the links or download attachements out of curiosits because it  leaves you very vulnerable and open to identity theft. Just delete  it! 

 

 

I have been remiss

in posting journal entries and replying.  My only defense (not an excuse!!) is - work. Family. George and Lacy.  Playing referee - or however you spell it.

I am hoping that this weekend will have a few spare moments in it and I can get around to visit all of you.

Today, my daughter called me - on business.  She works in preregistration for a hospital, and it was her day to confirm DOC authorization numbers, and we were on the list.  It seemed strange giving out information to my daughter! But it was nice.  We both got a taste of each others' jobs on a direct level.

Other than that, I've been buried.  Lacy has eaten my couch and I am looking into getting a kennel for the back yard.  She not only ate my couch, she managed to get a bag of black beans and a bag of rice from the kitchen closet (bet I don't forget to close THAT anymore), and she ate those.  Raw.  She ate my hairbrush.  I have gotten wise and have hidden my shoes.

And NOW - since my sister was kind enough to lend me the second season of Twin Peaks (remember that series?  I used to watch it all the time and the only thing I can remember is Bob and new shoes) the plan is to kick back in front of the television and watch until I fall asleep.

Have a good night and a great rest of the week.

A Lifetime.

When I was small, I was fascinated by my mother's engagement ring.  It was called "Starfire" back then, and it glittered and sparkled on her finger like the Promise it was.  She told us stories about how she and dad eloped to South Carolina, and how he sang to her in that rich baritone on the way to get married.

All through that marriage, she never asked for much, but a few months ago, she  told me how she wants to live to see the 50th anniversary of that day - September 1, 2007 - and how she wanted the anniversary party to end all parties.  Trust and believe, she deserves it.  Life with Marshall, the Silver Bullet, was a hard row to hoe, but on the plus side, she concedes it was never boring.

She has tried to wheedle out of us - Do you have plans?  Have you ordered a cake?  But we have been very tight-lipped about it, and shrugged her questions away - we wanted to surprise her.

More recently, as her health has failed more, mom has told me she isn't sure she'll see that day.  And so I told her - Yes, you will.  We have this party planned, and you have to be there!

Her eyes lit up, and then she got serious and said, I just want my children and grandchildren to come.  I don't think I can handle a big crowd.  Two days later, she handed me a guest list. 

It had only 6 names - but my brother and I added 2 more.

We're having it catered.  We're ordering a gorgeous cake. The grandchildren are putting together a CD of the music popular in 1957 and they're also working on a collage of pictures - a sort of This Is Your Life album.

And the extra guests are our cousin the Preacher and his wife.

Little does she know that on her 50th anniversary, she will be renewing her wedding vows.

I hope she will be pleased.  :-)

end of season airfares

It must be a sign.  Travelocity keeps sending me summer airfare sales ads - selected cities only 103+.  Now who, with two months vacation time saved up, could turn that down?

Not I!  And so I have decided to pack my red necklace and fly the scary skies to Ohio to visit with a friend in Ohio.

It just occurred to me that it has been 30 years since I have flown anywhere.  It was a big adventure, then, with Aunt Doris for a chaperone and western New York to explore, and it was worth saying No to that Camaro my dad tried to bribe me with if I didn't go - although, I do wonder what it would have been like to drive a red one.

There is much to be said for traveling and new fodder for writing, new sights, new voices.  .

Sometimes - especially lately - I feel like my life has just begun.

And SO...

There is something about a woman that must be innate - Guilt.  It's a hard thing to overcome, after years of putting everyone else first (we do that, and we don't even think about it until one day, we see that pretty red jade necklace and we have to justify WHY we shouldn't buy it when it's not that expensive and has almost made our heart's stop with it's beauty).

Well.  My daughter is gone and happy.  My son and his wife are happy and have their own lives.  My golly, this past year and a half has been so full of changes...it took a while to get a good foothold on solid ground again, for me.

The first of June, I looked in the mirror and screamed.  Again.  And then I did something about what was in that mirror - so far, 20 lbs GONE, and I don't feel every ounce of them.  And so, I looked in the closet at my wardrobe and screamed. My golly, what a horror.  And then I went to the back of the closet and pulled out the pretty clothes I bought when I was thinner.  And they fit.  :-D. 

And then, I looked at my Nationally Well Known Cosmetics Company Brochure and there was this jewelry...a red necklace with matching earrings.  A medallion necklace with matching earrings.  And then...I said, I cannot do that.  It comes to all of 25 bucks and I could use that money for GOOD.

The angel on my right shoulder was letting me have it, but the devil on the left said - "Ya know, it's been a wild year.  A lot of good things have happened, and a lot of not so good things have.  You've lost 20 lbs.  You DESERVE to celebrate and soothe with that 25 bucks."

