Year in Reveiw

A year ago my father died of a combination of emphysema and lung cancer. An ugly combination at best.
I had really dreaded this day, mostly because I did not know what to expect. Would emotions be just below the surface? Would more tears be shed when so many have already? Would there be anything? Anything at all?
The answer is not one I had anticipated.
Last week some tears were shed. Dad was not here for Christmas. That was hard, but once the tears came and went, peace came back.
But something happened in the interim.
A year ago, (well, a year and a couple of weeks), there was a gathering of friends to go out to eat in various forms of dress up. This is something that would happen from time to time and good time is always had by all.
George and I, while we really wanted and needed to go, could not. Things with my father kept us away.
A few days after the party, I received something from friends who had attened. A card telling us we were missed and they were thinking of the family. Also in that card was a picture. It delighted me and lightened that day and time considerably. I have several other pieces of this man's wwork and I wanted this one framed as well. I wanted it in my kitchen so I could see it everyday.
Well, one thing led to another. Christmas came, my father died and all manner of stuff was put aside to deal with what needed to be done at the time. The picture was lost. Until a week ago.
It was found with other Christmas cards and items put aside to be looked at when time allowed.
The time allowed is now. We went yesterday and had it framed.
The drawing is hanging in my kitchen along with another and I love them both.
All is not lost and in fact a great deal is found.
Thanks Bob and Marcella and Karen.

Napping

I was a slacker today. It was absolutely wonderful! A 2 hour nap. No cooking other than putting the leftovers in the microwave Great stuff.
I normally make a big dinner for Sunday evenings. Family is all here. The table is set with china and candles. The family is important and all the trappings need to be used regularly to make sure the always feel important.
Not today. I took a day off.
The world did not come to an end. My children did not feel abused. I did have to promise dinner tomorrow, but I got a day off.
Now if you don't mind, It is after 10 in the evening.
Time for bad.

A lovely, slow day

We have unwrapped gifts, eaten rich foods and enjoyed family all day. These were the real Christmas gifts.
I watched my son entertain his 15 month old nephew. My daughters laughing together over something incredibly inane. Friends sitting together and drinking Italian champagne.
No demands, just being together.
Now I realize this doesn't happen everday. It is just so nice when it does. Kind of like the divine knowing what we really want and need, even when we have different ideas.

And the child....

We have been to church. A little boy carried a figure of the Christ babe to the altar and placed him in a manger.
And we shall all be lead by a child.
My daughter waits for her son and his father to return tonight. Her faith in the spirit of Christmas is waning. She so wants for life to be better. Just waiting for it to get better. I want to tell her how much she has. But that would be preaching. And any daughter will tell you she really does not want to listen to her mother preach.
I want to tell her of hope and light and life that can be found even in the really crappy times.
But I will let her son tell her that.
I think sometimes we have to wait to let those messages come through. When we are listening. Cait's son is 15 months old. I think his voice is just right. His message is just right.
Just like the little boy tonight taking up the baby to the manger. He came back to the pew, grinned and said he did his job and he liked it. I needed that message. The job we all need to do.
And we really will all be lead by a child.

Early Morning

I was awake this morning at 5:30. No particular reason, just "up". Coffee and my dogs. Greeting the day slowly.
We have 2 days til Christmas. A winter storm is moving into the area and we are geared for the blast. Milk and cookies, pasta and wine. Bring on the snow and holiday!

Waiting on the chicken

It is almost 5:00 p.m., three days before Christmas. The chickens are slathered in butter and roasting away. Potatoes will be peeled to cook and mash. Asparagus ready to be roasted. Not an atypical meal for us, but a little more going in to it this time. Just because.
The groceries for the big holiday have been purchased and last minute gifts are here. We are a little slow on the wrapping, but I have promised it will be done by the morning of the 25th.
I guess this is called waiting. Kind of what Advent is - waiting and preparing. Not to be too religous, but that is what we do at this time of year. Listen, wait, listen, go and do. Listen and wait again.
A year ago we were waiting for Christmas with the knowledge it would be my dad's last. I remember hearing the bells from St. Jo's, a block away, as the Luke gospel was read close to midnight. At the time, I didn't feel the joy associated with the passage and the bells. I did, however, feel a peace I had not felt in quite a while.
That peace is still with me. Sometimes I have to stop to feel and listen to it. To know it.
Peace be with all of you this Christmas season.

Passing it on

I made eggnog tonight. Not just any eggnog, but Lady Keith's eggnog. A true southern liquid concoction passed on to me by a former priest's wife when they retired back to the south. Lady (Adelaide)really was a southern lady. The term really applied. We all loved her and she us. Her wit was wonderfully sharp and gentle all at the same time.
Anyway the nog is made and will be consumed tomorrow night at the annual St. Mark's Episcopal Church Christmas potluck. Only made once a year, it has bourbon, rum and brandy cooking the eggs, cream, 1/2 and 1/2 and copious amounts of sugar. Drink a cup or two and it really does not matter what else is served.
When the Keiths left, the women of the church begged Lady for some of her traditional recipes. Green Beans ritually served at the seder supper of Holy Week went to one woman. Another got her beef burgandy. Yet another got her lemond curd recipe. I got the eggnog and flourless citrus cakes recipes. The cake recipe came to me because I had more than one angel food cake pan (comes from going to a lot of auctions). Her memory will live longer than her husband's. Not because he wasn't a good priest. He was. It was just she was such a good cook, good friend and not someone easily forgotten.
We now talk at church about the new recipes people have brought that all love.
I have to wonder who will get this batch once we move on.

Hope Tree

We have a Hope tree in the school community library. I say we, but it is the FBLA (Future Business Leaders Association) - students and a sponsor heading up the effort. Everyone in the school has the opportunity to contribute. It has been done other years by other groups, but it has been done for as long as I know.
It is a project that provides gifts for kids when their families are meeting some hard times. When there just is not enough to go around and Christmas doesn't fit the budget.
This year there is a great deal more need. The ornaments with the needs listed covered the tree. Couldn't see the green of the tree. Women of different churches have said they know the need has hit the churches as well. More families have said if there was extra, could they be considered.
I read not long ago that we have the opportunity to meet the divine everyday when we meet need. Not just at Christmas or Channakuh, but everyday. I am not preaching. I would not presume.
I am saying need is there. We need to look and listen and do and meet.
Who knows what can happen?

Another Year

We went to a birthday party last night for a couple turning 50 a couple of days apart. People making jokes about turning 50 and about being "old". It was fun and after eating dinner and chatting for a while, my husband and I came home.
Even more fogeyish, we sat and watched a movie with no violence, questionable language or possible sexuality.
I don't feel old. Middle aged? Yup, you bet.
I am at the point in life where I don't have to prove anything. Drinking and partying to the early morning is no longer required. Only watching cutting edge or popular movies/shows - no longer required.
Just being together, nice and warm. Knowing where the kids are and the dogs by our side. That is so right.
George and I have a good thing. Bring on another year.

Editorial Comment

In the local paper, the infamous editorializer was at it again. This time it was a blame game. Isreal and occupants to be exact. They are the reason for the wars in Afghanistan, Iraq and Al Qaida.
Bet you didn't know that.
Where does he get this crap? And why?
Every time I read his column I have to stop myself from picking it apart. I have to self censor.
I have to allow for opinion.
I am trying to maintain a positive outlook. It is the Christmas and Channakuh seasons. The gift of light is coming into the world in so many ways. I have to get beyond wanting to smack the guy. Not at all a good thing to do. No matter how good it might feel....

Snow Day - Revisited

We have our second snow day in a row and the sun is shining brightly. It is however, bitterly cold outside. The buses probably could not run and cars would have a difficult time. The wind is also whipping the snow around into drifts.
So, in we stay.
It gives me the chance to bake for the holidays. To listen to the newest CD by Sting. To sit with George and look at the tree and be quiet.
I think I like that best.

Snow Day!

It is snowing outside. The possibility of actual accumulation is exciting to me. Waking up and looking out the window to see what happened over night. A white world. All the dead flowers and plants, the bare trees, covered in snow. A truly wonderful sight!
That is until February hits. Then I want green grass, green leaves, flowers and fresh squash from the garden.
So until then, happy snow day!

My husband and I had not an argument but a strong discussion this morning. I say strong because our opinions differed and we needed to make ourselves and said opinions understood.
It was over an editorial in the local paper. George had taken offense and was stating how he felt about the matter and the author. He was wanting to write in to the paper and he wanted me to back him.
Here is where we differed. I couldn't back him.
Not this time.
Usually, I find the editorialist's work to be at best purile and at worst, horribly bigoted, exclusionary and incredibly isolationist.
This time I still didn't agree, but I could not back George. For once, the author had stated what I felt to be an opinion. Not one I agreed with, and it was stuck in at the end of an essay paying respect to the survivors of Pearl Harbor and World War II, which cheapened the whole thing. But it was an opinion.
I will argue and defend someone's right to state an opinion. Period.
It would be much better if they agreed with mine...

