This morning, at Waverly church, my sweet Miss Inez had the greatest story for me. It was about a horse named Billy Sherman. During the Civil War.in November 1861, a local regiment was raised in Lockport...Lockport is near Niagra Falls, New York The regiment was Battery M and part of the 1st Regiment New York Light Artillery and was mustered out of Rochester and sent to Washington to defend the Capitol. The key player of this story...was the Chief Bugler, Pvt. Lorenzo Pratt of Wilson. Pratt served in the War three and a half years and was one of the lucky ones...he lived to tell about it. According to the Niagra Historical Society, "he and Battery M saw action in almost every major battle including Bull Run, Antietam, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Chattanooga, Peach Tree Creek, the March to the Sea, and the campaigns of the Carolinas. During the Battle of Chattanooga in November 1863, Pratt captured a Confederate horse whom he named “Billy Sherman” after the famous general who had marched to the sea. Billy was a dark bay and stood 15 hands high. Pratt rode his new horse for the duration of the war and proudly brought him back to Wilson in June of 1865. Lorenzo Pratt finally returned to his life as a farmer on the Wilson-Burt Road. Billy became his chief workhorse as well as a much-loved friend. Every year on Decoration Day (now Memorial Day) and other patriotic holidays, Billy would be decked out in equestrian military regalia and join in the local parades. He was a favorite attraction with children and with the aging members of the GAR (Grand Army of the Republic). Age caught up with Billy too, but he was still working three days before he died on September 1, 1887. It was estimated that Billy was at least thirty years old when he passed away. An Army blanket was placed over his body and an American flag over his head. A poem about Billy was read aloud and then he was buried on the farm of his beloved master, Lorenzo Pratt. For many years, the Pratt family maintained Billy’s grave and the GAR placed a flag there every Decoration Day. Gradually however, those guardians either moved or passed away. Billy’s grave was almost lost to history, until, on September 1, 1973, 86 years after his death, the Wilson Historical Society placed a boulder with a historic marker on the side of the road not far from his final resting place. The marker is located on north side of Wilson-Burt Road about a mile east of the village of Wilson. It also includes three flags, the American, the Confederate and the Tennessee state flag." I don't know about you, but I thought that was a touching story....a good one for Sunday.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Billy Sherman Was a Horse!
This morning, at Waverly church, my sweet Miss Inez had the greatest story for me. It was about a horse named Billy Sherman. During the Civil War.in November 1861, a local regiment was raised in Lockport...Lockport is near Niagra Falls, New York The regiment was Battery M and part of the 1st Regiment New York Light Artillery and was mustered out of Rochester and sent to Washington to defend the Capitol. The key player of this story...was the Chief Bugler, Pvt. Lorenzo Pratt of Wilson. Pratt served in the War three and a half years and was one of the lucky ones...he lived to tell about it. According to the Niagra Historical Society, "he and Battery M saw action in almost every major battle including Bull Run, Antietam, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Chattanooga, Peach Tree Creek, the March to the Sea, and the campaigns of the Carolinas. During the Battle of Chattanooga in November 1863, Pratt captured a Confederate horse whom he named “Billy Sherman” after the famous general who had marched to the sea. Billy was a dark bay and stood 15 hands high. Pratt rode his new horse for the duration of the war and proudly brought him back to Wilson in June of 1865. Lorenzo Pratt finally returned to his life as a farmer on the Wilson-Burt Road. Billy became his chief workhorse as well as a much-loved friend. Every year on Decoration Day (now Memorial Day) and other patriotic holidays, Billy would be decked out in equestrian military regalia and join in the local parades. He was a favorite attraction with children and with the aging members of the GAR (Grand Army of the Republic). Age caught up with Billy too, but he was still working three days before he died on September 1, 1887. It was estimated that Billy was at least thirty years old when he passed away. An Army blanket was placed over his body and an American flag over his head. A poem about Billy was read aloud and then he was buried on the farm of his beloved master, Lorenzo Pratt. For many years, the Pratt family maintained Billy’s grave and the GAR placed a flag there every Decoration Day. Gradually however, those guardians either moved or passed away. Billy’s grave was almost lost to history, until, on September 1, 1973, 86 years after his death, the Wilson Historical Society placed a boulder with a historic marker on the side of the road not far from his final resting place. The marker is located on north side of Wilson-Burt Road about a mile east of the village of Wilson. It also includes three flags, the American, the Confederate and the Tennessee state flag." I don't know about you, but I thought that was a touching story....a good one for Sunday.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Plans Dashed - Sigh!
Kathryn called me last night, very sad. It broke my heart to hear the anguish in her voice...when I asked her what was wrong she told me she had just caught up on my blog..."Oh!" was all I could think to say. It occurred to me that all week my posts were a bit on the morbid side. so I thought last night I would write a happy one today. I thought I would write a lovely post about how wonderful my weekend was going to be. The key word here is WAS. You see,This week was my anniversary....and since there was not a free night to celebrate we thought we would do something special on Saturday. It was going to have to be early because I have a bowling board meeting at 5....that puts a crimp on Saturday night as a special night. Anyways, we were going to a scrapbooking session on Friday night from 6 - 12 at Rocky Creek Church and become scrapbook fiends....We were both looking forward to the weekend...and were so excited. I keep up with the Whistlestop Cafe blog and thought...how fun...something we have never done...this restaurant is the one in the Fannie Flagg book, Fried Green Tomatoes; It is famous! I emailed the restaurant...got specifics...and made the plans. Frank and I were both delighted about spending Saturday in B'ham. The best laid plans of mice and men....I got an email at work on Friday that postponed the scrapbooking session until next Friday night....ok...no biggie...but I should have known....the weekend was doomed. Frank got home about 5 with news that he had to work on Saturday. It seems it is the last day of deer hunting season and the other guy wanted to be off so he could go. Only in the South does deer hunting trump an anniversary. Sigh...so here I sit, with Frank at work, I COULD be cleaning house...but I don't want to. I COULD be scrapbooking...but I don't want to...I thought I would post...and let you in on how my weekend is going so far....LOL...I am not concerned...after all an anniversary...is just a date....we can celebrate it anytime....I am learning that lesson these days...Thanksgiving, Christmas, Anniversary...heck even a birthday is just on a day....a state of mind....you can party all year if you want to. So..with that said, rain pouring down outside (wouldn't have been fun in B'ham anyways), a little J.T.(James Taylor) on the stereo...if it were five o'clock...I would have a Margarita...and wish myself a Happy Anniversary....as it is...I am in my p.j.'s, with a cold Diet Coke...blogging. Who would have it any other way! Happy Saturday to you all!
Friday, January 29, 2010
The H&R Block Surprise
So remember when I posted that entry about our not-so-great H&R Block experience?
Well.
Last night the phone rang. Tom answered. Then he brought the phone over to me.
I figured it was a telemarketer. For some reason Tom thinks that he can just pass the phone onto me whenever one calls us. He claims it’s because he doesn’t know how to talk to them even though I’ve explained that all you have to do is say, “Not interested. Thank you.”
I motioned with my hands that I didn’t want the phone. I was in the middle of watching The Deep End and was trying to follow the plot.
“It’s H&R Block,” Tom said, dropping the phone in my lap.
I figured that it was someone wanting to do a survey about our experience. And I was all prepared to tell them truthfully about our experience because you should be honest in order for a company to get better, right?
I answered the phone and the man on the end introduced himself and then said, “Your blog has been noted.”
Huh? What?
