Not being one who enjoys controversy or conflict, I have let this post rest in my mind a while. In a lot of ways, I have no standing to speak on such a subject (when has that stopped me), but I am hoping something here will resonate.
I have never been raped. I have never been an unwed teenager whose family has disowned me. I have never been diagnosed with a disease while pregnant for which the treatment is incompatible with maintaining life for my unborn child. I have never been told that the baby I am carrying has a chromosomal abnormality which will result in his or her death within hours or days of delivery. I have never had an unwanted pregnancy.
I know people, however who have had such situations. I am not saying that I know OF people, I am saying I know the people. I have a relatively new friend. I do not see him often. His wife learned that she had cancer about the same day she learned she was pregnant with her second child. She chose to postpone her treatments and carry that child to term. She died around his 2nd birthday. Some would say she made the wrong choice. Whoever would say that definitely has not met that ray-of-sunshine precious child. We, as parents, say things like, "I would die for my child!" We mean it. For most of us, however, at least in this country, the likelihood of that being necessary is remote. Here is a woman who did just that.
I am well-acquainted with other young women who learned that their babies would not survive long after birth due to a fluke chromosomal abnormality. Each of them was offered the option to terminate the pregnancy. Each chose to make a place in her body, in her heart, in her life, and in her memories for those babies.
All these women shed untold number of tears. All of their hearts were broken, and remain a bit fractured because of their experience. All of them, if given the power, would have delivered healthy babies. It was not to be. All of them can look in those fractured places and know they did all they could do for their child. I admire their courage more than I can say.
This brings me to the subject of abortion and those mothers who make that decision. I am one who does not believe that a woman who chooses that route should have to go in a dirty back alley to a butcher. I am also one who believes that abortions end a life. I wonder, if on some level, abortions end two lives. It is my belief that any woman who chooses to terminate a pregnancy, especially for convenience, never ever recovers emotionally. So rather than demonizing women who feel, for whatever reason, that their only option is abortion, I feel profound sadness. I do not think our maternal hearts were designed for such grief.
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
Monday, January 30, 2017
Day 30 - End of the Line
I am feeling quite puffed up that I actually made 30 blogs in 30 days. To all of you who read and commented, thank you. It was nice not writing in a total vacuum.
Last spring, I went to an Enneagram conference. If you are unfamiliar with the Enneagram, it is an enlightening experience. It helped me know myself a bit better. It also helps to aid in efforts to understand others, and, if one is paying attention, it speaks volumes of God's creativity and loving nature. I know some people who were there and could not figure out their number. I had no problem. I am a straight up 9.
Each number has healthy and unhealthy traits. It was astounding to me as they read out characteristics of nines how I felt like the leaders of the conference had been following me around. There were two particular statements that struck me about being a nine. The first was that nines are not prone to peer pressure, so they would not jump off the proverbial bridge, but the desire to avoid conflict will cause them not to stop someone who is about to jump.
The other trait of nines is they don't believe their presence matters. This sounds real pitiful, maybe, but I don't think it is. Maybe I don't think it's pitiful because that's pretty much how I feel. It is not an Eyore, "nobody cares if I am there or not" sort of thing. It is a, "I know I am not indispensable" sort of thing. Of course there are those whose lives would be changed if I was no longer present in them, but those lives would not end. The sun would still rise and set, they would still eat and talk and laugh and live life. When one thinks about it, that is really quite freeing. It befuddles me when people get upset and leave a church and hope it is diminished without their presence. I have a friend who lives in another state who goes to a church where a group left because they got crosswise with the pastor. They stated and seemingly believed their absence would cause a certain charitable event sponsored by the church to fail without them. That would never cross a nine's mind.
So, this is the last of the 30 day challenge. I live under no illusions that any of you just won't be able to go on. It has been fun and challenging. Thanks again, kind readers.
Day 30 - The End!
Oh, and if you are interested in the Enneagram, check out The Road Back to You by Ian Cron and Suzanne Stabile. There is another conference this spring. You can get information at www.ottercreek.org, and, no, I do not get paid for plugging the book or conference.
Last spring, I went to an Enneagram conference. If you are unfamiliar with the Enneagram, it is an enlightening experience. It helped me know myself a bit better. It also helps to aid in efforts to understand others, and, if one is paying attention, it speaks volumes of God's creativity and loving nature. I know some people who were there and could not figure out their number. I had no problem. I am a straight up 9.
Each number has healthy and unhealthy traits. It was astounding to me as they read out characteristics of nines how I felt like the leaders of the conference had been following me around. There were two particular statements that struck me about being a nine. The first was that nines are not prone to peer pressure, so they would not jump off the proverbial bridge, but the desire to avoid conflict will cause them not to stop someone who is about to jump.
The other trait of nines is they don't believe their presence matters. This sounds real pitiful, maybe, but I don't think it is. Maybe I don't think it's pitiful because that's pretty much how I feel. It is not an Eyore, "nobody cares if I am there or not" sort of thing. It is a, "I know I am not indispensable" sort of thing. Of course there are those whose lives would be changed if I was no longer present in them, but those lives would not end. The sun would still rise and set, they would still eat and talk and laugh and live life. When one thinks about it, that is really quite freeing. It befuddles me when people get upset and leave a church and hope it is diminished without their presence. I have a friend who lives in another state who goes to a church where a group left because they got crosswise with the pastor. They stated and seemingly believed their absence would cause a certain charitable event sponsored by the church to fail without them. That would never cross a nine's mind.
So, this is the last of the 30 day challenge. I live under no illusions that any of you just won't be able to go on. It has been fun and challenging. Thanks again, kind readers.
Day 30 - The End!
Oh, and if you are interested in the Enneagram, check out The Road Back to You by Ian Cron and Suzanne Stabile. There is another conference this spring. You can get information at www.ottercreek.org, and, no, I do not get paid for plugging the book or conference.
Sunday, January 29, 2017
Day 29 - TV Shows You Watched as a Child
Day 29
There were several shows that I watched as a child, which is quite astounding since we only had three channels, and insult of all insults, we actually had to get up to change them. The enjoyment I had in most of the shows probably had less to do with the writing and acting, but rather with the people with whom I watched. To this day, I do not really enjoy watching a funny show without Mr. L here. The best part is watching him laugh.
I Love Lucy was definitely a favorite. Specifically, I remember watching it at my grandparents' house. My grandmother would laugh and laugh. Often, I would be rocking in the old rocker in which my grandmother rocked her babies, my mom rocked hers and I rocked mine. I have that rocker now. It has a very distinctive creak. It is a sweet sound, connected in my memory to I Love Lucy. My favorite episode was when Lucy baked the loaf of bread. When it came out of the oven, it knocked her across the kitchen. I am a sucker for physical comedy. Of course the " vitameatavegimen" episode was a classic, as well as the one where Lucy and Ethel worked on the candy assembly line. Oh, what great memories.
I connect The Andy Williams Show to being in my dad's presence. Everytime I hear the song "Moon River" I think about my daddy. He also loved Perry Como and Lawrence Welk. I was not as big a fan of The Lawrence Welk Show as the other two. I might possibly, in my childhood innocence, have had a crush on Mr. Como, and probably thought Mr. Williams was related to me. I did enjoy Topo Gigio and was quite fascinated by the polka on Lawrence Welk. The polka was a dance at which I did not excel in my social dance PE course at MTSU. Come to think of it, I am not sure one could say that I excelled at any of the social dances. As an aside, the Cha Cha was my favorite. I also remember watching Flip Wilson (the devil made me do it) with daddy, but the hardest I ever heard him laugh at something on TV was the skit on The Carol Burnette Show where Tim Conway played the dentist. Again, physical comedy that was truly hilarious.
Cartoons on Saturday mornings were a tradition growing up, and I find great comfort in a good tradition. I can transport myself to the livingroom in the Moran Drive house and hear my brother, Mike, laughing at Huckleberry Hounddog. He loved that cartoon. He also liked The Road Runner and Wile E. Cyote, but I a truly believe that old Huckleberry was his favorite. Mike had a great laugh.
Sky King, Lassie, Roy Rogers, Andy Griffith, Leave it to Beaver, Father Knows Best, Romper Room, Captain Kangaroo, and The Lone Ranger were favorites as well.
We went to church 3 times a week....Sunday morning, Sunday and Wednesday nights. Illness, major current events of historic significance (JFK assassination, Cuban Missle Crisis), and the annual presentation of The Wizard of Oz were really the only things that kept us home. I LOVED the Wizard of Oz. It always aired on a Sunday night. I have not the words to express the emotions I feel when I think of The Wizard of Oz. Certainly a show about tornadoes, wicked witches and flying monkies should not invoke feelings of warmth, comfort, and safety, but that is exactly how it makes me feel. I am in a big wingback chair, head on one arm, knees on the other, feet dangling. I am all cozied up under a warm afghan, a snack in my lap. Oh, the sweet joy of special events in a happy childhood.
Day 29 - TV Shows I Watched as a Child - check
There were several shows that I watched as a child, which is quite astounding since we only had three channels, and insult of all insults, we actually had to get up to change them. The enjoyment I had in most of the shows probably had less to do with the writing and acting, but rather with the people with whom I watched. To this day, I do not really enjoy watching a funny show without Mr. L here. The best part is watching him laugh.
I Love Lucy was definitely a favorite. Specifically, I remember watching it at my grandparents' house. My grandmother would laugh and laugh. Often, I would be rocking in the old rocker in which my grandmother rocked her babies, my mom rocked hers and I rocked mine. I have that rocker now. It has a very distinctive creak. It is a sweet sound, connected in my memory to I Love Lucy. My favorite episode was when Lucy baked the loaf of bread. When it came out of the oven, it knocked her across the kitchen. I am a sucker for physical comedy. Of course the " vitameatavegimen" episode was a classic, as well as the one where Lucy and Ethel worked on the candy assembly line. Oh, what great memories.
I connect The Andy Williams Show to being in my dad's presence. Everytime I hear the song "Moon River" I think about my daddy. He also loved Perry Como and Lawrence Welk. I was not as big a fan of The Lawrence Welk Show as the other two. I might possibly, in my childhood innocence, have had a crush on Mr. Como, and probably thought Mr. Williams was related to me. I did enjoy Topo Gigio and was quite fascinated by the polka on Lawrence Welk. The polka was a dance at which I did not excel in my social dance PE course at MTSU. Come to think of it, I am not sure one could say that I excelled at any of the social dances. As an aside, the Cha Cha was my favorite. I also remember watching Flip Wilson (the devil made me do it) with daddy, but the hardest I ever heard him laugh at something on TV was the skit on The Carol Burnette Show where Tim Conway played the dentist. Again, physical comedy that was truly hilarious.
Cartoons on Saturday mornings were a tradition growing up, and I find great comfort in a good tradition. I can transport myself to the livingroom in the Moran Drive house and hear my brother, Mike, laughing at Huckleberry Hounddog. He loved that cartoon. He also liked The Road Runner and Wile E. Cyote, but I a truly believe that old Huckleberry was his favorite. Mike had a great laugh.
Sky King, Lassie, Roy Rogers, Andy Griffith, Leave it to Beaver, Father Knows Best, Romper Room, Captain Kangaroo, and The Lone Ranger were favorites as well.
We went to church 3 times a week....Sunday morning, Sunday and Wednesday nights. Illness, major current events of historic significance (JFK assassination, Cuban Missle Crisis), and the annual presentation of The Wizard of Oz were really the only things that kept us home. I LOVED the Wizard of Oz. It always aired on a Sunday night. I have not the words to express the emotions I feel when I think of The Wizard of Oz. Certainly a show about tornadoes, wicked witches and flying monkies should not invoke feelings of warmth, comfort, and safety, but that is exactly how it makes me feel. I am in a big wingback chair, head on one arm, knees on the other, feet dangling. I am all cozied up under a warm afghan, a snack in my lap. Oh, the sweet joy of special events in a happy childhood.
Day 29 - TV Shows I Watched as a Child - check
Saturday, January 28, 2017
Day - 28 - A Day With the Girls (a break from generic blog prompts)
Day 28
For Christmas, my sister and I gave our mom a day....a trip around Nashville and the world. We wrote a poem telling her the plan. Breakfast was to be in France, lunch in Mexico, and dinner in Italy. In between meals, we would shop and possibly see a movie. As always, our plans were fluid. My sister-in-law joined us too, which definitely added to the fun of the day.
The plan was to meet at Mom's at 8:30 am. An early start is necessary if three restaurants are to be frequented in the same day. My sister-in-law arrived, having driven from Smyrna, a little before 8:30. Mom met her at the door in her robe. I arrived at 8:30 and chatted with Vickie while Mom got ready. My sister called at 8:40 to say that the battery in her car was dead. I was feeling mighty grateful for the powdered peanut butter and Diet Coke I ate before leaving home, anticipating a possible late start. By this point, I had been awake about three hours. My daughter and granddaughter also were joining us for breakfast.
Around 9:00, we were all gathered, ready to head to Belle Meade for our French breakfast at Le Peep. Our server was somewhat less than thrilled to be at work, but our food was quite good, especially the concoction of butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, and almonds toasted on an English muffin. After breakfast, we headed to The French Shoppe to buy nothing.
Off to Brentwood to visit Maxie B, the store owned by a childhood friend. It is just the most cheerful store ever. We, especially Mom, were greeted with great enthusiasm. Vickie bought a couple things, Doree, Mom and I got caught up with Kakki as we browsed her beautiful store. A visit to church to see the treehouse and tree puppet theater that Phi Construction (my son and his cohort, Dustin) is building followed by shopping at Peartree Avenue where Mom bought a jacket and Dor' bought a dress and jacket.
Our visit to Mexico was at Uncle Julio's where our waiter was adorable and seemingly happy to be at work. The food was a treat as well. I could live off their fresh fruit and that sweet cream that comes with it. We checked the time for the movie. Mom had already seen and wanted to see again La La Land. I had been wanting to see it ever since I first saw previews for it. Vickie was graciously ambivalent, and Doree encouraged other options. La La Land won! I loved it!! Doree hated it. Vickie kindly said, "well, it wasn't my kind of movie." Mom said she liked it better the second time. Did I mention that I loved it?!?
Going to Italy (Mangia in Berry Hill) just did not seem to be in the cards. Everyone seemed to still be stuffed from lunch, so we went to Cheesecake Factory and ate bread and butter and about nine gazillion calories of cheesecake. Our day had come to a sweet end. Well, I had to come home and walk 100 laps around my house to get my last 3,000 steps to appease the FitBit god.