The Christmas tree went up today. Tomorrow will be the remainder of the house. Please note, this is the earliest we have ever put the tree up. A very auspicious occasion.
My husband has had a strong tradition of not wanting to put up a tree until after church on the 4th Sunday of Advent. States that Advent is a somewhat penitential season. A thoughtful season. A season of preparation and Christmas trees and other greenery are not part of that preparation.
I on the other hand like my tree up right after Thanksgiving. Gives me a full month of enjoying the greens, the reds and the glow of the tree lights.
So we compromise. The tree goes up a little later than the weekend after Thanksgiving but much earlier than the last Advent Sunday. We also keep it up for the entire 12 days of Christmas. It does not come down until Epiphany. Uh Uh. No way.
Keep in mind we have always had real trees. When Epiphany comes around we have kindling sitting in our front room. No sparks, candles or hot thoughts can come close.
So tonight we have Christmas lights glowing softly in the living room. Fresh pine permeates the air upstairs.
I think we are in preparation.

It has begun

I was confronted by a very nice person this morning. She had a ready smile, nodded at the right places and yet didn't seem to take in a word that was said.
It baffled me. I don't believe the woman to be lacking. Really. She just seemed to have turned her brain off and was going through the motions. How can a body do that for any length of time and why?
This is not the first time of late to run into this type of behavior. Has it become the norm?
Don't go beyond the "nice" barriers. Don't allow creative or individual thought to come in to play.
I can't live that way. I need to be thinking all the time. The brain just keeps trundling on with the what if's. Kind of fun.
I would like to encourage this woman to try it. It might be scary at first, but she might like it.

At a meeting tonight we discussed giving. Primarily Christmas baskets of food to families in need. One woman in the group didn't want to give too much. For fear it would go to individuals she sees milking the system because they go and accept commodities and frequent the food bank every month. Another was concerned about giving because someone in the past had not sent a thank you note. Yet another didn't want to give to a family where someone smoked or drank. Felt if they could afford those things they did not deserve a basket.
Ordinarily, these are good people. Truly wanting to help others. And yet this evening a whole other set of attitudes and views came out.
Why is that?
My family is not holier than thou. Far from it.
We have our moments of grumpiness.
Trust me.
Yet, we believe we have more than enough and what we have is to be shared if possible. Our door is open. Always enough to go around. Always.
Our kids believe that too and bring home every person they deem to have a need.
Sometimes we hold our breath.
Other times the lessons we learn are incredible.
So the attitudes tonight make we wonder. How can I and my family help make change?
It starts with us. And with those around us.
Christmas baskets will go out. But they may also go out in January or June or August. Someone's utilities might get paid. Not because they are worthy but because there is a need.
There is a need.

Winter

It is morning and it is dark and cold outside. Normally I like the cold weather. Even like cloudy days. But today, I look at the outside and feel like a total grump. Part comes from not sleeping and part comes from the wanting to stay home and not deal with the world.
I don't think it is too much to ask to have the occasional mental health day. It just can't be today. That feeds the grump.
State reports and church meetings need to be completed. The nap that would love to be taken, needs to be put off til another day.
Yup, winter is here.

Balance Act

My husband and I have been doing nothing but sitting and vegetating this evening. A rarity anymore.
Watched TV, surfed the net and watched our grandson explore with blocks. How cool is that?
We also looked at the calendar for the next month. Tomorrow night is a band concert with our son on the tuba. It is also an Obama speech regarding sending troops into Afghanistan. I am trying to balance the evening so I can see both. Sounds kind of strange but I do want to see both. Sam is in band and I am not going to miss a concert. But he is 14 and in another 3 1/2 years he will be 18.
See where I am going with this?
We stay in Afghanistan, he might be eligible to go. Should the draft ever be reinstated, my girls might be brought in to the war as well.
Scares the pee out of me.
I don't pretend to understand all the politics of the Afghanis. Heck, I am not sure they do!
What I do know is I don't want to lose any of my children to war. No one does.
So somehow we will watch Sam and the President and hope and work towards the best.

Sunday evening

It is almost bedtime on a Sunday evening. A good holiday weekend all the way around. Time to be home and time to just relax and not let the holiday season to come encroach on quiet time.
We watched a Christmas parade on Main Street of Great Bend. Gotta admit, parades in small towns are fun. Not something you would see in the city. Vintage cars, harvest machinery, Santa arriving in a horse drawn carriage, which is certainly better than the combine he use to arrive in. The kids lining the street with plastic bags, waiting for the candy to be thrown. It was fun.
I am going to encourage everyone to get a community feel, go to a small town parade.
Feels good.

Sleep

The past couple of mornings I have awakened around 4:00 a.m. with my brain jumping up and down yelling "Get UP!". No reason for it. No sub-concious memos trying to get through. Brain was up and the rest of the body needed to follow.
This makes for a bit of a dilemna later in the day. I need a nap. Which is great if there is time and space. But a lot of times there is not and my outlook on the world gets a little narrow and perhaps a little paranoid. I just know my family is plotting to keep me awake. Or the dogs, yeah the dogs, they don't want me to sleep....
If only THEY would realize it would be in everybody's best interest.
So I am awake. The paper has been read, dishes from the evening before have been washed (the dishes that were used after the original dishes had been washed - that is another blog in of itself), the house is quiet so no vacuuming. Just awake.
Don't call this afternoon. There will be nap taking going on and if you wake me, I will have to assume you are in on the conspiracy with the dogs.

Thanksgiving Day

The pie is baking and the potatoes are on to boil. Cream cheese is softening and leeks are out to be sliced. The Parade (only important one out of the year) is on the tv. Soon the dog show will be on and our corgis get to watch the herding group with us. A good day full of ritual and tradition for our household.
Giving thanks for family and friends is easy. I know that we have been blessed with good health (swine flu not withstanding). We have been given enough. Certainly not flush, but enough. Everything we need and some of what we want. And when it comes to want, we really "want" for nothing.
I do look back to Thanksgiving Day a year ago. Same things going on. Baking, cooking, pulling china out, looking forward to a full house. I knew then it would be my father's last and I wanted to make it a great day for him and for all of us. It was not meant to be. He just didn't have it in him to make it to our house and to sit at table. We took the meal to him. At the time, all I could think of was how much it hurt. I look back now and give thanks. I was able to do for him and for his lady.
I give thanks for my dad. I know that today he is at our table once more.
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.

Cooking

It is the day before Thanksgiving. My husband is baking bread and when he is done the kitchen becomes mine. I get to really dig in and bake, cook, saute' and putter in my kitchen with my pots, pans and spices.
This is my favorite holiday.
I get to plan a big menu. Cook for family. Cook in general and just relax in my fashion.
Today will be desserts. Caramel cake, chocolate, raspberry swirl cheesecake, pecan pie. Maybe a cookie or two.
Vegetables will be prepped and turkey looked at and petted. Gotta let it know that it is loved.
Tomorrow is even better.
Let us give thanks!

Mom, I need...

I have been in and out of the house, mostly out, for the last several days. I overbooked and had to be at several different functions at the same time with food baked and/or cooked plus dishes to be set, etc.
Timing was a challenge but all that is over and the week ahead is fairly free with the exception of Thanksgiving and that will at least be at our house.
I have had my cell phone with me. All the family knew my whereabouts and if someone was in need all that was required was a phone call to be made and I would try my best to meet the need.
It was this evening when I was finally home and sitting in my favorite chair relaxing when the needs came out. One daughter needed to tell me about a movie and who might show for dinner this Thursday. Nothing earth shattering, but the need to connect. Same with the other daughter. Needing to share what her son had accomplished the past couple of days and how we were going to have to raise the level of child proofing.
My son hit it though. Sam just needed to tell me about Saturday. It had been a long day for him. Several things happened and he had been waiting for me to be home long enough to tell me so I could really listen. When his next oldest sister hollered at him to get in the kitchen to help with dishes, his response was he needed time to tell mom important stuff and she could just stuff it.
The need to connect. To stay still long enough to let it happen.

