Sitting here on Mark's deck in my pink fleece at 9:30 in the morning. The hummingbirds buzz around and fight for their territory around the feeders. "Flap" the resident deer eats clover, wandering across the meadow inside the fence.
Last night as I spread out my journals and books on the bed trying to decide what I wanted to do, a cool breeze blew through the open windows and the sound of the aspen leaves blowing was very magical. I could hear rolling thunder in the distance and it began to rain. My decision was made. I packed up my writings, turned off the lights and sat on the bed mesmerized by the sounds and smell of the rain until I fell asleep.
This morning some very loud birds and cows were my alarm clock. I was tired and wanted to sleep awhile longer, but it was kind of like my house in Texas in the winter -- with my windows wide open and the roosters down the hill continuously crowing. It's better to just get up than shut the windows to silence them.
Oh my gosh, it is just so green here. I am obsessed with the Texas drought and have been longing for someplace cool and wet and I am finally here. Anna and I were laughing at the fact that there seemed to be a stark line from when we crossed from the dry New Mexico high desert and bad roads to the smooth new roads and bright green vegetation of Colorado. I can't wrap my brain around how that is possible and I wonder if my mind was just playing tricks on me because I have such fond and loving memories of Colorado.
A bluebird lights on the deck rail. It is almost an unnatural shade of blue. If I was an artist and could mix the colors and capture this on canvass, you would look at it and think I was embellishing the tint. Bluebird sitting on the redwood deck, hummingbirds buzzing all around, greyish green sage, neon green grasses, sunflowers, white barked aspens with a backdrop of maroon mountains, snow capped and blanketed with gray storm clouds. As much as I want to capture this place in words, it's simply impossible. This is a place you have to see, hear and smell, all of which leave you breathless and with your heart skipping beats. I guess it is possible to be in love with a place.
Wednesday
Mysterious New Mexico
You know how people view Texas? Well some people have absolutely no clue about New Mexico. I had someone ask me what other city was in New Mexico besides Santa Fe...'cuz she couldn't think of a single one. I was asked what kind of work I would do and the kind of home I would be living in "out there"...So I wrote a little story...
Santa Fe or Bust!!!
Yes, actually I've been doing the Craigslist thing, a bit casually since the move is a little way out still. Albuquerque is the next town over...45 minutes or so from Santa Fe. Yes, there is running water in parts of the state. The yurt that I'll be sharing with my sister and Charles has a rainwater collection system. Problem is, it doesn't rain in Santa Fe very often, it being a high dessert and all, so they've been shoveling snow into the tank and waiting for it to thaw to in order to brush teeth and stuff. They say though that the walk down to the river to rinse off is a nice way to get some exercise before work in the morning. The Fed Ex guy had a a hard time trying to find their place the other day when I shipped a couple of things out there. The yurts outside Santa Fe tend to look alike and they aren't well marked...my sister's is marked with a rather large flying pig on a pole near the door.
The good news is that my nephew Chase is moving out of the yurt in early May, so I'll have his side of the dome. He's promised to finish the labyrinth before he moves. They've warned me that we might not always have bread, because its the windy season and it's hard to keep the fire going at this time of year. They say they have a neighbor a little ways away that's Anasazi and is good at keeping his fire going...so they can go over there sometimes and bake the bread if they are desperate. Worse comes to worse, we'll make fry bread on the pit from time to time. Their friend also has a couple of goats, so sometimes we'll get milk and cabrito from him. And, of course, my sister has her friends that she's learned the "raw food" method of preparation and is really quite good at it. Being off the grid lends itself quite well to the raw life. I should send you pictures of the birthday cake she made Charles out of bulgar wheat and nopales. It was spectacular! It also lowered his cholesterol by 20 points in matter of days. Nopales are the miracle vegetable and are abundant at different times of the year up there. You know my sis has lost like 30 pounds since she's lived there for the past year and a half. She says it's because of the HCG and acro-yoga she does...but I think it's the food. She does make a mean kale smoothie that she serves with gin in martini glasses around the pit when her friends hike in to see her.
Friday
Veterans
Dear Lorena,
I want to express my most sincere appreciation for you and offer my support to you as your son Carlos serves our country. I know that he has charted his own path in order to honor and defend our nation, sacrificing much personally, thinking and working for the freedom we sometimes take for granted . In doing so, you and he both have become people that I can point out to my own children as people who are upstanding, brave and selfless. Your loyalty, dedication and love of this nation is evident in so many of your actions whether you realize it or not and I have the utmost admiration for you and Carlos and all that you do.
Again, on this Veteran's Day, I thank you both.
Respectfully,
Nancy
_________________________________________________________
Thanks so much Nancy. It brings tears to my eyes every time I think of Carlos going to Afghanistan but at the same time I am so very proud. Let us all pray that Carlos along with all the other troops come back well. I appreciate your beautiful thoughts and find comfort in your words. We do love this country and consider ourselves incredibly blessed to live here. You have a great Veteran’s Day too!
God bless America!
Lorena
__________________________________________________________
My coworker and new friend Lorena and her family came to work in the United States as migrant farm workers 50+ years ago. She spoke no English when she first arrived and was educated in a vast series of migrant school classrooms around the country while working in the field with her family from the time she was five years old. She said to me recently that her dad was the hardest working man she ever knew.
Several of her siblings served in the military...her sister retiring from the United States Airforce, defending the country that allowed them to work and essentially thrive as a family. Her son Carlos proudly carried that tradition on, attending a private military high school, being accepted to and attending the Citadel for several years, and is now being deployed to Afghanistan with the National Guard shortly after Thanksgiving of this year.
This is just one of many instances of my friends honoring, serving and protecting the people and country that we love so much. There is really no way to express the depth of my gratitude for what they do.
Saturday
Breathing Is Good
I'm sitting in my fluffy white girlie bed in my apartment in the Hill Country Galleria. I have my windows open overlooking the walking trail. It's about 68 degrees out there and the sound of the cars whizzing down Bee Cave Parkway sounds strangely comforting.
Daddy's Crested Butte painting hangs above my bed as my headboard. Haji Baba the horse silhouettes my wall of windows. Phil's paintings surround me with their spirits watching over, looking forward and reaching up.
I realize I no longer have a heavy feeling in my chest. My head is not cluttered. My heart is not racing. I'm breathing normally and without thinking about it. Is this what they call "calm"? It's a very unfamiliar feeling and I like it a lot.
Daddy's Crested Butte painting hangs above my bed as my headboard. Haji Baba the horse silhouettes my wall of windows. Phil's paintings surround me with their spirits watching over, looking forward and reaching up.
I realize I no longer have a heavy feeling in my chest. My head is not cluttered. My heart is not racing. I'm breathing normally and without thinking about it. Is this what they call "calm"? It's a very unfamiliar feeling and I like it a lot.
Wake Up! Part II
Last night I dreamed that some Southern judge and his wife visited me. There were other people with me and a bunch of noisy unruly little kids that were ignoring everything I said to them. The judge brought me this complicated bunch of settlement checks that I was supposed to send out to various parties. I understood the whole transaction but the checks kept getting mixed up and swept off the conference table ending up in a hodge podge of piles on the floor.
The whole time I'm trying to organize the checks and get the kids to behave, the judge was telling this long funny story and his wife kept interrupting him until he finally told her to "just be quiet!" I left in the middle of the story to go find a set of plans that I was supposed to be holding onto for someone. The plans blew out of my hands while I was on the top of a parking garage and I needed to go and find them. I had to race down a bunch of confusing stair wells in several office buildings to make my way to the side of the one building where I thought the tube of plans had maybe landed.
“Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy.” Sigmund Freud
The whole time I'm trying to organize the checks and get the kids to behave, the judge was telling this long funny story and his wife kept interrupting him until he finally told her to "just be quiet!" I left in the middle of the story to go find a set of plans that I was supposed to be holding onto for someone. The plans blew out of my hands while I was on the top of a parking garage and I needed to go and find them. I had to race down a bunch of confusing stair wells in several office buildings to make my way to the side of the one building where I thought the tube of plans had maybe landed.
“Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy.” Sigmund Freud
Monday
School Days
Yesterday I sorted through boxes and boxes of old school papers and artwork, trying to decide what to keep, what to photograph and what to just toss. It being the night before my youngest starts his Senior year, this keepsake I came across made my heart skip a beat. This is a letter from Anna's kindergarten teacher. We were blessed to have this introduction into the Lake Travis School system.