Stuff is fine. Time with the ones you love is better. So, Merry Christmas, Mom.
For Christmas, my sister and I gave our mom a day....a trip around Nashville and the world. We wrote a poem telling her the plan. Breakfast was to be in France, lunch in Mexico, and dinner in Italy. In between meals, we would shop and possibly see a movie. As always, our plans were fluid. My sister-in-law joined us too, which definitely added to the fun of the day.
The plan was to meet at Mom's at 8:30 am. An early start is necessary if three restaurants are to be frequented in the same day. My sister-in-law arrived, having driven from Smyrna, a little before 8:30. Mom met her at the door in her robe. I arrived at 8:30 and chatted with Vickie while Mom got ready. My sister called at 8:40 to say that the battery in her car was dead. I was feeling mighty grateful for the powdered peanut butter and Diet Coke I ate before leaving home, anticipating a possible late start. By this point, I had been awake about three hours. My daughter and granddaughter also were joining us for breakfast.
Around 9:00, we were all gathered, ready to head to Belle Meade for our French breakfast at Le Peep. Our server was somewhat less than thrilled to be at work, but our food was quite good, especially the concoction of butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, and almonds toasted on an English muffin. After breakfast, we headed to The French Shoppe to buy nothing.
Off to Brentwood to visit Maxie B, the store owned by a childhood friend. It is just the most cheerful store ever. We, especially Mom, were greeted with great enthusiasm. Vickie bought a couple things, Doree, Mom and I got caught up with Kakki as we browsed her beautiful store. A visit to church to see the treehouse and tree puppet theater that Phi Construction (my son and his cohort, Dustin) is building followed by shopping at Peartree Avenue where Mom bought a jacket and Dor' bought a dress and jacket.
Our visit to Mexico was at Uncle Julio's where our waiter was adorable and seemingly happy to be at work. The food was a treat as well. I could live off their fresh fruit and that sweet cream that comes with it. We checked the time for the movie. Mom had already seen and wanted to see again La La Land. I had been wanting to see it ever since I first saw previews for it. Vickie was graciously ambivalent, and Doree encouraged other options. La La Land won! I loved it!! Doree hated it. Vickie kindly said, "well, it wasn't my kind of movie." Mom said she liked it better the second time. Did I mention that I loved it?!?
Going to Italy (Mangia in Berry Hill) just did not seem to be in the cards. Everyone seemed to still be stuffed from lunch, so we went to Cheesecake Factory and ate bread and butter and about nine gazillion calories of cheesecake. Our day had come to a sweet end. Well, I had to come home and walk 100 laps around my house to get my last 3,000 steps to appease the FitBit god.
Stuff is fine. Time with the ones you love is better. So, Merry Christmas, Mom.
Friday, January 27, 2017
Day - 27 - Ten Things You Can't Leave Home Without
Day 27
Ten things is a lot of things to keep up with! I have like five things that I have with me most any time I am away from my house. My (1) FitBit, of course is most important unless, for some unknown reason, I am being pushed around in a wheelchair. Actually, I probably would wear my FitBit anyway and swing my arm back and fort as I ride along. It's amazing how many steps one can rack up that way....so I have been told.
Usually, I have my (2) phone with me. If Mr. L and I go somewhere together and he has his phone, I leave mine behind. I do not want to be that person who is constantly checking her phone when in the presence of others.
In my phone case I keep my (3) drivers' license, which, of course, it is wise to have if I am driving. I have, on an occasion or two, been stopped without my license, and police officers tend to frown on that sort of thing. I also have my (4) insurance card in my phone case because one never knows when that might be needed. You really just never know when you are going to have a head-on collision trying to pass a construction truck in.the.middle.of.the.road, or when a bumble bee might sting and the ol' epi-pen is not on the list of things I can't leave home without. So, yes, my insurance card is always with me.
My (5) debit card is important in case I need a Hershey bar and/or a Diet Coke. I never have cash, well, unless parents on a walking tour pay in cash, and then I have lots of dollar bills that I jokingly call my "stripper money," as if anyone would be interested in giving money to a geriatric stripper. And, last but not least, I have my (6) Target card because, well because it is my TARGET card where I can buy anything from snacks to shampoo to dishes to toys and get 5% off. It's Target, people.
Day 27 - Ten (six) Things You Can't Leave Home Without - check
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Day 26 - If You Could Change Lives With Someone Who Would it Be?
Day 26 - If You Could Change Lives With Someone Who Would it Be?
Well, first of all I wouldn't. In this crazy, mixed up, messy life, I find myself mainly joyful. If at anytime you sense my trying to present myself or my life as perfect, please call me out. Without just dumping everything on FB, I do try to be honest. So, I wouldn't change lives with anyone, and yet, this is sort of fun to think about. So, I would do life again with all the same characters; the setting would just be different.
All names are compliments of road signs on I75 S in Georgia.
In another life, Mr. L and I would live in a small coastal village in Florida called Locust Grove. We would be the proprietors of a mid-century vintage motel called The Sunsweet Siesta. It would be cheerfully painted in carousel pink, moon yellow, sea breeze, wild orchid, and calypso blue. People would know, as they drove in the palm- lined drive that they are most welcome.
Every afternoon we would serve afternoon tea in the courtyard; a welcome repast of homemade muffins, fresh fruit, and hibiscus tea. Only vintage glass plates, thin porcelain china cups, and white linen napkins would be used. Nary a bug would be about.
There would be regular guests. The Dooly family, Unadilla, Larry Walker, and their daughter, Vienna would visit every summer. We would watch a romance bloom between Cecil and Lenox Rountree's son, Kinard, and Vienna. They would actually have their wedding in the Sunsweet Siesta courtyard.
The Sparks/Southwell annual family reunion would be every May. Ashburn and Arabi Sparks with their three boys, Albany, Amboy, and Turner would always be the first to arrive. They would impatiently wait for the Southwell relatives. Eldorado and Omega Southwell just could not get their girls, Moultrie and Hahira to get packed and on the road in a timely fashion. Mr. L and I would try to smooth the Sparks' ruffled feathers by serving homemade peach ice cream as soon as the Southwells got settled in.
Regulars, like the Valdosta twins, Savannah and Juliette, would stay the same two weeks every year. Most folks would not be able to tell the two gals apart, but Mr. L and I would know that Juliette was a bit more pigeon-toed than Savannah.
Montezuma Hawkinsville and his longtime sweetheart, Wenona Sylvester, would always spend Christmas with us. Having never married, they had no family so we would always include them as though they were our family. Old Mr. Clyatville Moody, a widower who lived in a nursing home down on Rumble Road would always bring a fruitcake dense enough to use as a doorstop. Roberta Smarr, who also lived on Rumble Road, would help Mr. Moody chop up the fruit. She, her husband, Butts (bless his heart), and their son, Zebulon, would also join the Christmas festivities at Sunsweet Siesta.
A whole host of folks would come into our lives, leaving memories like stamps on a passport. McDonough Macon with the Irish lilt in his voice. Lamar and Monroe Johnstonville, whom we would try to matchmake with the Valdosta twins, to no avail. Cordele Pitts who would always have the shiniest dress shoes that he would wear with black socks and his multi-colored striped Speedo. There would be many others, but I fear there are those reading this flight of fancy as they contemplate my need for serious psychiatric help.
Yes, it would be a lovely, interesting, quiet, life filled with a marvelous cast of characters, at the Sunsweet Siesta Motel in Locust Grove, FL; Fizzy and Mellie Switzer, proprietors.
Day - 26 - check.
Well, first of all I wouldn't. In this crazy, mixed up, messy life, I find myself mainly joyful. If at anytime you sense my trying to present myself or my life as perfect, please call me out. Without just dumping everything on FB, I do try to be honest. So, I wouldn't change lives with anyone, and yet, this is sort of fun to think about. So, I would do life again with all the same characters; the setting would just be different.
All names are compliments of road signs on I75 S in Georgia.
In another life, Mr. L and I would live in a small coastal village in Florida called Locust Grove. We would be the proprietors of a mid-century vintage motel called The Sunsweet Siesta. It would be cheerfully painted in carousel pink, moon yellow, sea breeze, wild orchid, and calypso blue. People would know, as they drove in the palm- lined drive that they are most welcome.
Every afternoon we would serve afternoon tea in the courtyard; a welcome repast of homemade muffins, fresh fruit, and hibiscus tea. Only vintage glass plates, thin porcelain china cups, and white linen napkins would be used. Nary a bug would be about.
There would be regular guests. The Dooly family, Unadilla, Larry Walker, and their daughter, Vienna would visit every summer. We would watch a romance bloom between Cecil and Lenox Rountree's son, Kinard, and Vienna. They would actually have their wedding in the Sunsweet Siesta courtyard.
The Sparks/Southwell annual family reunion would be every May. Ashburn and Arabi Sparks with their three boys, Albany, Amboy, and Turner would always be the first to arrive. They would impatiently wait for the Southwell relatives. Eldorado and Omega Southwell just could not get their girls, Moultrie and Hahira to get packed and on the road in a timely fashion. Mr. L and I would try to smooth the Sparks' ruffled feathers by serving homemade peach ice cream as soon as the Southwells got settled in.
Regulars, like the Valdosta twins, Savannah and Juliette, would stay the same two weeks every year. Most folks would not be able to tell the two gals apart, but Mr. L and I would know that Juliette was a bit more pigeon-toed than Savannah.
Montezuma Hawkinsville and his longtime sweetheart, Wenona Sylvester, would always spend Christmas with us. Having never married, they had no family so we would always include them as though they were our family. Old Mr. Clyatville Moody, a widower who lived in a nursing home down on Rumble Road would always bring a fruitcake dense enough to use as a doorstop. Roberta Smarr, who also lived on Rumble Road, would help Mr. Moody chop up the fruit. She, her husband, Butts (bless his heart), and their son, Zebulon, would also join the Christmas festivities at Sunsweet Siesta.
A whole host of folks would come into our lives, leaving memories like stamps on a passport. McDonough Macon with the Irish lilt in his voice. Lamar and Monroe Johnstonville, whom we would try to matchmake with the Valdosta twins, to no avail. Cordele Pitts who would always have the shiniest dress shoes that he would wear with black socks and his multi-colored striped Speedo. There would be many others, but I fear there are those reading this flight of fancy as they contemplate my need for serious psychiatric help.
Yes, it would be a lovely, interesting, quiet, life filled with a marvelous cast of characters, at the Sunsweet Siesta Motel in Locust Grove, FL; Fizzy and Mellie Switzer, proprietors.
Day - 26 - check.
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
Day 25 - A Hard Time
Day 25
Life often introduces us to very hard circumstances. Being the Pollyanna that I am, I try not to dwell overly long In the midst of the difficulties. Many women I know have suffered similar pains. Those who have not cannot truly understand all the nuances in this particular journey. I have come to understand that many more have traveled this road than I might have once imagined.
I had my first miscarriage very early in our marriage. Mr. L was still in law school. It was not great timing to bring a baby into our family, yet, I was pretty excited. I figured it would all work out. At six weeks, I experienced a miscarriage. It was 1976, the year of the Bicentennial. I remember the celebrations around the country. We attended a fireworks display in Louisville. I love fireworks. My enjoyment of them was greatly overshadowed by our loss. It did not matter that this pregnancy was not planned; it was now lost.
It did not take long for doctors to realize that there was a problem. I went through countless tests, months of disappointment, fertility drugs, daily temperature checks; all the things suggested in order to grow our family. And, after several months, I discovered that I was pregnant again. It never crossed my mind that painful loss could happen again. At 12 weeks, the doctor said I had passed the dangerous stage and that I could feel comfortable telling everyone we were expecting. Ten days later, I was in Vanderbilt's ER hemorrhaging. Another baby was lost. Physically, I was so battered. Emotionally, I felt destroyed.
Having babies was a dream of mine from the time I played dolls with Nancy in the front yard. Women's bodies were made to grow babies. There were so many unplanned and unwanted babies being born, or worse, intentionally not being born. Why could my body not perform correctly? I have never been one to think life is fair or that I deserve something more, but I surely cried out, "why" on numerous occasions. After recovering from my second miscarriage, our lives were blessed with two high risk pregnancies involving weekly and bi-weekly visits to the doctor for shots with all our efforts greatly rewarded by a beautiful boy, followed two years later by a beautiful baby girl.
I always wanted four children. If I could have placed an order, I would have asked for two girls and two boys; any birth order would have been fine. I wanted more children. So, we decided to try for a third child. Many of our friends were having their third, and that would get me 3/4 of the way to my goal. Using Clomid, I was pregnant rather quickly. I was so excited. Mr. L was pleased. Our children were thrilled that we were going to have a baby in the house. How marvelous it was.
At 16 weeks, I began to suspect that something was not quite right. I called the doctor, who had me come in. That day, I had my first and only ultrasound. My doctor came in, held my hands, and with tears in his eyes told me that the baby was dead and, it seemed, had been for several days. He gave me my options. I had a D&C that evening. I remember how utterly empty I felt when I awakened from the anesthesia. I wept and wept. For weeks, I remained in a cloud of blueness.
As happens with time, the pain is a dim shadow. I know that I am extraordinarily fortunate to have the two wonderful "children" that I have. Now that they are married, I finally have my two girls and two boys. But, those years of hope and joy and loss and failure and anger were, to date, the most difficult time in my life. This all happened for me nearly forty years ago. I am no longer sad. I do not dwell on it. Recent posts on FB have reminded me, however, that I am part of a sisterhood; a sisterhood of women who will always have, tucked away in their hearts, a wondering of what those lost babies might have been.
Day 25 - A Hard Time - check
Life often introduces us to very hard circumstances. Being the Pollyanna that I am, I try not to dwell overly long In the midst of the difficulties. Many women I know have suffered similar pains. Those who have not cannot truly understand all the nuances in this particular journey. I have come to understand that many more have traveled this road than I might have once imagined.
I had my first miscarriage very early in our marriage. Mr. L was still in law school. It was not great timing to bring a baby into our family, yet, I was pretty excited. I figured it would all work out. At six weeks, I experienced a miscarriage. It was 1976, the year of the Bicentennial. I remember the celebrations around the country. We attended a fireworks display in Louisville. I love fireworks. My enjoyment of them was greatly overshadowed by our loss. It did not matter that this pregnancy was not planned; it was now lost.