It took me a few seconds to understand. I paused the show.
“Hey,” Tom complained from the couch. I find it amusing that he always makes fun of the shows I watch, yet he seems to always get into them. He won’t admit it though.
“I want to apologize for your experience,” the man continued.
I kept thinking, “Holy crap, people other than my family read my blog.” I mean, duh, obviously people other than family read it because of the comments I get. But still. You never quite think that people give a crud on what you have to write.
The man was incredibly nice. He kept apologizing and saying that our experience should not have gone like that. That people should have acted more professional and that we shouldn’t have been turned away from the first office we went to, that the woman who told us that we were at the wrong H&R Block should have said that she could fit us in there.
Do you know what else he said? That he’d send us a check for the amount we paid H&R Block (you might remember me typing TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS a lot in the H&R Block entry.) He also said he’d send us a coupon to get our taxes done for free next year with H&R Block.
“We’d love if you gave us another chance,” the guy said.
So I agreed. I have to say, that I am now impressed with H&R Block. They went above and beyond to make things right. And no, they didn’t even ask me to write this. I decided I would because I appreciate the fact that someone called me, wanting to make things better.
After I hung up I told Tom what all happened.
He was surprised, but his opinion on H&R Block also changed.
“Just…watch what you write about,” Tom warned. “If you rant about my job, I could get in trouble.”
I smiled. “I don’t really rant about the Air Force. I mainly rant about you.”
Tom stuck his tongue out. “Gee, thanks. And you have ranted about the Air Force before. Remember when you threw a fit when you thought we’d be moving to Montana?
I thought back to the tears I shed, the angry blog post I had written. “That’s because the Air Force was sending us from one crappy base to another. That wasn’t fair. So long as they keep their end of the bargain, which is giving you a base from your Dream Sheet since you’re going to Korea for a year, the Air Force and I are cool.” I even crossed my fingers to show how tight the Air Force and I would be if they sent us to Texas. Or Ohio.
Tom shot me a Look. “Seriously though. Mind what you say. Promise?”
Now I slipped my crossed fingers behind my back so he couldn’t see. “I promise.”
Well.
Last night the phone rang. Tom answered. Then he brought the phone over to me.
I figured it was a telemarketer. For some reason Tom thinks that he can just pass the phone onto me whenever one calls us. He claims it’s because he doesn’t know how to talk to them even though I’ve explained that all you have to do is say, “Not interested. Thank you.”
I motioned with my hands that I didn’t want the phone. I was in the middle of watching The Deep End and was trying to follow the plot.
“It’s H&R Block,” Tom said, dropping the phone in my lap.
I figured that it was someone wanting to do a survey about our experience. And I was all prepared to tell them truthfully about our experience because you should be honest in order for a company to get better, right?
I answered the phone and the man on the end introduced himself and then said, “Your blog has been noted.”
Huh? What?
It took me a few seconds to understand. I paused the show.
“Hey,” Tom complained from the couch. I find it amusing that he always makes fun of the shows I watch, yet he seems to always get into them. He won’t admit it though.
“I want to apologize for your experience,” the man continued.
I kept thinking, “Holy crap, people other than my family read my blog.” I mean, duh, obviously people other than family read it because of the comments I get. But still. You never quite think that people give a crud on what you have to write.
The man was incredibly nice. He kept apologizing and saying that our experience should not have gone like that. That people should have acted more professional and that we shouldn’t have been turned away from the first office we went to, that the woman who told us that we were at the wrong H&R Block should have said that she could fit us in there.
Do you know what else he said? That he’d send us a check for the amount we paid H&R Block (you might remember me typing TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS a lot in the H&R Block entry.) He also said he’d send us a coupon to get our taxes done for free next year with H&R Block.
“We’d love if you gave us another chance,” the guy said.
So I agreed. I have to say, that I am now impressed with H&R Block. They went above and beyond to make things right. And no, they didn’t even ask me to write this. I decided I would because I appreciate the fact that someone called me, wanting to make things better.
After I hung up I told Tom what all happened.
He was surprised, but his opinion on H&R Block also changed.
“Just…watch what you write about,” Tom warned. “If you rant about my job, I could get in trouble.”
I smiled. “I don’t really rant about the Air Force. I mainly rant about you.”
Tom stuck his tongue out. “Gee, thanks. And you have ranted about the Air Force before. Remember when you threw a fit when you thought we’d be moving to Montana?
I thought back to the tears I shed, the angry blog post I had written. “That’s because the Air Force was sending us from one crappy base to another. That wasn’t fair. So long as they keep their end of the bargain, which is giving you a base from your Dream Sheet since you’re going to Korea for a year, the Air Force and I are cool.” I even crossed my fingers to show how tight the Air Force and I would be if they sent us to Texas. Or Ohio.
Tom shot me a Look. “Seriously though. Mind what you say. Promise?”
Now I slipped my crossed fingers behind my back so he couldn’t see. “I promise.”
Dream a Little Dream...
When I was a teen, I loved the Mama's and the Papa's. I would spend hours in my room crooning out their songs, "Dedicated to the One I Love," "California Dreaming," and "Monday, Monday." You see, I was a beach girl...the only problem was, I was an east coaster and they were talking about the west coast...thus began my fascination with the Pacific Coast. The biggest draw to the west coast was I thought if I could just get close to Mama Cass I would have arrived. I loved the sound of her voice and wanted to sing just like her...especially the sound of Dream a Little Dream. She was the greatest. I was devastated when before I could get to California...Mama Cass died. My world was rocked. So, today....as you listen to my first song on my play box...close your eyes and think of one of the greats....Mama Cass Elliot. I did not know a whole lot about Mama Cass then, but today we have internet...so I went searching for Cass facts...and I want to share with my readers some things I found on the Cass Elliot website. I did not even know there was one until I went surfing around on the web. Did you know that she was not always Cass Elliot....she was actually born Ellen Naomi Cohen on September 19, 1941 in Baltimore, Maryland. I guess Mama Cass has a better ring to it than Mama Ellen. Anyways excuse my digression, "she grew up in Washington D.C. and in her senior year of high school, she performed in a summer stock production of "The Boyfriend" at the Owings Mills Playhouse where she played the French nurse who sings "It's Nicer, Much Nicer in Nice." After this experience Cass into the world of performance. "She made a splash in New York and began an acting career, competing with Barbra Streisand for the Miss Marmelstein part in "I Can Get It for You Wholesale" in 1962. She toured in a production of Meredith Wilson's "The Music Man." Elliot also produced a play at Cafe La Mama in New York." (from Cass Elliot website)"By early 1963 she had met up with Tim Rose and John Brown and formed a folk trio initially dubbed The Triumvirate, yet later known as The Big 3 when Brown was replaced by James Hendricks. The Big 3 were a progressive and innovative folk trio who recorded two albums and made appearances on The Tonight Show, Hootenanny and the Danny Kaye Show. In 1964 the group had begun to fall apart and it metamorphasized into a foursome called "Cass Elliot and The Big 3" which included Canadians, Denny Doherty and Zal Yanovsky (Tim Rose had left at this point). Soon this foursome became The Mugwumps who operated out of The Shadows nightclub in Washington. They released a single for Warner Brothers and stayed together through the end of 1964, until they too began to disintegrate. Cass Elliot began to work as a solo single in Washington, D.C." Ever listen to the lyrics of the Mama's and Papa's song, Creeque Alley? It is very historical....but I am getting ahead of myself...