And so here I sit, in my red necklace and matching dangly earrings I purchased for representative's price.

And I still feel guilty about it.

I'm not buying anything else until fall.

 

The "I" Survey

Got this from Martha.  :-)

I Live: down a dirt road, off a back road.

I Work: at a correctional hospital.

I Talk: on the phone a lot.

I Wish: I would win the lottery

I Enjoy:  lots of things :-)

I Look: for the best in people.

I Find:  you get the same respect you give.

I Smell:  a strawberry candle.

I Listen:  to a variety of music.

I Hide:  the gray, sometimes.

I Pray:  for whoever needs it

I Walk:  not nearly enough anymore.

I Write:  poetry, journals, short stories.

I See:  more than the obvious.

I Sing:  in the car

I Laugh:  a lot everyday

I Can:  make a mean pot of chili.

I Watch: CSI!

I Yearn:  to have enough time to do the things i want to do.

I Daydream: often.

I Fall:  when george pulls the leash too hard (then look around to see if the neighbors were watching - embarrassment city).

I Want:  health and happiness for my children

I Cry:  when i see someone else crying.

I Burn:  when i'm ticked.

I Read:  everything.

I Love:  my family and friends

I Rode:  horses when i was younger.

I Sometimes:  wish I didn't have to work

I Hurt:  when my children hurt 

I Fear:  guns.

I Hope:  there's some coffee left in the pot.

I Break:  bracelets.  one fell apart on me yesterday.

I Eat:  low fat, low cal.

I Bathe:  when i want to indulge myself.  showers, otherwise.

I Drink:  coffee, tea and water.

I Stop:  when i've had enough.

I Save:  anything that has sentimental value 

I Hug:  dale, george, lacy, carol...

I Meditate:  during lunch break.

I Play:  everyday

I Miss:  Ava and the crew at hoke.

I Hold: an empty cup, at this moment.

I Forgive:  easily.

I Drive:  a chevy S10.

I Learned:  not nearly enough, soon enough. 

I Dream:  about a mountain cabin.

I Have:  a good life.

I Don't:  let anyone pull the wool over my eyes anymore.

I Made:  a granny square afghan.  :-)

I Believe: we are as happy as we allow ourselves to be.

I Wait:  patiently, usually.

I Need:  another cup of coffee.

I Owe:  a debt of gratitude to many people.

I Hate:  cruelty.

I Feel:  like having a lazy saturday!

I Know:  i won't have a lazy saturday.

I Wonder:  if there's a way out of doing laundry today.

I Applaud:  the nursing staff at hoke.

I Love: autumn :-)

y'all join in on your own blogs!

so that's what all those cameras and people were about!

an article on the history of my workplace!

http://fayobserver.com/article?id=266785

i wasn't going to do a journal entry, but it's early and quiet and ihavecoffee, so what the heck.

i was on vacation this week!  i had a little time with the new grandbaby, mason, who is very healthy, cuddly and sweet.  didn't make it to the hospital in time for his entrance into the world because it was sudden - a c-section and suddenly free operating room.  poor jess.  the child's head was so wide it couldn't be measured using the usual tool - had to be measured with the one for the tummy.  mason has a headful of dark hair and white eyebrows, wide hands and a frown that will make you laugh.  sweet baby.  :-)

and i have to tell you...there is nothing like seeing your own baby, all grown, watch his newborn through the nursery window.  my son couldn't keep his eyes off of him.  he wasn't able to hold him for several hours, and it distressed dale to see mason crying and not being comforted.  when one of the nurses emerged from the nursery, he said - could you give him something to gnaw on?  he's trying to eat his hand.

had to laugh.  the nurse gave the baby a pacifier after that.  :-)

and there was a minute when i was watching the baby that something welled up from the very bottom of me and made its watery way to my eyes, too complex to be called happy tears.  i suppose it was a mixture of nostalgia, love, a sense of continuity, and something i can't quite name.

the new parents and baby are doing well and have discovered mylecon (sp) drops.

as for the rest of my vacation - cleaning house, swimming, peeling tomatoes with mom and planting butter beans with dad.

and now it's almost over.  the above-inserted article link is a sure sign it's time to go back to work and get some rest.

have a happy weekend, everybody.

welcome to the world, little one

my grandson, mason garrett broadaway, was born 06/28/07 at 5:45 p.m. 

9 lbs. 14 ozs. 

the excited father forgot to mention length.

:-)

In praise of Dr. A

 I have been transcribing for Dr. A for a year, but have known her for longer.  She was also the psychiatrist at the other unit where I worked for two years.  She's a little short woman in her late 50s, a bit rotund with a moon face and a wild afro-style hairdo.  She looks harmless enough, but some of the things that came out of her mouth floor me - and I don't think I can type them in this journal without being TOSed.