It did not take long for doctors to realize that there was a problem. I went through countless tests, months of disappointment, fertility drugs, daily temperature checks; all the things suggested in order to grow our family. And, after several months, I discovered that I was pregnant again. It never crossed my mind that painful loss could happen again. At 12 weeks, the doctor said I had passed the dangerous stage and that I could feel comfortable telling everyone we were expecting. Ten days later, I was in Vanderbilt's ER hemorrhaging. Another baby was lost. Physically, I was so battered. Emotionally, I felt destroyed.
Having babies was a dream of mine from the time I played dolls with Nancy in the front yard. Women's bodies were made to grow babies. There were so many unplanned and unwanted babies being born, or worse, intentionally not being born. Why could my body not perform correctly? I have never been one to think life is fair or that I deserve something more, but I surely cried out, "why" on numerous occasions. After recovering from my second miscarriage, our lives were blessed with two high risk pregnancies involving weekly and bi-weekly visits to the doctor for shots with all our efforts greatly rewarded by a beautiful boy, followed two years later by a beautiful baby girl.
I always wanted four children. If I could have placed an order, I would have asked for two girls and two boys; any birth order would have been fine. I wanted more children. So, we decided to try for a third child. Many of our friends were having their third, and that would get me 3/4 of the way to my goal. Using Clomid, I was pregnant rather quickly. I was so excited. Mr. L was pleased. Our children were thrilled that we were going to have a baby in the house. How marvelous it was.
At 16 weeks, I began to suspect that something was not quite right. I called the doctor, who had me come in. That day, I had my first and only ultrasound. My doctor came in, held my hands, and with tears in his eyes told me that the baby was dead and, it seemed, had been for several days. He gave me my options. I had a D&C that evening. I remember how utterly empty I felt when I awakened from the anesthesia. I wept and wept. For weeks, I remained in a cloud of blueness.
As happens with time, the pain is a dim shadow. I know that I am extraordinarily fortunate to have the two wonderful "children" that I have. Now that they are married, I finally have my two girls and two boys. But, those years of hope and joy and loss and failure and anger were, to date, the most difficult time in my life. This all happened for me nearly forty years ago. I am no longer sad. I do not dwell on it. Recent posts on FB have reminded me, however, that I am part of a sisterhood; a sisterhood of women who will always have, tucked away in their hearts, a wondering of what those lost babies might have been.
Day 25 - A Hard Time - check
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
Day 24 - Favorite go -to Recipes
Day 24
We have some favorite go-to meals. When in doubt, I can have "The Big Salad." Always, "The Big Salad" includes oven fried chicken. I don't really have a recipe per se, but generally:
Chicken tenderloins
Melted butter
Panko bread crumbs
Shredded parmesan cheese
Black pepper, red pepper, salt to taste
Mix panko, parmesan, and seasonings
Dip tenderloins in butter then dredge in panko mixture
Place in ungreased Pyrex
Pour remaining butter over chicken
Cook uncovered at 400 degrees until done (30 minutes) and crispy, turning once
Serve over a green salad of your choice
THE Corn
1 bag Frozen shoepeg corn
Tub cream cheese with onions and chives
1/2 stick butter
Cook corn according to package directions. Drain well
Mix well with cream cheese and butter
Place in greased Pyrex
Bake at 350 degrees until hot and bubbly
Poor Man's Boursin Cheese
8 oz block cream cheese, softened
1/2 pkg Hidden Valley powdered Ranch Dip
Mix well.
Refrigerate for a couple hours
Serve with good crackers.
Well, that's just 2 every day go-to recipes, and one "for company, maybe" one
Day 24 - Favorite go- to Recipes
We have some favorite go-to meals. When in doubt, I can have "The Big Salad." Always, "The Big Salad" includes oven fried chicken. I don't really have a recipe per se, but generally:
Chicken tenderloins
Melted butter
Panko bread crumbs
Shredded parmesan cheese
Black pepper, red pepper, salt to taste
Mix panko, parmesan, and seasonings
Dip tenderloins in butter then dredge in panko mixture
Place in ungreased Pyrex
Pour remaining butter over chicken
Cook uncovered at 400 degrees until done (30 minutes) and crispy, turning once
Serve over a green salad of your choice
THE Corn
1 bag Frozen shoepeg corn
Tub cream cheese with onions and chives
1/2 stick butter
Cook corn according to package directions. Drain well
Mix well with cream cheese and butter
Place in greased Pyrex
Bake at 350 degrees until hot and bubbly
Poor Man's Boursin Cheese
8 oz block cream cheese, softened
1/2 pkg Hidden Valley powdered Ranch Dip
Mix well.
Refrigerate for a couple hours
Serve with good crackers.
Well, that's just 2 every day go-to recipes, and one "for company, maybe" one
Day 24 - Favorite go- to Recipes
Monday, January 23, 2017
Day 23 - Conversations
I was at church yesterday for the first time in several weeks. Being sick before and out of town after Christmas kept me away. In light of this weekend's Women's March, I will briefly share conversations that I had yesterday with women.
She radiates joy. She is extremely beautiful. I love her. I always leave her uplifted. She asked me about my vacation. Her genuine happiness for the wonderful time I had with my family was evident. She is a woman who inspires me.
She stopped by to relay a compliment paid Mr. L. She is a young wife and mother. She is brilliantly educated, articulate, full of grace. We discussed for a moment, a mutual acquaintance who unintentionally intimidates us both with her exceptional intelligence and scholarship. We agreed that we should not feel intimidated, but we do. She shared a really funny story about one of her classmates. She is a woman who encourages me.
She walked toward me with intent. She asked, "can I burden you again?" She shared a piece of disturbing news she received last week. We discussed the particulars. I promised I would pray....every day, as I have done in the past. She is a deep thinker. She is easily pricked and wounded for others. She is a woman whom I greatly admire.
She and her husband are a couple I have "nominated" to be recognized officially as leaders at our church (elders). She said I was too kind when I explained why I chose them. I assured her I was not. She is a quiet, humble, servant-hearted woman. That is what we need. She commented that she does not have time for drama; it exhausts her. Can I get an amen? I assured her that she will be a blessing in the role. She is a woman I would love to work alongside.
I do not know, with one exception, for whom these women voted. I do not know their stand on Row vs Wade. I do not know if they marched in downtown Nashville Saturday. I do not know how they feel about Hollywood's view of its importance. I do not know how they feel about the conflicting posts on FB. I do not know. I do not need to know. They are woman with whom I am most grateful to be doing life.
Day 23 - Conversations - check
She radiates joy. She is extremely beautiful. I love her. I always leave her uplifted. She asked me about my vacation. Her genuine happiness for the wonderful time I had with my family was evident. She is a woman who inspires me.
She stopped by to relay a compliment paid Mr. L. She is a young wife and mother. She is brilliantly educated, articulate, full of grace. We discussed for a moment, a mutual acquaintance who unintentionally intimidates us both with her exceptional intelligence and scholarship. We agreed that we should not feel intimidated, but we do. She shared a really funny story about one of her classmates. She is a woman who encourages me.
She walked toward me with intent. She asked, "can I burden you again?" She shared a piece of disturbing news she received last week. We discussed the particulars. I promised I would pray....every day, as I have done in the past. She is a deep thinker. She is easily pricked and wounded for others. She is a woman whom I greatly admire.
She and her husband are a couple I have "nominated" to be recognized officially as leaders at our church (elders). She said I was too kind when I explained why I chose them. I assured her I was not. She is a quiet, humble, servant-hearted woman. That is what we need. She commented that she does not have time for drama; it exhausts her. Can I get an amen? I assured her that she will be a blessing in the role. She is a woman I would love to work alongside.
I do not know, with one exception, for whom these women voted. I do not know their stand on Row vs Wade. I do not know if they marched in downtown Nashville Saturday. I do not know how they feel about Hollywood's view of its importance. I do not know how they feel about the conflicting posts on FB. I do not know. I do not need to know. They are woman with whom I am most grateful to be doing life.
Day 23 - Conversations - check
Sunday, January 22, 2017
Day 22 - Yes, We Have no Bananas (Blog)
I write these blogs the day before I publish them. Delayed flight, Dramamine stupor, and an entertaining book are all preventing my actually having a blog today....other than this sorry tale of woes.
Guess I will just mosey on down to the beach to watch the sunrise......oh, wait.....
Have a beautiful day!
Day 22 - sort of check
Guess I will just mosey on down to the beach to watch the sunrise......oh, wait.....
Have a beautiful day!
Day 22 - sort of check
Saturday, January 21, 2017
Day 21 - Favorite Thing About Each Season
Day 21
Summer: long days, lightning bugs, memories of King of the Mountain and playing out after dark, newly mowed lawn, cool house, light summah suppahs, no schedules, deep shade, caramel cake, late afternoon rain showers, shower baths, fireworks, ice cold sweet watermelon
Autumn: bright blue skies, sweaters, hot soup, college football, new schedules, cool air, leaf showers, golden trees that look lit from within, dry leaves crunching beneath my feet, memories of new school clothes and the fall edition of Seventeen Magazine and new school supplies, lowered windows in the car and raised windows in the house, Thanksgiving
Winter: quiet, snowy evenings, city shut down due to snow, s'mores cooked on the fire pit, sleeping under my feather comforter, hot chocolate, Sunday afternoon nap on a dreary day, memories of sledding down our hill and bonfires in the road, Sanibel, sunlight streaming through my den window filling the room with rainbows, woolen scarf from Scotland, mittens, Christmas, pot roast, bread pudding,
Spring: forsythia, end of school, daffodils, thunderstorms, warm breezes, light jackets, Easter, dogwoods, myriad shades of green, new birth, deviled eggs and potato salad, memories of fancy Easter dresses and egg hunts, and family dinners, long walks, homegrown strawberries, dappled light on the front lawn, open windows,
Day 21 - Favorite Thing About Each Season - check
Summer: long days, lightning bugs, memories of King of the Mountain and playing out after dark, newly mowed lawn, cool house, light summah suppahs, no schedules, deep shade, caramel cake, late afternoon rain showers, shower baths, fireworks, ice cold sweet watermelon
Autumn: bright blue skies, sweaters, hot soup, college football, new schedules, cool air, leaf showers, golden trees that look lit from within, dry leaves crunching beneath my feet, memories of new school clothes and the fall edition of Seventeen Magazine and new school supplies, lowered windows in the car and raised windows in the house, Thanksgiving
Winter: quiet, snowy evenings, city shut down due to snow, s'mores cooked on the fire pit, sleeping under my feather comforter, hot chocolate, Sunday afternoon nap on a dreary day, memories of sledding down our hill and bonfires in the road, Sanibel, sunlight streaming through my den window filling the room with rainbows, woolen scarf from Scotland, mittens, Christmas, pot roast, bread pudding,
Spring: forsythia, end of school, daffodils, thunderstorms, warm breezes, light jackets, Easter, dogwoods, myriad shades of green, new birth, deviled eggs and potato salad, memories of fancy Easter dresses and egg hunts, and family dinners, long walks, homegrown strawberries, dappled light on the front lawn, open windows,
Day 21 - Favorite Thing About Each Season - check
Friday, January 20, 2017
Day 20 - Favored Means of Communication
Day 20
Part of me wishes it weren't so. I wish I loved to chat on the phone; I once did. Before Mr. L and I started dating, we talked for hours on the phone. If we had nothing to say, then we just sort of sat there, feeling somehow connected. Now, that kind of dead air over the phone gets the inquiry, "did you call for a reason?"
I do like face-to-face conversations with people I know and love. If it is someone I don't really know, however, it is like having teeth pulled. I become amazingly brain dead in social situations with people I don't know. I once wasted 20 minutes of my life and countless brain cells discussing the color red with someone who is as big a failure at small talk as I.
So, email and texts are my favored means of communication, especially for the purpose of conveying actual information. I realize that voice inflection and certain nuances are lost in electronic communication, but repetition is kept to a minimum as well as extraneous information. Some of you with whom I communicte through electronic means are picking your chins up off the floor about now, for I am a pro at rambling on and on electronically. Sorry about that bit of hypocrisy. Really, it's just the hem of my hypocritical garment.
Day 20 - Favored Means of Communication - check
Part of me wishes it weren't so. I wish I loved to chat on the phone; I once did. Before Mr. L and I started dating, we talked for hours on the phone. If we had nothing to say, then we just sort of sat there, feeling somehow connected. Now, that kind of dead air over the phone gets the inquiry, "did you call for a reason?"
I do like face-to-face conversations with people I know and love. If it is someone I don't really know, however, it is like having teeth pulled. I become amazingly brain dead in social situations with people I don't know. I once wasted 20 minutes of my life and countless brain cells discussing the color red with someone who is as big a failure at small talk as I.
So, email and texts are my favored means of communication, especially for the purpose of conveying actual information. I realize that voice inflection and certain nuances are lost in electronic communication, but repetition is kept to a minimum as well as extraneous information. Some of you with whom I communicte through electronic means are picking your chins up off the floor about now, for I am a pro at rambling on and on electronically. Sorry about that bit of hypocrisy. Really, it's just the hem of my hypocritical garment.
Day 20 - Favored Means of Communication - check
Thursday, January 19, 2017
Day 19 - A Recent Compliment Paid You
Day 19
It was not meant as a compliment. It was said in a "bless your heart" sort of way. You know the way....a subtle head shake, a sympathetic smile, a virtual pat on the head. "You're such a Pollyanna!" "Why, thank you," I said.
Day 19 - A Recent Compliment Paid You
It was not meant as a compliment. It was said in a "bless your heart" sort of way. You know the way....a subtle head shake, a sympathetic smile, a virtual pat on the head. "You're such a Pollyanna!" "Why, thank you," I said.
Day 19 - A Recent Compliment Paid You
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
Day 18 - Your Day (yesterday)
Day 18
I am writing this as my day is going, so to say it "was a very good day" is like tempting the fates in my poor addled brain, and to tempt the fates might cause my day to turn around and be extraordinarily awful, so here at noon, I will say that so far, it has been a lovely day. Anybody else suffer with such absurd superstition? And, I was raised to believe (not from my parents) that being superstitious is the same as being faithless, and that throwing salt over your shoulder after spilling some ranks right up there with murder and theft in the sin department. Forget about it if you ever cross your fingers while wishing on a star followed by, "in Jesus' name." All hope is lost.
So, any way.....
* Woke up around 6:00. Posted blog, checked emails, looked at FB, said morning prayer, maybe not in that order...possibly in that order.