Dona Nobis Pacem

A little over 20 years ago, a day or so after my mother's funeral, my father, my aunt (mom's sister) and her daughter, my one year old daughter and myself, were sitting out in front of dad's house. Cait was in a stroller. It was August in Kansas, but not at all unpleasant. As we sat there talking, a hymn/round rose up. Dona Nobis Pacem. We had all learned it as children.
In the evening air, the music blended with the sounds of passersby, birds, insects...
A sense of peace came over us all.
I remember the look of absolute contentment on my young daughter's face as she listened. I remember my cousin simply saying "Lovely".
A moment as clear now as it was then.
Fast forward to last year. I had signed the papers to put my father in a hospice right at Christmas. Had sat on the side of his bed to explain why.
For a moment, I left the hospital to get a breath of air and coffee to clear my mind. On impulse I picked up a YoYo Ma cd for the season. Popped it into the car stereo and out came a beautiful rendition of Dona Nobis Pacem. As I sat there in the parking lot of the hospital listening, that same sense of peace came over me.
I play that now. Not because of a time of duress. I play it just to center me. I sing it to my grandson and to myself.
The peace is there.
It is here.

Letting Go

I am overbooked. It was not be that way at all. I have food due to several entities and my own person is needed in 3 different places at once for the next several days.
Again, it was not supposed to be this way.
There is the church bazaar to bake and help set up for on Friday and Saturday. There is the Holiday table to set up on Friday and take down on Saturday. There is food to be served to cast and crew for the Community Theater production for the next 4 days. There is a family in the house that needs to be fed and paid attention. Oh, and there is work.
Now, I know I am not the only person around with a busy schedule. But, this is looking a little daunting.
I lost baking time when I got sick with the flu. 5 days worth.
Soooo. My husband stepped in to help some and I have a close friend also stepping in to help.
I could not even begin to think I could do this without them. I have to let go and let both do. Period.
And to that, I say thank you.

Dinner for 9

We had 9 at our table last night. Chicken and rice was served.
The toddler did not want to eat anything he could not put in his mouth himself.
The 14 year old ate some of the chocolate praline cake for his mother's sake, but will not eat it again. It has nuts.
The 17 year old and her boyfriend ate and ran. They had a play to catch.
The 21 year old and her mate enjoyed the conversation, ran after the toddler and helped with dishes.
The forty-something man at our table sat and talked with all of us, most especially with his father.
My husband talked and listened and sometimes was just speechless. Something he thought might never happened was and has the very bright potential of happening again. Even if it were to be just the one time, it would be enough.
Time has a funny way. Speeds up, slows down, never just enough....
Last night, I think it might have stood still just a little for my husband. In a very good way.

Coming Home

Yesterday I watched a You Tube video of a soldier returning home from Afghanistan after a year away from his family. The family dog ran to greet him and just turned inside out with joy. I sat and wept. So did the woman filming (the man's wife).
Tomorrow, my husband's youngest son from his first marriage is coming to visit. It has been almost 19 years since they have seen one another. A long time.
I don't think there were be the turning inside out. But the emotion will be and is already there. So many feelings, thoughts, questions after all this time. What comes out first?
We have all grown a great deal in that span of time. Certainly we are physically older (I keep seeing little silver hairs and George sees absolutely no dark ones on his head.).
But it is much more than that.
There is a family here for him to meet. They have heard about him but not seen him.
Will he be uncomfortable here in our little house? We are talking small and the table will be crowded. Always is. We always make the table fit anyone and everyone that comes through the door. As many as 20. Just really crowded. We like it that way. But, will my husband's son?
So tomorrow is the day of returning. But maybe we shouldn't look at it as a returning. Maybe, just maybe, it will be a beginning. Of turning inside out and being at peace. Of beginning again.
That is it.
Beginning again.

Nothing Stands in the Way of...

It is Sunday morning and I still have the flu. I still do not like the individual(s) who gave it to me.
However, there are certain things that have to be done. Flu or not.
Like last night. I was "BY GOD!" going to see my kids on stage in a musical. Asked a favor and was allowed to sit in the balcony away from everyone else so as not to infect the world. Felt miserable and a bit of a martyr for my kids, but got to see my kids.
This morning will be no different. I did choose to not go to church. (Big of me I know.) There will be trip to the grocery store though. Turkeys are on sale. My brand of turkey and the big T day is close. I have to have that turkey!
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
3 days of cooking.
I couldn't be more happy. My favorite thing to do.
Really.
Sooooo. Despite the flu, I will have my turkey.
And if on Thanksgiving, around 5ish in the late afternoon, you find yourself hungry, stop by. Dinner will be served.
Menu is turkey.

Swine flu

I am sick. The fever is up, chills and then the sweats. My body aches as does my head. The kids at school gave it to me. I know they did.
I do not like them much.

Dogs

We have corgis. 2 of them. Their purpose is to keep the herd together. The family being the herd. Now if it is just George and I, the dogs are mellow, laid back and happy to just be adored. As the family grows throughout the evening, kids coming and going. The phone ringing, and general chatter ensuing. The dogs, especially the female, start to circle the wagons. Barking is added to the mix. Lots of it. Chaos reigns.

Kids go to bed. The phone quiets down, tv noise is at a murmur. The dogs position themselves to watch us. Making sure there is now way we can escape without their notice. Without too giving out too much information, they can be great birth control if allowed.

Thing is, we love them. Cesar Milan might be appalled at the fact we are not true pack leaders.
The dogs bark, but they go downstairs when told, and while they might not like it, they do go.
The dogs want to be your best friend. Especially if you are not a dog person. Surely your mind can be changed.
They shed. A lot.
So there are issues we deal with. But deal we do. We would with 2 legged members of the family. We will with the 4 legged.
The plus side to these compulsive shepherds? Absolute joy on their faces when we come through the door. No matter the day, the dogs are thrilled to see us. When sick, they keep watch. When sad, a corgi will be right by our side.

The pluses win.

Veteran's Day

Today is Veteran's Day.
The day to thank the Veterans was made to honor the men from the war to end all wars, World War I.
Look how far we have come.
My husband is a veteran of the Korean War. His brothers were in WWII as was my father and his brothers (one was in Korea). Some of their sons were in Viet Nam. Friends of ours have been in Nam, Bosnia, Iraq and Afghanistan.
They went out of a sense of duty or were drafted or both. Either way they served.
It is time to stop the war and the loss. Bring them home. Let us honor those who have served by not bringing on another war to be served with lives.

Grass is Greener

We have gozillion amount of channels on our TV. I pushed for satellite this past spring. The switch for HD was being made and the little black box was not doing the job. So along came a dish attached to out roof.
The kids were and are thrilled. We had entered the current age.
My husband wasn't so sure. He would point out from time to time there really wasn't anything on.
I didn't buy it. I had to admit that I enjoyed the food channel, the travel channel, arts channels. Watching dog shows with my corgis on Saturday mornings.
Tonight we are watching PBS. A channel we had before.
Tomorrow we will still have the multi-million channels.
But there will be a little bit of humble pie spiritually eaten.

Applebee's

Wednesday will be Veterans' Day.
Applebee's will be serving entrees for free to any veteran. Hy Vee in Topeka will be serving breakfast to any veteran and his/her spouse. There will be other such offerings. A small token.
My father was in WWII. My husband in Korea. Friends were in Nam and Bosnia. Afghanistan and Iraq and Afghanistan again.
We feed the body.
Yet, there are so many that aren't fed. Be it physically or otherwise. We had 8 years where "patriotism" reigned and the veteran was ignored.
My hope is that there is a change in the air with our current administration. My hope is that what we all saw when Obama met the plane carry the dead and the families, giving back the dignity and respect so deserved. That we all know the cost of war. The cost veterans shouldered.

Hobby Lobby

I frequented Hobby Lobby for the second time in as many weeks today. Doing yet another holiday table in a couple weeks. You know, that china fetish I have?
Anyway, I have the ability to spend an hour in that place. Pleasantly wandering from aisle to aisle thinking about all that could be.
Yet, I have to admit my concience is beginning to tweak me. The profits of the company go to very conservative entities. Some intense conservative bias. Ultra religious. Going towards the judgemental and discriminating.
Sigh.
How can I support Hobby Lobby with my patronage and know where some of my money might end up?
Damn.

Whoopers

My husband and I took a time out this afternoon. We went up to Cheyenne Bottoms, north of Ellinwood and Great Bend. Special repeat visitors had arrived.
The whooping cranes.
There are very many and the area had 18. An absolute plethora!
We saw them in the distance. Four could be seen.
There would be no chance of getting close. That is at it should be to my way of thinking. It is the human interaction that has brought them to the brink of extinction.
We moved at a crawl and then stopped. All we could hear was the wind, the call of birds on the water and the water itself. Daily life faded away.
What a gift.
We are home, but carry a bit of that peace.