I made it a point to read her reports at the other unit  - "The patient was undressing this writer with his eyes throughout the interview" or "This writer feels he is faking psychosis in order to get disability benefits."  She's nobody's fool.

I talked to an old friend tonight from a different county.  She has applied for a job at a jail where Dr. A sees patients, too.  My friend tells me that the story is, Dr. A was interviewing a patient when he started to get hostile with her.  The eye witness says - "Then he lunged for her.  She didn't bat an eye."  Dr. A turned the tables on him, literally.  She put her hands under the edge of the one separating her from the inmate, lifted it up and knocked the inmate backwards, stood and said - "Lock him up."

Even CSI Miami couldn't rival that.

A while back, Dr. H and I were discussing her assignment to close custody facility full of bad, bad boys.  I made the comment - "I hope she can handle it."  Dr. H replied - "Oh no.  The question is, can THEY can handle HER."

He never spoke words more true.

Ahh, what a weekend!

Almost every second was packed - from the 5-mile yard sale (no kidding, it feels like I walked every inch of it) to dinner out to Beth and Sara Pie's overnight visit, to the baby shower (which was a great success, wish you could have been there!), to cleaning up messes at two houses.

My house was last night and this morning.  You know, years ago when the kids were small, I would trick them into helping out by having competitions:  "Ok, whoever makes the most improvements in the next 10 minutes gets a prize!"  Worked like a charm.  The other thing was to turn on the radio - full blast, as there were no near neighbors, get out the sunshades, broom guitar, salt shaker microphone and honeys, we would be-bop all over this house.  And we got it cleaned, too!

This morning, the radio was the ONLY thing that could get me through this.  Turned on 96.5 The Drive! and motored all over the place.  The mop and I danced to Janice Joplin and A Piece of my Heart.  Old moppie is a great dance partner.  Next was Frankenstein, if you remember that one - Edgar Winter dusted the entire living room.

I had such a good time cleaning, that I might go back and clean some more!

Happy Memorial Day, everyone.

Thank you :-)

To all who left shower game suggestions.  They all look like a lot of fun!  The shower is today...we have prepared food and decorations and probably went overboard, but what the heck.  Might as well have fun.  :-)

Have a great week, everybody.

Reminiscing AGAIN.

A journal entry tonight by one of the loveliest souls in J-land started me thinking about my daughter.  She hadn't even been born yet when the sperm donor (to speak the name gives him power, so it is not spoken here) went to the store for a pack of cigarettes and never came back.  Seems the circus was more appealing than staying put and being a responsible father to his daughter.  PLUS he was a saggitarius. 

A year and a half later, I met the man who was to be her real dad, and after we married, we decided to wait until she was older to tell her about her biological father.

When she was almost four, she started drawing pictures of graveyards and tombstones and little girls crying.  Needless to say, I was very concerned and asked her...What does this mean, honey?

Her exact words were, That's where my real, real daddy is.  He died.

My little sister, who is three years older than my Beth, had spilled the beans, but she didn't want Beth to feel thrown away so she told her *he* was dead.  And so we explained to her as best we could that her real, real daddy was not in the cemetery and that her daddy was Jim now.

The years went and the questions came.  Why did he leave?  And the answers:  It had nothing to do with you, or me...He just couldn't stay in one place.  And it was true.

I would prefer to tell my daughter the truth than a lie.

Why didn't he want to see me?  (I did not say, because he's a coward.)

Does he know my name? (He does.)

Do I look like him?  (you have his eyebrows).

Do I have brothers and sisters? (I did not say, all over the eastern US).

I couldn't answer all of her questions.  Five years ago, her biological grandfather died.  They had never tried to see my daughter, either, but she knew their names and when she found out he had passed away, she went to the funeral home.  And met her father, face-to-face.

"It took guts for you to walk into a place where you didn't know anybody.  You got that from me," he told her.

"No.  I got that from my mother."

I don't blame her for wanting to get a jab in.  But since she was all grown up, sperm donor decided he wanted to have a relationship with her.  He told her he didn't know I was pregnant.

....He was at the doctor with me when I found out.  He bought my prenatal vitamins.

He told her I was too good for him.

At no time did he take responsibility for leaving.  And so, they became close and cozy, and she had the dream dad she had longed for when Jim grounded her, told her no, or when he did any other parental thing that wasn't easy. 

And suddenly, somehow, the facade began to slip.  He didn't want to be daddy anymore.  That poor kid saw him as he is, and it broke her heart.

Some life lessons are hard.  I hope she knows, it was never her.  It was him.  There simply isn't a responsible bone in his body.  And while it hurt (you know it did), she had the luxury of saying - I have a dad, thanks.  His name is Jim.