* Left condo around 7:00 to see sunrise, ran into son on beach, walked with him. We saw, an out of the ordinary HUGE bug taking, what appeared to be, his last breaths. That creates a dilemma as to whether one should stomp on him, or let nature take its course. We chose the latter. Also, we saw entrails on the walking path. I asked Marshall, "what do you think that was?" He said, "maybe a rabbit?" I was thinking giant frog. Then we saw quite the blood trail, which led to a dead rabbit by the side of the road. It was interesting, but astoundingly gross. Too bad the boys weren't with us, for I am sure they would have loved it, judging by the way Simmy thought a dead mouse in Fizzy's gym bag was, "the coolest thing he has ever seen!"
* Breakfast at Rosie's where the service was somewhat sluggish, but the food quite delicious. A stop at Mango Bay, an all-you-need-for-the-beach store, for goggles and back to the condo.
* Time at the pool with everyone, including our framily from Minnesota who came down for a few days and surprised me like I haven't been surprised in some time. It is so nice having them here, plus knowing they are enjoying temperatures in the eighties rather than the teens is an added bonus.
* All kids went in for lunch and rest time and I hit the beach to sleep and read and blog. Ate a really big, delicious donut for lunch.
* Supper followed by a rousing card game of war.
* Night walk on the beach
* At last a shower and to bed.
Big day. Perfect day.
Day 18 - Your Day (yesterday)
I am writing this as my day is going, so to say it "was a very good day" is like tempting the fates in my poor addled brain, and to tempt the fates might cause my day to turn around and be extraordinarily awful, so here at noon, I will say that so far, it has been a lovely day. Anybody else suffer with such absurd superstition? And, I was raised to believe (not from my parents) that being superstitious is the same as being faithless, and that throwing salt over your shoulder after spilling some ranks right up there with murder and theft in the sin department. Forget about it if you ever cross your fingers while wishing on a star followed by, "in Jesus' name." All hope is lost.
So, any way.....
* Woke up around 6:00. Posted blog, checked emails, looked at FB, said morning prayer, maybe not in that order...possibly in that order.
* Left condo around 7:00 to see sunrise, ran into son on beach, walked with him. We saw, an out of the ordinary HUGE bug taking, what appeared to be, his last breaths. That creates a dilemma as to whether one should stomp on him, or let nature take its course. We chose the latter. Also, we saw entrails on the walking path. I asked Marshall, "what do you think that was?" He said, "maybe a rabbit?" I was thinking giant frog. Then we saw quite the blood trail, which led to a dead rabbit by the side of the road. It was interesting, but astoundingly gross. Too bad the boys weren't with us, for I am sure they would have loved it, judging by the way Simmy thought a dead mouse in Fizzy's gym bag was, "the coolest thing he has ever seen!"
* Breakfast at Rosie's where the service was somewhat sluggish, but the food quite delicious. A stop at Mango Bay, an all-you-need-for-the-beach store, for goggles and back to the condo.
* Time at the pool with everyone, including our framily from Minnesota who came down for a few days and surprised me like I haven't been surprised in some time. It is so nice having them here, plus knowing they are enjoying temperatures in the eighties rather than the teens is an added bonus.
* All kids went in for lunch and rest time and I hit the beach to sleep and read and blog. Ate a really big, delicious donut for lunch.
* Supper followed by a rousing card game of war.
* Night walk on the beach
* At last a shower and to bed.
Big day. Perfect day.
Day 18 - Your Day (yesterday)
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Day 17 - Organized or Messy
Day 17
I pondered about a nanosecond on this one. By nature, I am very messy. Pretty much, the only time my mom and I got crosswise when I was growing up was when she had had it with my messy ways. Even after I was married with children she commented, standing in the midst of the chaos I called home, "decent people don't live like this!" By that point in my life, thanks partly to her upbringing, I Had the confidence to reply, "yes, yes they do. We are very decent people." But, in all honesty, we excelled as slobs. Mr. L actually came into this marriage somewhat neat, but he crossed over with me to the dark side, although he has never been as proficient at messiness as I.
I can be organized in some areas. Generally speaking, I keep my business in some semblance of order. There have been some failings there. For instance, the day I double booked and left a group stranded with no guide (thank heaven for professional, good-natured teachers full of grace), or the day I sent 120 or so to lunch at The Spaghetti Factory with no reservations. Those kinds of mistakes make one become more vigilant.
My lack of organization is the reason I have on numerous occasions told different people different times for the same meal at my house, or why I have set too many or not enough plates at the table, or why I am occasionally surprised at who shows up. I am forever looking for my keys and my glasses and my phone and the iPad. It is why when I cleaned out my spice cabinet a couple months ago, I had bottles with "best if used by 2007" on them. I often have marvelous science experiments in my refrigerator as I try to guess just "what that was when it was fresh." Many loads of clothes get multiple washings because I cannot remember to put them in the drier.
Now, that it is just Mr. L and me living in the house, we are a bit neater. The computer desk is usually covered in detritus of some previous flurry of activity. Stuff is pretty much hanging off every section of the craft carts in Frisby Hall. Sometimes the den looks like our shoe closet, but all in all, we live more "decently" than we once did. I have learned that, as in most things in life, my undesirable messiness is the negative flip side of, perhaps, some more positive trait.
Day 17 - Organized or Messy - check
I pondered about a nanosecond on this one. By nature, I am very messy. Pretty much, the only time my mom and I got crosswise when I was growing up was when she had had it with my messy ways. Even after I was married with children she commented, standing in the midst of the chaos I called home, "decent people don't live like this!" By that point in my life, thanks partly to her upbringing, I Had the confidence to reply, "yes, yes they do. We are very decent people." But, in all honesty, we excelled as slobs. Mr. L actually came into this marriage somewhat neat, but he crossed over with me to the dark side, although he has never been as proficient at messiness as I.
I can be organized in some areas. Generally speaking, I keep my business in some semblance of order. There have been some failings there. For instance, the day I double booked and left a group stranded with no guide (thank heaven for professional, good-natured teachers full of grace), or the day I sent 120 or so to lunch at The Spaghetti Factory with no reservations. Those kinds of mistakes make one become more vigilant.
My lack of organization is the reason I have on numerous occasions told different people different times for the same meal at my house, or why I have set too many or not enough plates at the table, or why I am occasionally surprised at who shows up. I am forever looking for my keys and my glasses and my phone and the iPad. It is why when I cleaned out my spice cabinet a couple months ago, I had bottles with "best if used by 2007" on them. I often have marvelous science experiments in my refrigerator as I try to guess just "what that was when it was fresh." Many loads of clothes get multiple washings because I cannot remember to put them in the drier.
Now, that it is just Mr. L and me living in the house, we are a bit neater. The computer desk is usually covered in detritus of some previous flurry of activity. Stuff is pretty much hanging off every section of the craft carts in Frisby Hall. Sometimes the den looks like our shoe closet, but all in all, we live more "decently" than we once did. I have learned that, as in most things in life, my undesirable messiness is the negative flip side of, perhaps, some more positive trait.
Day 17 - Organized or Messy - check
Monday, January 16, 2017
Day 16 - Family Resemblance
Day 16
I often joke and say that I come from a shallow gene pool, not like my grandfather is also my uncle, but more like there is not a lot of variation, especially in appearance. It is really remarkable how family traits crop up from generation to generation.
People tell me that I look just like my mom. When they do, I call her and tell her that I have a "trade last" for her. That means I have a compliment for her, but she has to tell me one that she has heard about me first. This is all in a joking spirit, not in a self-praise one. You can trust me, too, when I say she has to think a lot harder to come up with a recent compliment for me than I do for her. At 92, she is an amazingly beautiful woman with more style than most women years younger, myself included.
While my sister and I may not look so much alike, we do have similar mannerisms and voice inflection. Over the years, on occasion, I have answered her home phone when her husband called. Every single time he thought I was her. That can be dangerous. She and I have both been asked at separate times by people to whom we have just been introduced, if we were related. In years past, I have literally been stopped on the street in Downtown Nashville and asked if I was Charlie Williams' sister.
My little brother is the perfect combination in appearance and temperament as my two older brothers. One niece has an uncanny resemblance to my grandmother. I inherited that grandmother's broad hands, and, apparently, her less-than-stellar housekeeping skills. To be told that I remind someone of her is a most humbling compliment.
My nephew looks exactly like his dad. How my brother-in-law at almost 50 years old can so closely resemble his 20 year old son is puzzling. My daughter is usually told that she looks like Mr. L, and yet, in pictures of her and my niece, it is almost freaky how much they look alike. That same niece, as a little kid, looked astoundingly like my son, who looked like Mr. L when he was born, but is a total Binkley in appearance now. My younger niece is a clone of her mom at the same age, both in appearance and comedic delivery.
I had a cousin whose father always commented how alike we were, and her sister thinks she and I look alike. I sure wish I saw myself through her eyes, for while I don't think my face will necessarily "stop a watch," nor would it "launch a thousand ships" (this could be some really mixed up metaphors, but you get the drift) like hers. Her brother and another of my nephews could definitely pass as brothers. The other son in that family looks exactly like his dad.
There are many other traits passed down; the love of tinkering that my kids and I have came from my dad. Mr. L's tendency to eat from serving dishes after a meal followed by washing dishes and cleaning up the kitchen came from his dad. Thank you, Grandaddy Switzer! The eternal, never-satisfied sweet tooth is totally from my mom. Just the other day, my son went out to buy 5 donuts and returned with 2 big boxes filled. He announced, "I have bad news; donuts are free after 2:00!" Why would that be bad news, you ask. Because we all know that every donut will be eaten by bedtime and we will all be ill, but it would never cross our minds not to eat them all.
Simeon looks exactly like pictures of his dad at the same age, and yet, when he turns a certain way, he looks like his mom. He has a lot of his dad's personality traits and his mom's uncanny powers of observation. Violet looks just like a particular picture of my oldest brother, and almost exactly like Simeon did at the same age.
Max reminds me of my grandfather in many ways. He is extremely intelligent, yet a bit absentminded. I have enjoyed, in recent weeks, listening to him hum as he goes about playing. My granddaddy hummed all the time.
Well, enough. I am sure if you stop and think, you will see similarities handed down in your own gene pool. It is scary and comforting to think about.
Day 16 - Family Resemblance - check
I often joke and say that I come from a shallow gene pool, not like my grandfather is also my uncle, but more like there is not a lot of variation, especially in appearance. It is really remarkable how family traits crop up from generation to generation.
People tell me that I look just like my mom. When they do, I call her and tell her that I have a "trade last" for her. That means I have a compliment for her, but she has to tell me one that she has heard about me first. This is all in a joking spirit, not in a self-praise one. You can trust me, too, when I say she has to think a lot harder to come up with a recent compliment for me than I do for her. At 92, she is an amazingly beautiful woman with more style than most women years younger, myself included.
While my sister and I may not look so much alike, we do have similar mannerisms and voice inflection. Over the years, on occasion, I have answered her home phone when her husband called. Every single time he thought I was her. That can be dangerous. She and I have both been asked at separate times by people to whom we have just been introduced, if we were related. In years past, I have literally been stopped on the street in Downtown Nashville and asked if I was Charlie Williams' sister.
My little brother is the perfect combination in appearance and temperament as my two older brothers. One niece has an uncanny resemblance to my grandmother. I inherited that grandmother's broad hands, and, apparently, her less-than-stellar housekeeping skills. To be told that I remind someone of her is a most humbling compliment.
My nephew looks exactly like his dad. How my brother-in-law at almost 50 years old can so closely resemble his 20 year old son is puzzling. My daughter is usually told that she looks like Mr. L, and yet, in pictures of her and my niece, it is almost freaky how much they look alike. That same niece, as a little kid, looked astoundingly like my son, who looked like Mr. L when he was born, but is a total Binkley in appearance now. My younger niece is a clone of her mom at the same age, both in appearance and comedic delivery.
I had a cousin whose father always commented how alike we were, and her sister thinks she and I look alike. I sure wish I saw myself through her eyes, for while I don't think my face will necessarily "stop a watch," nor would it "launch a thousand ships" (this could be some really mixed up metaphors, but you get the drift) like hers. Her brother and another of my nephews could definitely pass as brothers. The other son in that family looks exactly like his dad.
There are many other traits passed down; the love of tinkering that my kids and I have came from my dad. Mr. L's tendency to eat from serving dishes after a meal followed by washing dishes and cleaning up the kitchen came from his dad. Thank you, Grandaddy Switzer! The eternal, never-satisfied sweet tooth is totally from my mom. Just the other day, my son went out to buy 5 donuts and returned with 2 big boxes filled. He announced, "I have bad news; donuts are free after 2:00!" Why would that be bad news, you ask. Because we all know that every donut will be eaten by bedtime and we will all be ill, but it would never cross our minds not to eat them all.
Simeon looks exactly like pictures of his dad at the same age, and yet, when he turns a certain way, he looks like his mom. He has a lot of his dad's personality traits and his mom's uncanny powers of observation. Violet looks just like a particular picture of my oldest brother, and almost exactly like Simeon did at the same age.
Max reminds me of my grandfather in many ways. He is extremely intelligent, yet a bit absentminded. I have enjoyed, in recent weeks, listening to him hum as he goes about playing. My granddaddy hummed all the time.
Well, enough. I am sure if you stop and think, you will see similarities handed down in your own gene pool. It is scary and comforting to think about.
Day 16 - Family Resemblance - check
Sunday, January 15, 2017
Day 15 - Favorite Toys When I Was a Kid
Day 15
Generally speaking, dolls were my favorite toys growing up. In addition to my dolls, my mother had a set of doll furniture built for me. There was a cradle, a dresser with a mirror, and a chest of drawers ("Chester draws"on Craig's list 😳). I still have these, and will spruce them up when Violet is ready for them. My friend, Nancy, had the most adorable, colorful playpen (pack and play - sort of) for her dolls.
I had lots of dolls, but three favorites with which I played. The Madame Alexander Cinderella in the beautiful green dress and fancy earrings does not count. One did not actually play with such a confection of perfection. She sat on my bed.