Obsessions

I have a confession to make.
No, not one of those.
Actually, it is just a proclaimation that many already know about it.
I love china. 7 sets. Each can serve a minimum of 12.
Keep in mind we have a small house and George collects wooden toys along with my collection of pedestal cake plates, cake plates in general and glass.
Storage is an interesting dilemna.
But I digress.
I love china and this weekend I get to show off a set for a holiday table and in 2 more weeks I get to use a different set for a different holiday table at another function. I am excited. In making that statement, I am struck by how odd it is.
Ooooohhh. Arranging china and candles and vintage stuff.
Exciting?
Maybe I need therapy.
But I heard about another auction with china...

Church Ladies

Church ladies.
Some you wouldn't hang with unless you were at church. Some of the women become your closest friends for the remainder of your life. Seeing you through times when life looked pretty bleak. Then there are some of the women you enjoy seeing once a week on Sunday. Catch up on the doings of their families, job and maybe discuss some church business.
It is the "womens'" groups that make me a little crazy and bring out the worst in any woman. I don't care who she is.
I was at one tonight. Great women. Very strong in their lives and faith. Until the planning of the "bazaar" begins. It is a stressful time for everyone. Talk about the devil in the details. Has to be perfect.
Bazaars are the devil. They bring out the confused, the perfectionist and those who just want to give money to feel better and stay the hell away from it.
If you are church woman, you know what I am talking about. You have felt it. And I bet you want to run as fast as I do.
Our bazaar is in 2 weekends. Baking will be out of control. Then the wrapping of the foodstuffs, then the selling.
Gotta be a better way.

Detours

Tomorrow would have been my father's birthday if he were still alive. I have tried to not think about that fact. Taking the advice of those I love and respect to just get on with living. Those individuals were right, but....
I couldn't. Memories would pop into my mind. The urge to call Dad with news of the day when I would start making dinner for the family. Like I did before. Starting to look at the Thanksgiving dinner and realizing for the first time ever I don't need to fix bread dressing. He was the one to ask for it. Everyone else except our son obligingly ate it on the day, but that was the longest living leftover.
Anyway, I would force my mind to take detours around the feelings, the memories. Think about something else. Didn't work. I was growing short with the world around me. I would tear up at the least little thing. And while I am a weeper, it was getting rather foolish.
So with that in mind, I started to look at what was going on. I also opened up to what I needed to do. Not what someone else would do, but what I needed.
I avoided the detours. I am using things that belonged to my folks and enjoying the thought they too would be pleased. I can imagine smiles and that in turn has slowed the tears and heavy feelings. I can't advise anyone on how to deal with death of those people important in their lives. It is different for all. Just avoid the detours.

Don't wake the baby

Let sleeping dogs lie and for God's sake don't wake the baby!
I felt that way this evening. My grandson fell asleep and we breathed a sigh of relief. He is a little over one. Can walk anywhere and climbing is a big deal.
Want something to stay in place? Don't have a toddler on the premises. Uh Uh. Doesn't happen.
Kids started coming home from different events, dogs started barking and it was a mad dash to quiet everyone before a whimper issued forth.
All was calm until our oldest and slightly neurotic dog, Tillie, barked to let us know there was something out the back door. Now, keep in mind, this dog is really my baby. I raised her from the time she was 20 days old. Bottle fed the pup, held her on my chest to let her hear my heart beat as she would her really dog mother. George brought her to bed with us to make sure she would be warm on winter months.
Really our baby.
Tillie barked. She has a herding dog bark geared toward getting the cattle's attention. Tillie barked and we heard the whimper coming from toddlerville. What should I do first? Get after the dog or shhhhhh the baby? The child's mother came down the stairs and comforted the boy.
I got after the dog. Quietly scolding her. The look made me feel bad. She was just trying to alert me...
I think I can only do one baby at a time.

Boxing Day

My husband and I have 3 children. We love them. Willingly provide for them. I keep their needs in want in mind and also keep open a good line of communication.
Our daughters never fail to tell me needs and wants. They also proceed to tell me ever so much more than I ever wanted to know. Our son is not quite so glib but he does seemingly communicate quite well. Or so I thought until this morning.
I made mention of going to the larger big town later in the day and did anyone need anything from big box store.
One daughter mentioned facial cleanser. Another daughter added to the list as well.
Our son approached me in the kitchen. He stated he needed boxers. He was down to 2 pair.
Now, I have to wonder where the others had disappeared too. I really try to make sure the kids all have appropriate amounts and types of undergarments. The girls love that fact.
Nothing delights them more than to go to any store and go through the lingerie department. Picking out bits of fluff here and there. Victoria's Secret provides at least one hour of entertainment.
Back to the boxers. I asked the boy where the underwear had gone. He honestly had no clue. Perhaps they joined the half pair socks.
You know the ones. The single sock that disappear in the washer or dryer after one wearing.
So the boxers have been bought. Nine pair. They passed inspection with flying colors.
I asked that next time he let me know before he gets down to the 2 pair.
The boy said "No problem. Christmas is only 2 months away. He always gets underwear in his stockings. That will do for the rest of the year."
I wish his sisters thought that way.

Senioritis

Our middle daughter is a senior in high school this year. Something I may have mentioned before. She knows everything. Just ask.
Now Fi, on most days, is a really great individual. Truly believes that everyone has some good in them. That good will triumph over bad. That unicorns probably existed and will again if we just give them a chance.
Well, maybe that goes a bit far, but you get my drift.
Anyway, that is on most days.
Then there are the days when Fi becomes queen. The tiara is placed upon her head and all should bow. Surely she should not have to do menial work, consort with the lowly that also reside here, or listen to the mindless drivel coming across the media not of her choosing. School? Harumph! The beloved? Should dance attendance.
Keep that job at DQ. Queens are needy.
That is Fi lately.
So I as queen mother, have needed to have a chat with her regal self. A "Come to Jesus" meeting as it were. Pouting and flouncing were abounding.
Those damn unicorns better show up tomorrow.

Birth Certificates

Every time I think perhaps the local paper might be backing off ever so slightly on crazy ass thinking, along comes yet another editorial blowing that hope off the map.
Happened the other day. "Birthers" raised their ugly heads yet once again. The president is not a "Real American". Wasn't born in the USA. (Imagine a grunt right here.)
Does not matter his birth certificate has been made public. Does not matter the doctor that signed said certificate swore it was the real deal. Nope. Just the hint of doubt is all that is needed.
This sort of thinking and acting takes place in the local high school/middle school. I think we call it bullying. Usually brought on by ignorance (usually selective) and insecurity. Maybe a tinge of fear of the world. Being a teen is probably one of the scariest times in life.
But if we see it in the newspaper, on the news or at the gas station where the "guys" meet for a prayer breakfast, how then do we teach the kids not to do the same?
Start writing. Start talking.
I am.

Watching

I watched a close friend get it together this afternoon after speaking with Medicare. Her husband is in an assisted care facility due to alzheimers.
A sad struggle at best.
Medicare refuses to step in to help pay for the care. There seems to be a workman's comp case outstanding on her husband from 10 years ago. The case was a mistake to begin with. Admittedly on the part of the husband's insurance company. But the case is still outstanding. The insurance company says no. Medicare says yes.
Carol and her husband, his retirement, their life together are the victims. Dignity has gone out the window.
So after she "got it together", she called our congressman.
I pray he helps.
We need something different.
We as a people need to fight for one another.
To give one another dignity and grace.

Here's Swiney!

Kind of like "Here's Johnny!". Only not as much fun. As a matter of fact, it is not fun at all. Our middle child, 17 year old daughter, has the swine flu. Oh, excuse me, N1H1.
Whatever. She is sick. Feels like she has been hit in the stomach by a bus. The rest of her body feels sick. Purple baggy circles under the eyes. A sight to behold. Just don't stand next to her.

Now Fi does not like to miss school. Not that she is a great scholar. Nope, not one bit. But the social aspect lures her like a moth to flame. She can't resist. But today was different. Very.
Stayed home. Lolled on the couch and moaned. Took drugs when told and felt sorry for herself. Even Nolan the beloved could not make life better.

I have an idea. For every Republican not endorsing health care reform, we send a swine flu sick Fi clone. Maybe send an excessively pooping 1 year old too (we have one of those too). Health care reform will pass in less than 24 hours.
Guaranteed.

Insurance

I watched Olberman tonight. A special comment on health care reform. In doing so, I could not help thinking of my father's passing this last year. When I knew he could not go home again, I had to face where he needed to be, a hospice. I talked with George and we faced the what ifs. What if he didn't have the money to be in hospice and even in a nursing home. We knew the money was not there to provide in home care. We knew we could not do it. Physically provide that home health care.
George and I knew the others in the family did not have the money. Period. So in taking very deep breaths, together we decided we would back the bill if it came down to it.
Hospice.
When Dad went in, I signed the papers. No other thought. No regret.
Dad lasted a week. He received excellent care. He died with dignity. And he died even with the world.
He did not owe. Insurance took care of it. Dad would have liked that. It was right.
There are so many that don't have that insurance. Or the family to help. So many daughters and sons have to stand by and helplessly watch a parent suffer and/or die. That there is no money to buy the needs of their parent(s).
It is wrong. The ethics to reform are not being recognized.
The world is not coming to an end as the doomsayers would have us believe. But there is so much that can be done.
It is up to us.
Start writing. Start calling. Start volunteering your time. Start giving your money.
Make a difference.
Lives depend on it.