She wasn't unloved and lacking for a father, after all.

an unabashed plea for help

i'm hosting a baby shower on sunday, and one of the ladies invited asked - what kind of games are we playing?

i have to tell you, all the baby showers i have been involved in (except 1 where there were men and they had to chug something from a baby bottle) involved eating, opening gifts and going home. 

do any of you have ideas for baby shower games?

George and Lacy

There’s no getting around the fact that I have too many animals. There are several cats that need new homes (I’m working on it!) and three dogs that are here to stay. Spike and You are the guardians of the homestead, and poor George is just an overgrown puppy that has not one ounce of social grace. It’s true. Come morning, he tramples me as I lay in bed without so much as an “excuse me, it’s time for my morning jog.”

Two weeks ago, I was on my way home from Durham, driving through a huge rain storm and keeping an eye to the sky for funnel clouds when my cell rang. I thought - this has to be more important than funnel clouds, for someone to call me on the cell phone!"  so I pulled over and answered. It was my son.

I heard you were driving through some bad weather. Is everything ok?

His concern really touched me, but did not surprise me because lately he had been making sure his mama was ok, making sure I had a decent vehicle to drive, etc. But anyway, I said - It’s not too bad! Just passed through a thick rain, but everything seems calm now. I felt the need to reassure him.

That’s good, mom! Hey listen, he said, before I could tell him what a good son he is and how much I appreciate him, you know this dog I got from Robert? I have to take her to the pound.

WHAT? You’re taking her to the pound? But son, I thought Jess loved her!

She does, but we aren’t home much and don’t have the time to take with her and she shreds the bathroom every day. We can’t keep her locked in there, and so she has to go. I hope somebody adopts her. It would be awful if she didn’t get a home and they had to put her down.

He paused to let that last statement sink in and then said in a voice full of epiphany - HEY! Why don’t you take her? She loves you already! And since you’re almost home, you could just swing by and pick her up. I have a BIG bag of dog food, a leash, collar, chew toys…”

I never saw it coming. But in thirty minutes, I was on my way home home with a four month old black rat terrier (I think) pup who looks like a cross between a miniature doberman, tiny greyhound cartoon character dog that has legs too long for it’s little body and ears so big that one of them flops while the other stands straight up. I guess both standing would be too top heavy. ET Phone Home Alien Dog antennas.

Well, my grandpuppy was one happylittle dog to have a home (I guess). She hopped out of the truck, into the house and was prancing like…nothing I’ve ever seen before…when she met George.

George is at least 10 times her size, and when he saw a playmate, he sprang into action.  That poor little alien dog cowered and cringed and made herself even smaller by curling up in a tight ball and closing her eyes (so George couldn’t see her, I suppose).  She was a nervous wreck, completely uncertain of her surroundings and her ability to survive the Great Hairy Monster.  He was gentle enough - he didn’t nip to hurt, but she didn’t know he meant no harm.  He just wanted to play.

I had serious reservations about leaving them in the house while I went to work, but I need not have feared.  When I got home, Lacy had him in a headlock, a tuft of his considerable hair hanging from her chin like a beard, daring him to move.  And he let her.

They have been inseparable, since.  When Lacy gets tired of prancing on her own, she puts her font paws on George’s back and half-hitches a ride down the hallway. He allows her into his “cave”, a spot under my desk where his blanket and pillow are.  But she prefers to sleep in the bed with me, and prefers to sleep the way I do.  If I’m on my back, she’s on her back.  On my side, she’s on her side.  What a strange little bedfellow she is. She particularly likes burrowing under the covers, hiding from the rest of the world.  I guess we all like a cozy place from time to time where we can be alone.

At any rate, I have my fourth and final (for now) dog.  And she’s a cutie.

the older they are, the harder the falls

Yesterday was my son's birthday.  I cooked all his favorites and made an extra cake to take to mom's and dad's so they could celebrate with us, and as I was carrying the cake and the plates, etc, out to his car, I suddenly fell from my two inch heels (go figure).  The good news is, I saved the cake and was able to brush the yard from my slacks, and Dale had a really great time with the family.

Around 2 a.m., between Lacy's (my rat terrier) trips to the potato bin to bring food to bed and incessant throbbing in my knee and ankle, I figured it was Vicodin and decision time.  Was I going to work at 8 a.m.? 

Finally fell asleep, but when I did I had these dreams...the officers were chasing inmates through the office.  My boss was being her loud and bitchy self and talking incessantly while I watched the chase and ducked through it to get the coffee made.  A smoke alarm went off, and suddenly it was three weeks ago when, upon arrival to work, the place was honest-to-goodness on fire.  But that's another entry.  And in my dream, the parking lot was closed for inspection and the superintendent was catching cats (that really happened last week, as well) and putting them in a cage in his office.

I have made three decisions.  1.  I'm elevating my leg today. At home  2.  I will never take Vicodin again.  3.  I'm putting in for a nice, long vacation from prison.

older than i am.