Kathy was also an Alexander doll with blue eyes that opened and closed. She had curly blonde hair. Her legs and arms were jointed and her head would do a 360 turn, which I am sure was demonstrated multiple times by my brother, Mike, to the tune of my mournful wails. I mean, he shot one doll right off the sofa arm with his BB gun. No toy of mine was safe around him. Kathy was a baby doll, but not a newborn. I loved that doll and played with her endlessly, until I received a Baby Dear newborn. I named her Doty. That is what my cousins called our grandmother, and even though she was Mae to me, I loved the name, Doty. Nancy had a Baby Dear named Lisa. Just last year I found a vintage dress to fit Lisa, as she quietly lays in a bassinet at Nancy's house. The dress has quite a bit of wear on the back, but we figured Lisa would not be rolling over often. These dolls had soft bodies and silky hair (more like straw after years of play) and were just like holding a real baby.
Countless hours were spent playing house. We would take all the doll furniture and anything else that our moms would let us move outside and live in our imaginations all day. Once in Nancy's front yard, we had quite the set up, including a ladder, pots and pans and all manner of paraphernalia. Nancy's brother came home. He said it looked like hobos lived there. We thought it quite grand.
A new doll became very popular when I was a bit older. She was called Patti Play Pal. I actually named mine Jane. She was "the size of a three-year-old" and wore 3T clothes. She "walked" beside you when you held her hand, although with a terribly awkward stiff-legged gait. I had an aunt, Aunt Frank, who was a bit of an eccentric. She frequently came to our home unannounced. She moved slowly and quietly, and often one would look up and there Frankie stood in the doorway or the middle of the room. Anyone remember "The Sidler" on Seinfeld? One day, Aunt Frank quietly entered the house. Suddenly, we heard a blood curdling scream from the livingroom. We ran to see what had happened, and there over Jane's fallen body stood my horrified and terrified aunt. I must say there was great laughter once Frankie settled down.
Day 15 - Favorite Toys When I was a Kid - check
Generally speaking, dolls were my favorite toys growing up. In addition to my dolls, my mother had a set of doll furniture built for me. There was a cradle, a dresser with a mirror, and a chest of drawers ("Chester draws"on Craig's list 😳). I still have these, and will spruce them up when Violet is ready for them. My friend, Nancy, had the most adorable, colorful playpen (pack and play - sort of) for her dolls.
I had lots of dolls, but three favorites with which I played. The Madame Alexander Cinderella in the beautiful green dress and fancy earrings does not count. One did not actually play with such a confection of perfection. She sat on my bed.
Kathy was also an Alexander doll with blue eyes that opened and closed. She had curly blonde hair. Her legs and arms were jointed and her head would do a 360 turn, which I am sure was demonstrated multiple times by my brother, Mike, to the tune of my mournful wails. I mean, he shot one doll right off the sofa arm with his BB gun. No toy of mine was safe around him. Kathy was a baby doll, but not a newborn. I loved that doll and played with her endlessly, until I received a Baby Dear newborn. I named her Doty. That is what my cousins called our grandmother, and even though she was Mae to me, I loved the name, Doty. Nancy had a Baby Dear named Lisa. Just last year I found a vintage dress to fit Lisa, as she quietly lays in a bassinet at Nancy's house. The dress has quite a bit of wear on the back, but we figured Lisa would not be rolling over often. These dolls had soft bodies and silky hair (more like straw after years of play) and were just like holding a real baby.
Countless hours were spent playing house. We would take all the doll furniture and anything else that our moms would let us move outside and live in our imaginations all day. Once in Nancy's front yard, we had quite the set up, including a ladder, pots and pans and all manner of paraphernalia. Nancy's brother came home. He said it looked like hobos lived there. We thought it quite grand.
A new doll became very popular when I was a bit older. She was called Patti Play Pal. I actually named mine Jane. She was "the size of a three-year-old" and wore 3T clothes. She "walked" beside you when you held her hand, although with a terribly awkward stiff-legged gait. I had an aunt, Aunt Frank, who was a bit of an eccentric. She frequently came to our home unannounced. She moved slowly and quietly, and often one would look up and there Frankie stood in the doorway or the middle of the room. Anyone remember "The Sidler" on Seinfeld? One day, Aunt Frank quietly entered the house. Suddenly, we heard a blood curdling scream from the livingroom. We ran to see what had happened, and there over Jane's fallen body stood my horrified and terrified aunt. I must say there was great laughter once Frankie settled down.
Day 15 - Favorite Toys When I was a Kid - check
Saturday, January 14, 2017
Day 14 - What Place Do You Consider Home
Day 14
This prompt makes me think of popular quotes; "home is where the heart is," "this world is not my home," or "home isn't a place, it's a feeling." Maybe they are all right. Maybe they are all wrong.
If someone casually asks, "where's your home," I say Nashville, or if they are from Nashville, I say Green Hills. If asked that question as a child, I would have replied, "1920 Moran Drive." As a newlywed, Iroquois Garden Apartments is most likely the information I would have given. They are all true answers, but they are woefully inadequate.
When Mr. L and I were dating, my parents drove me to Paducah to surprise him. I do not remember the occasion or how long I stayed or if I gave his parents a heads-up or what. I do know that when we got there I walked down the hall to surprise him, and when he hugged me, it felt like home. That was 44 years ago, but I still remember that feeling. Maybe that is painfully corny. So, for me, I guess, home is where Mr. L is, or where Mr. L and my children are, or where Mr. L and my children and my grandchildren are.
Still, if asked "what place do you consider home," to avoid embarrassing social awkwardness I will reply, "Nashville."
Day - 14 What Place Do You Consider Home - check
This prompt makes me think of popular quotes; "home is where the heart is," "this world is not my home," or "home isn't a place, it's a feeling." Maybe they are all right. Maybe they are all wrong.
If someone casually asks, "where's your home," I say Nashville, or if they are from Nashville, I say Green Hills. If asked that question as a child, I would have replied, "1920 Moran Drive." As a newlywed, Iroquois Garden Apartments is most likely the information I would have given. They are all true answers, but they are woefully inadequate.
When Mr. L and I were dating, my parents drove me to Paducah to surprise him. I do not remember the occasion or how long I stayed or if I gave his parents a heads-up or what. I do know that when we got there I walked down the hall to surprise him, and when he hugged me, it felt like home. That was 44 years ago, but I still remember that feeling. Maybe that is painfully corny. So, for me, I guess, home is where Mr. L is, or where Mr. L and my children are, or where Mr. L and my children and my grandchildren are.
Still, if asked "what place do you consider home," to avoid embarrassing social awkwardness I will reply, "Nashville."
Day - 14 What Place Do You Consider Home - check
Friday, January 13, 2017
Day 13 - Nobody Deserves This
Day 13
I do not deserve this life I have been given. I do not deserve to have a husband I love, like, respect and enjoy after 42 years of marriage. I do not deserve grown children who check on me, seem to enjoy my company, shoot straight with me and who extend to me the privilege of knowing their children. The Good Lord knows I do not deserve those 3 precious children in my life. I do not deserve to have a mother who is independent, always learning and always, always making new friends. I do not deserve siblings that I love, and in-laws, and nieces and a nephew. I do not deserve to live in a safe neighborhood where people have lending libraries and dog treats in their front yard. Heck, I do not deserve the comfort of living in a house. I do not deserve to have a car. I do not deserve to be able to go to the store and buy what I want to eat. I do not deserve to have the clothes I need. I do not deserve to have shoes, or feet to put in those shoes, for that matter. I do not deserve to vacation in Florida in January enjoying time spent alone, with friends, and with family. I do not deserve to be able to see or hear or speak. I do not deserve this life.
This is why when I see entitled people I want to slap them or hug them and say, "you do not deserve this....nobody does!"
Day 13 - Nobody Deserves This - check
I do not deserve this life I have been given. I do not deserve to have a husband I love, like, respect and enjoy after 42 years of marriage. I do not deserve grown children who check on me, seem to enjoy my company, shoot straight with me and who extend to me the privilege of knowing their children. The Good Lord knows I do not deserve those 3 precious children in my life. I do not deserve to have a mother who is independent, always learning and always, always making new friends. I do not deserve siblings that I love, and in-laws, and nieces and a nephew. I do not deserve to live in a safe neighborhood where people have lending libraries and dog treats in their front yard. Heck, I do not deserve the comfort of living in a house. I do not deserve to have a car. I do not deserve to be able to go to the store and buy what I want to eat. I do not deserve to have the clothes I need. I do not deserve to have shoes, or feet to put in those shoes, for that matter. I do not deserve to vacation in Florida in January enjoying time spent alone, with friends, and with family. I do not deserve to be able to see or hear or speak. I do not deserve this life.
This is why when I see entitled people I want to slap them or hug them and say, "you do not deserve this....nobody does!"
Day 13 - Nobody Deserves This - check
Thursday, January 12, 2017
Day 12 - A Trip I Would Like to Take
Day 12
I am not particularly well-traveled, but I have gotten to visit some fun places. There is one trip I would really like to take. Mr. L is highly unlikely to accompany me on this particular adventure, but he is who I would most like to have along.
One day, I would like to fly to Key West, rent a red Mustang convertible and drive the entire length of US 1, to Maine, or wherever it goes. I have driven A1A from Jacksonville to Melbourne and from Stuart to Jacksonville. I enjoyed it both ways, but it does add lots of time to a trip that has an actual destination and timeframe. I just want the travel to be the thing.
I would neither stay nor eat at ordinary chain hotels or restaurants. Nights would be spent at vintage B&Bs or old-style motels where they actually use keys and not plastic cards. The proprietors would be friendly and anxious to share local yore. A day or two would be spent basking in the unique ambience of each little coastal town. Meals would be eaten at Mom and Pop diners or local greasy spoons talking to the locals. If an antique, or clothing or craft or gift shop caught my fancy, I would spend as much time as I wanted perusing all that particular store had to offer. Perhaps, a purchase or two would be made.
As the topography of the beaches changes driving up the coast, opportunities to stop and take photographs or paint a very rudimentary watercolor or just lie in the sand and feel the warmth of the sun on my face would be seized. There would be no time constraints; just the freedom to follow whims as they present themselves. Aaaahhhhh, perfection.
Day 12 - A Trip I Would Like to Take - check
I am not particularly well-traveled, but I have gotten to visit some fun places. There is one trip I would really like to take. Mr. L is highly unlikely to accompany me on this particular adventure, but he is who I would most like to have along.
One day, I would like to fly to Key West, rent a red Mustang convertible and drive the entire length of US 1, to Maine, or wherever it goes. I have driven A1A from Jacksonville to Melbourne and from Stuart to Jacksonville. I enjoyed it both ways, but it does add lots of time to a trip that has an actual destination and timeframe. I just want the travel to be the thing.
I would neither stay nor eat at ordinary chain hotels or restaurants. Nights would be spent at vintage B&Bs or old-style motels where they actually use keys and not plastic cards. The proprietors would be friendly and anxious to share local yore. A day or two would be spent basking in the unique ambience of each little coastal town. Meals would be eaten at Mom and Pop diners or local greasy spoons talking to the locals. If an antique, or clothing or craft or gift shop caught my fancy, I would spend as much time as I wanted perusing all that particular store had to offer. Perhaps, a purchase or two would be made.
As the topography of the beaches changes driving up the coast, opportunities to stop and take photographs or paint a very rudimentary watercolor or just lie in the sand and feel the warmth of the sun on my face would be seized. There would be no time constraints; just the freedom to follow whims as they present themselves. Aaaahhhhh, perfection.
Day 12 - A Trip I Would Like to Take - check
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Day 11 - Something You Will Always Remember
Day 11
My life has been rich in sweet moments as well as crushingly sad moments. Like most everyone, I am unlikely to forget where I was when President Kennedy was assassinated and the events following Where we were on 9/11 is a memory not forgotten, or when the space shuttle exploded, or when loved ones died. Certainly, my wedding day and the days my children were born are important memories I revisit time and again. None of these things came to mind, however, when I read this prompt. For some, this memory will seem far less profound or life-changing, but it is a little snippet from my life that I will never forget.
My daughter was the nanny for a family who has two adorable little girls. They are big girls (well, sort of) now, but still adorable. I was given the wonderful opportunity of becoming acquainted with the entire family, and on rare occasions, keeping the girls. This family was not from Nashville, and so it started to become apparent that they would not remain forever in my home town. When talk first began of the possibility of their moving away, I tried to ignore it. It genuinely broke my heart to think that they would not be just down the road. But, a new job was taken in Minneapolis, and they were truly going to leave us.
The husband had to get to Minneapolis while his wife stayed here finishing up packing, closing on the sale of their house. She was going to drive to Minneapolis with the girls. That is a long trip. They were just little bitties, so it was decided that I would ride with them to help in any way I could. After two days of driving, we arrived in Minneapolis. We spent the night at the girls' grandparents' home. I was flying home the next day.
I am getting to the actual memory, but I think the backstory is important. I am open to the possibility that I could be wrong about that.
The day for me to leave, the younger little sweetheart asked to go for a walk. I offered to go with her. She had just turned 2. She mainly dressed herself. This day, she put her shoes on the wrong feet, as she often did; some sparkly, pink confection of little girl tennis shoes. It was a beautiful, cool morning. We began to walk up the road. She just talked about this that and the other as we walked hand-in-hand. My heart was really aching, but that sweet moment in the quiet of an early summer morning in Minneapolis, is a scene in my life's tapestry to always be remembered.
Day 11 - Something You Will Always Remember
My life has been rich in sweet moments as well as crushingly sad moments. Like most everyone, I am unlikely to forget where I was when President Kennedy was assassinated and the events following Where we were on 9/11 is a memory not forgotten, or when the space shuttle exploded, or when loved ones died. Certainly, my wedding day and the days my children were born are important memories I revisit time and again. None of these things came to mind, however, when I read this prompt. For some, this memory will seem far less profound or life-changing, but it is a little snippet from my life that I will never forget.
My daughter was the nanny for a family who has two adorable little girls. They are big girls (well, sort of) now, but still adorable. I was given the wonderful opportunity of becoming acquainted with the entire family, and on rare occasions, keeping the girls. This family was not from Nashville, and so it started to become apparent that they would not remain forever in my home town. When talk first began of the possibility of their moving away, I tried to ignore it. It genuinely broke my heart to think that they would not be just down the road. But, a new job was taken in Minneapolis, and they were truly going to leave us.
The husband had to get to Minneapolis while his wife stayed here finishing up packing, closing on the sale of their house. She was going to drive to Minneapolis with the girls. That is a long trip. They were just little bitties, so it was decided that I would ride with them to help in any way I could. After two days of driving, we arrived in Minneapolis. We spent the night at the girls' grandparents' home. I was flying home the next day.