"At this point Denny Doherty had joined John and Michelle Phillips and the three were performing as The New Journeymen. Soon they left for the Virgin Islands where Cass subsequently joined them and the four began to sing together in mid-1965. Thus the superstar group The Mamas and The Papas was born. From 1965-1968 the Mamas and Papas recorded a series of top ten hits including "Monday, Monday," "California Dreamin'," "I Saw Her Again," and "Dedicated to the One I Love.""
"The group's last hit was a launching number for Cass Elliot. "Dream A Little Dream Of Me" became Cass' theme song and beginning in 1968 she embarked on her own short-lived but solid solo career. Her distinct voice had always emerged from the groups in which she sang." This woman could sing....and in every single group she sang in or with...her's was the voice that stood out. What a singer. So, it was with great sadness when on July 29, 2974...I woke up to find out that Mama Cass Elliot had died. She was only 33 years old. How sad. The newspapers...reported many different causes for her death...some of them were not pretty...I think the one that bothered me the most was that it was reported she choked to death on a ham sandwich. As a larger person...anytime food is attributed to anything bad in our lives...it comes out negative. Mama Cass was no exception. I was delighted when I discovered that the cause of her death was NOT a ham sandwich(she had not even eaten one that day), or drugs( you have to remember the times), but it was something very serious...that had probably plagued her for a long time....Mama Cass was dead at 33 from myocardial degeneration due to obesity...and the world lost one of the greatest singers of all times. Everytime I hear her voice...I remember a time....when I was younger...and the world was different...and I close my eyes...and dream a little dream...
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Big Bill
“Oh my gosh!” I shouted as I gripped the letter. I waited for Tom to shout back, “What is it?” but he didn’t. No, he continued to play his computer game. Sometimes I want to smack whoever created Call of Duty.
I stepped a little closer to where Tom sat. For once he didn’t have his headphones on so there was no excuse why he didn’t hear me.
“Oh my GOSH!” I tried again.
Nothing.
Sometimes it’s frustrating that he can get so lost in his game. I try and remind myself that he’s not a Mom, therefore he can easily shut off all his senses. Unlike me, who, as I’m writing this now, has my ears set to what Natalie is doing (playing with her Little People and munching on some grapes.)
“My gosh,” I said for the final time and then tossed the letter into Tom’s lap.
“What the HELL?” he yelled, jumping. A bunch of explosions appeared on the screen and then the words You’ve been killed by…. popped up. “Amber. You just got me killed. What in the…” He punched a few buttons and picked up the letter. “What’s this?”
“What we owe for Natalie’s hospital stay in Denver,” I answered sweetly.
Tom frowned, scanning for the amount. When he found it, he turned pale and went, “Seriously?”
“Mmmm,” I said lightly, scratching my arm.
“Do we have to....pay this?” Tom’s skin was still an unhealthy white.
“Yup,” I teased but then I quickly went, “No, no, insurance covers it, don’t pass out!!” Because after I had gone “yup” Tom had slumped over a bit. It really is a good thing he’s not married to one of those Housewives of Orange County who don’t think twice about dropping six grand on one dress.
“Thank goodness for insurance then,” Tom said, handing me back the letter.
“Yup. Thank goodness for insurance. Now I have to make a phone call to Verizon because while we were in the hospital, Natalie downloaded something onto my phone which ended up costing us another ten bucks on the bill,” I said.
Seriously. I have no idea what the little minx put on my phone. I had given it to her, to distract her as they put in her IV when we were at the hospital. She had happily punched a bunch of buttons, enjoying the way the screen flicked to different colors. From the corner of my eye I saw something that said, “Thank you for purchasing….” and I snatched it back.
“What did you purchase?” I asked stupidly. I mean, hello, like she’s going to tell me.
“Uh oh,” the nurse said.
Uh oh, indeed. Then I got our cell phone bill and sure enough, Natalie had indeed bought something.
So I dialed Verizon’s number and waited…
And waited….
And waited….
“Can I please just speak to a human being?!” I wailed.
Then I was told to say what I needed help with and they’d transfer me accordingly.
“My daughter downloaded something and I want to know what the crap it was!” I yelled.
There was a tinkling noise and then, “Could you repeat that?”
Great, I had confused the computer.
“MY DAUGHTER DOWNLOADED SOMETHING AND I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE CRAP IT WAS!”
There was another tinkling noise and then I was told I was being transferred.
Finally.
A human.
When one picked up I went, “Are you real or a computer?”
She laughed. “I’m real.”
So then I told her the problem and she found it hilarious—of course she would, my daughter’s mistake earned her company an extra ten bucks—but she didn’t quite know what Natalie downloaded.
“Look in the ring tones,” she suggested.
I did. Nothing.
“Hmmmm,” she kept mumbling.
Eventually I found a tiny recording that Natalie had made. She just went, “Blahhh,” into it and I guess she had set it to a ringtone. So that’s what cost me the extra money. A recording of my daughter going, “Blahhh.” Fantastic.
Mystery solved though.
And, by the way, Natalie is never touching my phone again. What would she do next, make a recording of her going, “Booooo?”
I stepped a little closer to where Tom sat. For once he didn’t have his headphones on so there was no excuse why he didn’t hear me.
“Oh my GOSH!” I tried again.
Nothing.
Sometimes it’s frustrating that he can get so lost in his game. I try and remind myself that he’s not a Mom, therefore he can easily shut off all his senses. Unlike me, who, as I’m writing this now, has my ears set to what Natalie is doing (playing with her Little People and munching on some grapes.)
“My gosh,” I said for the final time and then tossed the letter into Tom’s lap.
“What the HELL?” he yelled, jumping. A bunch of explosions appeared on the screen and then the words You’ve been killed by…. popped up. “Amber. You just got me killed. What in the…” He punched a few buttons and picked up the letter. “What’s this?”
“What we owe for Natalie’s hospital stay in Denver,” I answered sweetly.
Tom frowned, scanning for the amount. When he found it, he turned pale and went, “Seriously?”
“Mmmm,” I said lightly, scratching my arm.
“Do we have to....pay this?” Tom’s skin was still an unhealthy white.
“Yup,” I teased but then I quickly went, “No, no, insurance covers it, don’t pass out!!” Because after I had gone “yup” Tom had slumped over a bit. It really is a good thing he’s not married to one of those Housewives of Orange County who don’t think twice about dropping six grand on one dress.
“Thank goodness for insurance then,” Tom said, handing me back the letter.
“Yup. Thank goodness for insurance. Now I have to make a phone call to Verizon because while we were in the hospital, Natalie downloaded something onto my phone which ended up costing us another ten bucks on the bill,” I said.
Seriously. I have no idea what the little minx put on my phone. I had given it to her, to distract her as they put in her IV when we were at the hospital. She had happily punched a bunch of buttons, enjoying the way the screen flicked to different colors. From the corner of my eye I saw something that said, “Thank you for purchasing….” and I snatched it back.
“What did you purchase?” I asked stupidly. I mean, hello, like she’s going to tell me.
“Uh oh,” the nurse said.
Uh oh, indeed. Then I got our cell phone bill and sure enough, Natalie had indeed bought something.
So I dialed Verizon’s number and waited…
And waited….
And waited….
“Can I please just speak to a human being?!” I wailed.
Then I was told to say what I needed help with and they’d transfer me accordingly.
“My daughter downloaded something and I want to know what the crap it was!” I yelled.
There was a tinkling noise and then, “Could you repeat that?”
Great, I had confused the computer.
“MY DAUGHTER DOWNLOADED SOMETHING AND I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE CRAP IT WAS!”
