Goodness. It has been a very long time since I have posted a favorite quote.
So, here is one I found this morning while I was sorting books and magazines in an effort to get my home ready for the return of THGGM.
I had written it down a while back while I was watching "As Good As It Gets".
"Come on in, and try not to ruin everything by being you."
It makes me laugh every time. Possibly, it should make me cry at the thought of just who may be thinking it about me.
Really, there is SO much to ponder in life, that I barely have the time to do it...
Friday, March 31, 2006
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Everyone Join with Me on the Chorus!
Show me the way to go home (i am home)
I'm tired and I want to go to bed (i'm too tired to go to bed)
I had a little drink just an hour ago (coffee)
And it went straight to my head (ache)
OH! (oh)
Where ever I may roam (i never roam far)
On land or sea or foam (or thrift store)
You will always hear me singing this song (i feel sorry for you)
Show me the way to go home (i'm still home)
I'm tired and I want to go to bed (i'm too tired to go to bed)
I had a little drink just an hour ago (coffee)
And it went straight to my head (ache)
OH! (oh)
Where ever I may roam (i never roam far)
On land or sea or foam (or thrift store)
You will always hear me singing this song (i feel sorry for you)
Show me the way to go home (i'm still home)
Max. He Who Understands.
This is Max. He was exactly the cure I needed today.When Max was a puppy he would spend his days at my house.
He would nestle on my shoulder.
He would licked behind my left ear.
Today, I hugged him.
He licked me behind my left ear.
I felt better after that.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Indelible Paw Prints on My Heart
The very nice people at our Animal Hospital sent this card, along with Niki's paw print.They did this for our cat Maggie when she died, so I was expecting it.
I have children who watch out for me.
Daughter asked me yesterday if I was prepared for "The Paw Print".
Youngest Son brought in the mail and eased it open without my knowing. He too asked if I was prepared.
Well, I THOUGHT I was.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
More Memories from the Old Neighborhood
One day the kids and I had just turned down our street, when three huge fancy roosters strutted out in front of our car.
The neighbors across the street from us noticed a horrible smell in their backyard, and on closer inspection found a sacrificed goat in the yard of the house behind them.
Our street was hemmed in by a factory and a highway. It was lovely. We could watch the sun rise over US 131 and set into the old Kelvinator factory. The sound of traffic was ever present. Which, if you had a really good imagination, could sound like waves on a beach. There were constantly sirens blaring. Fog horns, maybe?
Domestic fights were extremely common. It was advised that we never say 'Yor Mama'. I didn't find not saying that difficult.
Once, a neighbor boy kicked Daughter. All of my maternal instincts went into high gear. I can give 'what for' when called upon to do so. Daughter was SO embarrassed.
I used to have to remove neighborhood children from my house. I found that to be so weird.
My mother-in-law once yelled at my kids for coloring with chalk on OUR driveway. She said it looked 'trashy'. Trashy? We lived in the inner city! Trashy looked chic!
On garbage day I would put blue trash tags around my kid's necks and tell them to sit on the curb. Oh, wait. We didn't have a curb. Just sidewalk and then street. And I didn't do that. I thought about it, but didn't do it.
You could get rid of ANYTHING on that street. Just set it in front of your house. Someone would snatch it up in no time flat.
One of our neighbors ripped the aluminum siding off of the house they RENTED and sold it for drug money.
Many of our neighbors were fabulous human beings. Once one of them was featured on the six o'clock news. He had come upon an accident where an elderly man had been killed. His wife was still trapped in the car with only minor injuries. The neighbor climbed into the car and held her hand and talked to her until she was able to be extracted.
I drove off once with my purse on top of my car. About halfway down the street - in front of one of the houses that usually had 10 guys sitting on the porch all day long - it flew off. The ten guys gathered up all my belongs and kindly handed them back to me. After that, they smiled and waved whenever I drove by.
Once THGGM counted 25 men sitting on one rickety old wooden front porch. All day long.
Another time we noticed an open upstairs window. From out of the window someone had neatly lined up about thirty pair of shoes onto a porch roof.
At the house just around the corner, someone hung a deer they had shot and gutted. It hung there for so long, I hope they never attempted to eat it.
Hanging laundry on the front porch was also considered acceptable by some.
The house we lived in was starting to seem small. It had three bedrooms and one bathroom. We sold it to a family of four, who presently have three other families living in it with them.
When daughter was 10 she made friends with a new girl on the street. The new girl told Daughter that she thought her dad was cute (THGGM). Daughter came home, told me, and then nearly threw-up.
Also when Daughter was 8 a neighbor was babysitting for a girl of 10. Unbeknownst to us, the girl was staying there while her father was being brought to trial for criminal sexual abuse of this girl. Daughter was asked to spend the night. The girl told Daughter EVERYTHING. Daughter was HORRIFIED. She couldn't sleep for MONTHS. Did I mention that Daughter was EIGHT???
We had a neighborhood Bible Club at our house for a week in the summer. Our friend, Joe Missionary set us up. The kids loved it. On the last day, we gave Bibles to all of the kids who came. The next week a little girl showed up at my door. She missed the last day and heard that all the kids got a Bible and could she have one. Of course she could. I went to get it. When I handed it to her, she danced around hugging it, saying "I've NEVER had a Bible! I've wanted one my whole life! Thank you!" I went back inside my house, where I had every kind of Bible imaginable due to the fact that my mother-in-law presently worked at Zondervan and gave us a copy of every translation known to man. It caused me to ponder.
I was absolutely miserable the entire twelve years we lived on that street. It didn't start out so bad, but the decline was extremely rapid once it started. I don't regret having lived there at all. But, there were some things about it that I still haven't recovered from.
It's terrifying to hear loud fights in a different language and to be clueless about what is being said. Screamed. What is being screamed.
When the neighborhood 'reporter' come out on a monthly bases, it was always shocking to see how many assaults and robberies took place just a few houses down from us.
I still get asked how I can stand living in a parking lot. Oh, I can not only STAND it, I LOVE it.
Of course, the very first month we moved in here, our car was vandalized in the parking lot. THAT never happened in the 'old neighborhood' our 'old' neighbors pointed out to us! On the very first Saturday we lived here, a strange neighbor boy pushed a metal snow shovel around the parking lot very early in the morning. It was AUGUST. The weekend newspaper gets dropped off right under out bedroom window in the wee hours of the morning. The dumpster gets emptied and sounds like a bomb going off.
But, I will never complain.
No. I lived next door to my grandmother-in-law for two years, and my mother-in-law for another 10.
After that, I feel like I could survive anything.
The neighbors across the street from us noticed a horrible smell in their backyard, and on closer inspection found a sacrificed goat in the yard of the house behind them.
Our street was hemmed in by a factory and a highway. It was lovely. We could watch the sun rise over US 131 and set into the old Kelvinator factory. The sound of traffic was ever present. Which, if you had a really good imagination, could sound like waves on a beach. There were constantly sirens blaring. Fog horns, maybe?
Domestic fights were extremely common. It was advised that we never say 'Yor Mama'. I didn't find not saying that difficult.
Once, a neighbor boy kicked Daughter. All of my maternal instincts went into high gear. I can give 'what for' when called upon to do so. Daughter was SO embarrassed.
I used to have to remove neighborhood children from my house. I found that to be so weird.
My mother-in-law once yelled at my kids for coloring with chalk on OUR driveway. She said it looked 'trashy'. Trashy? We lived in the inner city! Trashy looked chic!
On garbage day I would put blue trash tags around my kid's necks and tell them to sit on the curb. Oh, wait. We didn't have a curb. Just sidewalk and then street. And I didn't do that. I thought about it, but didn't do it.
You could get rid of ANYTHING on that street. Just set it in front of your house. Someone would snatch it up in no time flat.
One of our neighbors ripped the aluminum siding off of the house they RENTED and sold it for drug money.