"Dear Parents,
I give you back your child, the same child you confidently entrusted to my care last fall. I give him back pounds heavier, inches taller, months wiser, more responsible, and more mature than he was then. Although he would have attaained this growth in spite of me, it has been my happy privilege to watch his personality unfold day by day and marvel at this splendid miracle of development. I have thrilled at each new achievement, each new success, each new expansion of self. I give him back reluctantly for having spent the nine months together in the narrow confines of a crowded classroom we have grown closer, have become a part of each other, and we shall retain a little of each other.
Ten years from now if we meet on the streeet, your child and I, a light will spring to our eyes, a smile to our lips, and we shall feel a bond of understanding once more. This bond we feel today. We have lived, loved, laughed, played, studied, learned, and enriched our lives together this year. I wish it could go on forever, but give him back I must. Take care of him for he is precious.
Remember that I shall always be interested in your child whoever he becomes. His joys and sorrows I'll be happy to share. Please call me if there is anything further I can ever do for him.
I shall always be your friend. "
"Dear Parents,
I give you back your child, the same child you confidently entrusted to my care last fall. I give him back pounds heavier, inches taller, months wiser, more responsible, and more mature than he was then. Although he would have attaained this growth in spite of me, it has been my happy privilege to watch his personality unfold day by day and marvel at this splendid miracle of development. I have thrilled at each new achievement, each new success, each new expansion of self. I give him back reluctantly for having spent the nine months together in the narrow confines of a crowded classroom we have grown closer, have become a part of each other, and we shall retain a little of each other.
Ten years from now if we meet on the streeet, your child and I, a light will spring to our eyes, a smile to our lips, and we shall feel a bond of understanding once more. This bond we feel today. We have lived, loved, laughed, played, studied, learned, and enriched our lives together this year. I wish it could go on forever, but give him back I must. Take care of him for he is precious.
Remember that I shall always be interested in your child whoever he becomes. His joys and sorrows I'll be happy to share. Please call me if there is anything further I can ever do for him.
I shall always be your friend. "
Friday
Sunday
Plans
My well is dry. I don't mean this as an expression! I have no water in my well. The fact that the well is dry will absolutely impact the potential sale of my house. Ya think? I have a cistern/tank that will be filled sometime in the next few days. Until then, we are on bottled water and "if it's yellow, let it mellow" mode. Gross, I know.
Here's the way I've been looking at my place for quite some time:
Plan A:
Keep it with all the worries and baggage that go with it.
Plan B:
Sell it and get out from under it ASAP
Plan C:
(Now, there's a Plan C)
With the well issue, I'm having to consider what Plan C might be. The house looks great now and I have started to show it the love it had ben lacking. I need to continue on the inside and move onto the outside, the barn, the wellhouse, the trails, the wildflowers and the trees.
It's funny how you fix up the place like you would like it to be just when you are trying to unload it. Well maybe that's not the case here now. I might have to embrace this place and hang with it for a significant period of time. Things I've envisioned at this place over time have included...
- Rainwater collection (really?)
- Outdoor kitchen/oven/pit/grill
- A huge vegetable garden
- Goats and chickens
- Bird and butterfly gardens
- Sculpted hiking trails
- Screened shelter with fans and hammocks and stone patio near the outdoor cooking area.
- Hot tub/no...COLD tub
I'd like water flowing from my pipes inside my house too. Is that too much to ask?
Here's the way I've been looking at my place for quite some time:
Plan A:
Keep it with all the worries and baggage that go with it.
Plan B:
Sell it and get out from under it ASAP
Plan C:
(Now, there's a Plan C)
With the well issue, I'm having to consider what Plan C might be. The house looks great now and I have started to show it the love it had ben lacking. I need to continue on the inside and move onto the outside, the barn, the wellhouse, the trails, the wildflowers and the trees.
It's funny how you fix up the place like you would like it to be just when you are trying to unload it. Well maybe that's not the case here now. I might have to embrace this place and hang with it for a significant period of time. Things I've envisioned at this place over time have included...
- Rainwater collection (really?)
- Outdoor kitchen/oven/pit/grill
- A huge vegetable garden
- Goats and chickens
- Bird and butterfly gardens
- Sculpted hiking trails
- Screened shelter with fans and hammocks and stone patio near the outdoor cooking area.
- Hot tub/no...COLD tub
I'd like water flowing from my pipes inside my house too. Is that too much to ask?
Friday
Colorado 2010
The kids and I are heading out to Santa Fe to visit Lis and then on to Mark's place. It occurred to me that I wrote some stories last year that I never posted. I think it will be fun to see last years memories up next to my fun this year. I've had a great year with all kinds of unexpected twists and turns...almost all good, but even when not so good, turned a light on for me and moved me onward and upward.
July 19, 2010
Guess one lone coyote might sound, to me, like an bugling elk, but Paul heard it too and says, no it was a coyote. Either way it is a lovely sound to hear out your window at night with the coolness creeping in through the screens.
Today, fishing was on the agenda, so Paul, Sherry, James, Daniel and I headed up the "the meadows". Daniel doesn't remember any of this but he did actually fish in Colorado as a 5 year old. This time Paul is going to introduce him to fly fishing. They get him a license at 3 Rivers in Almont and we head out. We stopped at what used to be Spring Creek Resort, and I can't even be sad or nostalgic because it's simply not there anymore. Even the Big Rock doesn't look the same. I'm relieved actually, because I feared that this trip might make me feel sad in some ways, but it hasn't and I only feel happpy and relaxed for the first time in quite some time. I have no cell phone reception and the only people I want to communicate with beside Lis are here with me. Peace at last...
So I watched Paul teach Daniel to fly fish and even though he didn't catch anything he said he likes it and wants to do it again. It's so beautiful out here and I love watching them walk up the river, casting. It's like watching a memory; a dream; a lovely memory and a dream come true.
As soon as Sherry stepped into the river, a couple of cows roamed down from a little valley across from her. One was mooing...bellowing, actually and looking directly at her like "Get the blank out of my stream!" It was so funny! Then 15 or 20 more cows/calves showed up behind the noisy one along with a cowboy hearding them to somewhere. From high on the nearest peak I could see across the stream, another bunch of cows emerged from the trees herded by another cowboy and 3 dogs. I live in Texas and I never see cowboys actually doing cowboy work. Marie would love this!
Ok, so I just heard the Elk Whistle/Coyote Howl...it's definately a coyote...but it's a little disturbing and somewhat lonely sounding if you ask me.
July 21, 2010
So we have heard stories over the years about the crash of an airplane during WWI above the Taylor. Krissy downloaded the coordinates on the hand held GPS and we headed out to try and find it. It was said to be a short but steep hike up the mountain. Um...yea...steep. Gretch passed because of her existing foot injury. I huffed and puffed until my quivering legs threatened to leave me stranded on the mountain. Paul, Sherry and all the kids made it up. There is debris and some large chunks of the plane up there along with a plaque and 7 or 8 flagpoles with American flags flying.
Our old friends, the Woodleys, had a guest for dinner who's dad apparently went down over Colorado during the war. They hiked up there and found his dad's name on the plaque. In all the years that we spent up here none of us know of this crash site until fairly recently (maybe 20 or so years.) None of us could ever get the correct directions to it either. Paul was told where to look and spent hours wandering around up there some years back and never found it. Funny thing is that the plane was said to have broken apart before impacting the mountain. We found parts and pieces at the base and there is a rumor that the Cumbys have a propellor in their garage.
After the big vertical hike, big burgers at the gas station and a sweet ride home to Mark's, I go to "my room" and there is a beautiful wind blowing through all of my windows. I strip down and put on my fleece and have an uncontrollable urge to take a long, lovely nap, so I do.
Mark golfs, Paul fishes, the kids and Gretchen play a loud marathon of Scrabble and I doze and have odd but not unpleasant dream. I officially have a room here. I like the sound of "Nancy's Room". Sweet.
July 19, 2010
Guess one lone coyote might sound, to me, like an bugling elk, but Paul heard it too and says, no it was a coyote. Either way it is a lovely sound to hear out your window at night with the coolness creeping in through the screens.