There was another tinkling noise and then I was told I was being transferred.
Finally.
A human.
When one picked up I went, “Are you real or a computer?”
She laughed. “I’m real.”
So then I told her the problem and she found it hilarious—of course she would, my daughter’s mistake earned her company an extra ten bucks—but she didn’t quite know what Natalie downloaded.
“Look in the ring tones,” she suggested.
I did. Nothing.
“Hmmmm,” she kept mumbling.
Eventually I found a tiny recording that Natalie had made. She just went, “Blahhh,” into it and I guess she had set it to a ringtone. So that’s what cost me the extra money. A recording of my daughter going, “Blahhh.” Fantastic.
Mystery solved though.
And, by the way, Natalie is never touching my phone again. What would she do next, make a recording of her going, “Booooo?”
January 28th, 1986 was a Very Sad Day
On January 28th, 1986 I was at home with a sick child. Kat was 5 and had the flu. While she slept peacefully on the couch, I watched late breaking news and cried silently where I sat. Why was I crying? I was crying because right before my eyes I watched the Challenger explode just after liftoff , killing everyone of the seven astronauts aboard. This was the 10th trip for Challenger and included a teacher from New Hampshire...her name was Christa MacAuliffe. I had never met her, but had followed her career...because I too was a teacher. Christa MacAuliffe was among the astronauts as part of a new Teacher in Space project. The Launch was shown live on CNN and many schools set up televisions for children to watch due to the involvement of a teacher in the shuttle. I sat at home, holding my sleeping daughter and crying silently. Christa MacAuliffe was the only name I knew on this particular flight....later I would find out that the other crew members were Michael J. Smith, Dick Scobee, and Ronald McNair, as well as Ellison Onizuka,Gregory Jarvis, and Judith Resnik. A warning was ignored that certain equipment on the ship was vulnerable at new temperatures...a warning was ignored...and right before our eyes...the Challenger ceased to be. I grew up watching take offs from Cape Canaveral/Kennedy. I loved them. I loved watching the rockets drop the boosters, I loved the thought of going to space...the unknown...I wanted to BE a Christa MacAuliffe....but right then...I was glad I was safely tucked in the confines of my own house...and could wake up tomorrow and hold my daughter....again. The lives of the astronauts were over...and now...twenty four years later....do you remember the names of the astronauts that died...reaching for the stars? Christa MacAuliffe is still a recognized name in the world of educators...because just like in life...she is still encouraging us to reach for the stars.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
James - Student Under Fire
I have taught for over 20 years and over those years I have had some interesting characters in my classes. One of my most interesting and troubling students was James*(name changed). When I attended the SunBelt Writers Project at Auburn University we had to write a program about someone who had shaken our belief system. I chose James.Ode to James
James enters the classroom, surveys all present. Sees his buddy Fred and a playful puppy is ther for the day. This day is a rare one, Fred doesn't come much. James is a child in a man's body this day. He seeks constant attention and stroking from me and leaves me drained at the end of the hour. This was one of the good days.
His Fila shoes and fade are status symbols of his project life that seems a million miles away this day. His clothes, clean but few, are the outward signs that he is stylin' with the best. Oh, James, the outside is only a small part of you. I wish you understood that today.
Then comes the day when Fred does not appear and James enters the room like an angry mastiff tossed into too many gambling arenas for entertainment.
Untouchable, snarling, unfeeling, angry, hurt, with a mouth as big as all outdoors. He pushes into the room. There will be no learning here today.
I pass his desk and he reeks of alcohol. I must deal with this breach, but will I lost him in the process? His large, dark, question eyes haunt me day and night.
I know there is something special beneath this facade of contradictions. At my bleakest moments, feeling like a failure, James looks into my eyes and with his lopsided smile, assures me that we are OK...at least for today...and that is enough to hope for. With James it will always be one day at a time.
Inside Natalie's Closet: GBR Edition
So Gymboree had something called Gymbuck Redemption, which basically meant you could save money on the clothes you bought.
Gymbuck Redemption has been known to give me a headache because I never exactly know what I want. However, this time I'm pleased on what I picked out.
So without further ado, here is an entry called Inside Natalie's Closet: GBR (Gymbuck Redemption) edition.
"Hey Natalie, what do you think of the new dress?"
Natalie says, "Meh."
Then I started to sing creepy Yo Gabba Gabba songs and she warmed up:
"Hey Natalie, I got you some sunglasses to go with the dress. What do you think?"
Natalie says, "Meh."
But then I sang again and waved to a neighbor who walked past with her dog. "Nice song," she called out as I sang about not biting your friends.
"Come on Natalie, time for an outfit change. We'll pretend we're Jennifer Lopez."
And yes, that is a plastic skull that she's holding. She refused to let it go. "SKULL WANTS PICTURE TOO!" she bellowed as the same neighbor who had passed before, returned home. She probably thinks we're some freak house who collects skulls and talks about not biting people.
"Natalie, we just have one more outfit left. Okay?"
"WTF do you mean one more outfit?"
After a bite of chocolate, Natalie returned.
Only she didn't come back as Natalie.
She came back as a fairy.
She had to have the unicorn purse. While deciding what I should order, Natalie had spotted the purse and had gone, "For me?"
"Yes, Natalie, the purse is for you." And yes, she insisted on wearing her pink boots.
"I yuv the horse," Natalie said.
She doesn't always laugh when I sing. No, sometimes I have to run into the house to get a smile. I'm not kidding. Should I be concerned that my fake pain causes her pleasure?
After I ran into the house, Natalie pointed and shrieked, "Mommy went bang!" (And the same neighbor came outside to throw some trash away and saw me colliding ON PURPOSE with my home. Yeah. We're freaks in her eyes.)
Still amused.
Did I mention that the shirt had wings on the back?
"Natalie, I got you some sunglasses to go with this outfit too!"
"Say what?"
I was trying to get her to peek demurely out of her glasses. She kept going, "What's demore mean?"
"Mommy is funny when she smacks into a wall!"
This picture is called: "Natalie. With a Tumbleweed."
"Okay Natalie, just a few more pictures. Smile for Mommy!"
"Love you, Natalie."
"Yuv you, Mommy."
Gymbuck Redemption has been known to give me a headache because I never exactly know what I want. However, this time I'm pleased on what I picked out.
So without further ado, here is an entry called Inside Natalie's Closet: GBR (Gymbuck Redemption) edition.
"Hey Natalie, what do you think of the new dress?"
Natalie says, "Meh."
Then I started to sing creepy Yo Gabba Gabba songs and she warmed up:
"Hey Natalie, I got you some sunglasses to go with the dress. What do you think?"
Natalie says, "Meh."
But then I sang again and waved to a neighbor who walked past with her dog. "Nice song," she called out as I sang about not biting your friends.
"Come on Natalie, time for an outfit change. We'll pretend we're Jennifer Lopez."
And yes, that is a plastic skull that she's holding. She refused to let it go. "SKULL WANTS PICTURE TOO!" she bellowed as the same neighbor who had passed before, returned home. She probably thinks we're some freak house who collects skulls and talks about not biting people.
"Natalie, we just have one more outfit left. Okay?"
"WTF do you mean one more outfit?"
After a bite of chocolate, Natalie returned.
Only she didn't come back as Natalie.
She came back as a fairy.
She had to have the unicorn purse. While deciding what I should order, Natalie had spotted the purse and had gone, "For me?"