I am getting to the actual memory, but I think the backstory is important. I am open to the possibility that I could be wrong about that.
The day for me to leave, the younger little sweetheart asked to go for a walk. I offered to go with her. She had just turned 2. She mainly dressed herself. This day, she put her shoes on the wrong feet, as she often did; some sparkly, pink confection of little girl tennis shoes. It was a beautiful, cool morning. We began to walk up the road. She just talked about this that and the other as we walked hand-in-hand. My heart was really aching, but that sweet moment in the quiet of an early summer morning in Minneapolis, is a scene in my life's tapestry to always be remembered.
Day 11 - Something You Will Always Remember
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Day 10 - Your Favorite Song to Sing
day 10
I love to sing along with the radio or my iPod, but I truly do not have much of a voice. I do, however, have rousing sing-alongs in the car with the boys. There are three songs in particular that they often request; all are original compositions. I am happy to share the lyrics with you, but am not adequately musically adept to share the score. Please, hold your applause 'til the end.
To The Bank (or any other one syllable destination)
To the bank, to the bank, to the bank bank bank
To the bank, to the bank, to the bank bank bank
To the bank, to the bank, to the bank bank bank
OH, to the bank!
Wrong Way Mellie (this song is a great avenue for sharing a bit of US exploration history)
Oh, we're gonna go to Crocket Park
With Lewis and Clark
And Wrong Way Mellie
The playground soon we will see.
Team Work (this song is extremely adaptable to any 7-syllable circumstance)
Team work, team work,
Sim, Max and Mellie are a team.
Team work, team work,
Sim, Max and Mellie are a team.
We work together, we play together
We do not fight in the car!
Team work, team work,
Sim, Max and Mellie are a team.
Day 10 - Favorite Song(s) to Sing
I love to sing along with the radio or my iPod, but I truly do not have much of a voice. I do, however, have rousing sing-alongs in the car with the boys. There are three songs in particular that they often request; all are original compositions. I am happy to share the lyrics with you, but am not adequately musically adept to share the score. Please, hold your applause 'til the end.
To The Bank (or any other one syllable destination)
To the bank, to the bank, to the bank bank bank
To the bank, to the bank, to the bank bank bank
To the bank, to the bank, to the bank bank bank
OH, to the bank!
Wrong Way Mellie (this song is a great avenue for sharing a bit of US exploration history)
Oh, we're gonna go to Crocket Park
With Lewis and Clark
And Wrong Way Mellie
The playground soon we will see.
Team Work (this song is extremely adaptable to any 7-syllable circumstance)
Team work, team work,
Sim, Max and Mellie are a team.
Team work, team work,
Sim, Max and Mellie are a team.
We work together, we play together
We do not fight in the car!
Team work, team work,
Sim, Max and Mellie are a team.
Day 10 - Favorite Song(s) to Sing
Monday, January 9, 2017
Day 9 - Movies That Made Me Cry
Day 9
I am not a big crier. When I talk about crying here, be advised that it was more than likely six months of bottled up tears sparked by the movie which began a conflagration of weeping.
I once cried through a Benji movie....because it was numbingly long and boring, to the point that my tender-hearted son looked at me and said, "would Benji just die already!" Bad, really bad movie. I don't, however, think that is in the spirit of the writing prompt
I am not even going to talk about Bambi, Up, Toy Story 3, Inside Out or Old Yeller. Killing off mothers and dogs and sweet little purple beings and wives of many years and, for the love of Pete, little boys growing up and leaving their toys behind brought to you by the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry.
1. Magnificent Obsession - I watched this movie with my mom on TV years ago. There are two things I remember about that night. How devastatingly sad I was at the mother's tender spirit and broken heart, and that out of the corner of my eye, I kept seeing my mom's hand go under the sofa where she was lying. Finally, I asked her what she was doing. She sheepishly admitted that she was eating Russell Stover candy that was hidden beneath the sofa and there were only a few pieces left. Hmmmmmmmm.
2. Shadowlands - We were on a trip and went to see this movie. I knew a bit about C.S. Lewis, had read Mere Christianity. I knew nothing of his personal life. I knew more than I wanted to by the time the movie ended. As we were driving back to the hotel from the theater, I threw myself in the backseat and just gave way to the full on ugly cry.
3. Saving Private Ryan - This is the last war movie I saw willingly. I despise the notion and the facts of war. It is a complete waste of human life, in my mind, which leads to short term results at best. I am willing to entertain the idea of a just war, but there has to be a better way. When this movie was over, I did not even make it to the car. I sat on the curb outside the theater, put my head in my hands and wailed. People leaving the theater must have thought I was related to Captain Miller.
4. Steel Magnolias - My dear brother-in-law, in a moment of weakness or insanity, escorted my mom, my sister, and me to this movie. I fear he may have found us more entertaining than the movie, as we, bawling, shared one small paper napkin, torn into three tiny pieces, to sop up the tears.
5. The Notebook - I read this book, so you would think I would have known better. I was in Gatlinburg with my friend, Judy, who is not one given to flamboyant, public displays, when she excused herself from the room to finish the novel in private. I went to see the movie on a girls' beach trip. When it was over, we looked at one another and said, " whose stupid idea was this?" Years before, my grandparents died within hours of each other, so that added a whole other dimension of sadness for me.
6. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - My friend, Becky, and I went to see this in high school or college. Becky wore some sort of vinyl jacket that made a squeaky noise. As the movie progressed, she (and I) began to cry. Becky, in an effort to not just drown out the movie with her wails, began to basically crawl inside that noisy coat. It created a bit of comic relief for me, but that movie is a killer.
7. My Girl - Seriously? What is wrong with moviemakers? Seriously. I watched this with MP. She had seen it. I had not. Shouldn't she have given me a heads up? Maybe she did. I don't remember. I just know it was a multi tissue viewing.
Day 9 - Movies That Made Me Cry - check
I am not a big crier. When I talk about crying here, be advised that it was more than likely six months of bottled up tears sparked by the movie which began a conflagration of weeping.
I once cried through a Benji movie....because it was numbingly long and boring, to the point that my tender-hearted son looked at me and said, "would Benji just die already!" Bad, really bad movie. I don't, however, think that is in the spirit of the writing prompt
I am not even going to talk about Bambi, Up, Toy Story 3, Inside Out or Old Yeller. Killing off mothers and dogs and sweet little purple beings and wives of many years and, for the love of Pete, little boys growing up and leaving their toys behind brought to you by the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry.
1. Magnificent Obsession - I watched this movie with my mom on TV years ago. There are two things I remember about that night. How devastatingly sad I was at the mother's tender spirit and broken heart, and that out of the corner of my eye, I kept seeing my mom's hand go under the sofa where she was lying. Finally, I asked her what she was doing. She sheepishly admitted that she was eating Russell Stover candy that was hidden beneath the sofa and there were only a few pieces left. Hmmmmmmmm.
2. Shadowlands - We were on a trip and went to see this movie. I knew a bit about C.S. Lewis, had read Mere Christianity. I knew nothing of his personal life. I knew more than I wanted to by the time the movie ended. As we were driving back to the hotel from the theater, I threw myself in the backseat and just gave way to the full on ugly cry.
3. Saving Private Ryan - This is the last war movie I saw willingly. I despise the notion and the facts of war. It is a complete waste of human life, in my mind, which leads to short term results at best. I am willing to entertain the idea of a just war, but there has to be a better way. When this movie was over, I did not even make it to the car. I sat on the curb outside the theater, put my head in my hands and wailed. People leaving the theater must have thought I was related to Captain Miller.
4. Steel Magnolias - My dear brother-in-law, in a moment of weakness or insanity, escorted my mom, my sister, and me to this movie. I fear he may have found us more entertaining than the movie, as we, bawling, shared one small paper napkin, torn into three tiny pieces, to sop up the tears.
5. The Notebook - I read this book, so you would think I would have known better. I was in Gatlinburg with my friend, Judy, who is not one given to flamboyant, public displays, when she excused herself from the room to finish the novel in private. I went to see the movie on a girls' beach trip. When it was over, we looked at one another and said, " whose stupid idea was this?" Years before, my grandparents died within hours of each other, so that added a whole other dimension of sadness for me.
6. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - My friend, Becky, and I went to see this in high school or college. Becky wore some sort of vinyl jacket that made a squeaky noise. As the movie progressed, she (and I) began to cry. Becky, in an effort to not just drown out the movie with her wails, began to basically crawl inside that noisy coat. It created a bit of comic relief for me, but that movie is a killer.
7. My Girl - Seriously? What is wrong with moviemakers? Seriously. I watched this with MP. She had seen it. I had not. Shouldn't she have given me a heads up? Maybe she did. I don't remember. I just know it was a multi tissue viewing.
Day 9 - Movies That Made Me Cry - check
Sunday, January 8, 2017
Day 8 - Favorite Stores When I Was a Kid
Day 8
This prompt brought back some good memories.
My favorite grocery store was Smart's. It was on Scott Avenue. I assume my mom started shopping there when I was a baby and we lived on Huffine Street, right around the corner. When we moved, Mom passed Dorris' Bi-Rite to go to Smart's. By that time she had become great friends with James and Josephine Smart, the proprietors. By today's standards, it was a small store. It had wooden floors that creaked as customers wandered about perusing the shelves.
Mr. Smart knew his customers by name and what they usually bought. He made sure he stocked those particular olives or that soap or whatever customers requested. You could not buy socks or crockpots or dish towels at Smart's. It was a grocery store. I learned my grocery shopping skills from my mom-write a list, forget to take it, shop from memory, get home and start dinner, halfway through preparing the meal realize you are missing 3 ingredients, go back to store. I spent a lot of time at Smart's grocery.
When I got older, I spent my time in the car waiting for mom. Mr. Smart had the feminine products stacked above some totally unrelated item, visible from the front window. I remember being in the car with a friend who had an older sister. I had some notion of the female "curse" (we watched a film in scouts) but did not quite grasp all the particulars. There was high hilarity in the car that day as she explained the purpose of those items high on a shelf, in the front window of Smart's grocery.
Wilds Hood was a gift shop and florist on Gallatin Road. I don't remember a whole lot about the store except that I have some vague notion that one year (sophomore year, maybe) we had class pictures made there. I look like a half-witted astronomer gazing into space in that picture....with limp hair. Can you tell that I did not care for that picture?
The first gift I ever remember buying my mom was bought there. She gave me the money because she knew how desperately I wanted to get her a Mother's Day gift. My daddy was a lovely man, but, frankly, he sort of stunk at the gift-giving thing. Mom drove me to the store, waited in the car while I browsed through the offered wares. I found what I wanted; a curved porcelain bone dish with pink rosebuds and gold edges. My mom still has that dish.
Martha's (I think I am remembering the name correctly) was a shoe store that was not Stride Rite nor Family Booterie, two stores that mostly had "sensible shoes." I will say that getting the golden egg filled with small toys and candies at Family Booterie made buying shoes there a bit more palatable. Well, My first pair of tennis shoes were red PF Flyers bought at Martha's. I do not remember if I ever bought another pair of shoes there, but I will never forget my first pair of red PF Flyers.
Only the Dairy Queen separated my high school from my family's favorite pharmacy, Brush Drugs. Daddy was friends with Dr. Brush. I have no idea if Haskell Brush was a doctor or not, but everybody greeted him as "doctor." I am fairly certain that it was Dr. Brush who gave my daddy that most wretched, foul-tasting, miracle-working cough syrup, Turpin Hydrate. That stuff was lethal, and I would buy some in a heartbeat if it had not been banned in the US.
Once, I had impetigo....from the top of my thigh to my knee. It was miserable. It was my second bout with it and Daddy saw no need in my going back to the doctor, as in real doctor, educated, pediatrician, so, to Brush Drugs we went. Well, of course Dr. Brush needed to see it to arrive at a proper diagnosis. I did not have on shorts or a dress, so, off in the back room we go where I have to "drop my drawers" so "Dr." Brush could check it out. The diagnosis was in; I had impetigo, the disease believed to plague only, dirty, neglected, unkempt folk. He prescribed tincture of Violet. Man, is that stuff really purple. Pretty much anything it touches becomes permanently stained. It was a sad day when Dr. Brush closed his store.
Chester's was the finest department store we frequented. It had a long, sweeping curved staircase from the main floor to the downstairs (basement would be an inadequate description) at the bottom of which resided a talking Mynah bird. I loved that bird. I loved Chester's clothes. I loved Mrs. Green who always waited on us.
"Anyone want to go to the hardware store with me," my daddy would ask. I always said yes. The hardware store meant Inglewood Hardware. My daddy, of course, knew the proprietor because that is how life was then. Daddy was a tinkerer so was always in need of a bolt or screwdriver or washer. I loved looking through all the bins of stuff and how the rattle of the purchases sounded as I carried them out in their little brown paper bag. Going to the hardware store usually meant an afternoon spent as Daddy's assistant learning the difference between flathead and Phillips head screwdrivers or allen wrenches and monkey wrenches. I still love a good hardware store.
Day 8 -Favorite Stores When I Was a Kid - check
This prompt brought back some good memories.
My favorite grocery store was Smart's. It was on Scott Avenue. I assume my mom started shopping there when I was a baby and we lived on Huffine Street, right around the corner. When we moved, Mom passed Dorris' Bi-Rite to go to Smart's. By that time she had become great friends with James and Josephine Smart, the proprietors. By today's standards, it was a small store. It had wooden floors that creaked as customers wandered about perusing the shelves.
Mr. Smart knew his customers by name and what they usually bought. He made sure he stocked those particular olives or that soap or whatever customers requested. You could not buy socks or crockpots or dish towels at Smart's. It was a grocery store. I learned my grocery shopping skills from my mom-write a list, forget to take it, shop from memory, get home and start dinner, halfway through preparing the meal realize you are missing 3 ingredients, go back to store. I spent a lot of time at Smart's grocery.
When I got older, I spent my time in the car waiting for mom. Mr. Smart had the feminine products stacked above some totally unrelated item, visible from the front window. I remember being in the car with a friend who had an older sister. I had some notion of the female "curse" (we watched a film in scouts) but did not quite grasp all the particulars. There was high hilarity in the car that day as she explained the purpose of those items high on a shelf, in the front window of Smart's grocery.
Wilds Hood was a gift shop and florist on Gallatin Road. I don't remember a whole lot about the store except that I have some vague notion that one year (sophomore year, maybe) we had class pictures made there. I look like a half-witted astronomer gazing into space in that picture....with limp hair. Can you tell that I did not care for that picture?