Many of our neighbors were fabulous human beings. Once one of them was featured on the six o'clock news. He had come upon an accident where an elderly man had been killed. His wife was still trapped in the car with only minor injuries. The neighbor climbed into the car and held her hand and talked to her until she was able to be extracted.
I drove off once with my purse on top of my car. About halfway down the street - in front of one of the houses that usually had 10 guys sitting on the porch all day long - it flew off. The ten guys gathered up all my belongs and kindly handed them back to me. After that, they smiled and waved whenever I drove by.
Once THGGM counted 25 men sitting on one rickety old wooden front porch. All day long.
Another time we noticed an open upstairs window. From out of the window someone had neatly lined up about thirty pair of shoes onto a porch roof.
At the house just around the corner, someone hung a deer they had shot and gutted. It hung there for so long, I hope they never attempted to eat it.
Hanging laundry on the front porch was also considered acceptable by some.
The house we lived in was starting to seem small. It had three bedrooms and one bathroom. We sold it to a family of four, who presently have three other families living in it with them.
When daughter was 10 she made friends with a new girl on the street. The new girl told Daughter that she thought her dad was cute (THGGM). Daughter came home, told me, and then nearly threw-up.
Also when Daughter was 8 a neighbor was babysitting for a girl of 10. Unbeknownst to us, the girl was staying there while her father was being brought to trial for criminal sexual abuse of this girl. Daughter was asked to spend the night. The girl told Daughter EVERYTHING. Daughter was HORRIFIED. She couldn't sleep for MONTHS. Did I mention that Daughter was EIGHT???
We had a neighborhood Bible Club at our house for a week in the summer. Our friend, Joe Missionary set us up. The kids loved it. On the last day, we gave Bibles to all of the kids who came. The next week a little girl showed up at my door. She missed the last day and heard that all the kids got a Bible and could she have one. Of course she could. I went to get it. When I handed it to her, she danced around hugging it, saying "I've NEVER had a Bible! I've wanted one my whole life! Thank you!" I went back inside my house, where I had every kind of Bible imaginable due to the fact that my mother-in-law presently worked at Zondervan and gave us a copy of every translation known to man. It caused me to ponder.
I was absolutely miserable the entire twelve years we lived on that street. It didn't start out so bad, but the decline was extremely rapid once it started. I don't regret having lived there at all. But, there were some things about it that I still haven't recovered from.
It's terrifying to hear loud fights in a different language and to be clueless about what is being said. Screamed. What is being screamed.
When the neighborhood 'reporter' come out on a monthly bases, it was always shocking to see how many assaults and robberies took place just a few houses down from us.
I still get asked how I can stand living in a parking lot. Oh, I can not only STAND it, I LOVE it.
Of course, the very first month we moved in here, our car was vandalized in the parking lot. THAT never happened in the 'old neighborhood' our 'old' neighbors pointed out to us! On the very first Saturday we lived here, a strange neighbor boy pushed a metal snow shovel around the parking lot very early in the morning. It was AUGUST. The weekend newspaper gets dropped off right under out bedroom window in the wee hours of the morning. The dumpster gets emptied and sounds like a bomb going off.
But, I will never complain.
No. I lived next door to my grandmother-in-law for two years, and my mother-in-law for another 10.
After that, I feel like I could survive anything.
Give Me a "P"!
I've been a lot of things in my life, but being a grandma is the best.
Never before have I not minded if someone spits, drools, pukes or poops on me.
Actually, I'm a poop cheerleader now.
"GO Baby Boy!"
"GO GO GO!"
Well, MAYBE I Ponder, Maybe Not
A post in which I ponder the importance of becoming a discerning listener of music.
I truly love music. But I do not listen to it as background. For some reason I have never been able to do that. If I am the one to turn on music, it is for the sole purpose of listening to it intently.
But sadly, this is not the case for those I live with.
I realized this when I found myself humming "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off" Sunday afternoon.
Why, you may be wondering? Well, on the very short drive to my parents house Saturday night that song was playing on the radio. I'm not used to this car yet and could not find the knob/button/whathaveyou to turn it off. The ride to my parent's house only took as long as that song. But it stuck in my head.
I know all the words to "I Love This Bar". I was once caught whistling it while I worked. By my former pastor. In the church. Of course then he had to admit that he knew it too. So we were even on that score.
I do not drink. But "Let's Get Drunk and Be Somebody" dances a jig through my head at times. And I want you to know I have NEVER purposely listened to that song.
Strangely enough (as if this isn't already strange enough) "Beer for My Horses" is one of my favorites. I do not drink beer, I do not have horses, and I'm not at all for singing a victory tune when the gunsmoke settles. Hanging people high in a tree? I'm totally opposed to that. I have been know to raise up my glass against evil forces, but not with whiskey for my man, nor beer for my horses - which by the way, I still don't have.
I had a job once balancing checks that came in to my place of employment from several different banks. I worked second shift. The radio BLARED on a honky-tonkish country station from somewhere up north. Did YOU know that there was once a song titled "I've Got Nine Million Nine Hundred Ninety Nine Thousand Nine Hundred Ninety Nine Tears to Go"? Well there is. I'm sure if I heard it now my hand would automatically assume the 10 key adding maching position.
I try to be very careful what I put into my head. But some stuff just flies through the air with the greatest of ease and sticks there whether I want it to or not.
Then when I get a migraine it comes out to play, dancing around happily in my painfilled cranium wearing cowboy boots with spurs.
That makes me wonder...do YOU know the words to John Denver's "Grandma's Featherbed?"
Music is such a personal thing. In my old neighborhood there was a family who would crank up latino music whenever their parents went away (which was often). It was loud and throbbingly painful with lots of castanets, and that high pitched noise that sounds like a cackling bird. This was so annoying. But in an elementary attempt to prove a point, our neighbors would retaliate by turning on a 'Christian' music station full blast. I felt like I had died and gone to some weird sort of music hell.
If only there was a CD of silence one could turn up to escape from all noise.
There isn't.
So on I go through my day, occasionally belting out horribly inappropriate lyrics. Like the one I learned from "The Elephant Show" when my kids were small..."She blew her nose in cornbread and called it pumpkin pie!"
I'm going to put on my favorite praise and worship CD right now, and purposefully LISTEN to it.
I truly love music. But I do not listen to it as background. For some reason I have never been able to do that. If I am the one to turn on music, it is for the sole purpose of listening to it intently.
But sadly, this is not the case for those I live with.
I realized this when I found myself humming "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off" Sunday afternoon.
Why, you may be wondering? Well, on the very short drive to my parents house Saturday night that song was playing on the radio. I'm not used to this car yet and could not find the knob/button/whathaveyou to turn it off. The ride to my parent's house only took as long as that song. But it stuck in my head.
I know all the words to "I Love This Bar". I was once caught whistling it while I worked. By my former pastor. In the church. Of course then he had to admit that he knew it too. So we were even on that score.
I do not drink. But "Let's Get Drunk and Be Somebody" dances a jig through my head at times. And I want you to know I have NEVER purposely listened to that song.
Strangely enough (as if this isn't already strange enough) "Beer for My Horses" is one of my favorites. I do not drink beer, I do not have horses, and I'm not at all for singing a victory tune when the gunsmoke settles. Hanging people high in a tree? I'm totally opposed to that. I have been know to raise up my glass against evil forces, but not with whiskey for my man, nor beer for my horses - which by the way, I still don't have.
I had a job once balancing checks that came in to my place of employment from several different banks. I worked second shift. The radio BLARED on a honky-tonkish country station from somewhere up north. Did YOU know that there was once a song titled "I've Got Nine Million Nine Hundred Ninety Nine Thousand Nine Hundred Ninety Nine Tears to Go"? Well there is. I'm sure if I heard it now my hand would automatically assume the 10 key adding maching position.