"Yes, Natalie, the purse is for you." And yes, she insisted on wearing her pink boots.
"I yuv the horse," Natalie said.
She doesn't always laugh when I sing. No, sometimes I have to run into the house to get a smile. I'm not kidding. Should I be concerned that my fake pain causes her pleasure?
After I ran into the house, Natalie pointed and shrieked, "Mommy went bang!" (And the same neighbor came outside to throw some trash away and saw me colliding ON PURPOSE with my home. Yeah. We're freaks in her eyes.)
Still amused.
Did I mention that the shirt had wings on the back?
"Natalie, I got you some sunglasses to go with this outfit too!"
"Say what?"
I was trying to get her to peek demurely out of her glasses. She kept going, "What's demore mean?"
"Mommy is funny when she smacks into a wall!"
This picture is called: "Natalie. With a Tumbleweed."
"Okay Natalie, just a few more pictures. Smile for Mommy!"
"Love you, Natalie."
"Yuv you, Mommy."
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
It's Time for Random Thoughts
1. Why does Chris Harrison, the host of The Bachelor feel the need to stroll out and announce that it’s the last rose of the night? Duh Chris Harrison. We can all SEE that there is one rose left. I realize that some of the women’s intelligence might be in question but I can almost guarantee that they can all count to one.
2. Fox has a new show called Our Little Genius or something like that. Tom saw the preview and went, “Natalie could be on that,” and I went, “Tom. When you ask Natalie what her name is she says nose. If you ask how old she is she says grass. She’s a smart kid but genius she is not…”
3. I always seem to be behind slow people in drive thrus. I’m not sure if these people are aware, but drive thrus are for people in a hurry. Drive thrus are for people with impatient two year olds who are screaming, “FRIES NOW!” in the backseat. But some people go to the drive thru and are all, “Yes, I’d like a burger but I only want the bun lightly toasted, just a bit of cheese, only one onion and….crap, nevermind, I think I’ll have the nuggets but not if they come out overcooked..” If your order is complicated, go inside. If you order half the menu, go inside. If you don’t know what you want when you pull up to the speaker, GO INSIDE!
4. Natalie screwed something up with the TV yesterday. This is why I need to put the remote control out of reach. I finally figured out how to fix it but it was after I had thrown the remote angrily across the room and called it an asshole (not in front of the kids, don’t worry.)
5. Remember awhile back when Tom ordered some Girl Scout cookies and didn’t bother to get me some Caramel Delights because he couldn’t remember what I liked? Well, he made it right. A guy at work was selling some for his daughter and Tom called and was all, “What do you like again?” *Sighs* We had had the conversation less than a week ago but still I said, “Caramel Delights.” We hung up and then a few second later he called back. “They don’t have Caramel Delights,” he insisted. “Yes, they do. The Girl Scouts would never get rid of Caramel Delights,” I said calmly. “No really, I don’t see Caramel Delights on the order form,” Tom replied. “Are Samoas there?” I asked. It was silent and then Tom went, “Yes! Samoas are there. Do you want those instead?” I went, “Tom, it’s the same thing as Caramel Delights,” and he went, “Then why aren’t they called Caramel Delights?” So I had to explain that in different areas, cookies are sometimes called different things and Tom went, “Girl Scouts are confusing.”
6. “Greetings, Sire,” I said to Tom as I dipped down into a curtsey. Tom didn’t even miss a beat when he said, “You’ve been watching The Tudors again, haven’t you?”
7. I really tried to like Jersey Shore since so many people were buzzing about it. But I couldn’t get into it. I sat down to watch the first episode and as soon as some guy said that he was called The Situation I turned it off. I’m sorry, but no. Just...no.
2. Fox has a new show called Our Little Genius or something like that. Tom saw the preview and went, “Natalie could be on that,” and I went, “Tom. When you ask Natalie what her name is she says nose. If you ask how old she is she says grass. She’s a smart kid but genius she is not…”
3. I always seem to be behind slow people in drive thrus. I’m not sure if these people are aware, but drive thrus are for people in a hurry. Drive thrus are for people with impatient two year olds who are screaming, “FRIES NOW!” in the backseat. But some people go to the drive thru and are all, “Yes, I’d like a burger but I only want the bun lightly toasted, just a bit of cheese, only one onion and….crap, nevermind, I think I’ll have the nuggets but not if they come out overcooked..” If your order is complicated, go inside. If you order half the menu, go inside. If you don’t know what you want when you pull up to the speaker, GO INSIDE!
4. Natalie screwed something up with the TV yesterday. This is why I need to put the remote control out of reach. I finally figured out how to fix it but it was after I had thrown the remote angrily across the room and called it an asshole (not in front of the kids, don’t worry.)
5. Remember awhile back when Tom ordered some Girl Scout cookies and didn’t bother to get me some Caramel Delights because he couldn’t remember what I liked? Well, he made it right. A guy at work was selling some for his daughter and Tom called and was all, “What do you like again?” *Sighs* We had had the conversation less than a week ago but still I said, “Caramel Delights.” We hung up and then a few second later he called back. “They don’t have Caramel Delights,” he insisted. “Yes, they do. The Girl Scouts would never get rid of Caramel Delights,” I said calmly. “No really, I don’t see Caramel Delights on the order form,” Tom replied. “Are Samoas there?” I asked. It was silent and then Tom went, “Yes! Samoas are there. Do you want those instead?” I went, “Tom, it’s the same thing as Caramel Delights,” and he went, “Then why aren’t they called Caramel Delights?” So I had to explain that in different areas, cookies are sometimes called different things and Tom went, “Girl Scouts are confusing.”
6. “Greetings, Sire,” I said to Tom as I dipped down into a curtsey. Tom didn’t even miss a beat when he said, “You’ve been watching The Tudors again, haven’t you?”
7. I really tried to like Jersey Shore since so many people were buzzing about it. But I couldn’t get into it. I sat down to watch the first episode and as soon as some guy said that he was called The Situation I turned it off. I’m sorry, but no. Just...no.
Happy Anniversary!
Today, January 26th, seven years ago I got married at the end of the Arbor Service at First United Methodist Church. It was a perfect day. My daughter, Kat and our good friend Robert stood up for us. Behind us, was a congregation of wonderful people who came to share in this wonderful event. So, bear with me a bit....I want to let my sweet Frank know how special that day....and every day since has been.When You Found Each Other
When we found each other,
we gained the finest prize:
companions to share life’s joys,
a friend who lightens burdens,
whose company is always a comfort.
When we found each other,
we embraced the love we had dreamed of,
the source of endless pleasure
and memories to treasure.
May this anniversary remind us
of how precious that day was,
when we found each other.
I love you baby!
Monday, January 25, 2010
The H&R Block Debacle
It was Tom who wanted to go to H&R Block to get our taxes done.
I wanted to do them online as we had done four years in a row.
But no. He kept worrying that he’d make a mistake since we bought a new car and would get the sales tax back.
I kept saying that he was doing it right online because he had started it to see what our tax refund estimate would be.
“I’d just feel more comfortable going to an actual tax person,” Tom kept saying.
So fine, I gave in.
I made the appointment and we gathered up all our papers and drove over there.
We walk in, I say we have an appointment with Linda and the young girl behind the desk blinked at me.
“Um. There’s no Linda here,” she said.
Huh?
“Maybe the appointment was with someone else?” I suggested. Maybe they had given me another name on the phone. Natalie was freaking out when I was making the appointment after all. She wanted me to pick her up and when I refused, she started trying to climb up my leg. So I was trying to focus on the conversation while she decided to act like she was a monkey. On me.