The first gift I ever remember buying my mom was bought there. She gave me the money because she knew how desperately I wanted to get her a Mother's Day gift. My daddy was a lovely man, but, frankly, he sort of stunk at the gift-giving thing. Mom drove me to the store, waited in the car while I browsed through the offered wares. I found what I wanted; a curved porcelain bone dish with pink rosebuds and gold edges. My mom still has that dish.
Martha's (I think I am remembering the name correctly) was a shoe store that was not Stride Rite nor Family Booterie, two stores that mostly had "sensible shoes." I will say that getting the golden egg filled with small toys and candies at Family Booterie made buying shoes there a bit more palatable. Well, My first pair of tennis shoes were red PF Flyers bought at Martha's. I do not remember if I ever bought another pair of shoes there, but I will never forget my first pair of red PF Flyers.
Only the Dairy Queen separated my high school from my family's favorite pharmacy, Brush Drugs. Daddy was friends with Dr. Brush. I have no idea if Haskell Brush was a doctor or not, but everybody greeted him as "doctor." I am fairly certain that it was Dr. Brush who gave my daddy that most wretched, foul-tasting, miracle-working cough syrup, Turpin Hydrate. That stuff was lethal, and I would buy some in a heartbeat if it had not been banned in the US.
Once, I had impetigo....from the top of my thigh to my knee. It was miserable. It was my second bout with it and Daddy saw no need in my going back to the doctor, as in real doctor, educated, pediatrician, so, to Brush Drugs we went. Well, of course Dr. Brush needed to see it to arrive at a proper diagnosis. I did not have on shorts or a dress, so, off in the back room we go where I have to "drop my drawers" so "Dr." Brush could check it out. The diagnosis was in; I had impetigo, the disease believed to plague only, dirty, neglected, unkempt folk. He prescribed tincture of Violet. Man, is that stuff really purple. Pretty much anything it touches becomes permanently stained. It was a sad day when Dr. Brush closed his store.
Chester's was the finest department store we frequented. It had a long, sweeping curved staircase from the main floor to the downstairs (basement would be an inadequate description) at the bottom of which resided a talking Mynah bird. I loved that bird. I loved Chester's clothes. I loved Mrs. Green who always waited on us.
"Anyone want to go to the hardware store with me," my daddy would ask. I always said yes. The hardware store meant Inglewood Hardware. My daddy, of course, knew the proprietor because that is how life was then. Daddy was a tinkerer so was always in need of a bolt or screwdriver or washer. I loved looking through all the bins of stuff and how the rattle of the purchases sounded as I carried them out in their little brown paper bag. Going to the hardware store usually meant an afternoon spent as Daddy's assistant learning the difference between flathead and Phillips head screwdrivers or allen wrenches and monkey wrenches. I still love a good hardware store.
Day 8 -Favorite Stores When I Was a Kid - check
Saturday, January 7, 2017
Day 7 - Your Obituary
Day 7
Going on the record that I am not a fan of this prompt.
Marilyn Williams Switzer, died suddenly while hiking the Appalachian Trail. She was the oldest person to attempt the 2190 mile trek. She loved God and all His creation. She loved her family and she loved children. She was joyfully part of the Otter Creek Church. She taught thousands of students Tennessee history conducting walking tours of Downtown Nashville. She will be missed. She is survived by her husband, children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, brother and sister. A celebration of life service will be held at the Otter Creek church followed by a private burial in the family's backyard. Donations to The Living Water Project would be infinitely more appreciated than flowers.
Going on the record that I am not a fan of this prompt.
Marilyn Williams Switzer, died suddenly while hiking the Appalachian Trail. She was the oldest person to attempt the 2190 mile trek. She loved God and all His creation. She loved her family and she loved children. She was joyfully part of the Otter Creek Church. She taught thousands of students Tennessee history conducting walking tours of Downtown Nashville. She will be missed. She is survived by her husband, children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, brother and sister. A celebration of life service will be held at the Otter Creek church followed by a private burial in the family's backyard. Donations to The Living Water Project would be infinitely more appreciated than flowers.
Friday, January 6, 2017
Day 6 - Am A Fan Of......
Day 6
Am A Fan Of (in no particular order):
Seinfeld reruns, Balega socks, time with family, church, The Last of the Mohicans (the movie, not the book), Donut Den apple fritters, junking, applewood bacon, Diet Coke (huge understatement-huge), Thanksgiving, Dove bath wash, good smelling candles, Motown Music, Trivia Crack, Mr. L's Kindle, online library, hand-written notes, yellow roses, antiques, candlelight, clean sheets, the smell of Gain detergent, honesty, genuine smiles, a new haircut, Sonic, college sports, time with friends, snow, newly-sharpened pencils, paint decks, chocolate, homegrown strawberries, blustery fall days, my job, THE BEACH, someone who is passionate about a pursuit, talking to someone who is really listening, a man comfortably holding a baby, my Honda Element, Bob's peppermint sticks, laughing, a well-timed joke, Hallmark movies, quiet, daffodils in spring, Cheekwood, Crockett Park, homemade Rice Krispie treats, Pinterest, the sound of shells crunching under my feet, cinnamon toast, well-written or poorly-written books, a cold room and a heavy feather comforter for sleeping, fried chicken, tenderness, Ringling Brothers Circus, movie popcorn, long walks, people I can trust, time in Minneapolis, Hagen Das dulche de leche ice cream, occasional rainy days, farmers' markets, soft tee shirts, Warby Parker, Mr. L's french toast, homemade applesauce, the smell of freshly mowed grass, hugs, barbecue chips, Saturday afternoons just Mr. L and me, my iPod, good grammar, birthday balloons.
Lots of other stuff too, but I am about to take a nap on the beach....oh, and naps on the beach.
Day 6 - Am a Fan Of.... - check.
Am A Fan Of (in no particular order):
Seinfeld reruns, Balega socks, time with family, church, The Last of the Mohicans (the movie, not the book), Donut Den apple fritters, junking, applewood bacon, Diet Coke (huge understatement-huge), Thanksgiving, Dove bath wash, good smelling candles, Motown Music, Trivia Crack, Mr. L's Kindle, online library, hand-written notes, yellow roses, antiques, candlelight, clean sheets, the smell of Gain detergent, honesty, genuine smiles, a new haircut, Sonic, college sports, time with friends, snow, newly-sharpened pencils, paint decks, chocolate, homegrown strawberries, blustery fall days, my job, THE BEACH, someone who is passionate about a pursuit, talking to someone who is really listening, a man comfortably holding a baby, my Honda Element, Bob's peppermint sticks, laughing, a well-timed joke, Hallmark movies, quiet, daffodils in spring, Cheekwood, Crockett Park, homemade Rice Krispie treats, Pinterest, the sound of shells crunching under my feet, cinnamon toast, well-written or poorly-written books, a cold room and a heavy feather comforter for sleeping, fried chicken, tenderness, Ringling Brothers Circus, movie popcorn, long walks, people I can trust, time in Minneapolis, Hagen Das dulche de leche ice cream, occasional rainy days, farmers' markets, soft tee shirts, Warby Parker, Mr. L's french toast, homemade applesauce, the smell of freshly mowed grass, hugs, barbecue chips, Saturday afternoons just Mr. L and me, my iPod, good grammar, birthday balloons.
Lots of other stuff too, but I am about to take a nap on the beach....oh, and naps on the beach.
Day 6 - Am a Fan Of.... - check.
Thursday, January 5, 2017
Day 5 - Not a Fan Of......
Day 5
Not A Fan Of (in no particular order):
University of Tennessee sports, tardiness, name dropping, entitlement, lying, the odor of cigar smoke, mice, snakes, dead possums in the house (can you tell I was traumatized this summer?), politics, guns, violence in life or movies or books, heat and humidity, gossip, gossip disguised as concern (name it for what it is, at least), driving and texting, talking on the phone, passive - aggressiveness (I am in recovery from this-still struggling), tipping waitstaff poorly or not at all, selfishness, speedos, beating around the bush, laziness, know-it-alls, rudeness to anyone, bringing all conversations back to oneself (I do recognize the irony in that statement and this blog 😏), sage, cilantro, well-done steak, yelling at little children, pretentiousness, coconut, spouses who belittle each other, jealousy (envy?), BS, people texting, face booking, pinteresting, etc at the table when others are around, micromanagement, unsolicited advice, jazz, going to the doctor, complaining (working on this), put-downs of any kind, bragging, high drama, big crowds, small talk.
I think that's about enough.
Day 5 - Not a Fan Of - check
Not A Fan Of (in no particular order):
University of Tennessee sports, tardiness, name dropping, entitlement, lying, the odor of cigar smoke, mice, snakes, dead possums in the house (can you tell I was traumatized this summer?), politics, guns, violence in life or movies or books, heat and humidity, gossip, gossip disguised as concern (name it for what it is, at least), driving and texting, talking on the phone, passive - aggressiveness (I am in recovery from this-still struggling), tipping waitstaff poorly or not at all, selfishness, speedos, beating around the bush, laziness, know-it-alls, rudeness to anyone, bringing all conversations back to oneself (I do recognize the irony in that statement and this blog 😏), sage, cilantro, well-done steak, yelling at little children, pretentiousness, coconut, spouses who belittle each other, jealousy (envy?), BS, people texting, face booking, pinteresting, etc at the table when others are around, micromanagement, unsolicited advice, jazz, going to the doctor, complaining (working on this), put-downs of any kind, bragging, high drama, big crowds, small talk.
I think that's about enough.
Day 5 - Not a Fan Of - check
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
Day 4 - Describe Your Best Friend
Day 4
I have been given the gift of many good friends. Some are new friends, some are lifelong friends, some I keep up with through FB, some I see on a fairly regular basis at church. My best friend is the one I have known the longest (since 1st grade), with whom I share most everything, who is always there in a crisis, who makes sure we don't go too long without having a meal together, who is counting the days until she retires and we can have more "girl days," who takes my birthday off from work, who spends Thanksgiving with us as family, who gives me good advice, and who is always, always on my side. Her name is Nancy.
I thought I might do a little comparing and contrasting. On paper, it is a wonder that we are such good friends. Maybe it is the "opposites attract" phenomenon. As in describing my siblings, this is not an exhaustive list.
1. She is organized. I am not. When I complained one day about always losing my keys, she said, "why don't you put them in the same place every time," to which I replied, "have you met me?"
2. She loves practical gifts. I do not. Once she told me that her carpet shampooer was the best gift she had ever gotten. Seriously?
3. She has a really important big girl job. I do not.
4. She does not have a college degree. I do. Note who has the big important job.
5. She has a green thumb. I do not.
6. She sings beautifully. I definitely do not.
7. She graciously waits on those around her hand and foot. I do not, neither graciously nor otherwise.
8. Her car is spotless with little carrier things in the back so stuff does not roll around with insulated bags to put her cold groceries in to get them home safely. My cup holders are full of evaporating Diet Coke while dirty napkins, tissues, discarded juice pouches, Legos, candy wrappers, and molded half -sandwiches litter the floor of my car.
9. She always has her Regal card with her when going to the movie. I never do.
10. She knits. I do not. My grandchildren each have hand-knitted Santa hats. Violet also has two adorable stocking caps Nancy made.
11. Her house is not cluttered. Mine is.
12. As a kid, she ate hotdogs right out of the refrigerator. I never have.
13. She hates mustard. I really like it.
14. She loves jewelry and has lots of sets of matching necklaces and earrings; her FitBit even looks like a delicate bracelet. I wear a silver cross, my wedding band, and I have a honking big black fitbit that I wear all the time.
15. She was raised Methodist and is now Presbyterian. I am and always have been cofC...well, mainly....Otter Creek is sort of a hybrid.
16. She can pick things up with her toes. My short, stubby feet don't allow such.
17. Her feelings can sometimes be easily wounded. It pretty much takes a 2x4 upside the head to hurt mine.
Well, you get the picture. What we do have in common is we love God, we are grateful to Jesus,we love our families, we love each other's family, and we love each other. We were raised in the same neighborhood with similar values. My life is greatly enriched by knowing her.
Day 4 - Describe Your Best Friend
I have been given the gift of many good friends. Some are new friends, some are lifelong friends, some I keep up with through FB, some I see on a fairly regular basis at church. My best friend is the one I have known the longest (since 1st grade), with whom I share most everything, who is always there in a crisis, who makes sure we don't go too long without having a meal together, who is counting the days until she retires and we can have more "girl days," who takes my birthday off from work, who spends Thanksgiving with us as family, who gives me good advice, and who is always, always on my side. Her name is Nancy.
I thought I might do a little comparing and contrasting. On paper, it is a wonder that we are such good friends. Maybe it is the "opposites attract" phenomenon. As in describing my siblings, this is not an exhaustive list.
1. She is organized. I am not. When I complained one day about always losing my keys, she said, "why don't you put them in the same place every time," to which I replied, "have you met me?"
2. She loves practical gifts. I do not. Once she told me that her carpet shampooer was the best gift she had ever gotten. Seriously?
3. She has a really important big girl job. I do not.
4. She does not have a college degree. I do. Note who has the big important job.
5. She has a green thumb. I do not.
6. She sings beautifully. I definitely do not.
7. She graciously waits on those around her hand and foot. I do not, neither graciously nor otherwise.
8. Her car is spotless with little carrier things in the back so stuff does not roll around with insulated bags to put her cold groceries in to get them home safely. My cup holders are full of evaporating Diet Coke while dirty napkins, tissues, discarded juice pouches, Legos, candy wrappers, and molded half -sandwiches litter the floor of my car.
9. She always has her Regal card with her when going to the movie. I never do.
10. She knits. I do not. My grandchildren each have hand-knitted Santa hats. Violet also has two adorable stocking caps Nancy made.
11. Her house is not cluttered. Mine is.
12. As a kid, she ate hotdogs right out of the refrigerator. I never have.
13. She hates mustard. I really like it.
14. She loves jewelry and has lots of sets of matching necklaces and earrings; her FitBit even looks like a delicate bracelet. I wear a silver cross, my wedding band, and I have a honking big black fitbit that I wear all the time.
15. She was raised Methodist and is now Presbyterian. I am and always have been cofC...well, mainly....Otter Creek is sort of a hybrid.