I try to be very careful what I put into my head. But some stuff just flies through the air with the greatest of ease and sticks there whether I want it to or not.
Then when I get a migraine it comes out to play, dancing around happily in my painfilled cranium wearing cowboy boots with spurs.
That makes me wonder...do YOU know the words to John Denver's "Grandma's Featherbed?"
Music is such a personal thing. In my old neighborhood there was a family who would crank up latino music whenever their parents went away (which was often). It was loud and throbbingly painful with lots of castanets, and that high pitched noise that sounds like a cackling bird. This was so annoying. But in an elementary attempt to prove a point, our neighbors would retaliate by turning on a 'Christian' music station full blast. I felt like I had died and gone to some weird sort of music hell.
If only there was a CD of silence one could turn up to escape from all noise.
There isn't.
So on I go through my day, occasionally belting out horribly inappropriate lyrics. Like the one I learned from "The Elephant Show" when my kids were small..."She blew her nose in cornbread and called it pumpkin pie!"
I'm going to put on my favorite praise and worship CD right now, and purposefully LISTEN to it.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Just Another Magic Monday
THGGM did not leave until just after eight this morning, so we were able to have morning coffee together. I so enjoy that. We drink coffee, I talk like a crazy woman and he tells me what his dreams were. Our dreams are nothing alike. He dreams in great detail. I will dream things like I am looking for a bathroom, and none of them have toilets.
He left and I started in on the laundry. And the dishes. And the picking up of floatsum and jetsum from the weekend.
I spent some time looking for Westies on line. I think I want another one. At first I thought I wouldn't, but I think I need a peppy energetic dog just to off-set my complete dullness.
Next I read websites with ideas on how to unstop a stopped up baby. There are many ways, and Baby Boy is resisting them all. But, at least he tries. He tries so hard he turns maroon.
Baby Boy came. I played with him for nine hours. We read books. While he slept, I rearranged plates and stuff on shelves. I doubt that anyone but me would notice this.
Baby Boy and I watched the news. He really likes the anchor women. Stops drinking his bottle to pay close attention to what they are saying. All the news around here is about some big new river front development that is supposed to be great for Grand Rapids. All I can think about is how it is going to permanently destroy my backroads way into downtown causing me to have to get on dreaded highways to get from here to there.
The mail came, and in it were two new magazines and a catalog! Of course, by then Baby Boy was done napping and wanted my undivided attention. So I put a board book over my magazine for him to look at while I read. I don't see this working for too long, but for now he is fine with it. Although he might be confused about which is a bunny and which is a kitty, as it wasn't the picture I thought it was. Oh well.
At 7:00 I watched a very interesting report about an F5 tornado that blew though this area 50 years ago. Of course, I didn't exist then, but I have met many people in my life who were profoundly affected by it. The occasional tornado is really the worst weather we get around here, except for ice storms. This program put Baby Boy and Daughter to sleep. They lingered today because Son-in-law was working late tonight.
I watched Antiques Road Show. I own nothing of great monetary value. There should be a show called Antique People Show, as I know many old people of great value. Really. We could bring in a great person that we know, and have him looked over and appraised! Yes! Wouldn't that be a great idea?
That makes me think...too many old people are trying to have themselves 'restored'. Keep the original paint, and a chip or dent here or there only adds to the charm and establishes authenticity.
I had BIG plans to decoupage some pins tonight. I bought some round wooden discs which I want to decoupage with old textbook illustrations of the Dick, Jane and Sally variety. But, my excitement quickly changed to fatigue, and here I sit. I still might give it a try.
Or, I might just catch up on some reading.
What was YOUR Monday like?
He left and I started in on the laundry. And the dishes. And the picking up of floatsum and jetsum from the weekend.
I spent some time looking for Westies on line. I think I want another one. At first I thought I wouldn't, but I think I need a peppy energetic dog just to off-set my complete dullness.
Next I read websites with ideas on how to unstop a stopped up baby. There are many ways, and Baby Boy is resisting them all. But, at least he tries. He tries so hard he turns maroon.
Baby Boy came. I played with him for nine hours. We read books. While he slept, I rearranged plates and stuff on shelves. I doubt that anyone but me would notice this.
Baby Boy and I watched the news. He really likes the anchor women. Stops drinking his bottle to pay close attention to what they are saying. All the news around here is about some big new river front development that is supposed to be great for Grand Rapids. All I can think about is how it is going to permanently destroy my backroads way into downtown causing me to have to get on dreaded highways to get from here to there.
The mail came, and in it were two new magazines and a catalog! Of course, by then Baby Boy was done napping and wanted my undivided attention. So I put a board book over my magazine for him to look at while I read. I don't see this working for too long, but for now he is fine with it. Although he might be confused about which is a bunny and which is a kitty, as it wasn't the picture I thought it was. Oh well.
At 7:00 I watched a very interesting report about an F5 tornado that blew though this area 50 years ago. Of course, I didn't exist then, but I have met many people in my life who were profoundly affected by it. The occasional tornado is really the worst weather we get around here, except for ice storms. This program put Baby Boy and Daughter to sleep. They lingered today because Son-in-law was working late tonight.
I watched Antiques Road Show. I own nothing of great monetary value. There should be a show called Antique People Show, as I know many old people of great value. Really. We could bring in a great person that we know, and have him looked over and appraised! Yes! Wouldn't that be a great idea?
That makes me think...too many old people are trying to have themselves 'restored'. Keep the original paint, and a chip or dent here or there only adds to the charm and establishes authenticity.
I had BIG plans to decoupage some pins tonight. I bought some round wooden discs which I want to decoupage with old textbook illustrations of the Dick, Jane and Sally variety. But, my excitement quickly changed to fatigue, and here I sit. I still might give it a try.
Or, I might just catch up on some reading.
What was YOUR Monday like?
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Nine Months Until Christmas
This means that if you are planning to give someone a baby, you had better get started now.
Niki: 09/30/89 - 03/25/06
After having a horrible seizure on Thursday, it was decided that Niki would NEVER have to go through one of those again. Last November, she had her first seizure. I called to make an appointment to have her put to sleep then. But, the vet never called me back.
Niki had four more happy months.
She came to us as a happy nine month old puppy, and left us not looking any different. Just a bit less peppy, totally deaf and almost blind.
Niki. The best dog I ever had (The ONLY dog I ever had).
I will always remember the 'Who, me?' expression as she stands next to a 'spot''
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Baby Boy
This is who I got to look at today!
The last one is my favorite. The blurry close-up. Those flubby cheeks are just so very cute.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Too Many Years in the City
Today, in an effort to feel organized, I jotted down several ideas for posts.
Today, with no effort on my part, I lost the index card on which I wrote the ideas for posts.
I just spent the last 10 minutes on my hands and knee (remember, i have a knee i cannot kneel on) searching under the couch, rug, stacks of magazines, the cat, stacks of books, books I might have slipped it into as a bookmark, trying to find it. Which reminds me. I found all of the details for my mom's cataract surgery written on an index card and used as a bookmark. I'm not making quick progress in the Maria Montessori book but I am, as ever, hopeful. It was there. I found it the day AFTER her surgery. I still haven't found the card from today.
I do remember that I was going to write about the old neighborhood. This reminds me that you really MUST read Theodore Dreiser's short story "The Old Neighborhood". It is beyond excellent.
Visions in my mind this morning were of the Eastern looking grandfather who would push his grandson up and down the street every morning in a pram. Not an umbroller stroller like we had. This thing was the Cadillac of prams. The little boy was always standing up in it, while his grandfather could be heard talking to him, in a language I could not understand. It was so sweet.
And, the time someone rented a horse and carriage. Really. We lived on the tiniest most narrow street I have ever been on, yet, during one of my worst migraines, someone actually rented a horse and carriage (with bells...lots of bells...i remember the sound 'clomp clomp clomp clomp jingle jingle jingle jingle, repeat).