Talking with

I spoke with like minded people tonight. Talking about our local paper and the editorializing, if that is what you would like to call it. I can't think of the local paper with out thinking about the general attitude in the midwest. Fearmongering and doomsayers. Can there be nothing good found in the world today? I mean really! Open discussion is not. Express your opinion and it meets with criticism and derision.
The world is not coming to an end and yet there are individuals shouting at the top of their lungs that it is.
Well, it isn't. It just isn't.
Where did the hope go for these people?

Too many cooks

There are 3 women living in our house. It is a very tight fit. Believe me. There is a toddler with his mother, maternal aunt and maternal grandmother all on premises. A very tight fit indeed.
The mother and son are back home due to economic reasons. Reasons she is working on and making better everyday. But still....
The aunt is a senior in high school. She is all that. Just ask. Now as a mother that has been here 2x before, this is no surprise. It is to her father. George wants her to remain the sweetheart she has been since birth. That side to her is still there. She just wants to stretch her wings. More than we are willing to allow and more than her brain can really handle. The girl just doesn't see that. She will in 10 years when it no longer is an issue.
The young mother is 21, pursuing nursing and all that entails. She is raising a year old son. Toddling, reaching, learning the meaning of "no" and ignoring it. Cait is learning pregnancy is easier than mothering. So is labor. Priorities are everchanging. Exasperatingly so.
I am middle aged and not prepared to be grandmother on site. The boy is a delight. Devoted to the little poop. Really.
Love my daughters. In all their know it all glory. Really
But I am chief cook and my name is on the title of the house. At least it was last time I checked. This everchanging scene is not what I expected. For that matter, I don't know what I expected.
Surely there is a manual out there. Some wise old crone sat down and in her wisdom wrote a tome for any women 45 and older. Telling how to deal with daughters. How to lead them into a good life, a fulfilling life. One where we don't want to commit homicide before they reach that wonderful plateau.
I am sure I never gave my mother such cause for concern.

Birthday

Today would have been Mohandas Ghandi's birthday. A man just a man. But an individual who lived and breathed non-violence. A culture and society that could not abide the concept. So he died by violence.
I can't see that we as a society have progressed much. To believe non-violence as means to the end. To speak of peace. To believe life for all can be better. Not just for an elite few. These are concepts that can't be broached by some. Not all, but some.
So now is the time to start writing. Encourage others to think beyond their perceived comfort zones. Start changing 1 person at a time.
Beyond conversion in a religious sense. Conversion in a sense benefitting all around.
I think it can happen. Really.
One person at a time.

Living not Existing

Yesterday we celebrated our first grandchild's first birthday. Cupcakes instead of ye olde traditional cake. Much easier to inhale. Obligatory photos of him covered in cake and frosting. Everyone oooohhing and awwing as he sat there covered in sugar and beaming. All laughing when the boy had to be hosed down with the garden hose to remove all the detrius from his body. Families talking about life in their own homes. Enjoying our backyard and one another.
It was later when the boy when down for the night and I watched him on the bed my husband made for our own children. I was reminded what it meant to really open a door and to see what is on the other side. As I watched, I knew my folks weren't far away. They were watching too.
But I am here. And that is a very good thing. Even on days when I am tired and bitchy. The kids are driving me nuts and George wants time with me and I don't have it right then, it is good. I just have to sit and watch the boy sleeping. All is right with the world.

Dining out

George and I took my father's dining room suite to my sister. It had been my grandmother's (my mother's mother) forever. As long as any of my sisters could remember.
Anyway, my next oldest sister said it could fit in her house and there was a need and we wanted the space in our garage back.
A van was procurred and off we left early this morning. The set was delivered. The set was erected and even lunch eaten at the table.
Sounds pretty easy, huh?
No. Not really.
They weren't into putting things together. George is very good at it. Not being a very tall or big individual makes him think things through a little differently. Do something more efficiently. So what was to be a stop and go kind of thing became a 3 hour affair.
Anyway it is done. I had put it off. Thinking someone else would take care of it. Take the iniative. Same with a few other things from dad's estate. No one is taking that iniative.
I am having to do it and I wonder why. I get mad at the feeling of responsibility of it.
There are just times when I want to be irresponsible and let someone else to do the work. I know that isn't going to happen. That is probably what my dad was betting on. He knew. Had confidence that I would take care of things when I did not want to the most.
I suppose I should feel flattered and loved.
Hmmmm. Give me a few days on that one.

Ostriches

Our local paper published and article with an obviously anti-semitic slant. The publishers/editors have been called out on it. The blame has been shifted back and forth and ignorance of such a thing espoused loudly.
No apologies have been made.
I don't think they will be offered. I truly believe that some of the individuals involved, primarily (in my belief) the managing editor, feel they did nothing wrong and in fact, did something very right. It is appalling.
Has no one learned from the past?
Does anyone care?
Anyone?

Of the heart

A woman I have known for 25 years has developed heart "issues". She is willing to take some medicine, do walking and try reducing stress in her life. Doctors feel surgery would be a very good thing. However, when she got to a heart hospital they had put her at the end of the list for surgeries that day. Sally thought about it and said no. She got up and left.
She just left.
I asked her about that decision. Sally said there were no guarantees that things would be better. She wanted more time to consider and to do it her way. So, that is what Sally is doing.
Considering. Taking time. Walking. Reducing stress.
When the surgery takes place, and it probably will at some point in the future to be at Sally's determination, she will be ready.
Her timeline. Not a physician's.

I have to admit to admiring that decision. Sally might die because of putting her surgery off. But she is making the decision of how to live her life.

We all want that for ourselves. Our choices. Scary they may be, at least we have a say.

Flu

Our middle child went home from school this morning before it ever started. The quintessential flu case. H1N1 if ever there was one. I have offered cosmic apologies to those individuals she came in to contact with in fear they have become infected. More students went home after her.
It is here. The official flue season and swine flu is the big suspect.
So I wonder what has infected the editors of the Great Bend Tribune. That can be the only reason for the latest salvo for bigotry.

Loving to cook

My mom was not the world's greatest cook. I am serious about this. It bears repeating. She was not a great cook. In her younger years she could bake a pretty good pie. But that kind of went by the wayside when she started getting sick.
Mom would go through phases in which she cooked the same thing alot. Alot.
My oldest sister said she went through tuna casserole phase and to this day she is none to thrilled by even the sound of that meal.
My next oldest sister was caught in the scalloped potato phase. She eats those rarely now. Having had more than her fill growing up.
I got the goulash phase. My husband really likes the stuff. Kids at school and even the staff will eat on goulash days.
Me? I would rather have wisdom teeth pulled and a dry socket develop. Thank you very much.
I sometimes wonder how many phases I go through with food.
When I was pregnant with our middle child, I remember asking George if he would like carrots for a change. George's reply was something like "how about we not have carrots for a change?"
There have been times of lots of chicken. Not because it is cheaper, but because I like it so. Same with anything with cheese. I think we all became a bit constipated once with all the cheese in our diet.
So what is the current gastonomic phase in our house? Hmmm. It could be anything right now. I am in a cooking mood and just about anything could be cooking. Got any ideas?

Hotel Living

We stayed in a hotel for 3 nights and days. It was not the most pleasant of hotel stays due to several mishaps on the part of management and housekeeping, but the time away was delightful in itself.
My husband and I were able to spend time with adults. Have conversation with adults. Eat when we wanted to and only what we wanted to.
Wonderful.
But that isn't why I am writing.
I got a recipe. A bread recipe. For crossaints and a cakelike dish made out of them. A taste of heaven on earth.
However, it is the story behind the bread that is what has me writing. The bread/cake is called "Brenda's Bread". The dish was already being made by the B&B we were visiting when Steve and Brenda came to visit for a while. Brenda was in stage 4 cancer and she was not responding well to the chemo and needed a break. They came north for trip to get away and stayed in Dodge City for 4 days.
Brenda was looking pretty bleak when she got there. After 4 days she looked markedly better. Steve and Brenda credited the good hosts and the marvelous bread. She is still alive and is in fact in remission.
Another woman that was visiting this weekend was there for the poetry get together. Same as George and I. She in her daily life works with a Hospice. Marilyn related her life working with hospice and what it continues to do for those in need dealing with the end of life.
Yet another recently lost her father.