Today, fishing was on the agenda, so Paul, Sherry, James, Daniel and I headed up the "the meadows". Daniel doesn't remember any of this but he did actually fish in Colorado as a 5 year old. This time Paul is going to introduce him to fly fishing. They get him a license at 3 Rivers in Almont and we head out. We stopped at what used to be Spring Creek Resort, and I can't even be sad or nostalgic because it's simply not there anymore. Even the Big Rock doesn't look the same. I'm relieved actually, because I feared that this trip might make me feel sad in some ways, but it hasn't and I only feel happpy and relaxed for the first time in quite some time. I have no cell phone reception and the only people I want to communicate with beside Lis are here with me. Peace at last...
So I watched Paul teach Daniel to fly fish and even though he didn't catch anything he said he likes it and wants to do it again. It's so beautiful out here and I love watching them walk up the river, casting. It's like watching a memory; a dream; a lovely memory and a dream come true.
As soon as Sherry stepped into the river, a couple of cows roamed down from a little valley across from her. One was mooing...bellowing, actually and looking directly at her like "Get the blank out of my stream!" It was so funny! Then 15 or 20 more cows/calves showed up behind the noisy one along with a cowboy hearding them to somewhere. From high on the nearest peak I could see across the stream, another bunch of cows emerged from the trees herded by another cowboy and 3 dogs. I live in Texas and I never see cowboys actually doing cowboy work. Marie would love this!
Ok, so I just heard the Elk Whistle/Coyote Howl...it's definately a coyote...but it's a little disturbing and somewhat lonely sounding if you ask me.
July 21, 2010
So we have heard stories over the years about the crash of an airplane during WWI above the Taylor. Krissy downloaded the coordinates on the hand held GPS and we headed out to try and find it. It was said to be a short but steep hike up the mountain. Um...yea...steep. Gretch passed because of her existing foot injury. I huffed and puffed until my quivering legs threatened to leave me stranded on the mountain. Paul, Sherry and all the kids made it up. There is debris and some large chunks of the plane up there along with a plaque and 7 or 8 flagpoles with American flags flying.
Our old friends, the Woodleys, had a guest for dinner who's dad apparently went down over Colorado during the war. They hiked up there and found his dad's name on the plaque. In all the years that we spent up here none of us know of this crash site until fairly recently (maybe 20 or so years.) None of us could ever get the correct directions to it either. Paul was told where to look and spent hours wandering around up there some years back and never found it. Funny thing is that the plane was said to have broken apart before impacting the mountain. We found parts and pieces at the base and there is a rumor that the Cumbys have a propellor in their garage.
After the big vertical hike, big burgers at the gas station and a sweet ride home to Mark's, I go to "my room" and there is a beautiful wind blowing through all of my windows. I strip down and put on my fleece and have an uncontrollable urge to take a long, lovely nap, so I do.
Mark golfs, Paul fishes, the kids and Gretchen play a loud marathon of Scrabble and I doze and have odd but not unpleasant dream. I officially have a room here. I like the sound of "Nancy's Room". Sweet.
Monday
Work: It Can Be Fun!
About an hour after I got to the office the other day a city utility worker came in to tell us there was a water main break nearby and that they were shutting off the water. He said we would likely be without water for the rest of the day. That reminded me about the drought in the summer of 2009 when pipes were breaking all over the city because of the dry contracting soil. I find it strange that people weren't allowed to water their yards and because they didn't, their pipes broke and flooded everything.
I'm sitting on the beautiful front porch of the Littlefield office because we are locked out of the building. In addition to being without water, the electricity went off at about 2:30. For unknown reasons, 4000 people were without power. Jeff said "Four more degrees and everybody gets to go home". We waited around for an hour or so as the temperature crept up. Finally we all gave up and checked out at around 3:30. No lights, no phones, no computers, no water, and no AIR CONDITIONING = no work! No electricity also means no alarm system, so the accountants manually locked the doors. They are the only ones with keys, and they aren't here, so here I sit.
I arrived at the office at my usual 7:30 and when I realized that it could be awhile until we could get in, I ran up to Taco Shack for coffee and breakfast tacos. As usual there was a line of cars fifteen deep wrapped around the building making their way through the drive thru. I decided to park and eat in. There weren't many people eating inside but there were several that obviously use this place as their morning office. They spread out their work and pull out their lapto and their smart phone, eat a nice breakfast taco or some migas and refill their coffee cups over and over. I like the idea of working like that. Casual and relaxed and I bet, pretty productive. Nobody distracts them. They are in their own little world, removed from it all and yet in the midst of a cool Austin vibe.
As I sat on the porch of Littlefield, the six 3' by 5' American flags displayed on the columns and the giant 9' by 18' one hanging vertically down the middle blew softly in the light breeze. It was amazingly pleasant out there. The rain the other day washed the dust off of the trees and I had the illusion that things are lush and green. I could see water flowing in Shoal Creek that I could not see before the storm. The huge expanse of St. Augustine on the front lawn and the enormous landmark oaks were no doubt, grateful for the rainfall. Since we are in extreme drought conditions, there has been talk of the possibility for no measurable rainfall here until September.
I must have scared off the squirrels or at least confused them by sitting out here. Normally as I sit in my office looking out the french doors onto the porch, the squirrels scurry back and forth in little packs. Seriously, one day a line of six little guys ran across the porch and did that little circling thing they do around and around up into the oak trees.
I like to open the door in my office and let in some fresh air early in the morning. I keep thinking a squirrel might come inside. I did not expect a big ol' grackle to fly in though. That was pretty funny except for the part when it crapped on the wood floor then landed on the back of my chair. I was glad that Jeff was in South Carolina and that I had closed the door to his office. After the grackle flew back out the open door, I began to wonder what I would have done if he hadn't! I can picture everyone in the office trying to shoo the bird out while looking at me and shaking their heads.
For the past few days I've been thinking about the Independence Day cookout that we're going to have at the office. Kimble wheeled the big gas grill out to the front porch under the flags to be the chef for the day. He had suggested that I order everything that we'll need since there is is so little prep space in the little kitchen. It never really occurred to me that I could order everything from Central Market and pick it up or have it delivered. That is awesome! I ordered market hamburer patties, gourmet hot dogs, a tray of lettuce, tomato, onions and pickles. We had a cheese tray for the burgers, shredded cheese and chopped onions for the hot dogs and fresh bakery buns for all. Of course we had potato salad, coleslaw, beans, pineapple upside down cake and cherry and apple pie with ice cream.
Jeff got to the office just in time for lunch and, coincidently, just as the postman was delivering the mail. Jeff insisted that he join us for lunch and kept calling him "post office man". Wonder how many time in his career has Steve the postman been invited to an office cookout.
Jeff is always the life of the party and can talk about any subject. He had us all in stitches talking about guarding America's cheese stockpile when he was in the army and how a lot of the world's problems could be fought with cheese. "Bomb them with cheese!" More stories I'll capture in another installment of this blog will be Jeff's "Karma and The Fish Pen" and Kimble's story about "The Lady Boys" of Bonham, Texas (he corrected me...they were the "Lehde Brothers") a family of butchers with a perpetual and ongoing backyard barbecue with an open door policy.
Jeff handed me a list the other day detailing what he wanted me working on. It contained about fourteen items, some ongoing, some new ones. The last item on the list said "Play Bingo X 5".
I'm sitting on the beautiful front porch of the Littlefield office because we are locked out of the building. In addition to being without water, the electricity went off at about 2:30. For unknown reasons, 4000 people were without power. Jeff said "Four more degrees and everybody gets to go home". We waited around for an hour or so as the temperature crept up. Finally we all gave up and checked out at around 3:30. No lights, no phones, no computers, no water, and no AIR CONDITIONING = no work! No electricity also means no alarm system, so the accountants manually locked the doors. They are the only ones with keys, and they aren't here, so here I sit.
I arrived at the office at my usual 7:30 and when I realized that it could be awhile until we could get in, I ran up to Taco Shack for coffee and breakfast tacos. As usual there was a line of cars fifteen deep wrapped around the building making their way through the drive thru. I decided to park and eat in. There weren't many people eating inside but there were several that obviously use this place as their morning office. They spread out their work and pull out their lapto and their smart phone, eat a nice breakfast taco or some migas and refill their coffee cups over and over. I like the idea of working like that. Casual and relaxed and I bet, pretty productive. Nobody distracts them. They are in their own little world, removed from it all and yet in the midst of a cool Austin vibe.