I remember the family two doors down who put all of their kids and every belonging they had into a tent in their backyard at the beginning of summer and they remained there until fall. How they ever slept though the nights of horseshoe playing, I'll never know. I couldn't sleep two doors down. This same family had a handicapped child who was wheelchair bound. He slept in the tent too. His brother called him 'F----R'. Like it was his name. I remember on several occasions hearing Oldest Son who was maybe three at the time shout out the window at him 'Hi F----R!' and having to explain to him that it was NOT the boys name, and that he may never do that again. To which he responded - 'It is TO his name, I heard his brother call him that!'
We drove right though the center of a major drug deal once. Me and my three kids. Happy people in cars being handed long white envelopes. It was extremely scary. Right on our street.
A middle aged white man had a drug house on our street. THGGM would walk outside with a notebook and write down license plate numbers. This annoyed me to no end, but the police said it would work. It did. His major business happened before nine and after five. Most of his clients were upper class people who looked really out of place on our street.
When a family would move out, all the neighbors we knew would keep a close cockroach watch. The other side of the street had them bad. We only had one scare, and that was when the 'tent people' and their son with the weird name moved out.
On that street I learned that families of different races were all at their core the same. They loved their children and wanted the best for them. Some of the mom's expressed this by screaming "_____ git yor a$$ in this house right now!" This caused Daughter to say to me, 'at least you say 'butt'.
Two dirty little preschoolers used to knock on our porch door early in the morning. They could see my kids neat stacks of toys out there. They would beg to come in. My kids would hide behind me in horror. 'You are NOT going to let them in here, are you?' I never did. Mostly because I would never let a kid into my house without his parents permission, and this parent was only ever seen laying out in a lounge chair in a bikini on the front four feet of grass called a front yard.
Once I saw four children from one family parading down the street with cereal boxes held over their heads. Another mom had given it to them to bring home for breakfast. Apparently, no one in the home saw fit to feed them.
An old Dutch guy, who had lived on the street for decades, was beaten nearly to death because he yelled at some guy not to park in front of his house (actually, there was no street parking at the time). I saw the pictures. An old man almost completely purple. Where he wasn't purple, he was red.
All the trouble I saw was alcohol or drug related. Not race.
Although it was awful all around us, we were surrounded by neighbors that we got to know well.
Once, my bike was stolen. Someone saw it being taken in the night. My kids thought that I'd be very upset about it. I remember saying to them 'God knows where my bike is'. The very next day, a scraggly guy knocked on the door. He said he had found the bike in his yard and asked around. Some kids told them that they knew. He brought it back. My kids wondered if angels sometimes wore tee - shirts advertising the neighborhood bar.
It was actually drugs that caused us to move. My brother-in-law who lived next door to us owed. The dealer showed up at the door of his house and threatened my mother-in-law. She told THGGM. He came home and said 'We are SO out of here."
Once, his mother emptied out her entire retirement fund to pay off one of his brother's drug debts. He had started asking us for money. Then, our kids.
His mother had nothing left to give. She said we might want to keep a close eye on our kids.
My eyes aren't that good.
We moved.
Today, with no effort on my part, I lost the index card on which I wrote the ideas for posts.
I just spent the last 10 minutes on my hands and knee (remember, i have a knee i cannot kneel on) searching under the couch, rug, stacks of magazines, the cat, stacks of books, books I might have slipped it into as a bookmark, trying to find it. Which reminds me. I found all of the details for my mom's cataract surgery written on an index card and used as a bookmark. I'm not making quick progress in the Maria Montessori book but I am, as ever, hopeful. It was there. I found it the day AFTER her surgery. I still haven't found the card from today.
I do remember that I was going to write about the old neighborhood. This reminds me that you really MUST read Theodore Dreiser's short story "The Old Neighborhood". It is beyond excellent.
Visions in my mind this morning were of the Eastern looking grandfather who would push his grandson up and down the street every morning in a pram. Not an umbroller stroller like we had. This thing was the Cadillac of prams. The little boy was always standing up in it, while his grandfather could be heard talking to him, in a language I could not understand. It was so sweet.
And, the time someone rented a horse and carriage. Really. We lived on the tiniest most narrow street I have ever been on, yet, during one of my worst migraines, someone actually rented a horse and carriage (with bells...lots of bells...i remember the sound 'clomp clomp clomp clomp jingle jingle jingle jingle, repeat).
I remember the family two doors down who put all of their kids and every belonging they had into a tent in their backyard at the beginning of summer and they remained there until fall. How they ever slept though the nights of horseshoe playing, I'll never know. I couldn't sleep two doors down. This same family had a handicapped child who was wheelchair bound. He slept in the tent too. His brother called him 'F----R'. Like it was his name. I remember on several occasions hearing Oldest Son who was maybe three at the time shout out the window at him 'Hi F----R!' and having to explain to him that it was NOT the boys name, and that he may never do that again. To which he responded - 'It is TO his name, I heard his brother call him that!'
We drove right though the center of a major drug deal once. Me and my three kids. Happy people in cars being handed long white envelopes. It was extremely scary. Right on our street.
A middle aged white man had a drug house on our street. THGGM would walk outside with a notebook and write down license plate numbers. This annoyed me to no end, but the police said it would work. It did. His major business happened before nine and after five. Most of his clients were upper class people who looked really out of place on our street.
When a family would move out, all the neighbors we knew would keep a close cockroach watch. The other side of the street had them bad. We only had one scare, and that was when the 'tent people' and their son with the weird name moved out.
On that street I learned that families of different races were all at their core the same. They loved their children and wanted the best for them. Some of the mom's expressed this by screaming "_____ git yor a$$ in this house right now!" This caused Daughter to say to me, 'at least you say 'butt'.
Two dirty little preschoolers used to knock on our porch door early in the morning. They could see my kids neat stacks of toys out there. They would beg to come in. My kids would hide behind me in horror. 'You are NOT going to let them in here, are you?' I never did. Mostly because I would never let a kid into my house without his parents permission, and this parent was only ever seen laying out in a lounge chair in a bikini on the front four feet of grass called a front yard.
Once I saw four children from one family parading down the street with cereal boxes held over their heads. Another mom had given it to them to bring home for breakfast. Apparently, no one in the home saw fit to feed them.
An old Dutch guy, who had lived on the street for decades, was beaten nearly to death because he yelled at some guy not to park in front of his house (actually, there was no street parking at the time). I saw the pictures. An old man almost completely purple. Where he wasn't purple, he was red.
All the trouble I saw was alcohol or drug related. Not race.
Although it was awful all around us, we were surrounded by neighbors that we got to know well.
Once, my bike was stolen. Someone saw it being taken in the night. My kids thought that I'd be very upset about it. I remember saying to them 'God knows where my bike is'. The very next day, a scraggly guy knocked on the door. He said he had found the bike in his yard and asked around. Some kids told them that they knew. He brought it back. My kids wondered if angels sometimes wore tee - shirts advertising the neighborhood bar.
It was actually drugs that caused us to move. My brother-in-law who lived next door to us owed. The dealer showed up at the door of his house and threatened my mother-in-law. She told THGGM. He came home and said 'We are SO out of here."
Once, his mother emptied out her entire retirement fund to pay off one of his brother's drug debts. He had started asking us for money. Then, our kids.
His mother had nothing left to give. She said we might want to keep a close eye on our kids.
My eyes aren't that good.
We moved.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
What I Did on the Last Day of Winter
On the last day of winter, I got up.
I remade the coffee, as the bucket didn't shut properly when I set it last night, and it gurgled forth coffee and grounds and was unsuitable for human consumption.
THGGM and I argued. He thought that I should do something that I thought he should do. Of course, he was right. But, being the understanding man that he is, he did it anyway.