After many years of kids and broken dishes, I decided it was time to buy a new set.  I searched all over, but nothing caught my eye enough to make me buy it.  And then today, I stopped at a yard sale.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the glassware.  I love glass, don't ask me why.  But there amongst all the neat things were 2 sets of blue and white dishes.  They were gorgeous!  The edges were scalloped, the pattern was pretty and dainty and I could see myself using those on weekend mornings, my coffee/tea cup on a matching saucer.  Quite civilized, don't you think?  And so I approached the Lady in Charge of pricing and said..how much for the dishes?

And she replied - 5 bucks.

Before I could stop myself, i blurted - that's ALL???

And so, quickly, before she could go up on the price, I whipped out a 5 and the transaction was complete.

And when I got home, I checked the stamp on the bottom - J&G Meakin of England - and hopped on the computer to see what else was available on ebay.  There was plenty out there!  All for a nice fat price, plus shipping.

The dishes are antiques.  Collectibles.

Yikes!  I'm supposed to eat from those?  I'm supposed to cut meat, use a fork, scratch the surface, etc??  Oh, the stress of it all!

Ya know, I could sell them on ebay for 5 bucks each and make a mint, but...I like them.  They're pretty and dainty.  I'm going to keep them, use them and enjoy them.  What the heck.

I confess.

I snagged the photos of my family from - you'll never believe this - my mother's Myspace page.  She has become quite the netizen since she has been housebound and we gave her a laptop for Christmas.  She has her Bingo chat - she tells me all the gossip and even made me play 7500 games so I could get into the masters room and she could introduce me to her buddies.  She emails with old friends she can't visit, and generally enjoys her computer.  Nothing wrong with that - they can be a godsend for shut-ins.

My father doesn't see it that way.  He complains bitterly about the time she spends online because it detracts from attention to HIM, but that's just Dad and none of us take it seriously.  It's a little funny, in fact.  Once, he said - Computers are going to be the ruin of this world! - and there are ways in which he is right.  He is so adamant about his belief  he wouldn't touch mom's computer - until he found out he could read the news online.  Still, someone has to pull it up and scroll for him.

You can imagine my surprise when I logged into my own Myspace page (where I very, very seldom go)  today and there it was - a friend request.  From none other than my father.

I wonder if he knows.  LOL!  Sounds like the work of my warped-sense-of-humor sis. 

Anyway...should you want to meet my papa, you can find him here:    http://www.myspace.com/king_tiger1999

I'm still rolling.  LOL!

Testing

I wanted to see how easy it was to add pictures.  Here are a few of my family.  First is my son (white t-shirt), my biker brother, Mike (he's the one in leather), and my nephew, Aaron.  The next one is my  handsome father, Marshall.  I look a lot like him.  The handsome young man in the next photo is my grandson, Joshua, who will be spending the weekend with me! And next is his sister, Sara Pie.  And last but never, ever least - she would not tolerate that - is my sister, Jennifer.

Seattle's Best

A few weeks ago, AOL had a survey on the most popular coffees.  I forget which ones ranked the highest because frankly, I had not tasted them and therefore have no passion for touting them.  However, I'm sitting here sipping a cup of Seattle's Best (bought a sample package for a buck at Food Lion).  Breakfast blend, it is.  A dark roast - so dark, the unbrewed grinds were jet black.  Owie.  That's a bit rough,  and I may not sleep at all tonight.  It will without doubt lift any fog that dares settle around the brain.

I'm a Folgers woman.  Someone once told me that my unsophisticated palate was probably rendered incapable of discerning the finer coffees.  That's a lie.  There's a blend from Boca Java that is so smooth and rich that it makes me want to bow down and pay homage.  And when I'm a millionaire (any day now), I shall purchase a pound of the beans and grind them all, except one which shall sit in a gold ramiken on top of the mantel in the living room. There's a reason there are finer things, and all of them have to do with expense.

And that, folks, is my caffeine induced ramble for the evening.  I hope your week has been good and that your Mother's Day weekend will be magnificent.

.

Of what avail is an open eye if the heart is blind? - Solomon Ibn Gabirol

Of all the positive there was to choose from, she chose to focus on a physical flaw. "He would be a handsome man IF -"

And then continued to say how she could not understand how people could allow themselves to look that way.

I was stunned wordless. Perhaps because I have known him so long, the flaw is not something I see.

She hasn't known him for years, but she surely she has seen his gentleness and his heart. It's so obvious to everyone who encounters him. Always, a kind word. A helping hand. An offer if help isn't asked for. A smile for children when others might be annoyed by their rambunctiousness, because he remembers. Strength. Wit. He's a rare combination with that little bit extra that makes another person stop and take notice.