I came away realizing I needed to be there this weekend for a reason. These people had something to tell me. I had something I needed to hear. Believe it or not it did not mean dealing with death. It meant everything in dealing with life. Listening to all the stories, told me I was ok. The grief for my dad is ok and getting better. I am getting better.
Hurting for him is ok and feeling good and wishing I could tell him is ok too.
I don't need to feel guilty about it.
Everything is going to be ok.

Dodge City

George and I are listening to poetry this weekend. A gathering of poets from all over the country. Pretty cool when you think about it. Reassures one's soul that poetry is not dead, nor is it dying.
It is interesting to note though, that high school English teachers, when it comes to the poetry cycle, only want to cover the "classics". Frost, Whitman, Dickens, Hughes and maybe Angelou (for color, forgive the intended pun). Alot of teachers turn a blind eye to what is really out there. So much more than rhyme. So much more than luv poems and how no one understands me poems.
That poetry can spur action of all types. Look at Lorca! It is there. All around.
Hip hop, rap.
Indie Alternative.
It is there. We just have to look.

French movies

George and I are trying to increase the foreign and/or independent movie showings in the area. We show a movie that ordinarily would not appear in the area at the Arts Center the second Wednesday of every month. I do the normal picking of the movie, going through the different cinema festivals, comparing some of the winners and select what I think would be intriguing.

So tonight's movie was not a winner. Looked like a winner on Amazon. Had glowing reviews. Won a somthing or other at Cannes. It was French. It had some documentary overtones. Subtitles! Oooohhh!

What the hell do the French know? If I offended the French or someone related to the French, I am sorry. But, really, this was boring. About a teacher in an inner city French school. And not a very good teacher at that.

I should have known better.

Thing is, next month's film is about an Iranian woman and food. Again glowing reviews. Maybe I should serve Iranian food at the same time. That way the focus will be on food and guessing what is what. Less focus will be on the movie. If it is a bust, maybe no one will notice

It could happen. I am a really good cook. I know nothing about Iranian food, but that has never stopped me before.

Maybe I better have a backup plan and movie just in case.

Waiting for....

I went to pick up my oldest daughter out at the college this evening. I had stayed at the house a little longer than I should have to finish watching a movie, which I still not get to see the last 5 minutes. I also believe in going the speed limit, preferring to arrive in one piece.
As I pulled onto the campus, 2 minutes late by the clock in the car, guilt and memory came back to me.
The memory was one of when the oldest was 2 (maybe younger) and I ran late at work thereby running late in picking her up. I remember feeling so bad in being late. Not something I could have avoided, but nonetheless guilty at having kept her waiting.
I felt that again tonight.
The girl is 21. Not 2.
But I felt guilty.
When I went to pick her up at the sitter years ago, I promised her I would try my best not to keep her waiting. It wasn't something you did to someone you loved.
In reading this, I remember all the times my mother kept us waiting. How my next oldest sister has issues with promptness as well. And our oldest daughter? She is always late. Always keeping others waiting.
Ironic, huh?

My House

I am needing to change for fall. Of course, if it were fall I would need to change for winter. I need the physical doing of change. This comes upon me. This restlessness with my house. Maybe with myself. I really don't want to go quite that deep right now.
I love my house. While it is small (really small), it holds us warmly and safely. We are content here. Throw in the fact that it is paid for and it makes for a pretty good deal all the way around.
But I need to change.
The colors of fall are some of my favorite. The air holds a different scent. Sitting in the pergola without bugs flying around. Looking up at stars taking on a sharper quality in crisper, cooler air....
But I need to change. I need to regain my house from children, and wind and life as it has been happening over the past few months. Changing out the seasons helps me do that.
The change in me will come as well. I need to quiet my soul so I can hear again. Fall helps.
That is the real change needed. Listening again. To what my heart, my body and my soul are really saying. When I start listening, the peace will come.
It always does.

Missing

My husband has children from his first marriage. They were adults when he divorced and for a number of reasons, he has not had contact with any of them for approximately 18 years. He has made his life with the here and now. We have a good marriage and George is a good father.
A couple of months ago, he heard from one of his sons. George got a phone call completely out of the blue.
"Hi, Dad."
Until that point, George had kept the separation from the kids of his first marriage in nice, albeit a little messy compartment. Only opened on occasion. He never stopped loving them. Allowed them their reasoning for not being in contact with his life.
"I just wanted to talk with you. I was asked why I hadn't been in contact and couldn't give a reason>"
George floated with that response and that call. There have been some emails and another call. He is waiting again.
Now he has the address of another son. He wants to reach out to him as well.
I have always wanted George to have contact with his kids. He is a good man and a good father to our kids. Those first have missed out.

But.
But I want my kids to not feel second best. I don't want them to feel like they have been supplanted. So we talk. We make sure.

His kids missed out by their choice. Our kids will not.

Stella and Marguerita Pizza

A friend wrote me and said that Stella Artois and margarita pizza go together rather well. I know the name of the pizza goes under a different spelling, but it was the concept that was humorous.
I just came from shopping with my children. Two teens and a 21 year old. Shopping was fine. Arduous for the 14 year old boy. He was made to try on clothes. We did not attempt shoes. Neither of us were up for it. The girls on the other hand could have done this all day. Would have if George and I hadn't said we were leaving them if they didn't get in the car now. I don't think it was an idle threat.
My husband and I then hit a wine emporium for our semi-annual in to the new/different. If we can get it there, we can get it anywhere that can order. A system that works very well for us.
We had a wonderful time.
Then it was time for food. And argument. The boy felt he was getting picked on and ended up in frustrated tears. Did not help he had not slept much the night before. The girls wanted something different and not fast food. George was up for KFC or Dillons chicken.
I picked a local brew pub/bistro. I was driving. All got to eat what they wanted. From something different to chicken.
Life was better.
Next time it will just be George and I. I can do one of those expeditions twice a year. No more.
We will hit the wine emporium first.

In response to

I work at a school.  For the very most part, I like my job.  Garner a great deal of satisfaction from it.  Yesterday I was not so sure.  It has taken me a day to put some perspective on it.
On Tuesday, September 8, the President of the United States is speaking to all kids in school.  Talking about staying in school.  Staying away from drugs.  Taking personal responsibilty.  You know, "communist" ideals.  At least that is what some parents are concerned about.  They don't want their children being brainwashed by the black man. By the democrat. 
I am appalled and angry by their thinking and actions.  Or rather their willingness to be mislead down a narrow path of lies and ugliness. 
I thouight better of some of these parents. 
They consider themselves "Christians". 
I am not seeing it.  If that is the way their brand of Christianity works, then we are all in very sad shape indeed.
What was even more maddening, was one of the administrators actually considered not allowing the
President to be shown.  To bow to these individuals for fear they would make a scene.  My response was to say "Let them".  It is a bluff to be called and to show their ignorance and hatred and bigotry for what it is.  For everyone to see a bit of themselves in it.  To educate ourselves against the racism and fearmongering. 
Bring it on.

Pergolas

About 4 or 5 years ago George wanted to build something in our backyard.  A pergola.  What the hell was that ?
I didn't like going in the backyard.  It was hot in the summer, cold in the winter and there were bugs.  And I might sweat.  Thoiught that was bad idea all the way around.
Anyway, the kids were growing way beyond the delapidated playhouse and the dangerous swingset that needed to be sold for scrap.  I agreed to whatever design George wanted to come up with.  The  catch was that I had to help (feel free to add a very heavy sigh at this point.  I certainly did.).  He designed.  He bought the material (money I could have found other uses for) and we began to build and stain and rebuild and restain. 
The result was our pergola.  Think square gazebo.  That year the garden was really green and producing.  The mosquitos were being eaten by the Mississippi Kites and the weather was exceptional. 
We began eating out there when the weather permitted.  George and I escaped to the pergola frequently with a glass of wine in tow.  The dogs could run and know they were being watched and adored.  The kids could come and go.  It was wonderful and has been ever since.
Tonight, we had 6 around the table in the pergola.  The kids were laughing.  The dogs were circling in hopes of food. 
I don't know the origin of the word "pergola".  I think in my lifetime it has come to mean peace and home all rolled into one.
Thank you George.