The young girl typed in my name and shook her head. “Nope, you’re not here. Oh.” She peered closer at her screen and I thought, Phew, she’s figured it out. But then she gave me an apologetic smile and said, “You’re at the wrong H&R Block. Your appointment is for the one downtown. Not here.”
What?
“But I know I dialed the number for the one here.” I made sure of that.
She shook her head. “All the numbers are the same. The woman who took your appointment was supposed to let you know.”
I felt my blood begin to boil. “Well, she didn’t.” I said this sharply and gripped the handle of my purse. For a brief second I was tempted to spin my purse over my head and make a noise like Xena Warrior Princess to show my anger. But I didn't.
“I’m sorry. I’ll call and let them know you’re running late,” the girl said, picking up the phone.
“We don’t even know where the one is downtown!” I said.
So she gave us directions. I thought Tom was paying attention because hello, he was driving and he was the one who wanted to go to H&R Block in the first place. But when we got back in the truck he went, “What road do we turn off of?”
“Screw this,” I snapped, tossing the W2 on the ground. “Let’s do it online, okay.” Fine, I admit I have a temper if places aren’t organized. Why didn’t the woman on the phone tell me it was for the H&R Block downtown in the first place?
“I don’t want to do it online,” Tom said stubbornly. He started messing with his GPS. “We’ll figure this out.”
We made a few wrong turns. Usually Tom hollers and carries on when he’s missed a turn. But he just calmly turned the truck around while I seethed in my seat.
“I want to do the taxes online,” I kept saying.
“I don’t,” Tom answered.
We finally made it to other H&R Block. It was across the street from an adult bookstore. I’m not even kidding.
“Thanks Tom, for bringing us to the seedy part of town,” I said.
“No problem,” he replied lightly because after all, he was getting his way.
We checked into H&R Block and I apologized for being late—have I mentioned that I HATE being late? “But when I made the appointment the woman on the other end never bothered to tell me which H&R Block to go to. She seemed distracted when I spoke to her,” I said accusingly. This was true. I remember that the woman had seemed flippant and eager to get me off of the phone. I bet she was texting.
The blond woman behind the desk immediately looked guilty. “Oh. You probably spoke to me then. I have a bad habit of not telling people where to go. Tee hee.”
I’m not kidding. She actually went teehee at me.
Tom could see I was about to lose my cool so he took hold of my arm and led me to some chairs in the waiting area.
“Sit. Breathe,” he instructed, taking the clipboard with the paperwork that we had to fill out from me.
“But that girl teeheed me like it was no big deal!” I hissed. “There are people out there who need jobs and H&R Block gave teehee girl one? What’s wrong with this world?”
Tom put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. It’s okay. We’re here now.”
A few minutes later we were called back by our tax person. I showed her the receipt that we got for paying the car tax when we bought the new car. I expected her to go, “Oh yes, I’ve seen tons of those before.” Instead she took the paper from me, peered closely at it and went, “Hmmm. I’ve never done one of these before.”
Okay, I assumed H&R Block was filled with experts.
I shot Tom a Look that clearly said, “THIS is what you wanted?”
“I’ll figure it out though,” the woman said as she logged onto her computer.
I slid over our Social Security cards. “Show me the money,” I said jokingly. I was trying to make best of the situation even though I still wanted to throw something at Teehee Girl.
The woman stared at me with wide eyes. She was clearly perplexed. “Huh?”
“Show me the money,” I repeated a little weakly. Hasn’t she seen Jerry Maguire? I assumed everyone had.
“Don’t mind my wife,” Tom spoke up. “She has Tourettes.”
Actually, he didn’t really say that. But his expression certainly did.
“It’s a line from a movie. Never mind,” I mumbled to my fingers.
The woman blinked a few seconds and then took the Social Security cards. “I see,” she said with faux politeness. “I see.”
Then we started. And her computer tax program kept beeping at her.
“What am I doing wrong?” she said.
Was she asking us? How would WE know?
Finally she’d figure it out but then something else would go wrong.
I was beginning to get a headache. I kept tossing Tom I-told-you-so looks. Trust me, if the roles were reversed and I insisted on going to H&R Block, he’d have done the same to me.
An hour later we were finally done.
“So your total fee is $230,” the woman said, tapping her screen.
Excuse me?
Did she say TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS?
Was she on crack?
I mean, it was the seedy part of town. She could have very well been on crack.
“Yes,” Tom said beside me. “Okay.” He nudged me as if to say, “Start acting like a human being.”
“Two hundred and thirty dollars?” I echoed.
“That’s right. We can just take it from your tax refund if you wish. But if you pay us with a debit or credit card, you get thirty dollars off,” the woman said cheerfully. How does she sleep at night charging people that much for punching in a few numbers? We had an uncomplicated tax return for craps sake.
“We’ll pay with debit card,” I said thinly. I poked Tom in the leg as if to say, “I hope you’re happy with this. We could have paid NOTHING had we done it online.”
I mean, okay, I’m happy with the tax refund amount that we’re getting back.
But two hundred and thirty dollars to get said tax refund? Seriously?
I was trying to bite my tongue as we got into the truck to leave.
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked as he backed out.
“Nothing,” I answered but my tone clearly said that I was pissed the crap off.
Then Tom went, “Actually, the amount we got back was basically the same amount as it showed online.”
That’s when I lost it.
“Why didn’t you SAY anything then? We could have walked away if we didn’t want to pay TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS! You should have said, ‘Excuse me, clueless H&R Block lady, but when I typed everything in online I got the same amount so I think we’re going to walk.’ And you DIDN’T?” I didn’t want to throw anything at TeeHee Lady at that moment (on the way out she had gone, “Have a fantabulous night!” and I felt the urge to throw my cell phone at her blond head). Now I had a compulsion to hurl something at my husband’s head.
“Well, I figured she did all that work so we should pay her for it,” Tom said calmly. How can he remain so calm? TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS?
“Here, you look stressed, I’ll get you a diet cherry coke from Sonic. Okay?” Tom offered.
He’s really lucky that I love Sonic.
Two hundred and thirty dollars indeed.
I wanted to do them online as we had done four years in a row.
But no. He kept worrying that he’d make a mistake since we bought a new car and would get the sales tax back.
I kept saying that he was doing it right online because he had started it to see what our tax refund estimate would be.
“I’d just feel more comfortable going to an actual tax person,” Tom kept saying.
So fine, I gave in.
I made the appointment and we gathered up all our papers and drove over there.
We walk in, I say we have an appointment with Linda and the young girl behind the desk blinked at me.
“Um. There’s no Linda here,” she said.
Huh?
“Maybe the appointment was with someone else?” I suggested. Maybe they had given me another name on the phone. Natalie was freaking out when I was making the appointment after all. She wanted me to pick her up and when I refused, she started trying to climb up my leg. So I was trying to focus on the conversation while she decided to act like she was a monkey. On me.
The young girl typed in my name and shook her head. “Nope, you’re not here. Oh.” She peered closer at her screen and I thought, Phew, she’s figured it out. But then she gave me an apologetic smile and said, “You’re at the wrong H&R Block. Your appointment is for the one downtown. Not here.”
What?
“But I know I dialed the number for the one here.” I made sure of that.
She shook her head. “All the numbers are the same. The woman who took your appointment was supposed to let you know.”