I wanted to jump to his defense. A hundred sharp words for nailing her to the wall leaped to the end of my tongue and died there. If that's all she sees, no amount of enlightenment could teach her anything below surface or show her what there is to a man that makes him more.

If it would not raise questions and perhaps a blush adding one more color to an already vast spectrum, I would go up to him and tell him what I see. And I know what he would say, "I don't know about that." If it would not raise questions, I would look in his eyes and tell him - You are beautiful.

And it would be true.

goodbye, july 18

heat index of 105-110, everybody moving slow and grouchy.

me: hey johnny, i’m on my way to mccain to pick up supplies. want to ride?

uh huh johnny, jumping up from his seat: uh huh, you know johnny does. we’ll cruise, uh huh, people are gonna talk.

me: oh well, what the heck. it’ll be a new ripple. it’ll only last a week.

dr. h: i’m not quite with it today
me: well..it’s monday. we’ll be ok.
dr. h: no we won’t.
me: we won’t?
dr. h: no, we’ll still have our bizarre personalities.
me: thanks dr. h — you just unraveled my last thread of hope.

wright (7:15 a.m.) : we’re sending this guy out to the ER!
wright (9:15 a.m.) Holy hell, he cut his wrists! we’re sending this guy to the ER!
wright: (11:49 a.m.) call operations — we’re sending another one out!
wright: (3:15 p.m.) call mccain — we’re sending this one to first aid and x-ray!

Oh, will Monday never end?

superintendent: we’re getting you a new computer and a bigger office!
me:  well ok!

And from the rehab room that will soon be my office...the sound of a guitar accompanying soothing tenor.  For just a minute, we paused in doorways to catch the gentle of the music, and the chaos stopped while Jim sang.

reminscing and burning out.

Last week, the Department held a luncheon on the lawn at the regional office for all the secretaries at the surrounding units.  Before we left ours, the assistant superintendent of programs tracked us all down and pinned corsages on our blouses.  And not only that, the other two superintendents waited at that gate beside vans they had reserved for the day and held the doors open for us to enter - and then they drove us to the regional office.  Man, did we feel special as we rode in the inmate transport vehicles.  We did, really.  It was a nice gesture, and we were appreciative.

And then they fed us, made speeches, gave us gifts and let us socialize for two hours.  The socializing is the best part.

When a person leaves one unit in DOC and goes to another, you can bet your bottom dollar you will see him/her again.  There was the psychologist who was riffed to another unit.  He was fun when we worked together.  There was Janet, who stopped me and said - You've worked with us for a long time, now!  And she's right.  Actually, I worked with them before I worked with them.  I was once their lunchtime waitress.  So I knew a lot of people before ever stepping through the gates.

One of those was a man I call Uh huh Johnny.  He was a splash of color in all that dull concrete - always spoke of himself in third person, and always preceded a sentence with "uh huh!"

"Uh, huh, Johnny knows, yes he does!"

He was great, no matter how strange he sounds.  He worked with the mental health crew in rehab and ran the greenhouse.  He told me once that he used to sprinkle the pepper seeds from the shakers at pizza restaurants, take them home in a napkin and plant them at home.  Of course they grew.  There was nothing he planted that did not.

I knew him years before I worked with him, and when I went to Real Prison, there was Johnny, wanting to put me at ease.  And he did.

I was reading over my domain weblog tonight, and came across an entry from four years ago.  I had chronicled a hot July day when everything was crazy, and Johnny was in it.

One thing I've learned, also, about DOC employees is that when they retire, they never look back.  They seem to disappear from the face of the earth.  I haven't seen Johnny once in the two years since he retired, and I know why.  He was done with all of it, people included.

I did some checking today...If I'm very good and sock back the amount of cash I think I can sock back (God willing!), I can retire in 10 years. Not sure I'll fall of the earth and never be seen again, but I do know I've seen enough over the last decade and won't want to see anything else from prison.

Another Lovely Saturday

The weather was perfect for Springfest - not too hot, not a bit chilly, just comfortable.  We started out on the street where all the food was NOT, and visited with the vendors there.  I met a older woman who repairs jewelry.  She had some gorgeous vintage pieces, and a bracelet that made me catch my breath, BUT...we were on our way to the train depot where the annual library book sale was being held, and I was saving my dollars for the Must Have Bargains waiting there.  I asked for the jewelry lady's card, and will find her another day.

We went past a street where children were riding ponies and clamoring for toys.  We passed people who had brought their dogs out for the event - all groomed, wearing bandanas around their necks and eagerly sniffing the Italian sausage scent that was wafting in the air.  We ordered two cokes and damn near died when the price was 10 bucks (I could have bought that bracelet), and I plan to keep that ugly yellow and red rubber tumbler to remind me of my foolishness.