As I sat on the porch of Littlefield, the six 3' by 5' American flags displayed on the columns and the giant 9' by 18' one hanging vertically down the middle blew softly in the light breeze. It was amazingly pleasant out there. The rain the other day washed the dust off of the trees and I had the illusion that things are lush and green. I could see water flowing in Shoal Creek that I could not see before the storm. The huge expanse of St. Augustine on the front lawn and the enormous landmark oaks were no doubt, grateful for the rainfall. Since we are in extreme drought conditions, there has been talk of the possibility for no measurable rainfall here until September.
I must have scared off the squirrels or at least confused them by sitting out here. Normally as I sit in my office looking out the french doors onto the porch, the squirrels scurry back and forth in little packs. Seriously, one day a line of six little guys ran across the porch and did that little circling thing they do around and around up into the oak trees.
I like to open the door in my office and let in some fresh air early in the morning. I keep thinking a squirrel might come inside. I did not expect a big ol' grackle to fly in though. That was pretty funny except for the part when it crapped on the wood floor then landed on the back of my chair. I was glad that Jeff was in South Carolina and that I had closed the door to his office. After the grackle flew back out the open door, I began to wonder what I would have done if he hadn't! I can picture everyone in the office trying to shoo the bird out while looking at me and shaking their heads.
For the past few days I've been thinking about the Independence Day cookout that we're going to have at the office. Kimble wheeled the big gas grill out to the front porch under the flags to be the chef for the day. He had suggested that I order everything that we'll need since there is is so little prep space in the little kitchen. It never really occurred to me that I could order everything from Central Market and pick it up or have it delivered. That is awesome! I ordered market hamburer patties, gourmet hot dogs, a tray of lettuce, tomato, onions and pickles. We had a cheese tray for the burgers, shredded cheese and chopped onions for the hot dogs and fresh bakery buns for all. Of course we had potato salad, coleslaw, beans, pineapple upside down cake and cherry and apple pie with ice cream.
Jeff got to the office just in time for lunch and, coincidently, just as the postman was delivering the mail. Jeff insisted that he join us for lunch and kept calling him "post office man". Wonder how many time in his career has Steve the postman been invited to an office cookout.
Jeff is always the life of the party and can talk about any subject. He had us all in stitches talking about guarding America's cheese stockpile when he was in the army and how a lot of the world's problems could be fought with cheese. "Bomb them with cheese!" More stories I'll capture in another installment of this blog will be Jeff's "Karma and The Fish Pen" and Kimble's story about "The Lady Boys" of Bonham, Texas (he corrected me...they were the "Lehde Brothers") a family of butchers with a perpetual and ongoing backyard barbecue with an open door policy.
Jeff handed me a list the other day detailing what he wanted me working on. It contained about fourteen items, some ongoing, some new ones. The last item on the list said "Play Bingo X 5".
Friday
Words With Friend
Me:
Don't you just love this descriptive forecast? Is it raining on you yet? Please describe to me what that's like!!
This
Afternoon
Hot
Hi 97 °F
My Friend:
As the gentle breeze carries the cool temperatures of the north woods of Canada into the broad expanse of Minnesota, there is a hint of rain as the air is endowed with moisture, seeking a collision with warmer air wafting up from the deep south to cause a release of a soft rain that will help sustain the 10,000 gleaming sky blue waters. The dark shafts of rain can be seen in the distance as the weary clouds release their loads. The Spring gardens are full of life and have myriad of green pallets.
How’s that?
I’m off to a meeting—yea!! :)
Me:
Spectacular! You make me smile.
Don't you just love this descriptive forecast? Is it raining on you yet? Please describe to me what that's like!!
This
Afternoon
Hot
Hi 97 °F
My Friend:
As the gentle breeze carries the cool temperatures of the north woods of Canada into the broad expanse of Minnesota, there is a hint of rain as the air is endowed with moisture, seeking a collision with warmer air wafting up from the deep south to cause a release of a soft rain that will help sustain the 10,000 gleaming sky blue waters. The dark shafts of rain can be seen in the distance as the weary clouds release their loads. The Spring gardens are full of life and have myriad of green pallets.
How’s that?
I’m off to a meeting—yea!! :)
Me:
Spectacular! You make me smile.
Sunday
Local Color
Kathleen and I had a little adventure in Austin the other day. We played Bingo. Maybe it sounds a little odd or out of character and perhaps it is, but we do like to experience local color where ever we are and this qualifies without a doubt.
Bingo halls are everywhere. It's likely that you have driven past large ex-supermarkets with waving flags, hugely lettered signs spelling out B-I-N-G-O and an overflowing parking lot on a Friday night. If you are like me you really never considered stopping to see what it was all about. You probably didn't give it a second glance or a second thought really.
I am not without curiosity so a new acquaintance of mine offered to show me what the game of Bingo is all about. Kathleen and I have no idea what to expect but we are game. We find my guy quickly when we walk into the giant non-smoking side of the hall. People are milling around and the long rows of tables are occupied here and there with single players and some with groups or couples who have come to play together.
Our Bingo tour guide is just the nicest of guys and has the gift of being part salesman, part comedian, part teacher and part businessman making him the ultimate host. He's just this lovely big ol' East Texas sweetie who has, what my friend Bill would call "The Teddy Bear Factor", meaning that people in the hall gravitate to him as one would a long time friend, seeing him as trustworthy, forthright and lovable. With all of this and the addition of his red tie and vest, he is nothing short of precious and endearing.
Apparently I had a misconception that the people here playing Bingo would be similar to the segment of the population that I found in the casino in Lake Charles last week. I had never been to a casino in my life and after that experience, I really have no desire to go to another one. I wandered aimlessly around that pretty upscale casino watching people play the Slots and Craps and various types of Poker and nothing about that experience appealed to me or even entertained me very much. I like "people watching", but even that didn't appeal to me at the casino.
Kathleen and I arrived at the Bingo hall shortly before the start of the first session because our host had told me earlier in the day that we should get there and get into the "Zen of the game" before the session started. I thought he was kidding me, but he was dead serious, explaining to me how Bingo is a quiet game that lets people just focus on the squares, the game, the numbers and the fellowship, allowing them to shut out all thoughts of their crappy jobs, bad marriages, financial woes and every other worry they might have in their life.
I am amazed by the diversity of the people here in the Bingo hall. I'm telling you, the ethnic diversity alone is pretty astounding, but the range in the age of the players is also eye opening for me. Our host whisked us past a fifty or even sixty-ish year old, possibly Filipino woman with a machine, multiple paper cards and a bevy of ink daubers in every color laid out in front of her on the table. Our host jokes with her like one would with his sister-in-law or something and says "I would seat y'all at this table, but she's mean!" They both laugh and she is just adorable.
I look around me and find that I am in an environment I really didn't expect to find in a Bingo Hall. It is super clean, organized, fun, and safe-feeling to this old girl. I think Kathleen is surprised as well. She had locked her purse in the trunk of her car, choosing not to bring it in with her. There is nothing rif-raffy about this place that maybe I expected. It seems like everyone is represented here. I see groups of sorority/fraternity kids, well dressed and diamond studded. I see single 50-ish year old men and women playing alone and happily not looking for a hook up. A young white woman sits behind me, a young black woman sits to her right, and a young hispanic girl sits one row down and to my left (and by "young" I mean they are each probably between 25 and 30 years old.) An older semi disabled woman comes in just prior to the second session. She is obviously a regular player and is treated like a queen by the staff. The staff, from what I've seen are all very friendly and energetic as they chat and joke with the players as they wander up and down selling pull tabs and extra game cards. They bend over backwards to make sure everyone is having a good time.
Our host explains "the roadmap" which is a list of the games that will be played during all the sessions that evening. He sets us up with electronic Bingo machines for the first session. These machines automatically mark some internal cards per game for you. You just hit a button when the number is called and watch the card populate. The machine keeps track of how close you are to winning with your cards moving up in the order as they get closer to a possible win. Neither of us wins during this session, but it gives us a really visual demonstration of how the games are played. The first session consisted of five games and lasted a little more than an hour.