Coming Up From Behind

You know, when you move you see all the shit you have been avoiding for a long time.  Under the big appliances, in the corners, under the couch.  Dust Bunnies that would  give the "Dirty Thirties" a run for their money.  Grease that you thought you had taken care of and you know that kitchen was clean just last week.
Well, we moved our oldest daughter and grandson in with us.  Most of the stuff went in storage.  Some went with the significant other while the work on themselves and the rest came here.  Not much room left, but we will make do. 
It was the cleaning the house up afterwards.  My daughter wanted to avoid it, pretty much like we all do.  Thing is, it had piled up in a few places and Cait had to face the fact.  It was an ugly one. 
As we drove away from dumpster number 3 in the dark, and as she was staring forward, Cait said, "I am sure I will feel better in a feng shuey way in the morning."  My reply was simple.  "Can we not do this shit again?"
I have had 2 aspirin to take care of the lower back ache from moving a huge ass blanket chest and a recliner formerly belonging to my father.  An heirloom if ever there was one.  That along with the Lincoln in the driveway.  I am drinking my second glass of cab for the evening and am contemplating bed. 
I am not going to look too closely at my corners or my kitchen.  I am sure as hell not going to look under the couch or big appliances.  Those bunnies have become mutant rabbits by now and they scare me more than a little.
I am not going to deal with that particular shit right now.

Moving in

Our daughter and grandson are moving in with us for a time.  Economics and practicality deem it necessary.  It will be tight in our little house.  But, it will only be for a time and I always believe these events to be opportunitues to grow.  Not that it had been in the plans mind you.  It forces me to readjust my thinking.  I have to include a baby in the mix.  And a 21 year old.  I need to make sure she is parenting the boy.  Not me.  I need to make sure she is an adult and not allow both of us to regress to when she was 16.  That is a path of ugliness I don't want to follow.
George will have to readjust his thinking as well.  He likes having the house to himself.  That won't be the case.  The boy will be underfoot and Cait will be wanting to be in the middle of things as well.
Our son, who is 14, will want to disappear at the slightest sign of someone getting upset with the world.  An "OH God!  This could be bad!  Danger, Will Robinson"  kind of thing.  Our middle child just looks, shakes her head and chuckles.  She is the one living in a nice world. 
I wish I could join her sometime.

Flu season

I don't have it yet.  It is being forecasted all around the world.  At least 40 to 50% of us will get it.
The Swine Flu (imagine a demon smiley face here).
Oh, Oh Oh, Wait!  My bad!  It is N1H1!
I am going to be tarred and feathered by the pork industry for that little mishap.

Back to the beginning.  I don't have it yet.  Alot in my area and at my work don't have it yet.  But some are already mentally preparing for the worst.  Some teachers have a multitude of antibacterial solutions in their classrooms.  Students panic over the least little thing.  Oh My God!  I sneezed!  This is the beginning!  What ever shall I do?

Really, that is how some are reacting.  It is a crisis situation. 
Wait a minute.  That is how a lot of people in this world have been conditioned to react.  After the past 8 years of the fearmongers telling us every day if it is a code yellow or red or puce, that we have terrorists in our midst, that no one can be trusted if they question authority such as it is.  Blowing the flu out of proportion is just part of the daily process of life. 
If we let it be.

Of course, in writing this I will probably get the flu.  I will have to stay home and hope that someone catches the bus that hit me.  Then with all good hope and faith, I will get better.
We mostly do. 
The fearmongers will have to find something else....
Let me get my tinfoil hat.

Fixing Things

The internet in our house went down today.  First it was the provider that was not working correctly and then when Tech Support (always state that in upper case, it makes them feel better) got things up and running, then the router crashed.  And, of course, it needed to be fixed. 
Now.
Really.....
Now.
So off to the local Wal-Mart we did go (after a lovely dinner of Julia Childs' recipe of Roast Chicken, fried french bread [made by George] with fresh tomato bruschetta).  Looked around.  Said eeny-miney-mo and ended up with the latest and greatest router.  Brought that puppy home, read the directions (yes, all of them) and proceeded to install. 
It did not work.  I tried.  I tried.  I tried.
I got more that a little tense and then our oldest called.  She has the damndest timing. 
She knew she would be moving.  Putting stuff in storage and she and her son would stay with us.  She needs to go to school.  She needs to get her various licenses that will enable her to get a better job.  One that will help her provide for herself and son.  Cait is working really hard towards that end.  But she needs help.  Knows it and came to us.  So back to the beginning of the paragraph. 
She is moving.  Here.
Landlord called.  A nice guy.  Even as a landlord.  A nice guy. 
Said he was able to rent the house she is in.  Could she be out by Wednesday night of this week? 

Gee, mom.  I need to pack.  I need a storage unit.  I need to go to school. I need to move things. 

My first response was not productive.  Keep in mind I was tense from the computer situation.  The other siblings in the house wanted to use their computers.  George needed to write his column.  I just wanted to surf awhile.  So, my first response was to swear.  Loudly.  Not a rational, adult thing to do.  I went and took a bath.  Always a solution.
George came in a short time later.  Stated Cait and Chris were here and the young man was fixing the computer and internet problems.  I had the cables wrong.  I also had the thing rigged to go too fast. 
George told me to calm down.  To essentially stop overreacting.  My reply was for him to go. 

So things are fixed.  Cait and Chris are making arrangements for the move.  The other siblings are in their respective rooms, probably on their computers and George is writing.  The dogs have us in their sights and things are right in the world again.

Sort of.  I think I need to stop and  look around.  Maybe I need to go back out to the winery and sit and listen.  Maybe I need to get up in the middle of the night and just listen to night sounds.  Let that peace wash over me.  Meditation has never been high on the list for me.  But listening I can do.  The dogs and I can sit.  I can listen and they can protect. 

Saturday in the Park...

Ok, maybe not quite the Chicago tune, but it was a day in the country, at a winery, and a good one at that.
Kansas in August.  Should be hot, right?  Not today.  It was gorgeous!  High 70's, low 80's.  Light breeze.  A scent and feeling of Kansas at its best. 
We were celebrating an artist of note being in the area.  Promoting his work to be sure, but in doing so, he was celebrating Kansas.  Not the eastern part of the state which gets quite a bit of attention, but the country. 
I grew up in this area.  I choose to stay in this area.  I find so many parts really beautiful.  The winery captured that, for me, today.
I wish others could feel that way.  So many leave to find something to amuse themselves.  Hurrying here and there.  Not really slowing down to look.  To see what has been here all along. 
It isn't just Kansas either.  It could be anywhere.  The need to be entertained is so strong.  Stopping to listen, to watch, to sit and be.  Almost a lost in and of itself. 
As I sit and write this, I am in my living room with the windows opened.  Still the same light breeze and quiet of the town coming through the windows.  Not long ago I heard the sounds of the church bells chiming the quarter hour. 
What a peace.

Friday Night

We have 3 kids and now 1 grandson.  We love them all.  Probably lay our lives down for them.  Except for Friday nights. 
Date night.
Or, at the very least, time for the parental units without child intervention.  We feed them, we make sure primary needs are taken care of, then say (lovingly) "Leave us alone!"
Nice food.  Wine.  Movie.  Sitting in the pergola.  Watching stars.  Life is good.
So.  It is Friday.
Blog you later.

Being Grandma

I must admit to not liking the term "Grandma" at first.  Surely there was another term sounding better, younger, perhaps not so old as "Grandma".  Tried several out.  They sounded pretentious or worse just too cute for words.
My grandson is at the crawling, toddling, grunting and whooping stage.  All sorts of noises emanate from the boy.  Mostly with absolute glee. 
Today he had a joyous look when I walked into the room.  Shared a new found old toy with me.  In doing so, he gave a noise that sounded in the realm of grandma.  Maybe gma.  I will take it.
Grandma sounds pretty good.

Passports

George and I are getting passports.  I have only crossed a US border once before.  We crossed about 30 miles over the Canadian border.  Yeah.  Big stuff!
Guess where we have thought of going!  Canada!!  You now need a passport to cross.  Even to go maybe 30 miles over, see a waterfall, maybe a really big lake and come back. 
Homeland Security would have us believe Canada is harboring large amounts of domestic terrorists. 
Hmmm.  Maybe it is the other way around.  I am watching MSNBC.  Lots of talk about Cheney, the CIA under the Bush admin and even Sarah Palin in some wierd way connected to zombies.  Didn't really catch the full story on that one, but I did have to roll my eyes heavenward.  The woman's career is over (I hope) and to even bring on a remotely national scene is just plain silly. 
I digress.

Back to the passports. 
I have to have my picture taken.  I will go to passport heaven (Walgreens) and purchase a photo.  First week in September we will go to the courthouse in Great Bend and take the next steps (money in hand) to get the little book allowing us to cross those imaginary borders.
I don't know that we will ever do huge amounts of international traveling.  But we could!  That is the whole point.  We could if we wanted to.  The choice is there and it is ours.  That is a very cool freedom.

Happy Birthday

We celebrated a friend's 49th birthday today.  I had to laugh to myself.  I remember when he and I plus 2 other upperclassmen in high school got pulled into the principal's office because of Student Council election irregularities.  We had each been encouraging people to vote for our chosen candidates while running the voting booths.  Seems you are not supposed to do that sort of thing.
No one has told the people that in the Middle East.  Of course, getting pulled into the "office" there takes on a whole different meaning.
Happy Birthday Marty.