I went to church. First, I went to the library. While there I wondered how I ended up being the librarian. Then I remembered. At the time, my mother-in-law was working for a publishing company and was giving me bags full of children's books almost daily. I kept some, and passed the rest on. Hmm. Must be why the librarian at the time roped me into working in the children's library. Then, she ran off somewhere. I should be madder at her than I am.
Sometime in the afternoon I made tacos. No wait. Youngest Son cooked the meat, THGGM got everything else ready. I held Baby Boy. I did clean it all up though. That must count for something.
In the afternoon I savored a new book I bought yesterday. Rarely if ever do I pay full price for anything, but I did for this. It's Jo Packham's "Where Women Create". I fell in head first and just surfaced long enough to make potato salad. Yesterday THGGM bought a larger Forman grill so he was itching to try it out with hamburgers tonight. I'm generally opposed to making potato salad in winter (which it still is) but I do make concessions from time to time to please other people.
I spent a good portion of the evening trying to post pictures on Baby Boy's blog. It was VERY slow going, and frustrating. THGGM, Son-in-law, Daughter and Baby Boy were watching "Big". Baby Boy has a tummy ache. I feel sad for him. We've tried everything. It seems he's given up pooping. It is the season for giving things up, but this seems a stretch.
THGGM surprised me by not leaving for Illinois tonight. He is leaving in the morning. Is this because I get so sad when he leaves on Sunday evening? I don't know. So, we spent a portion of the evening in deep conversation over something, I forget what already. It was good just to hear his voice.
There were some other interesting conversations at my house today. Dear Old Niki, my totally deaf and almost blind dog was yapping uncontrollably all afternoon. This is because she can still smell. And the smell of meat was especially appealing to her. THGGM told Son-in-law that he would pay him 20 bucks to hit her over the head with a hammer. THGGM is the gentle sort, but he does have his limits with the incessant barking.
Later, while Daughter and Son-in-law and THGGM were watching "Big", THGGM fell into one of his snoring fits. The head bobs forward, the head bobs back and forth, the mouth falls opened, the strange unhuman noises fall out. I offered Son-in-law 20 bucks to hit him over the head with a hammer. I too am the gentle sort, but I too have my limits with the incessant snoring.
Actually, we all do love each other deeply, and would never hit a living thing. Not man nor beast.
Anyway, back to me.
I have several ideas for creative work spaces after pouring though my new book. The art studio of Anna Corba is my favorite. Although, her studio is in a two story carriage house. Mine isn't. But, my strong men carried out the excercize machine and two swivel rockers, so I now have room to move around. Some. There is still a large sleeper sofa in there. THGGM left it there, saying that he could lounge around while I make stuff.
I'll keep my ballpeen hammer at the ready.
Youngest Son just came home. The pets are fed and bedded down for the night.
I've tucked winter in tightly and said good night.
I remade the coffee, as the bucket didn't shut properly when I set it last night, and it gurgled forth coffee and grounds and was unsuitable for human consumption.
THGGM and I argued. He thought that I should do something that I thought he should do. Of course, he was right. But, being the understanding man that he is, he did it anyway.
I went to church. First, I went to the library. While there I wondered how I ended up being the librarian. Then I remembered. At the time, my mother-in-law was working for a publishing company and was giving me bags full of children's books almost daily. I kept some, and passed the rest on. Hmm. Must be why the librarian at the time roped me into working in the children's library. Then, she ran off somewhere. I should be madder at her than I am.
Sometime in the afternoon I made tacos. No wait. Youngest Son cooked the meat, THGGM got everything else ready. I held Baby Boy. I did clean it all up though. That must count for something.
In the afternoon I savored a new book I bought yesterday. Rarely if ever do I pay full price for anything, but I did for this. It's Jo Packham's "Where Women Create". I fell in head first and just surfaced long enough to make potato salad. Yesterday THGGM bought a larger Forman grill so he was itching to try it out with hamburgers tonight. I'm generally opposed to making potato salad in winter (which it still is) but I do make concessions from time to time to please other people.
I spent a good portion of the evening trying to post pictures on Baby Boy's blog. It was VERY slow going, and frustrating. THGGM, Son-in-law, Daughter and Baby Boy were watching "Big". Baby Boy has a tummy ache. I feel sad for him. We've tried everything. It seems he's given up pooping. It is the season for giving things up, but this seems a stretch.
THGGM surprised me by not leaving for Illinois tonight. He is leaving in the morning. Is this because I get so sad when he leaves on Sunday evening? I don't know. So, we spent a portion of the evening in deep conversation over something, I forget what already. It was good just to hear his voice.
There were some other interesting conversations at my house today. Dear Old Niki, my totally deaf and almost blind dog was yapping uncontrollably all afternoon. This is because she can still smell. And the smell of meat was especially appealing to her. THGGM told Son-in-law that he would pay him 20 bucks to hit her over the head with a hammer. THGGM is the gentle sort, but he does have his limits with the incessant barking.
Later, while Daughter and Son-in-law and THGGM were watching "Big", THGGM fell into one of his snoring fits. The head bobs forward, the head bobs back and forth, the mouth falls opened, the strange unhuman noises fall out. I offered Son-in-law 20 bucks to hit him over the head with a hammer. I too am the gentle sort, but I too have my limits with the incessant snoring.
Actually, we all do love each other deeply, and would never hit a living thing. Not man nor beast.
Anyway, back to me.
I have several ideas for creative work spaces after pouring though my new book. The art studio of Anna Corba is my favorite. Although, her studio is in a two story carriage house. Mine isn't. But, my strong men carried out the excercize machine and two swivel rockers, so I now have room to move around. Some. There is still a large sleeper sofa in there. THGGM left it there, saying that he could lounge around while I make stuff.
I'll keep my ballpeen hammer at the ready.
Youngest Son just came home. The pets are fed and bedded down for the night.
I've tucked winter in tightly and said good night.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Spring! Spring! Where For Art Thou, Spring?
Spring arrives on Monday.
I wanted to be ready for her. But, the strong men in my life are not cooperating. I need them to move things, haul things, unload things...for me. None of this in anyway benefits them. But, they are strong, and I am not. Today, they are tired, and I am not. One snores. One watches poker on TV.
Spring comes for me in memories. Especially this year, when winter seemed lloonngg. Not 'cold and snowy' long, just plain old everyday long.
The memories just pop up out of nowhere.
While looking out the window with Baby Boy slung lazily over my shoulder, a memory creeps in slowly. Of a breeze over my shoulder, smelling like rain and dirt and worms and wet metal screens. Spring smells.
Standing at the dryer, unloading towels that smell fresh, like a downy dryer sheet. Ah, but the memory is of towels snapping on a line, smelling like sunshine and wind. Spring smells.
Colors. Pale yellow, light green, soft blue, a bit of whispy pink. A rush comes up from somewhere deep and whispers, Spring!
I saw them on Thursday. Three robins in a front yard. Pulling worms. Robins look like Spring. They always do. Even in Autumn.
I want to make things, create things, organize things. Like Spring does.
Spring! T'would be a lovely season, if t'were nothing else but Spring! T'would be a lovely season, if t'were nothing else but Spring!
Or, would it?
The sun is shining. The birds are singing. But, it is not Spring yet. No, not yet.
I must wait for her.
She will come. Even if I am not ready.
Until she arrives, I'll enjoy the memories.
Spring smells.
I wanted to be ready for her. But, the strong men in my life are not cooperating. I need them to move things, haul things, unload things...for me. None of this in anyway benefits them. But, they are strong, and I am not. Today, they are tired, and I am not. One snores. One watches poker on TV.
Spring comes for me in memories. Especially this year, when winter seemed lloonngg. Not 'cold and snowy' long, just plain old everyday long.
The memories just pop up out of nowhere.
While looking out the window with Baby Boy slung lazily over my shoulder, a memory creeps in slowly. Of a breeze over my shoulder, smelling like rain and dirt and worms and wet metal screens. Spring smells.