But oh, the books at the depot.  There were thousands of them.  I found a few prizes - the complete works of Robert Frost, a volume of Carl Sandburg, a Susan Isaacs novel (don't you just love her fiction?  The woman has a range that is enviable), and then I picked up some titles by authors I had never read, but were irresistable:  When I was Five, I Killed Myself.  I mean - is that a hook or what?

It was a really good day.  The company was good.  And after the coke fiasco, we decided not to dine at the festival, but went to a Mexican Restaurant where we lounged and lazed and I started reading my Susan Isaacs book, which I finished by evening.  Guilty pleasures.  Nothing wrong with indulging in them every now and then.

beautiful

Last week, I had stopped at a gas station, and there were all these kids, dressed for the prom.  they were beautiful in their tuxedos and gowns.  one girl in particular stood out.  she was wearing a pale green diaphenous creation that made her look like a princess.  beautiful.  her hair was upswept, she wore a tiara.  her eyes were luminous and she had this little mona lisa smile. she held her dress up at the sides to keep from stepping on the hem as she exited the store.  a gentleman held the door for her and said, good evening ma'am.  lovely, she was.  she had an ethereal glow about her, and then...her eyes swept the parking lot and

she cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted - CHAZ, YOU F***ING MORON!

it was a rude awakening.  i had to laugh at the irony in green, and i felt a little sorry for Chaz, who surely must've been embarrassed for a packed parking lot to know how his date regarded him.

I didn't think about that incident again until this evening.  I went out for dinner (barbeque at a fast food place) and the young lady who took my order was telling me she was tired...she had been in school all day, was working tonight and tomorrow night is the prom!  Her eyes lit a little when she told me that, and she didn't look quite so tired anymore.  If there had been time, I would have loved to hear about her dress, her date, how excited she was.  There's something so sweet about a young lady who is anticipating her first prom.

A bit later, another young lady delivered my barbeque to the table.  I asked her, are you going to the prom tomorrow night, too?  She had this shy little smile on her face and she said, yes.  She said she was excited, and she thought her date was picking her up in a limo.

i hope so. 

Tomorrow evening, I might haunt the downtown area, just to see the kids in all their finery and shining faces, heading for a real, honest to goodness important event in their lives.  And I bet they have the time of their lives.

Unless they're Chaz.  *grin*

I guess it's just a week for ranting. Is it full moon?

You know - the older I get, the less tolerant I become.  Case in point - I was transcribing away when one of the ward clerks came bursting through the door wielding a piece of paper like she was going to beat me with it.

LOOK at this, she ranted.  It has THIS name on it, and the inmate number belongs to someone else.

And so I stopped what I was doing (it's always Dr. E on the machine when someone bursts in), took the piece of paper, pulled up the state network and looked at the diagnosis on the sheet and compared it to the online problem list.  Sure enough, it belonged not to the number, but to the name.  And he wasn't even housed at our unit.

No problem, I'll just send it back to where it came from, I told her.  Another Unit, the only other hospital unit in the state.  And so she picks up the paper, lays it down on the transcription desk where it does not belong, and walks out.

That ticks me off.  People walk into our office countless times a day, expect us to stop what we're doing to fix the copy machine, get them paper, help them fax something or...any day, I expect to be asked to give directions on how to flush the toilet.

Somewhere along the way, Health Information Management has become INFORMATION/SECRETARIAL SERVICE.  And I don't mind helping people, but we don't go to THEIR offices and disrupt their work day.

After the ward clerk stalked out like some nurse's error was my fault, I typed up a nice little landscape oriented bolded and 36 pt. font sign - TRANSCRIPTIONIST WORKING.  QUIET!  PLEASE!  and taped it to my door.

Sheesh.  I wonder if anyone will notice.

But that's only one instance of my intolerance.  Years ago, I would have kept my mouth shut and thought something like...well, she's just overworked.

NOT ANYMORE!  No more excuses for the thoughtless.  Just signs!  Signs, I tell you! Signs that say what I mean!

I can see them now:  THERE IS A PHONE BOOK AT YOUR WORK STATION.  or...COPY MACHINE PRINT SIDE UP, FAX MACHINE PRINT SIDE DOWN.  FAX MACHINES ARE DEDICATED LINES - DO NOT DIAL 9 FOR AN OUTSIDE ONE!  and...I MAY NOT LOOK LIKE I'M HAVING A HORMONE IMBALANCE/ SURGE, BUT TRUST AND BELIEVE  IT'S HAPPENING AS WE SPEAK!  and possibly, as a warning - PREMARIN AND LEXAPRO RENEWAL PENDING.

I'm kidding about that last one.  But you know, it might not be a bad idea to check into geting the scripts.

On the bright side...my position has been upgraded a pay grade.  Comes with a raise - oddly enough, it's the second one this year, and the new fiscal year is about to start.

I'm going shopping.

And now...y'all have a good week.

I feel much better now!

ok, so i WANT to journal.