16. She can pick things up with her toes. My short, stubby feet don't allow such.
17. Her feelings can sometimes be easily wounded. It pretty much takes a 2x4 upside the head to hurt mine.
Well, you get the picture. What we do have in common is we love God, we are grateful to Jesus,we love our families, we love each other's family, and we love each other. We were raised in the same neighborhood with similar values. My life is greatly enriched by knowing her.
Day 4 - Describe Your Best Friend
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Day 3 - My Siblings
Day 3
This could take a few lines; this writing about my siblings. I have/had four, three brothers and a sister. I will go by birth order. Certainly, this is my own personal view of my siblings. It is not an exhaustive study.
Charles Joseph (Charlie): He was beautiful in so many ways. I suspect he was a first crush for many girls. He was a courtly mannered, frequently foul-mouthed, suspender-wearing, Southern lawyer. He never met a stranger. He, like our mother, could pretty much talk his way through or out of most anything. He loved music of all kinds. He loved fast cars and fast boats. He loved beautiful things. He enjoyed sharing his largesse. He would pick up hitchhikers, feed them, clothe them, help them in any way he could and then grieve when he felt it not enough. He was not a gifted money manager, but he was extraordinarily generous. He was one of the most complex personalities I have ever known. He was more easily wounded than a casual observer would ever suspect. He felt responsible for many situations, most of which he wasn't. The pain in this world was too much for him. He died almost eleven years ago.
John Michael (Mike): How does one describe Mike? He was hilarious and told great stories peppered with quite salty language. Taking care of his family, especially financially, was a top priority in his life. He adored his wife, and well he should have! He loved to fish and be out on the water. He was a Vietnam Vet. Going to war changed him in many ways. He smoked too much, and it could be argued that at times he drank too much beer. He shot squirrels in his garden from his back porch. I think his first job was selling stolen hubcaps. He would literally give a person the shirt off his back. He was a champion of the underdog and tolerated neither unkindness nor stupidity. He loved babies. He told you like it was and if that hurt your feelings, then he was right sorry for that, but he never back-pedaled on what he said. He got red in the face when he got worked up over certain topics (politics) and was astounded that I don't watch the news. The only thing he ever bought "on time" was his house. He had personal boundaries and did not let himself be victimized by allowing others to cross them. He worked hard. He loved well. He died almost two years ago.
Samuel Andrew (Sam): Sambo came into this world several weeks early, a tiny little being with soulful blue eyes and eyelashes so long they went above his eyebrows. He is still beautiful, although it will embarrass him that I said so. If given the chance, he would tell you all the reasons that I am being overly gracious. If you know him, you know I do not exaggerate. He is a gentle soul living in a harsh world, and some days that is really hard. He has a poet's spirit. He is a voracious reader. He loves art. He loves music (head banging), and nature and his family. He is an uncle to lots of kids who love him dearly, be they blood kin or not. He loves to play. He paddle and skate boards (not at the same time, but I don't want to plant any ideas in his head). He enjoys good food and pleasant atmospheres, but he is equally at home in the neighborhood dive. He, like Mike, will set you straight if he thinks you need it (his being delivered more gently), and like Charlie, he has exquisite manners. He enjoys Guinness and Jameson Irish Whiskey and The Packers. He is one of the most non-judgmental people I know. He does not hold a grudge or keep an account of offenses. He moved back to Nashville from Wisconsin several years ago, and I am very glad.
Doree Ann (Doree or Do'Do,' Door, or Doooooreee Ayun - depending on whose talking about her): Finally, at the age of 15, I got a sister. She is beautiful with a lot of Williams in her and the Binkley sparkling blue eyes. She was a really sweet child for months on end, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, she would briefly lose her ever-loving mind. Mom would set her straight, and then she was back to her normally lovely ways. She could read anything when she was about 3 or 4. We showed her off a lot. She is so, so funny. Like Mike, she can tell a story until you find yourself gasping for air from the laughter. My grandchildren adore her. She loves old people, and her sensitive spirit often leads her to tears if she sees an elderly gentleman eating by himself in a restaurant. She cries easily. She loves animals (gargantuan understatement) and sort of runs a home for wayward animals in her suburban home. She is a whirling dirvish when it comes to cleaning up and clearing out. Once, when she was in a cleaning frenzy her husband said to me, "don't stand still too long or she'll throw you in the trunk and take you to Goodwill!" Her home is warm and inviting and colorful and she is a gracious hostess. If she is asked to buy something for the needy, her attitude is, "if it's not good enough for me, then it's not good enough for them." She is generous and kind and a bit bawdy at times. She is a great mimic. If you are with her and she runs into someone she knows, find a place to rest because it's gonna be a while. Like Charlie and Sam, sometimes this difficult world can be a bit overwhelming to her. The casual observer would never know that from time to time she suffers terribly. She is often the one her friends call when they have a problem. She was worth the 15 year wait.
Day 3 - My Siblings - check
This could take a few lines; this writing about my siblings. I have/had four, three brothers and a sister. I will go by birth order. Certainly, this is my own personal view of my siblings. It is not an exhaustive study.
Charles Joseph (Charlie): He was beautiful in so many ways. I suspect he was a first crush for many girls. He was a courtly mannered, frequently foul-mouthed, suspender-wearing, Southern lawyer. He never met a stranger. He, like our mother, could pretty much talk his way through or out of most anything. He loved music of all kinds. He loved fast cars and fast boats. He loved beautiful things. He enjoyed sharing his largesse. He would pick up hitchhikers, feed them, clothe them, help them in any way he could and then grieve when he felt it not enough. He was not a gifted money manager, but he was extraordinarily generous. He was one of the most complex personalities I have ever known. He was more easily wounded than a casual observer would ever suspect. He felt responsible for many situations, most of which he wasn't. The pain in this world was too much for him. He died almost eleven years ago.
John Michael (Mike): How does one describe Mike? He was hilarious and told great stories peppered with quite salty language. Taking care of his family, especially financially, was a top priority in his life. He adored his wife, and well he should have! He loved to fish and be out on the water. He was a Vietnam Vet. Going to war changed him in many ways. He smoked too much, and it could be argued that at times he drank too much beer. He shot squirrels in his garden from his back porch. I think his first job was selling stolen hubcaps. He would literally give a person the shirt off his back. He was a champion of the underdog and tolerated neither unkindness nor stupidity. He loved babies. He told you like it was and if that hurt your feelings, then he was right sorry for that, but he never back-pedaled on what he said. He got red in the face when he got worked up over certain topics (politics) and was astounded that I don't watch the news. The only thing he ever bought "on time" was his house. He had personal boundaries and did not let himself be victimized by allowing others to cross them. He worked hard. He loved well. He died almost two years ago.
Samuel Andrew (Sam): Sambo came into this world several weeks early, a tiny little being with soulful blue eyes and eyelashes so long they went above his eyebrows. He is still beautiful, although it will embarrass him that I said so. If given the chance, he would tell you all the reasons that I am being overly gracious. If you know him, you know I do not exaggerate. He is a gentle soul living in a harsh world, and some days that is really hard. He has a poet's spirit. He is a voracious reader. He loves art. He loves music (head banging), and nature and his family. He is an uncle to lots of kids who love him dearly, be they blood kin or not. He loves to play. He paddle and skate boards (not at the same time, but I don't want to plant any ideas in his head). He enjoys good food and pleasant atmospheres, but he is equally at home in the neighborhood dive. He, like Mike, will set you straight if he thinks you need it (his being delivered more gently), and like Charlie, he has exquisite manners. He enjoys Guinness and Jameson Irish Whiskey and The Packers. He is one of the most non-judgmental people I know. He does not hold a grudge or keep an account of offenses. He moved back to Nashville from Wisconsin several years ago, and I am very glad.
Doree Ann (Doree or Do'Do,' Door, or Doooooreee Ayun - depending on whose talking about her): Finally, at the age of 15, I got a sister. She is beautiful with a lot of Williams in her and the Binkley sparkling blue eyes. She was a really sweet child for months on end, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, she would briefly lose her ever-loving mind. Mom would set her straight, and then she was back to her normally lovely ways. She could read anything when she was about 3 or 4. We showed her off a lot. She is so, so funny. Like Mike, she can tell a story until you find yourself gasping for air from the laughter. My grandchildren adore her. She loves old people, and her sensitive spirit often leads her to tears if she sees an elderly gentleman eating by himself in a restaurant. She cries easily. She loves animals (gargantuan understatement) and sort of runs a home for wayward animals in her suburban home. She is a whirling dirvish when it comes to cleaning up and clearing out. Once, when she was in a cleaning frenzy her husband said to me, "don't stand still too long or she'll throw you in the trunk and take you to Goodwill!" Her home is warm and inviting and colorful and she is a gracious hostess. If she is asked to buy something for the needy, her attitude is, "if it's not good enough for me, then it's not good enough for them." She is generous and kind and a bit bawdy at times. She is a great mimic. If you are with her and she runs into someone she knows, find a place to rest because it's gonna be a while. Like Charlie and Sam, sometimes this difficult world can be a bit overwhelming to her. The casual observer would never know that from time to time she suffers terribly. She is often the one her friends call when they have a problem. She was worth the 15 year wait.
Day 3 - My Siblings - check
Monday, January 2, 2017
Day 2 - An Accident That Changed Everything
Day 2
This topic hits home. My junior year in college, I was headed across town to buy my textbooks for winter quarter. My friend, Becky, was with me. I was driving my oh-so-cute yellow Opal Kadett with the black vinyl top. My daddy bought me that car, and even though driving a stick did not come naturally, I loved that car. We were traveling South on Gallatin Road, having just come through the underpass across the street from Hudson's Filling Station, when a little old lady from Russellville, KY pulled out in front of me. I smacked her.....hard. My little Kadett was no competition for the land yacht she was driving.
Becky and I both hit our heads, but my most immediate concern was the excruciating pain in my chest from cracked ribs. Becky asked if I was all right. I told her that I could not breathe. She graciously asked if I needed mouth to mouth resuscitation. I assured her that I did not.
My knees were bleeding profusely. I remember a lovely woman who had cloth diapers in her car and used them to apply pressure to my shredded knees. I asked Becky to call my dad. I gave her his number at work. She ran to a nearby shop to use the phone, but returned quickly as she could not remember the number. I told her to check in the glove box for pen and paper to write the number down. It would not open. I was distraught that the pounds of green apple kisses I had gotten in my Christmas stocking that year were lost to me in that crimped, inoperable glove box. This was not the last stupid thought I had that day.
Finally, the sirens of the ambulance were nearing. The EMT was a boy from my high school. I had not seen him since graduation. I seriously worried about my appearance and what he must have thought about my deterioration since high school.
After time in Vanderbilt ER, stitches, x-rays, fainting, bursting into tears upon seeing Daddy, concern that I only had one earring on (no limit to my idiocy), I was able to go home where my little brother and sister were distraught and my parents took exceptional care of me.
Because of my injuries, I could not return to school on time. I missed two weeks of a very short quarter. When I did return, hobbling on crutches and sporting two quite impressive black eyes, I borrowed history notes from a tall, dark, outstanding student named Ken. And, my life changed forever, in the most wonderful way.
Day 2-An Accident That Changed Everything - check
This topic hits home. My junior year in college, I was headed across town to buy my textbooks for winter quarter. My friend, Becky, was with me. I was driving my oh-so-cute yellow Opal Kadett with the black vinyl top. My daddy bought me that car, and even though driving a stick did not come naturally, I loved that car. We were traveling South on Gallatin Road, having just come through the underpass across the street from Hudson's Filling Station, when a little old lady from Russellville, KY pulled out in front of me. I smacked her.....hard. My little Kadett was no competition for the land yacht she was driving.
Becky and I both hit our heads, but my most immediate concern was the excruciating pain in my chest from cracked ribs. Becky asked if I was all right. I told her that I could not breathe. She graciously asked if I needed mouth to mouth resuscitation. I assured her that I did not.
My knees were bleeding profusely. I remember a lovely woman who had cloth diapers in her car and used them to apply pressure to my shredded knees. I asked Becky to call my dad. I gave her his number at work. She ran to a nearby shop to use the phone, but returned quickly as she could not remember the number. I told her to check in the glove box for pen and paper to write the number down. It would not open. I was distraught that the pounds of green apple kisses I had gotten in my Christmas stocking that year were lost to me in that crimped, inoperable glove box. This was not the last stupid thought I had that day.
Finally, the sirens of the ambulance were nearing. The EMT was a boy from my high school. I had not seen him since graduation. I seriously worried about my appearance and what he must have thought about my deterioration since high school.
After time in Vanderbilt ER, stitches, x-rays, fainting, bursting into tears upon seeing Daddy, concern that I only had one earring on (no limit to my idiocy), I was able to go home where my little brother and sister were distraught and my parents took exceptional care of me.
Because of my injuries, I could not return to school on time. I missed two weeks of a very short quarter. When I did return, hobbling on crutches and sporting two quite impressive black eyes, I borrowed history notes from a tall, dark, outstanding student named Ken. And, my life changed forever, in the most wonderful way.
Day 2-An Accident That Changed Everything - check
Sunday, January 1, 2017
2017 challenge - My Middle Name
Last year, just as an exercise in self-discipline, I wrote a blog a day for the first 30 days of the new year; except I wrote like 23 of the 30 and started in December of the previous year. So much for discipline.
I begin again. Using my phone or I-Pad makes it necessary to keep each entry short, something for which I am sure the 3 of you who read this are most grateful.
Day 1 - My Middle Name and How I Feel About It
Interestingly, or not, I was not given a middle name. My mother wanted to name me Marilyn Eudora. The Eudora was for her mother. My father was having none of it. Mom could not think of another name to go with Marilyn, which incidentally, was for her (Mary) but they spelled it incorrectly on my birth certificate. Really it's a miracle they claimed me at the hospital. I am happy to report that my son-in-law had no aversion to my grandmother's name, thus, we have the adorable Violet Eudora; a Southern family name of which she can be most proud.
How I felt about growing up with no middle name has mainly to do with the time in my life. All through elementary and high school it was not a problem. It sort of made me unique. In college, it became a little more interesting, in that, at my small college there were two students named Marilyn Williams. The other one had a middle name. I do not remember what it was. The registrar's office assigned me one NMN (no middle name) in order to keep us straight. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it did not. I often got medical results of hers, sometimes she got my grades. When this happened I would have to see the registrar and prove that I was Marilyn NMN Williams. When I married and took my husband's last name, I instantly gained a middle name with no angst connected to dropping my middle name.
So, there you have it. Riveting stuff.
Day 1-My middle name - check
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