Dad

My dad died on December 29, 2008. 
There is orange juice on the love seat he helped buy (unbeknownst to him). 
I miss him.

Furniture

I blew up at my family tonight.  My limit had been reached and then some.  A chair and love seat I have had for only 2 months.  The first new furniture ever.  Someone upended a glass of orange juice on it.  Was going to peripherally clean and call it good.  I had a snit.  I cleaned the love seat.  The floor and the wall.  Pretty much talking loudly (very) the entire time.  I couldn't seem to get it through to them the importance to me.  Something I could call only mine.  Never before owned by anyone else.  Not bought at auction or garage sale or given out of kindness because something was breaking down.  Brand new.  I bought it with money left to me from my father's estate.  A last gift. 

It is only stuff.  I know that.  The snit was overreacting to a minor thing in the cosmos.  But no one seemed to really understand.  Hell, I don't know that I understand!

So I have to take the obligatory step back and see what was really going on.  The wussy liberal, understanding side of me. 

I have really enjoyed sitting in my front room on my new furniture the last 2 months.  Looking at colors that make me feel good.  A silent peace.  The orange juice or milk or whatever shouldn't take on the importance that it has.  The peace should still be there.  It will take a while to get it back.  Mostly because I don't understand how I lost it so completely.
It is just stuff.  Only furniture.  They didn't mean to....
Sigh.  I am tired. 

Saturday

Nothing was scheduled for the day.  A true rarity. 
George and I decided to take in a movie in the middle of the afternoon.  Julie & Julia.  A delight.  Most of the audience were middle aged women.  4 men included.  George was one of them.  Talk of all that glorious food and we had leftovers for dinner.  Practicality had to reign supreme.
I have to admit to conversations turning to food, politics or religion quite oftenaround here.  Food sustains us through the rest of the crap.  When things get tense at a dinner, we can always bring up menus.  Things we've had, what we would like to have.  Where people like to eat and why.  What are good memories?  That kind of thing.  Tensions ease.  I remember when my dad would start to get wound up about some problem going on in the world.  He would get louder as the conversation went on.  His eyebrows would start to come together and there would be this deep furrow on his forehead.  Marge would start to look worried and
one of us would have to interject some old dish of some sort.  Something his mother or grandmother would have made.  Subject would change to reminiscing and life would be better for all.  Especially dad.  It took him back to time where there were absolutes.  His mother and grandmother's cooking were absolutes for him.  No could compare.  I know a time when he said a meal of mine was just about the best he ever had, even the meals he had as a kid.  I wept.  I don't think he could have given me a better compliment.

Mothering

I watched and listened to two mothers today deal with their respective daughters' lives. Both made me cry.
A close friend of mine watched her 22 year old daughter go into a surgery for 3 ruptured discs in the girl's back. They had fought tooth and nail for insurance to pay for this surgery. The powers that be first said she was too young for the surgery. If they had their way, she would be disabled and addicted to pain medication until she was 60, if she made it that long. It took a third, objective party to come in and make a decision. The daughter is of strong will like her mother and will pull through, BY GOD! You just gotta know this kid.
The second mom is that of a 12 year old girl. The mother is so paranoid of the world and what it could do to her daughter, she is pulling her daughter out of school to "home school" her on the internet. There are times when this action is completely reasonable and justifiable. This is not one of the those times. This girl will not be given a chance to live. To breathe or to just be normal. Until her mother's death, this girl will not be allowed to live. Period.
This is wrong. Administration feels its hands are tied. No one individual feels empowered enough to take the risk and help this girl. Something has to be done. I just don't know what.
Any takers?

Round and round

George and I have to learn how to childproof the house all over again. The grandson is curious. OK, that is a good thing. Just not when he wants a cast iron sculpture and pulls it over on his head. We have to keep the door to the bathroom closed. Toilet paper is too expensive to be strewn all the over the floor and then shredded. I must admit, the first time was entertaining. Now it is just plain expensive. Child proofing latches need to be bought. Jugged water has to be placed somewhere inaccessible to the boy. The floor is clean but we are all getting a little water logged. My husband gets the worst of it. He is here. I am at work. Asher's mother has classes at the college and a nursing home for her CNA and other acronyms. The other kids have school. That leaves George. It is a learning experience for all of us. I just wonder who is teaching what.

Less than 48 and counting

Listening to the news and pundits today made me realize why some parents have been acting so incredibly paranoid of late. The out and out lies made by a religious and scared right would literally put the fear of God in anyone. It is as though people will be smited for thinking intelligent thoughts. Hell, they might be smited if they think!!

School starts in less than 48 hours. Kids are ready and parents are thinking about keeping kids in surgical masks lest their beloved prodigy might be exposed to germs, thoughts of an impure, liberal sort or maybe just the teenage public in general. Now there is abuse.

Next Generation

My 11 month old grandson pulled a small heavy. Aunt Fi and Grandpa were nearby. He had it done before they could get to him. Ash will be fine. Another badge of honor in the baby world. His mom is another story. She is worried someone will think she abuses him. Comes from when he rolled off the changing table several months ago. Going to the emergency room was traumatic enough. Being treated as though she was abusing her child because he had a bump on his head was quite another thing.

It is a very sad commentary when parents fear the bumps and bruises of everyday life will result in their child being removed. Good God, with that thinking, none of us would have lasted in our parents' homes. Nor for that matter, our own children.

Seeing and being seen

Tonight was the Ice Cream Social for high school/middle school staff and faculty. Tuesday will be the district chicken feed. All are expected to show for at least one and preferrably both. Families included.
No one knows what to expect from my family. We are the most liberal of the bunch and are not really afraid to tackle a situation at any time. We look. Could be fun. And in we go.
Plus free food. My son and husband think that is just the best thing ever. And fried chicken. My God, you would think the son had died and gone to heaven.
It is fun to watch others seeing my husband and I for the first time. He is 29 years older than I am. Alot of people are not sure what to think, let alone say. Neither of us are leary of being on a stage either. So let the comments come. Or at least the looks. One of us will chat. Just to allay fears that nothing "strange" is going on.
Well, at least not that particular minute.

Empty Nest? Hah!

Our oldest and her almost 11 month old son are moving back to the fold for a couple of weeks. Just until she can find a place that is nowhere near where she is living right now. Drugs invaded her work place and neighborhood. She does not want she or her son anywhere near that sort of evironment.

Understand we have a small house. A really small house. Two teenagers still live here. Sooooooo, it just became a little smaller. Can't say no to the young mother. The reasons are more than valid and she is really working towards becoming her own person and being able to take care of both herself and her son. And yet....

Extra child proofing is taking place. No glass out. And I collect glass. Some of the old toys have been put away. Just too old to play with.

The 17 year old aunt is having to clean up her room to make sure it is safe for a toddler as well. Oh my God! There it is! The silver lining to the not so hot situation. A clean bedroom! Hmmm. I can live with this.

Death and Parenting

So today I accompanied my oldest daughter, her son, her significant other and my second oldest daughter to a lunch/memorial service/something I still don't know what to call. The deceased in question was the 19 year old brother of my oldest's daughter's best friend. Died by shooting himself.
Yeah. That is indeed a tough one. The "lunch" was awkward but ok. The event at the cemetary... Well, let's just say, to be kind, was different. One brother could not come into the county where the lunch was held due to outstanding warrents for his arrest. The other brother only just started speaking again after learning of Izaak's death several weeks ago. The sister is trying to hold it together, we just don't know for how long. Mom was there because she wanted to get on with life having long ago given up trying to parent the oldest 3.
The cemetary had young 20 somethings and late teen somethings showing up and drinking to get drunk or had already become so. The brother absent at lunch, was there. Drunk with alot to say. Idolizing his younger brother for dying like a rock star. The mother left. The grandparents left. The aunt and uncle left as did some cousins. One grandmother knew what would happen and offered health concerns as a reason to not be there at all. No closure, no hope, no anything.
I pulled my crew away early on. The significant other said he felt as though the others were being disrespectful to the place, occasion and those who were already dead.
I had to agree.
I had to make my daughter understand the need for hope. Now, I am not going to get all religious here. Not necessarily my style. But there has to be hope. Things, whatever they are, will get better. Unfortunately, for this family, I can't say they will be any time soon. The dynamics are not good and have never been for as long as I can remember.
So again, somewhere, somehow, I have to interject hope.
So again, tomorrow, I will cook. Sounds funky, but that is what I will do. We feed the living, we love the living, we go on. God will go with us. God will feed us. We just have to do the work.