Standing at the dryer, unloading towels that smell fresh, like a downy dryer sheet. Ah, but the memory is of towels snapping on a line, smelling like sunshine and wind. Spring smells.
Colors. Pale yellow, light green, soft blue, a bit of whispy pink. A rush comes up from somewhere deep and whispers, Spring!
I saw them on Thursday. Three robins in a front yard. Pulling worms. Robins look like Spring. They always do. Even in Autumn.
I want to make things, create things, organize things. Like Spring does.
Spring! T'would be a lovely season, if t'were nothing else but Spring! T'would be a lovely season, if t'were nothing else but Spring!
Or, would it?
The sun is shining. The birds are singing. But, it is not Spring yet. No, not yet.
I must wait for her.
She will come. Even if I am not ready.
Until she arrives, I'll enjoy the memories.
Spring smells.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Friday with Baby Boy
I don't know when I have spent a more pleasant Friday! The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I took a morning nap and an afternoon nap.I feel badly for women my age who feel to young to be a grandma.
There's just nothing better than having 10 weeks worth of life spitting all over you!
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Left Eye
My mom had cataract surgery on her left eye this week. This is Baby Boy demonstrating a 'left eye'. She is doing very well now. But, the surgery took a bit longer than expected (still, only about 15 minutes) so they had to sedate her a little more towards the end of the surgery.
Then, she had trouble waking up. It took about five minutes more than expected. Her oxygen levels and her blood pressure dropped considerably. I thought it was extremely scary.
Then, she just woke up. After about a minute she looked at me and said, "Oh. THERE you are!".
Wide awake. Ate a muffin. Drank a cup of coffee. Thrity minutes later we were in the car on the way home. She was fine.
I, on the other hand, am still somewhat nerve wracked.
Monday, March 13, 2006
My Happy Happy Monday!
Yes! It's Monday! Besides nearly having bleeding ulcers all day while waiting for THGGM to hear who got the job, (he kept calling about every hour to say the meeting had been delayed - he finally called at 4 to say he did not) I had a WONDERFUL Monday!
This is why.
All of my children and Baby Boy were here today. Lately, on Sunday nights I would fall into a deep sadness when THGGM leaves for Illinois.
Today, Daughter had to work and brought Baby Boy over for me to love. But, just before she left for work, she found out that due to some mechanical problem, her place of work was closed. She was THRILLED. So, Daughter and Daughter-in-law left for the mall to shop. They rarely get to do this, so it was a great event for both of them.
Youngest Son had to go to classes all day, as his spring break is over. This left Baby Boy, Oldest Son and me to read books, discuss them and pick up the conversation we left off with at 1:30 in the morning.
Oldest Son was reading a book comparing four different commentaries on the book of Revelation. I tried to encourage him to write a book about his childhood friend who is in prison for life with no possibility of parole.
And, I was reading "To Own a Dragon - reflections on growing up without a father", by Donald Miller. That also gave us much to talk about.
In between all of the reading and discussing, we passed around Baby Boy, who chortled and smiled and passed gas and had a bottle and spit up and drooled and peed out of his diaper and seemed genuinely interested in our conversation. It seemed like that anyway. He would add his 'oooooo' where appropriate.
I had a delightful time.
Then, Son-in-law was able to take time off as it was slow where he works. The four of them were able to go to lunch at their favorite chinese place - which is also where Oldest Son and Daughter-in-law became engaged. The whole day seemed like a gift.
They got take out for me.
I got to have some quality alone time with Baby Boy. He napped on my shoulder. I napped too. When he woke up - happy - I read with one of his board books around my book. He LOVED the picture, and 'talked' to the funny face of a little girl drawn on the cover.
Everyone returned home, and then they all left. Even Youngest Son, this time to a meeting.
Now I am alone, with the wind whipping all around the house. But, it isn't sad or depressing or whatever that awful feeling is that I get on Sunday nights.
I had popcorn for dinner.
I finished "To Own a Dragon" and am about to wander off to bed with "Blue Like Jazz".
I'm reading again. Maybe it was true, what I was told. I was depressed because it was February. Nearly half way through March, might I be coming around again? I don't know. It would be nice.
This is why.
All of my children and Baby Boy were here today. Lately, on Sunday nights I would fall into a deep sadness when THGGM leaves for Illinois.
Today, Daughter had to work and brought Baby Boy over for me to love. But, just before she left for work, she found out that due to some mechanical problem, her place of work was closed. She was THRILLED. So, Daughter and Daughter-in-law left for the mall to shop. They rarely get to do this, so it was a great event for both of them.
Youngest Son had to go to classes all day, as his spring break is over. This left Baby Boy, Oldest Son and me to read books, discuss them and pick up the conversation we left off with at 1:30 in the morning.
Oldest Son was reading a book comparing four different commentaries on the book of Revelation. I tried to encourage him to write a book about his childhood friend who is in prison for life with no possibility of parole.
And, I was reading "To Own a Dragon - reflections on growing up without a father", by Donald Miller. That also gave us much to talk about.
In between all of the reading and discussing, we passed around Baby Boy, who chortled and smiled and passed gas and had a bottle and spit up and drooled and peed out of his diaper and seemed genuinely interested in our conversation. It seemed like that anyway. He would add his 'oooooo' where appropriate.
I had a delightful time.
Then, Son-in-law was able to take time off as it was slow where he works. The four of them were able to go to lunch at their favorite chinese place - which is also where Oldest Son and Daughter-in-law became engaged. The whole day seemed like a gift.
They got take out for me.
I got to have some quality alone time with Baby Boy. He napped on my shoulder. I napped too. When he woke up - happy - I read with one of his board books around my book. He LOVED the picture, and 'talked' to the funny face of a little girl drawn on the cover.
Everyone returned home, and then they all left. Even Youngest Son, this time to a meeting.
Now I am alone, with the wind whipping all around the house. But, it isn't sad or depressing or whatever that awful feeling is that I get on Sunday nights.
I had popcorn for dinner.
I finished "To Own a Dragon" and am about to wander off to bed with "Blue Like Jazz".
I'm reading again. Maybe it was true, what I was told. I was depressed because it was February. Nearly half way through March, might I be coming around again? I don't know. It would be nice.
For Papa
Dear Papa,I am so happy you did not get the job in Boston. I'm thankful that the only reason was because you would not relocated. I'm happy that you want to see me grow up. I forget what you look like on Monday - Thursday. I'm happy that I will be able to cuddle up under your scratchy chin and coo into your neck.
Everbody should have a Grandpa like you. Someday I will probably have to share you. But until I do, you are only MY Papa and I am YOUR Baby Boy.
(did you know that grandma did not want you to get the job either? she said you would be perfect for it, but not if you had to move.)
Oldest Son and Daughter-in-law
Oldest Son and Daughter-in-law came for the weekend.
Oldest Son broke his leg in July. This weekend he walked without crutches. This morning he carried out all of their things to load into the car.
In April, he should be through with therapy. He will still require surgery sometime in the future to remove one of the plates.
We are all so grateful to see him up and around. And, since he never planned for a career in football and plans to make his living as a writer, he should not suffer any long(er) term complications.
We pray this is so!
Saturday, March 11, 2006
And He Keeps Coming Home
The Husband God Gave Me is home this weekend. He had a rough week. He had dinner TWICE at The Cheese Cake Factory. Oh, how he suffers being out of town!
Notice how when he is home, he wears a lighted hat! How DOES he do that?
And, the gold glittery things coming out of his head are a nice touch, aren't they? Baby Boy seems fascinated by them!
But, I think that wearing a Santa Lucia crown while working at the computer is THE crowning touch!
Friday, March 10, 2006
Poop - R - Us
This is what I'm doing today.Watching Baby Boy grow right in front of my eyes.
It's also what I did on Thursday. And Wednesday. Oh, and Tuesday too! Monday, yes, Monday also.