For the second session, we decide to play the traditional paper card way. Our guy brings us a full pack of sheets for the second session and an ink dauber for each of us. Each sheet contains 12 bingo cards. You play one sheet per game, the color of the sheet corresponding to the color indicated on the road map. The caller announces the game and the wild numbers before he starts pulling balls. The games could be "Double Postage Stamp", "Granny's Quilt" or "3 Lines Hard Way, No Free Space" or a multitude of other games which are named based on the pattern required to win the game. I screwed up my first game just by marking my wild numbers wrong. I thought the caller said "any number with a two" was wild when in fact he said "any number ending in a two" is wild. Ok, Nancylou, pay attention!!!
I thought that Kathleen and I would probably run the risk of getting reprimanded for being too loud, 'cause we do tend to get loud and silly when we are together. But we managed to behave ourselves even with the "6 beers for 6 quarters bucket" of Costa Rican beer we had in front of us. I've known Kathleen for at least 15 years and she said to me "I don't think I've ever seen you drink a beer, Nancy". Well you never saw me play Bingo before either, did you?
We are playing and looking over each other's shoulder to see how our games were going. I'm distracted from time to time looking around at what's going on in the hall and watching in fascination at how some of the other players keep up with multiple "three up" sheets while simultaneously playing machines and buying extra cards for the next game. At one point Kathleen jabs me with her elbow to jolt me out of my people watching to tell me to mark the new number that was up on the monitor.
All in all I found this Bingo thing to not only be fun and friendly, but somehow it was also relaxing, mesmerizing, surprisingly exciting and in no way "as common as a grandma in a Bingo hall!"
Bingo halls are everywhere. It's likely that you have driven past large ex-supermarkets with waving flags, hugely lettered signs spelling out B-I-N-G-O and an overflowing parking lot on a Friday night. If you are like me you really never considered stopping to see what it was all about. You probably didn't give it a second glance or a second thought really.
I am not without curiosity so a new acquaintance of mine offered to show me what the game of Bingo is all about. Kathleen and I have no idea what to expect but we are game. We find my guy quickly when we walk into the giant non-smoking side of the hall. People are milling around and the long rows of tables are occupied here and there with single players and some with groups or couples who have come to play together.
Our Bingo tour guide is just the nicest of guys and has the gift of being part salesman, part comedian, part teacher and part businessman making him the ultimate host. He's just this lovely big ol' East Texas sweetie who has, what my friend Bill would call "The Teddy Bear Factor", meaning that people in the hall gravitate to him as one would a long time friend, seeing him as trustworthy, forthright and lovable. With all of this and the addition of his red tie and vest, he is nothing short of precious and endearing.
Apparently I had a misconception that the people here playing Bingo would be similar to the segment of the population that I found in the casino in Lake Charles last week. I had never been to a casino in my life and after that experience, I really have no desire to go to another one. I wandered aimlessly around that pretty upscale casino watching people play the Slots and Craps and various types of Poker and nothing about that experience appealed to me or even entertained me very much. I like "people watching", but even that didn't appeal to me at the casino.
Kathleen and I arrived at the Bingo hall shortly before the start of the first session because our host had told me earlier in the day that we should get there and get into the "Zen of the game" before the session started. I thought he was kidding me, but he was dead serious, explaining to me how Bingo is a quiet game that lets people just focus on the squares, the game, the numbers and the fellowship, allowing them to shut out all thoughts of their crappy jobs, bad marriages, financial woes and every other worry they might have in their life.
I am amazed by the diversity of the people here in the Bingo hall. I'm telling you, the ethnic diversity alone is pretty astounding, but the range in the age of the players is also eye opening for me. Our host whisked us past a fifty or even sixty-ish year old, possibly Filipino woman with a machine, multiple paper cards and a bevy of ink daubers in every color laid out in front of her on the table. Our host jokes with her like one would with his sister-in-law or something and says "I would seat y'all at this table, but she's mean!" They both laugh and she is just adorable.
I look around me and find that I am in an environment I really didn't expect to find in a Bingo Hall. It is super clean, organized, fun, and safe-feeling to this old girl. I think Kathleen is surprised as well. She had locked her purse in the trunk of her car, choosing not to bring it in with her. There is nothing rif-raffy about this place that maybe I expected. It seems like everyone is represented here. I see groups of sorority/fraternity kids, well dressed and diamond studded. I see single 50-ish year old men and women playing alone and happily not looking for a hook up. A young white woman sits behind me, a young black woman sits to her right, and a young hispanic girl sits one row down and to my left (and by "young" I mean they are each probably between 25 and 30 years old.) An older semi disabled woman comes in just prior to the second session. She is obviously a regular player and is treated like a queen by the staff. The staff, from what I've seen are all very friendly and energetic as they chat and joke with the players as they wander up and down selling pull tabs and extra game cards. They bend over backwards to make sure everyone is having a good time.
Our host explains "the roadmap" which is a list of the games that will be played during all the sessions that evening. He sets us up with electronic Bingo machines for the first session. These machines automatically mark some internal cards per game for you. You just hit a button when the number is called and watch the card populate. The machine keeps track of how close you are to winning with your cards moving up in the order as they get closer to a possible win. Neither of us wins during this session, but it gives us a really visual demonstration of how the games are played. The first session consisted of five games and lasted a little more than an hour.
For the second session, we decide to play the traditional paper card way. Our guy brings us a full pack of sheets for the second session and an ink dauber for each of us. Each sheet contains 12 bingo cards. You play one sheet per game, the color of the sheet corresponding to the color indicated on the road map. The caller announces the game and the wild numbers before he starts pulling balls. The games could be "Double Postage Stamp", "Granny's Quilt" or "3 Lines Hard Way, No Free Space" or a multitude of other games which are named based on the pattern required to win the game. I screwed up my first game just by marking my wild numbers wrong. I thought the caller said "any number with a two" was wild when in fact he said "any number ending in a two" is wild. Ok, Nancylou, pay attention!!!
I thought that Kathleen and I would probably run the risk of getting reprimanded for being too loud, 'cause we do tend to get loud and silly when we are together. But we managed to behave ourselves even with the "6 beers for 6 quarters bucket" of Costa Rican beer we had in front of us. I've known Kathleen for at least 15 years and she said to me "I don't think I've ever seen you drink a beer, Nancy". Well you never saw me play Bingo before either, did you?
We are playing and looking over each other's shoulder to see how our games were going. I'm distracted from time to time looking around at what's going on in the hall and watching in fascination at how some of the other players keep up with multiple "three up" sheets while simultaneously playing machines and buying extra cards for the next game. At one point Kathleen jabs me with her elbow to jolt me out of my people watching to tell me to mark the new number that was up on the monitor.
All in all I found this Bingo thing to not only be fun and friendly, but somehow it was also relaxing, mesmerizing, surprisingly exciting and in no way "as common as a grandma in a Bingo hall!"
Off The Beaten Path
- Picture me driving around Austin in a red 1966 Chevy Impala convertible with the top down, because I've actually done that several times in the last few weeks.
- My son is not interested in the the mainstream Prom, so he and his girlfriend and several others dressed up and had an evening picnic in the park.
- I have a new acquaintance...a sweet and groovy single mom who has a pet prairie dog named Thomas.
- On my way to Lake Charles the other day, I was so happy to be on the other side of beautiful Beaumont until traffic slowed to a snail's pace because there was a bass boat in the middle of the freeway. Just a boat, no trailer, nobody parked on the side of the road grieving over their lost big boy toy. Just a busted up boat blocking my lane.
- Anna and I got home late yesterday and she was completely unpacked by dark. This morning I made migas. We are drinking coffee and watching the ultimate chick flick "How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days" She spills her coffee like she does every morning and I just roll my eyes at her. She tells me she only spills her coffee at home, but that she once dropped her TV remote into her cup in her dorm room. She says it still works but that it's kind of sticky.
- Kathleen and I are going to play Bingo on Friday night.
- Daniel gave me a new journal for Mother's Day. A quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson on one of the first pages says "Do not go where the path may lead; go instead where there is no path and leave a trail".
Splendor In The Grass?