I felt my blood begin to boil. “Well, she didn’t.” I said this sharply and gripped the handle of my purse. For a brief second I was tempted to spin my purse over my head and make a noise like Xena Warrior Princess to show my anger. But I didn't.
“I’m sorry. I’ll call and let them know you’re running late,” the girl said, picking up the phone.
“We don’t even know where the one is downtown!” I said.
So she gave us directions. I thought Tom was paying attention because hello, he was driving and he was the one who wanted to go to H&R Block in the first place. But when we got back in the truck he went, “What road do we turn off of?”
“Screw this,” I snapped, tossing the W2 on the ground. “Let’s do it online, okay.” Fine, I admit I have a temper if places aren’t organized. Why didn’t the woman on the phone tell me it was for the H&R Block downtown in the first place?
“I don’t want to do it online,” Tom said stubbornly. He started messing with his GPS. “We’ll figure this out.”
We made a few wrong turns. Usually Tom hollers and carries on when he’s missed a turn. But he just calmly turned the truck around while I seethed in my seat.
“I want to do the taxes online,” I kept saying.
“I don’t,” Tom answered.
We finally made it to other H&R Block. It was across the street from an adult bookstore. I’m not even kidding.
“Thanks Tom, for bringing us to the seedy part of town,” I said.
“No problem,” he replied lightly because after all, he was getting his way.
We checked into H&R Block and I apologized for being late—have I mentioned that I HATE being late? “But when I made the appointment the woman on the other end never bothered to tell me which H&R Block to go to. She seemed distracted when I spoke to her,” I said accusingly. This was true. I remember that the woman had seemed flippant and eager to get me off of the phone. I bet she was texting.
The blond woman behind the desk immediately looked guilty. “Oh. You probably spoke to me then. I have a bad habit of not telling people where to go. Tee hee.”
I’m not kidding. She actually went teehee at me.
Tom could see I was about to lose my cool so he took hold of my arm and led me to some chairs in the waiting area.
“Sit. Breathe,” he instructed, taking the clipboard with the paperwork that we had to fill out from me.
“But that girl teeheed me like it was no big deal!” I hissed. “There are people out there who need jobs and H&R Block gave teehee girl one? What’s wrong with this world?”
Tom put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. It’s okay. We’re here now.”
A few minutes later we were called back by our tax person. I showed her the receipt that we got for paying the car tax when we bought the new car. I expected her to go, “Oh yes, I’ve seen tons of those before.” Instead she took the paper from me, peered closely at it and went, “Hmmm. I’ve never done one of these before.”
Okay, I assumed H&R Block was filled with experts.
I shot Tom a Look that clearly said, “THIS is what you wanted?”
“I’ll figure it out though,” the woman said as she logged onto her computer.
I slid over our Social Security cards. “Show me the money,” I said jokingly. I was trying to make best of the situation even though I still wanted to throw something at Teehee Girl.
The woman stared at me with wide eyes. She was clearly perplexed. “Huh?”
“Show me the money,” I repeated a little weakly. Hasn’t she seen Jerry Maguire? I assumed everyone had.
“Don’t mind my wife,” Tom spoke up. “She has Tourettes.”
Actually, he didn’t really say that. But his expression certainly did.
“It’s a line from a movie. Never mind,” I mumbled to my fingers.
The woman blinked a few seconds and then took the Social Security cards. “I see,” she said with faux politeness. “I see.”
Then we started. And her computer tax program kept beeping at her.
“What am I doing wrong?” she said.
Was she asking us? How would WE know?
Finally she’d figure it out but then something else would go wrong.
I was beginning to get a headache. I kept tossing Tom I-told-you-so looks. Trust me, if the roles were reversed and I insisted on going to H&R Block, he’d have done the same to me.
An hour later we were finally done.
“So your total fee is $230,” the woman said, tapping her screen.
Excuse me?
Did she say TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS?
Was she on crack?
I mean, it was the seedy part of town. She could have very well been on crack.
“Yes,” Tom said beside me. “Okay.” He nudged me as if to say, “Start acting like a human being.”
“Two hundred and thirty dollars?” I echoed.
“That’s right. We can just take it from your tax refund if you wish. But if you pay us with a debit or credit card, you get thirty dollars off,” the woman said cheerfully. How does she sleep at night charging people that much for punching in a few numbers? We had an uncomplicated tax return for craps sake.
“We’ll pay with debit card,” I said thinly. I poked Tom in the leg as if to say, “I hope you’re happy with this. We could have paid NOTHING had we done it online.”
I mean, okay, I’m happy with the tax refund amount that we’re getting back.
But two hundred and thirty dollars to get said tax refund? Seriously?
I was trying to bite my tongue as we got into the truck to leave.
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked as he backed out.
“Nothing,” I answered but my tone clearly said that I was pissed the crap off.
Then Tom went, “Actually, the amount we got back was basically the same amount as it showed online.”
That’s when I lost it.
“Why didn’t you SAY anything then? We could have walked away if we didn’t want to pay TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS! You should have said, ‘Excuse me, clueless H&R Block lady, but when I typed everything in online I got the same amount so I think we’re going to walk.’ And you DIDN’T?” I didn’t want to throw anything at TeeHee Lady at that moment (on the way out she had gone, “Have a fantabulous night!” and I felt the urge to throw my cell phone at her blond head). Now I had a compulsion to hurl something at my husband’s head.
“Well, I figured she did all that work so we should pay her for it,” Tom said calmly. How can he remain so calm? TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS?
“Here, you look stressed, I’ll get you a diet cherry coke from Sonic. Okay?” Tom offered.
He’s really lucky that I love Sonic.
Two hundred and thirty dollars indeed.
Simply Charming
Throughout my lifetime I have gone through series after series of collections. Of course, they all depend on the age I am at the time, and what I where my interests lie. For example, when I was 10 I collected Barbies....of course I really did not COLLECT them...I got them to play with. Yes, even though I was a TomBoy....I was also a closet Barbie Doll player. Later in life it was music prints, glass apples, lighthouses, angels,...as a matter of fact, I told my mom one year that I was no longer collecting lighthouses any more. She seemed shocked and asked me what I was going to collect? Like...you MUST collect SOMETHING....so I said, "One hundred dollar bills." She did not think that was too funny. I, on the other hand, thought it was a scream. I quit collecting when it becomes not fun anymore. I started collecting lighthouses by getting a small statue every time I went to a lighthouse...BUT, then the world started giving me lighthouses...and it no longer meant the same thing. When I was in high school my mom worked for Yetta Oakes Antiques in Palm Beach....I would go and help uncrate stuff and put it out for display. I loved the smell of the antique store...and I loved the stories I would invent for the different pieces of collectibles we unwrapped. For graduation...Yetta gave me a set of four gold rimmed glasses. I remember the day they came in from an estate sale in upstate New York...I loved them then...I love them now...but that is a different story....One day, in a rag-tag box...came in a plate, salad plate, and cup...it was Christmas green....and square! I loved it. I asked Yetta about it and found out it was called Charm. It was not anything pricy...but it was pretty. My paycheck that week brought the square stuff home with me. I am not an avid collector of Forest Green Charm....but I have a solid selection of the stuff. If I find a piece, and it is within my budget, I add it to my collection. 
Years later I would discover Forst Green Bupee and Bupee Swirl glasses. They really do make a pretty tablescape and with my 10.00 Family Dollar store Christmas dishes...they make my inexpensive offering...on a table look like something straight out of Martha Stewart Living. I love it! It is especially beautiful...with some green candlesticks, not Forest Green, I found at a Thrift Store, and the green footed punch bowl, complete with 12 cups, my mom found in Tyler, Texas. I do so love to set tables up.