When my son was small, I would take him grocery shopping with me.  And for his amusement, I would do my shopping personna, Natasha, who talked with a Russian accent, especially at the marked down bin.

Looook, there ees special keck (cake).  Looooks like dead clown.

and it did.  i distinctly recall that cake - it WAS a clown design.  It had X's for eyes, and and reminded me of something out of the Stephen King movie, It.  Hard to imagine a kid getting that cake and not being traumatized.  But..Natasha made the obvious observations and one little boy laughed because of it.  He also laughed when Natasha talked with the cashier.

Ees HOW MUCH?  Are you sure?  Dead clown cake was better deal!

It has been a while since Natasha was set free in a grocery store, but the other night, I took my mom shopping.  I was pushing her in one of those wheelchair carts, and suddenly, Natasha was there.  Poor mom laughed so hard she started coughing - not to mention, I was drawing some stares from other shoppers, so I had to chase the accent back  into segregation.

Someone I loved died today...we all gathered at mom's and dad's house and we reminisced about beach trips, visits to his house in New York, all the things we did together with him.  Things he said and did. We cried.  We laughed a little.  And now later, I'm in such a mood...

Life is much too short.  Just look at what happened in Virginia yesterday - a senseless, horrific tragedy.  And that's an understatement.

You know, none of us know how much time we have left on this earth, but I, for one, plan to resurrect Natasha.  When it comes to leaving ANY mark, I don't think I would mind so much being remembered as the crazy lady who shopped with a Russian accent.  If I leave nothing else to this world, let it be a smile.  And perhaps a dropped jaw or two, and a shaking of heads..

Talking trees, anyone? Goodbye for now.

About 10 years ago, I discovered an online world of writers.  I thought I had died and gone to cyber heaven - here in such an unlikely place were those of my kind - people who wrote and shared, and many of them were very good.  Among those was my friend, Joshua, who could well be Indiana's next Poet Laureate - IF he wanted to be.  But he doesn't.  His talent is his own, and aside from an online archive, he does not show his work, although he is prolific.

Over the last year or so, I have not been as productive as I was in the past, and I have to wonder if journaling has led to that.  It's so much more fun, but then, I remember when disciplined writing was fun, too.  It was a challenge I did not always conquer well, but I enjoyed trying.  I want so badly to get back to that, and am taking my leave of you to do it. And for some reason, I'm compelled to leave you with a couple of talking trees.  A parable, if you will.

The Tale of the Magnolia and the Mimosa

Let me tell you a tale
of a wish to be free,
the tale of a magnolia
and a wild weed tree.

Once upon a magic time
a mimosa seed tumbled along the wind
and came to rest by a magnolia twig
and he cried, "this is it! my tumbling's end!"
he rooted beside the gangling magnolia;
sprouted beside his new found friend.
Side by side, stronger, they grew,
and their friendship flourished
in the sandy soil, too.

They murmured their dreams on the southern breeze,
drank dew drops and morning light
when day had awakened from darkness of night.
"I want to be supple", Mimosa said,
"to lean in the tempest's driving power,
to feel my boughs come near to break,
but for my bending strength to save the hour.
I'll rally after the punishing winds,
and victorious, face the sun again!"

Magnolia rustled a whispered reply
to Mimosa's dreams of enduring strength.
"I have no great aspirations", she sighed.
My wants and dreams are precious few;
I know if my limbs should ever break
'twould be the the weight of love for you."

Time flew past and their roots intertwined,
Magnolia was wreathed with fragrant cream
while Mimosa's flowers were silken, refined.
Yet in the budding was something amiss;
Delicate fronds showed signs of wilt
and shrank from Magnolia's feathery kiss.
"Our interlocked roots are strangling me,"
he grieved aloud his static fate,
"but only their wrenching would make me free.."
She stilled the sway of whispering branches
and murmured a quiet "I see."

The skies grew dark one summer's eve,
Thunder exploded from heavens, high
gusts grew harsh with wrathful might
Lightning split an angry sky
Nocturnal creatures shivered and quivered
and hid from the tempest's assault on the night.

Mimosa reveled in the fray,
swayed and bent low in the tempest gales
but Magnolia stiffened to meet the fight,
went rigid in the storm wind's wails


and broke...
with a splintering, thunderous crash.

Lightning receded to occasional flash,
thunder ebbed to a distant sky
and the only sound filling the rain washed air
was Mimosa's mournful, sighing Whyyyy?
..in a final whisper Magnolia replied
My wants and dreams I gave no voice,
for they were never grand, but precious few.
I don't regret I made this choice
to fall with the weight of loving you.
Just know, sometimes it isn't in bending
with love we give, or a stand we take,
but often our might lies in making the choice.
Sometimes, it takes more strength to break.

Mara - maybe 2000, I can't remember.