I whacked my knuckle on my right ring finger and it's swollen and black and blue and I can't get my ring off. I have a huge bruise below my fingers in the palm of my left hand. Waaa waaa waaa. Boo hoo for me. The source of all my "agony" is this -- I bought a gas powered 25 cc trimmer (aka a "weed eater") God, I'm such a girl...It is insanely dry in the Hill Country and my land is over grown with flammable material and I need to tame my place and get the fuel away from my house before it burns to the ground in a lightening storm. Ok a little drama never hurt anyone!!
I pride myself on following written instructions exceptionally well. The assembly instructions for this trimmer confuse me though since I am replacing the original "spool" with one from another manufacturer. The instructions for replacing the spool talk about trimmers that are "left rotation" and "right rotation" and tell me to choose the nut from the package that threads most easily onto the shaft (after, obviously, I have removed all of the factory made parts from the original trimmer spooler). Exsqueeze me? I love the phrase "A fool with a tool is still a fool".
Ok barring all further details, I get the unit assembled, then disassembled, then put back together with the new spooler and now I have to load the line. For right rotation machines, I need to go counter clockwise, for left rotation machines I need to load clockwise. The owner's manual doesn't tell me which one I have so how do I know unless I have line loaded and can watch it rotate? And here's another problem...Yes, if I see that I have a right rotating machine when I'm looking from the top, when I flip it over so it's upside down to load the line -- which way do I interpret the instructions? Counter clockwise from the bottom is opposite from counter clockwise looking from the top. Shit. It takes about one minute of eatin' weeds to figure out I got it bass ackwards.
Ok. I admit I feel a certain surge of power when I start up the beast with a couple of expert (ok, instruction-led) adjustments to the throttle and some pulls of the cord. Yep definately more powerful than my Black & Decker battery operated baby that I killed. That little girl would have been no match for all this tall dry grass and brush that I need to deal with this year.
I do four or five twenty minute sessions. When I come inside to get a drink of water, I can't hold the glass because my hands and forearms are shaking. I am happy I have some of those Ozarka sport water bottles to suck water from. I'm hot, I'm sweaty, I'm itchy, I'm frustrated, I have so much more to do, I have grass in my panties and yet I HAVE THE POWER!!
Day Two begins with me not even remembering how to get the beast started again. I'm up early because of the heat. After multiple attempts, I reread the instructions and finally get it cranking. I do three or four more sessions by 1:00 p.m. It hits a record high for the day at 95 degrees, today, May 1, 2011. When I'm completely and utterly whipped, I take a shower and come out to sit and cool off and find that a cold front has come through and dropped the temp about 25 degrees or more. It's cool and dry and breezy all the dry grass I chopped down is blowing down my hill.
I pride myself on following written instructions exceptionally well. The assembly instructions for this trimmer confuse me though since I am replacing the original "spool" with one from another manufacturer. The instructions for replacing the spool talk about trimmers that are "left rotation" and "right rotation" and tell me to choose the nut from the package that threads most easily onto the shaft (after, obviously, I have removed all of the factory made parts from the original trimmer spooler). Exsqueeze me? I love the phrase "A fool with a tool is still a fool".
Ok barring all further details, I get the unit assembled, then disassembled, then put back together with the new spooler and now I have to load the line. For right rotation machines, I need to go counter clockwise, for left rotation machines I need to load clockwise. The owner's manual doesn't tell me which one I have so how do I know unless I have line loaded and can watch it rotate? And here's another problem...Yes, if I see that I have a right rotating machine when I'm looking from the top, when I flip it over so it's upside down to load the line -- which way do I interpret the instructions? Counter clockwise from the bottom is opposite from counter clockwise looking from the top. Shit. It takes about one minute of eatin' weeds to figure out I got it bass ackwards.
Ok. I admit I feel a certain surge of power when I start up the beast with a couple of expert (ok, instruction-led) adjustments to the throttle and some pulls of the cord. Yep definately more powerful than my Black & Decker battery operated baby that I killed. That little girl would have been no match for all this tall dry grass and brush that I need to deal with this year.
I do four or five twenty minute sessions. When I come inside to get a drink of water, I can't hold the glass because my hands and forearms are shaking. I am happy I have some of those Ozarka sport water bottles to suck water from. I'm hot, I'm sweaty, I'm itchy, I'm frustrated, I have so much more to do, I have grass in my panties and yet I HAVE THE POWER!!
Day Two begins with me not even remembering how to get the beast started again. I'm up early because of the heat. After multiple attempts, I reread the instructions and finally get it cranking. I do three or four more sessions by 1:00 p.m. It hits a record high for the day at 95 degrees, today, May 1, 2011. When I'm completely and utterly whipped, I take a shower and come out to sit and cool off and find that a cold front has come through and dropped the temp about 25 degrees or more. It's cool and dry and breezy all the dry grass I chopped down is blowing down my hill.
Gratitude
My sister reminded me yesterday to look at all kinds of things that are happening around me and to me and to express my gratitude for them. Gratitude has a lot of power, she says.
Where to begin? It's Easter Sunday and I'm sitting on my bed looking out at the vines growing up over my window screens as they blow in the hot Spring wind. The KVET Sunday Gospel show is playing on the digital clock radio that I've had since I was fourteen years old. I have a huge goblet of ice water and my favorite tea cup full of coffee with half and half sitting on my night stand next to a sage scented candle softly burning. For these things, I am grateful.
On any given weekday morning, I give thanks for individually wrapped packages of Chips Ahoy, a big bag of apples and a full container of Goldfish crackers. The lifetime supply of foil that I bought at Sam's is nothing short of Heaven-sent. I tell Daniel I only have 300 or so more school lunches to make for him. I am thankful for PB & J, turkey and sliced cheddar and foot long hoagy bread.
I am ever so thankful for the vibrate feature on my cell phone. Sandra the cat lays next to me on my bed, draped lazily over my charging phone, until a text comes through and sends her leaping up in terror, her crazy green eyes bulging in confusion. She looks at me like I did it! This cat drives me nuts most of the time, but at this particular moment, I am thankful that she is here with me.
Over the past few years I have enjoyed a myriad of changes in my life. Over the past several weeks, I have experienced some fairly dramatic alterations in my everyday existence. A sudden change in employment, which at first induced confusion and fear, rapidly became a refreshing, entertaining and down right comforting adventure. Severance pay from my former employer, the sale of my old RAV4 and my new pay rate has suddenly given me some breathing room in my paycheck to paycheck world. My word of mouth grapevine led to a call from a friend of friend that is interested in buying my place. With gratitude I recall the words "Wealth is not about having money, it's about having options."
I have a fearless spirit for which I am grateful. My fearlessness, while not always a good thing, has allowed me to move foward often not knowing what will come next or how. I live by saying to myself these days, "Go for it. What's the worst that can happen?" I am grateful for courage and for options.
Where to begin? It's Easter Sunday and I'm sitting on my bed looking out at the vines growing up over my window screens as they blow in the hot Spring wind. The KVET Sunday Gospel show is playing on the digital clock radio that I've had since I was fourteen years old. I have a huge goblet of ice water and my favorite tea cup full of coffee with half and half sitting on my night stand next to a sage scented candle softly burning. For these things, I am grateful.
On any given weekday morning, I give thanks for individually wrapped packages of Chips Ahoy, a big bag of apples and a full container of Goldfish crackers. The lifetime supply of foil that I bought at Sam's is nothing short of Heaven-sent. I tell Daniel I only have 300 or so more school lunches to make for him. I am thankful for PB & J, turkey and sliced cheddar and foot long hoagy bread.
I am ever so thankful for the vibrate feature on my cell phone. Sandra the cat lays next to me on my bed, draped lazily over my charging phone, until a text comes through and sends her leaping up in terror, her crazy green eyes bulging in confusion. She looks at me like I did it! This cat drives me nuts most of the time, but at this particular moment, I am thankful that she is here with me.
Over the past few years I have enjoyed a myriad of changes in my life. Over the past several weeks, I have experienced some fairly dramatic alterations in my everyday existence. A sudden change in employment, which at first induced confusion and fear, rapidly became a refreshing, entertaining and down right comforting adventure. Severance pay from my former employer, the sale of my old RAV4 and my new pay rate has suddenly given me some breathing room in my paycheck to paycheck world. My word of mouth grapevine led to a call from a friend of friend that is interested in buying my place. With gratitude I recall the words "Wealth is not about having money, it's about having options."