How can I not be thrilled to have him around? He will only poop at my house! I feel so..., honored? Daughter can't remember the last one she has changed. Son-in-law is purported to pray for this.
Now I realize just how much I over estimated what it meant to 'have a life'. The smiles and the laughs and the coos and the way he draws himself up in delight when he looks at my fat, saggy, aging face makes all the poop he could give out totally worth it!
Someday he will grow up enough to realize that I'm not anybody special. I'll insist that he pick up his toys, read for an hour for ever half hour of TV and not drop things into Grandpa's open snoring mouth. He probably won't like it.
But this week, I will continue to act certifiably nuts in his presence, and he will dance with delight.
And I will enjoy it all.
Even the poop.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
God's Gift to Grandma
I try, but I just cannot 
resist posting pictures of this adorable little boy.
This week he is coming to my house every day.
It keeps me very busy.
But of all the things around my home that I'm not getting done, one thing that I am accomplishing is lavishing love on this little guy!
resist posting pictures of this adorable little boy.This week he is coming to my house every day.
It keeps me very busy.
But of all the things around my home that I'm not getting done, one thing that I am accomplishing is lavishing love on this little guy!
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
A Missed Opportunity
Someone in the advertising world needs to get a clue.
If you want to reach the American family with your product, put the advertising on the American baby's diaper!
Like, where the 'Blues Clues' characters are, or 'The Lion King'. The baby has no idea who they are yet, but OH, the needs of the parents!
Let's see...Applebee's could have a BOGO coupon printed right there on the band.
Nail and hair salons could offer mommy specials. Grocery stores, fast food, retreats! The ideas are ENDLESS. So are the diapers a baby goes through.
Why has someone not thought to do this yet?
And I've always wondered why there isn't a coupon for chocolate in the tampon box. Think about it. You could be prepared for next time.
Monday, March 06, 2006
I Don't Knit, But If I Did...
I would spend a lot of time drooling over the stuff at this site.
www.sticksknits.com
The packaging is spectacular!
Enjoy.
www.sticksknits.com
The packaging is spectacular!
Enjoy.
Watch Out for this Look!
My Grandson hadn't pooped in three days. Today, he came to my house so I could watch him while his mommy worked.
FIVE poopy diapers in two and one half hours. Awful. I mean, all full.
He sure was happy after THAT was over. So was I. I'd forgotten just how much life revolves around poop in the early years.
Oldest Son, when he was a mere 5 months old once went for EIGHT days without going. On the eighth day my sisters and I took our four children to Penney's to have a surprise picture of the grandkids taken for our mother for Mother's Day.
My son thought that right at the exact time the picture was being taken would be as good a time as any to unload.
Seriously. I almost left him in the ladies bathroom at Penney's. He had poop everywhere including behind his ears and between his toes. If you do not believe this, you could ask either of my sisters, who even though they had the other three children between them, managed to help me clean the poor kid up. I wrapped the outfit he was wearing in a plastic bag and put it in the trash. My sister got it out, and took it home herself and washed it.
We had to bathe him in the bathroom sink, and blow him dry with those obnoxious bathroom hand dryers, but he didn't even seem to care. He must have felt too good to complain.
I never knew a small human being could hold that much.
It might not have been so bad if the end result was a beautiful picture of my mother's five month old, seven month old, one year old and almost three year old grandchildren. But, instead it looked like a darling almost three year old holding up two babies while the third baby relieved himself at her feet.
My mom didn't leave the picture up for long. I can't say that I blame her.
I'm glad I didn't leave Oldest Son in the bathroom. I would have missed him.
Hmmm. I Wonder What Happened
For my friend Anne, who lives in Maine, I shot the picture with the bright blue sky out my guest room window Saturday. It's the ice cream shop (and their son) who brings them here for visits. So, I took that picture to post on my "Plethora" blog, just for fun.
When I got up this morning, to gray sky's and a few inches of snow, I sat on my couch to watch the snow continue to fall. I noticed that the coffee shop wasn't opened yet. But someone was there...someone...fixing a broken window? Yes. That's what it looks like. Notice the coffee shop (the little building on the right). In the blue sky picture, to the right of the door you can see a small sign hanging on the side transom. In the top picture, you can see that the window is now boarded up. Right here in river city...
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Disturbed
Yes. Usually I'm perturbed. This week I've been disturbed.
I watched Prime Time on Thursday night. I didn't even mean to.
I had been holding Baby Boy while everyone else was watching TV. When his mommy and daddy packed him up to go home, I stayed put. That's when Prime Time came on.
Really. I walked into the den to turn the TV off, but it just drew me in.
A report about polygamy. Just last week I had followed a link from a web site talking about that new TV show about polygamy. I even went to the sites linked there that were people ADVERTISING for new 'sister wives'.
So, I was curious. Curious in that way one gets when passing road kill and wondering, is that REALLY the intestines that bird is trying to fly off with? So you look closer, only to find out that yes, yes it is a bird trying to fly off with the intestines.
The report was fascinating. But I am still, days later, immensely disturbed by it.
You know, somethings are SO obviously wrong that one forgets that if someone is brought up a certain way the truth has an incredibly hard time sinking in.
That was just the FIRST segment.
When the 15 or so 'sister wives' stood around a piano looking just like a gathering of home school mom's I thought I was going to vomit.
They were singing this song that I remember from my childhood. My mom was a radio listener, and some program she listened to about families started with this song:
"There is beauty all around
When there's love at home
There is joy in every heart
When there's love at home."
Oh really. Give me a break. Beauty all around? When the 'husband' is screwing over a dozen women? And they are all supposedly fine with this?
But, then I understood something in a deeper way than I ever had before.
It really is possible for someone to be absolutely blinded by evil to the point that they actually believe it is benefiting them. Or, even in a sick twist of humility, benefiting someone else.
Bleeeeechhh. The whole thing stinks.
But I can't get it out of my mind.
It's like I want to stick a garden hose into my ear and wash those obscene images out of my brain.
Oh, and when the 'husband' - pictured on this report like someone in the shadows who eats Frosted Flakes (oh, they'd have to ruin my favorite cereal too, wouldn't they?) - said that he was better than Hugh Hefner, I had a somewhat creepy feeling of near respect for old wrinkly bathrobed Hugh (also, by the way, the bathrobe isn't so weird at the age that man is) who NEVER PRETENDED to have any sort of feelings of love or respect for the women he beds. Not a tinkers dam.
But, these people tried to make me believe this was, as Martha would say, "A Good Thing".
Then, I open up the book I'm reading for my Sunday School class, and the chapter is "Leah: How to live with a man who doesn't love you."
Yup. I'm disturbed all right.
I've got to go find my garden hose.
I was going to cut it up and make it into a really cute wreath like the one I saw on a catalog cover, but, I need it...
I watched Prime Time on Thursday night. I didn't even mean to.
I had been holding Baby Boy while everyone else was watching TV. When his mommy and daddy packed him up to go home, I stayed put. That's when Prime Time came on.
Really. I walked into the den to turn the TV off, but it just drew me in.
A report about polygamy. Just last week I had followed a link from a web site talking about that new TV show about polygamy. I even went to the sites linked there that were people ADVERTISING for new 'sister wives'.
So, I was curious. Curious in that way one gets when passing road kill and wondering, is that REALLY the intestines that bird is trying to fly off with? So you look closer, only to find out that yes, yes it is a bird trying to fly off with the intestines.
The report was fascinating. But I am still, days later, immensely disturbed by it.
You know, somethings are SO obviously wrong that one forgets that if someone is brought up a certain way the truth has an incredibly hard time sinking in.
That was just the FIRST segment.
When the 15 or so 'sister wives' stood around a piano looking just like a gathering of home school mom's I thought I was going to vomit.
They were singing this song that I remember from my childhood. My mom was a radio listener, and some program she listened to about families started with this song:
"There is beauty all around
When there's love at home
There is joy in every heart
When there's love at home."