I have a fearless spirit for which I am grateful. My fearlessness, while not always a good thing, has allowed me to move foward often not knowing what will come next or how. I live by saying to myself these days, "Go for it. What's the worst that can happen?" I am grateful for courage and for options.
Saturday
Yep, Still Funny!
Why is it that the grossest things can make you laugh the hardest? Marie came to the office one afternoon with one of her young grandsons in tow. He had been sick for a couple of days with a stomach bug. She took the morning off to stay with him, but seeing that he was feeling better she brought him to work with her so she didn't use up any more sick leave. Mid-afternoon he was feeling puny again so they took off.
Gary came down to the reception area and I told him that story as I answered the phone. He said "He didn't barf here did he?" (meaning barf in the reception area). I assured him it didn't get to that point and even if it had, Marie would have done what every mom does and would have held out her two cupped hands and caught it before it hit the carpet. Of course, if this happens at home, you call your big family dog over to help clean up. We are by this time laughing with red faces, but Gary kicks it up a notch.
"Ya know, I used to have two big dogs and a cat and I never once had to clean out a litter box." He describes beautifully the way his dogs' ears would perk up at the sound of kitty litter being rearranged and raked and tossed around. The dogs would wait ever so patiently until the kitty emerged from her throne, then race to get the homemade delicacies.
I ask him if they then raced back to him to lick his face and thank him for providing them with their own special little chef. Gary's eyes start to glaze over and I think maybe I'm going to have to hold out my two cupped hands for him at this point. He's laughing, but he's backing away from me out the door into the lobby. Was it something I said? He shakes a finger at me, squints his eyes and groans with a smile and he's gone.
Why is it that everybody has a funny vomit story? Why is it that vomit stories usually come up at the dinner table? The kids and I once heard someone refer to vomit as "lumpy gravy"...so that phrase is pretty much all it takes to set us off at dinner somewhere. One year during the office Thanksgiving pot luck, someone told a vomit story and before it was all said and done we made it a requirement that you had to tell a vomit story before you could sit in our area for lunch. Guess what? Nobody even hesitated...and nobody stopped eating throughout probably fifteen horrifically graphic, sound effect-laden narratives of wet, smelly, projectile hell.
There have been times in my life that I wished I had hazardous waste protective clothing and a wet vac -- goggles, gloves, jumpsuit and a respirator -- now you're talking! With two kids, a weak stomached spouse, two to five cats and a shit-eatin' dog, I sometimes wanted to upchuck myself just to see if anyone would notice. I knew, however, I would have to clean up after myself or get a whole cycle of throw up started again. Here are some facts that I've become aware of over the years:
Gary came down to the reception area and I told him that story as I answered the phone. He said "He didn't barf here did he?" (meaning barf in the reception area). I assured him it didn't get to that point and even if it had, Marie would have done what every mom does and would have held out her two cupped hands and caught it before it hit the carpet. Of course, if this happens at home, you call your big family dog over to help clean up. We are by this time laughing with red faces, but Gary kicks it up a notch.
"Ya know, I used to have two big dogs and a cat and I never once had to clean out a litter box." He describes beautifully the way his dogs' ears would perk up at the sound of kitty litter being rearranged and raked and tossed around. The dogs would wait ever so patiently until the kitty emerged from her throne, then race to get the homemade delicacies.
I ask him if they then raced back to him to lick his face and thank him for providing them with their own special little chef. Gary's eyes start to glaze over and I think maybe I'm going to have to hold out my two cupped hands for him at this point. He's laughing, but he's backing away from me out the door into the lobby. Was it something I said? He shakes a finger at me, squints his eyes and groans with a smile and he's gone.
Why is it that everybody has a funny vomit story? Why is it that vomit stories usually come up at the dinner table? The kids and I once heard someone refer to vomit as "lumpy gravy"...so that phrase is pretty much all it takes to set us off at dinner somewhere. One year during the office Thanksgiving pot luck, someone told a vomit story and before it was all said and done we made it a requirement that you had to tell a vomit story before you could sit in our area for lunch. Guess what? Nobody even hesitated...and nobody stopped eating throughout probably fifteen horrifically graphic, sound effect-laden narratives of wet, smelly, projectile hell.
"Let's just say, there were lime jello shots involved!"But on a serious note, let me just say this...it really really sucks to be the only person in your household with an iron stomach. This trait just means you are the one that gets to clean up every single disgusting pile or puddle that happens. This is reason enough to limit the number of pets and kids you decide to have. It is reason enough to look forward to living alone!
"OH gross!!"
"Really delicious spinach casserole. Y'all should try some."
"And so my buddy made this strange noise then just blew beets down the back of the front seat and down the back of my head! We had to hose out the car before we took him home."
"Ugh ha ha ha ha"
"Did y'all try the creamed corn? Who made that? It's really good"
"We were fishing and he was just chumming the water and lost it. He puked the rest of the trip."
"Ewwww...that's disgusting."
"Can somebody pass me the gravy?"
There have been times in my life that I wished I had hazardous waste protective clothing and a wet vac -- goggles, gloves, jumpsuit and a respirator -- now you're talking! With two kids, a weak stomached spouse, two to five cats and a shit-eatin' dog, I sometimes wanted to upchuck myself just to see if anyone would notice. I knew, however, I would have to clean up after myself or get a whole cycle of throw up started again. Here are some facts that I've become aware of over the years:
- Kids only barf in the middle of the night, and they can always make it to your bedside before they do.
- Cats only barf at night as well so always feed your cat dry food and throw them outside before you go to bed.
- Dogs can have digestive problems at any time given the fact that they eat, well, cat crap, used kleenex, long grass and their own bedding, so always get up quick if your dog is panting or whining, or if he stands up and starts making that hollow, heaving, obviously-about-to-blow sound.
Friday
Wake Up!
My friend made his early morning call to me on Monday and told me about a store he went to on Sunday afternoon. It's a place called Ax Man Surplus. He said it had a strange assortment of things for sale and so I'm picturing something like "Big Lots" because he said they were selling things that he described as close out items. He talks of how there were tiny motors, pulleys, steel ball bearings, boxes and containers of every kind, spy cameras and microphones, and a torpedo dressed as a shark hanging from the ceiling. The buddy he was shopping with was picking up a hodge podge of gear that his students could use on their Rube Goldberg projects at the high school.
I'm giggling sleepily at his descriptions of colorful springs and itty bitty bottles and boxes of cup hooks; of rolls of wire and synthetic pillow stuffing and sugar dispensers; and of light switches, saw blades and bags labelled "build your own baby". I sit up in bed. "Um...What? Did you just say build your own baby?" I think he's just making stuff up to see if I'm still awake (he does that sometimes, but usually he'll start talking about linoleum or the patina on the hinges of his bathroom door until I start laughing). But he continues, "Yea. It was really weird!" Ok, I still don't get it, so I just have to ask "What was in the bag?" "Arms and legs and a body and a head and little shoes. It was so weird, Nancy. One of the bags had a motor of some sort in it too" he says.
I'm not sure whether to laugh or give into the shivers that are running up my spine. I pull the covers up around me and sit in the dark on my bed listening to the coyotes howling, my cat crying and the rooster crowing outside my open window. He says, "Well, I better go start my day Sweetie. I'll call you again later. Go back to sleep for a little while longer." Amazingly, I do -- and I dream of trying on bizarre ski clothes with Anna; I dream of cleaning out a rabbit cage; and I dream of potatoes levitating in a yoga studio.
At this point, I'm not entirely certain that this crazy story wasn't just one long, very strange dream...
I'm giggling sleepily at his descriptions of colorful springs and itty bitty bottles and boxes of cup hooks; of rolls of wire and synthetic pillow stuffing and sugar dispensers; and of light switches, saw blades and bags labelled "build your own baby". I sit up in bed. "Um...What? Did you just say build your own baby?" I think he's just making stuff up to see if I'm still awake (he does that sometimes, but usually he'll start talking about linoleum or the patina on the hinges of his bathroom door until I start laughing). But he continues, "Yea. It was really weird!" Ok, I still don't get it, so I just have to ask "What was in the bag?" "Arms and legs and a body and a head and little shoes. It was so weird, Nancy. One of the bags had a motor of some sort in it too" he says.
I'm not sure whether to laugh or give into the shivers that are running up my spine. I pull the covers up around me and sit in the dark on my bed listening to the coyotes howling, my cat crying and the rooster crowing outside my open window. He says, "Well, I better go start my day Sweetie. I'll call you again later. Go back to sleep for a little while longer." Amazingly, I do -- and I dream of trying on bizarre ski clothes with Anna; I dream of cleaning out a rabbit cage; and I dream of potatoes levitating in a yoga studio.
At this point, I'm not entirely certain that this crazy story wasn't just one long, very strange dream...
Sunday
Who Knew?
Until very early this morning I was unaware that a dirty air filter could render a furnace inoperable. It's hard to believe, I know, but if the filter is full of dirt and grime, the furnace can't pull air efficiently through it and it will just shut down. Now I know.
Until very early this morning, I was completely out of touch with the inner workings of an electric pencil sharpener. Who knew that if the little plastic tab on the tray that holds the shavings breaks off then the sharpener will not turn on? Well, now I know.
Until very early this morning, I had no idea that the air ducts in my house could be harboring as many as three trash bags full of dust and lint. A company can come to my house with an octopus-like vacuum device and suck it all out of there. Good to know.
Until very early this morning I did not know that REI took real impressions of rock faces of popular climbing sites in order to build their in store rock climbing walls. That never even occurred to me, so I am happy to know that.
Until very early this morning I never grasped the fact that if you are on your homemade rock climbing wall in your garage or in your basement, that you don't have a belayer, so if you fall you will probably get hurt. Ok, actually until recently, I had no idea people had rock climbing walls in their garages and basements, but now I know.
Until very early this morning I had always wondered about those people who have a sort of internal clock. I wondered what happens to them when the time changes. Turns out that they are precisely an hour late and wake up thinking about air filters, air ducts, electric pencil sharpeners and rock climbing walls. Now I know. Very, very good to know.
Until very early this morning, I was completely out of touch with the inner workings of an electric pencil sharpener. Who knew that if the little plastic tab on the tray that holds the shavings breaks off then the sharpener will not turn on? Well, now I know.
Until very early this morning, I had no idea that the air ducts in my house could be harboring as many as three trash bags full of dust and lint. A company can come to my house with an octopus-like vacuum device and suck it all out of there. Good to know.
Until very early this morning I did not know that REI took real impressions of rock faces of popular climbing sites in order to build their in store rock climbing walls. That never even occurred to me, so I am happy to know that.
Until very early this morning I never grasped the fact that if you are on your homemade rock climbing wall in your garage or in your basement, that you don't have a belayer, so if you fall you will probably get hurt. Ok, actually until recently, I had no idea people had rock climbing walls in their garages and basements, but now I know.
Until very early this morning I had always wondered about those people who have a sort of internal clock. I wondered what happens to them when the time changes. Turns out that they are precisely an hour late and wake up thinking about air filters, air ducts, electric pencil sharpeners and rock climbing walls. Now I know. Very, very good to know.
Go Fish!
Texting with Anna today while she and a friend avoid Mardi Gras...
12:52. Anna: My friend Liz and I just got fish.
12:53 Me: Fish? Please explain further.
1:01 Anna: We have 3 goldfish!
1:02 Me: Ok that's cool. Pets. Are they coming home with you tomorrow?
1:04 Anna: Haha, yes, pets. An no Liz and I share them so they are in her room.
1:05 Me: ok. Y'all are funny. Have you named them yet?
1:47 Anna: Yes, Phillip, Westly, Nelson
1:48 Me: That's hysterical!! LMOA
1:51 Anna: I know we saved some Walmart fish...lol
1:52 Me: Animal activists are you?
2:01 Anna: No but all of the beta fish were dead...
2:02 Me: Oh no!
3:09 Anna: Our fish died... :(
3:12 Anna: That was the shortest fish life ever...
3:15 Me: Oh no! Did y'all have a fish bowl?
3:18 Me: Maybe not the shortest fish life. Guppies eat their babies as soon as they hatch!
12:52. Anna: My friend Liz and I just got fish.
12:53 Me: Fish? Please explain further.
1:01 Anna: We have 3 goldfish!
1:02 Me: Ok that's cool. Pets. Are they coming home with you tomorrow?
1:04 Anna: Haha, yes, pets. An no Liz and I share them so they are in her room.
1:05 Me: ok. Y'all are funny. Have you named them yet?
1:47 Anna: Yes, Phillip, Westly, Nelson
1:48 Me: That's hysterical!! LMOA
1:51 Anna: I know we saved some Walmart fish...lol
1:52 Me: Animal activists are you?
2:01 Anna: No but all of the beta fish were dead...
2:02 Me: Oh no!
3:09 Anna: Our fish died... :(
3:12 Anna: That was the shortest fish life ever...
3:15 Me: Oh no! Did y'all have a fish bowl?
3:18 Me: Maybe not the shortest fish life. Guppies eat their babies as soon as they hatch!
Treasures
In memory of Tom Adams
For where your treasure is, there will be your heart also. -- Matthew 6:21
For some unknown reason I feel the need to roll back time to Friday afternoon while Tommy sat with Marie at the front desk sipping iced tea. I have had sort of a bad day and I need a little pick me up. I walk up and the sight of that ol' boy just puts a smile on my face and he quickly makes some wisecrack about how crappy the refrigerators at the office smell and that makes me laugh! Tommy ventured out from the house to go for a haircut. He tells me he likes it high and tight and really, there is nothing that would ever suit him better than that. His head was meant for a crew cut; his attitude was meant for a Marine; and his heart was meant for Marie.
Tommy is endearing in a crusty, redneck, hardass, old coot, butt head sort of way. I don't know why, but his "Grumpy Old Man" vibe somehow works and people are drawn to him. What was it that someone said to Marie recently?..."Yea, I know Tom Adams. He's my cousin. He should be in Huntsville!" Seriously, he's not a criminal, he's just, well, Tommy!! Marie has told me various stories of how her older grandsons mimic Tommy from time to time and it leaves the family in stitches until they are in tears. He has a presence that will endure long after he is gone from this earth.
I have this vision of Marie retired and likely alone someday. She will bolt up out of bed from a sound sleep and start organizing things that might be needed to get someone through their day. She will realize, with a start, that she is organizing and planning and focusing on herself and she will scratch her head and think really hard about what she needs. Marie has never had this freedom, this health, this time, this selfishness and she is puzzled by it. Her girls, her son in laws and her grandkids will come by everyday to see her and will want to do things for her to make her life easier or more pleasant only to find that there is nothing they can do that Marie hasn't already done for herself.
Marie has a heart of gold and knowing her is something I will always treasure.
For where your treasure is, there will be your heart also. -- Matthew 6:21
For some unknown reason I feel the need to roll back time to Friday afternoon while Tommy sat with Marie at the front desk sipping iced tea. I have had sort of a bad day and I need a little pick me up. I walk up and the sight of that ol' boy just puts a smile on my face and he quickly makes some wisecrack about how crappy the refrigerators at the office smell and that makes me laugh! Tommy ventured out from the house to go for a haircut. He tells me he likes it high and tight and really, there is nothing that would ever suit him better than that. His head was meant for a crew cut; his attitude was meant for a Marine; and his heart was meant for Marie.
Tommy is endearing in a crusty, redneck, hardass, old coot, butt head sort of way. I don't know why, but his "Grumpy Old Man" vibe somehow works and people are drawn to him. What was it that someone said to Marie recently?..."Yea, I know Tom Adams. He's my cousin. He should be in Huntsville!" Seriously, he's not a criminal, he's just, well, Tommy!! Marie has told me various stories of how her older grandsons mimic Tommy from time to time and it leaves the family in stitches until they are in tears. He has a presence that will endure long after he is gone from this earth.
I have this vision of Marie retired and likely alone someday. She will bolt up out of bed from a sound sleep and start organizing things that might be needed to get someone through their day. She will realize, with a start, that she is organizing and planning and focusing on herself and she will scratch her head and think really hard about what she needs. Marie has never had this freedom, this health, this time, this selfishness and she is puzzled by it. Her girls, her son in laws and her grandkids will come by everyday to see her and will want to do things for her to make her life easier or more pleasant only to find that there is nothing they can do that Marie hasn't already done for herself.
Marie has a heart of gold and knowing her is something I will always treasure.
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