Oh really. Give me a break. Beauty all around? When the 'husband' is screwing over a dozen women? And they are all supposedly fine with this?
But, then I understood something in a deeper way than I ever had before.
It really is possible for someone to be absolutely blinded by evil to the point that they actually believe it is benefiting them. Or, even in a sick twist of humility, benefiting someone else.
Bleeeeechhh. The whole thing stinks.
But I can't get it out of my mind.
It's like I want to stick a garden hose into my ear and wash those obscene images out of my brain.
Oh, and when the 'husband' - pictured on this report like someone in the shadows who eats Frosted Flakes (oh, they'd have to ruin my favorite cereal too, wouldn't they?) - said that he was better than Hugh Hefner, I had a somewhat creepy feeling of near respect for old wrinkly bathrobed Hugh (also, by the way, the bathrobe isn't so weird at the age that man is) who NEVER PRETENDED to have any sort of feelings of love or respect for the women he beds. Not a tinkers dam.
But, these people tried to make me believe this was, as Martha would say, "A Good Thing".
Then, I open up the book I'm reading for my Sunday School class, and the chapter is "Leah: How to live with a man who doesn't love you."
Yup. I'm disturbed all right.
I've got to go find my garden hose.
I was going to cut it up and make it into a really cute wreath like the one I saw on a catalog cover, but, I need it...
Friday, March 03, 2006
In the Land of Nod
The Husband God Gave Me had the day off. He accomplished a lot. In this picture he is taking a much needed nap. I do keep a close eye on his coffee cup. And, yes, he has dumped it into his lap in the past, but that doesn't stop him. If you were to ask him, he would tell you that he is NOT asleep in this picture. I guess now he likes to snore while he is awake, too.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
My Morning
I didn't get up on time this morning. That's strange, because when the coffee pot fills, the smell wakes up my dog and causes her to bark to be let out. It's a nice system.
When I got up to get coffee, I noticed she was still sleeping. I let her sleep. "Let sleeping dogs lie" is a wise saying.
Soon, I heard her bumping around. She was in the second 'brain fog' she has had since her seizures began back in November. It was sad. I kept putting her back on the blanket were she sleeps, but she kept wandering around smashing into things on the back porch. At one point, I noticed her standing under a chair. I tried to get her to sit, but she wouldn't. I went back later and found out why. Only half of her was under the chair. Her back legs hadn't cleared the rung, and there she was, suspended. As I was getting her out, I noticed that she had made every mess know to dogs. I cleaned her up, me up, and put her back on her blanket. I loaded up the washing machine.
I went into the living room, and on the way noticed a strange sound. A chewing sound in my dining room, in the corner. When I called for the cat, he crawled out from under a cabinet where the noise seemed to be coming from. He was covered in dust elephants. I shown a flash light under the cabinet, and he got back into position. Something's over there.
That reminded me that I have to vacuum up pet fur today.
Baby Boy came. He cooed and smiled and kicked and gave me many nice pictures, which are up on his blog. Then, he decided that he would show me that he really can scream and pitch a good fit just like all the other little boys in this world. He's good at it, too.
I quickly ran to make a bottle, jumped over the cat who seemed to be on the move, and noticed the dog still all shaky out on the porch.
Baby Boy was NOT patient and did NOT want to wait for me to make sure his bottle was the right temperature and properly mixed. Besides just his run of the mill scream, he does this high pitched scream which would be adorable if my head didn't ache.
The bottle being what he wanted, he settled down nicely into my arms. So did the cat. The cat is sick of Baby Boy being the center of attention, and actually tries to head-butt him out of my arms. I told him to go back and get whatever is snacking in my dining room, but he assured me he needed a break and would get back to it when I set Baby Boy down.
While sitting with two living beings on my lap, and a lap top computer on the arm of the couch I realized what the 'hair spray' smells is that has been bothering me all week. Since we now vent our dryer onto the back porch, it's the smell of the downy sheet. Normally, I don't even notice it. Funny things, those migraines.
But, I'm stuck with the smell, as it is in comparison a much better smell than would be if I didn't gather up the stuff on the porch that was damaged in the dog assault.
It's afternoon now. Three thirty. Two thirty in Illinois. THGGM is leaving to come home. He has tomorrow off. We plan to accomplish great things together. I plan to not have a headache.
The cat is curled up beside me. Not ON me. That is because Baby Boy, who danced gracefully, cooed musically and slept peacefully AFTER the bottle has gone home. Now the cat isn't so interested in being near me.
And the dog? She is fine now. I hear her pulling a pizza box out of the trash as I type this.
Me? My head still hurts. I feel like I could sleep for a week, but I've done nothing that should make me tired. I don't want to take any more meds, as that has it's own set of problems. So, I continue to breath into my shirt. I've penciled in a nap, right after I round up those elephants.
Please do not inquire as to how I am coming on my 'bookcase project'. I don't want to talk about it.
When I got up to get coffee, I noticed she was still sleeping. I let her sleep. "Let sleeping dogs lie" is a wise saying.
Soon, I heard her bumping around. She was in the second 'brain fog' she has had since her seizures began back in November. It was sad. I kept putting her back on the blanket were she sleeps, but she kept wandering around smashing into things on the back porch. At one point, I noticed her standing under a chair. I tried to get her to sit, but she wouldn't. I went back later and found out why. Only half of her was under the chair. Her back legs hadn't cleared the rung, and there she was, suspended. As I was getting her out, I noticed that she had made every mess know to dogs. I cleaned her up, me up, and put her back on her blanket. I loaded up the washing machine.
I went into the living room, and on the way noticed a strange sound. A chewing sound in my dining room, in the corner. When I called for the cat, he crawled out from under a cabinet where the noise seemed to be coming from. He was covered in dust elephants. I shown a flash light under the cabinet, and he got back into position. Something's over there.
That reminded me that I have to vacuum up pet fur today.
Baby Boy came. He cooed and smiled and kicked and gave me many nice pictures, which are up on his blog. Then, he decided that he would show me that he really can scream and pitch a good fit just like all the other little boys in this world. He's good at it, too.
I quickly ran to make a bottle, jumped over the cat who seemed to be on the move, and noticed the dog still all shaky out on the porch.
Baby Boy was NOT patient and did NOT want to wait for me to make sure his bottle was the right temperature and properly mixed. Besides just his run of the mill scream, he does this high pitched scream which would be adorable if my head didn't ache.
The bottle being what he wanted, he settled down nicely into my arms. So did the cat. The cat is sick of Baby Boy being the center of attention, and actually tries to head-butt him out of my arms. I told him to go back and get whatever is snacking in my dining room, but he assured me he needed a break and would get back to it when I set Baby Boy down.
While sitting with two living beings on my lap, and a lap top computer on the arm of the couch I realized what the 'hair spray' smells is that has been bothering me all week. Since we now vent our dryer onto the back porch, it's the smell of the downy sheet. Normally, I don't even notice it. Funny things, those migraines.
But, I'm stuck with the smell, as it is in comparison a much better smell than would be if I didn't gather up the stuff on the porch that was damaged in the dog assault.
It's afternoon now. Three thirty. Two thirty in Illinois. THGGM is leaving to come home. He has tomorrow off. We plan to accomplish great things together. I plan to not have a headache.
The cat is curled up beside me. Not ON me. That is because Baby Boy, who danced gracefully, cooed musically and slept peacefully AFTER the bottle has gone home. Now the cat isn't so interested in being near me.
And the dog? She is fine now. I hear her pulling a pizza box out of the trash as I type this.
Me? My head still hurts. I feel like I could sleep for a week, but I've done nothing that should make me tired. I don't want to take any more meds, as that has it's own set of problems. So, I continue to breath into my shirt. I've penciled in a nap, right after I round up those elephants.
Please do not inquire as to how I am coming on my 'bookcase project'. I don't want to talk about it.
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