I think the Charm is simply Chah - ming...don't you? I have often thought about adding the Ruby Red dishes to the green....but then...I think....Nope...I am a Forest Green kindagirl and would not have it any other way! Happy Antiquing!
Sunday, January 24, 2010
1674 Women Against the All-Male Coffee-House Culture
This famous satirical petition was put forth in 1674, as a protest against the perceived ills of the all-male coffee house culture of England. I realize this is a 17th-century piece of Restoration Satire from London, but to understand the importance of the Coffee House, in both England and in her British American colonies, it is enjoyable (and a little racy) reading.
The Women's Petition Against Coffee
Representing to Publick Consideration the Grand Inconveniencies accruing to their Sex from the Excessive Use of that drying, Enfeebling Liquor...By a Well-willer, London, Printed 1674.
To the Right Honorable the Keepers of the Liberties of Venus; The Worshipful Court of Female Assistants, &c.
The Humble Petitions and Address of Several Thousands of Buxome Good-Women, Languishing in Extremity of Want.
Sheweth, That since 'tis Reckon'd amongst the Glories of our Native Country, To be a Paradise for Women: The fame in our Apprehensions can consist in nothing more than the brisk Activity of our men, who in former Ages were justly esteemed the Ablest Performers in Christendome; But to our unspeakable Grief, we find of late a very sensible Decay of that true Old English Vigor; our Gallants being every way so Frenchified, that they are become meer Cock-sparrows, fluttering things that come on Sa sa, with a world of Fury, but are not able to stand to it, and in the very first Charge fall down flat before us.
Never did Men wear greater breeches, or carry less in them of any Mettle whatsoever. There was a glorious Dispensation ('twas surely in the Golden Age) when Lusty Ladds of Seven or eigh hundred years old, Got Sons and Daughters; ande we have read, how a Prince of Spain was forced to make a Law, that Men should not Repeat the Grand Kindness to their Wives, above NINE times a night; but Alas! Alas! Those forwards Days are gone, The dull Lubbers want a Spur now, rather than a Bridle: being so far from dowing any works of Supererregation that we find them not capable of performing those Devoirs which their Duty, and our Expectations Exact.
The Occasion of which Insufferable Disaster, after a furious Enquiry, and Discussion of the Point by the Learned of the Faculty, we can Attribute to nothing more than the Excessive use of that Newfangled, Abominable, Heathenish Liquor called COFFEE, which Riffling Nature of her Choicest Treasures, and Drying up the Radical Moisture, has so Eunucht our Husbands, and Cripple our more kind Gallants, that they are become as Impotent as Age, and as unfruitful as those Desarts whence that unhappy Berry is said to be brought.
For the continual flipping of this pitiful drink is enough to bewitch Men of two and twenty, and tie up the Codpiece-points without a Charm. It renders them that us it as Lean as Famine, as Rivvel'd as Envy, or an old meager Hagg over-ridden by an Incubus. They come from it with nothing moist but their snotty Noses, nothing stiffe but their Joints, nor standing but their Ears: They pretend 'twill keep them Waking, but we find by scurvy Experience, they sleep quietly enough after it. A Betrothed Queen might trust her self a bed with one of them, without the nice Caution of a sword between them: nor can call all the Art we use revive them from this Lethargy, so unfit they are for Action, that like young Train-band-men when called upon Duty, their Ammunition is wanting; peradventure they Present, but cannot give Fire, or at least do but flash in the Pan, instead of doing executions.
Nor let any Doating, Superstitious Catos shake their Goatish Beards, and task us of Immodesty for this Declaration, since 'tis a publick Grievance, and cries aloud for Reformation. Weight and Measure, 'tis well known, should go throughout the world, and there is no torment like Famishment. Experience witnesses our Damage, and Necessity (which easily supersedes all the Laws of Decency) justifies our complaints: For can any Woman of Sense or Spirit endure with Patience, that when priviledg'd by Legal Ceremonies, she approaches the Nuptial Bed, expecting a Man that with Sprightly Embraces, should Answer the Vigour of her Flames, she on the contrary should only meat A Bedful of Bones, and hug a meager useless Corpse rendred as sapless as a Kixe, and dryer than a Pumice-Stone, by the perpetual Fumes of Tobacco, and bewitching effects of this most pernitious COFFEE, where by Nature is Enfeebled, the Off-spring of our Mighty Ancestors Dwindled into a Succession of Apes and Pigmies: and ---The Age of Man Now Cramp't into an Inch, that was a Span.
Nor is this (though more than enough!) All the ground of our Complaint: For besides, we have reason to apprehend and grow Jealous, That Men by frequenting these Stygian Tap-houses will usurp on our Prerogative of tattling, and soon learn to exceed us in Talkativeness: a Quality wherein our Sex has ever Claimed preheminence: For here like so many Frogs in a puddle, they sup muddy water, and murmur insignificant notes till half a dozen of them out-babble an equal number of us at a Gossipping, talking all at once in Confusion, and running f rom point to point as insensibly, and swiftly, as ever the Ingenous Pole-wheel could run divisions on the Base-viol; yet in all their prattle every one abounds in his own sense, as stiffly as a Quaker at the late Barbican Dispute, and submits to the Reasons of no othre mortal: so that there being neither Moderator nor Rules observ'd, you mas as soon fill a Quart pot with Syllogismes, as profit by their Discourses.
Certainly our Countrymens pallates are become as Fantastical as their Brains; how ellse is't possible they should Apostatize from the good old primitve way of Ale-drinking, to run a whoring after such variety of distructive Foreign Liquors, to trifle away their time, scald their Chops, and spend their Money, all for a little base, black, thick, nasty, bitter, stinking, nauseous Puddle-water: Yet (as all Witches have their Charms) so this ugly Turskish Enchantress by certain Invisible VVyres attracts both Rich and Poor; so that those that have scarece Twopence to buy their Children Bread, must spend a penny each evening in this Insipid Stuff: Nor can we send one of our Husbands to Call a Midwife, or borrow a Glister-pipe, but he must stay an hour by the way drinking his two Dishes, & two Pipes.
At these Houses (as at the Springs in Afric) meet all sorts of Animals, whence follows the production of a thousand Monster Opinions and Absurdities; yet for being dangerous to Government, we dare to be their Compurgators, as well knowing them to be too tame and too talkative to make any desperate Politicians: For though they may now and then destroy a Fleet, or kill ten thousand of the French, more than all the Confederates can do, yet this is still in their politick Capacities, for by their personal valour they are scarce fit to be of the Life-guard to a Cherry-tree: and therefore, though they frequently have hot Contests about most Important Subjects; as what colour the Red Sea is of; whether the Great Turk be a Lutheran or a Calvinist; who Cain's Father in Law was, &c., yet they never fight about them with any other save our Weapon, the Tongue.
Some of our Sots pretend tippling of this boiled Soot cures them of being Drunk; but we have reason rather to conclude it makes them so, because we find them not able to stand after it: 'Tis at best but a kind of Earthing a Fox to hunt him more eagerly afterward: A rare method of good-husbandry, to enable a man to be drunk three times a day! Just such a Remedy for Drunkenness, as the Popes allowing of Stews, is a means to prevent Fornication:
The Coffee-house being in truth, only a Pimp to the Tavern, a relishing fop prearative to a fresh debauch: For when people have swill'd themselves with a morning draught of more Ale than a Brewer's horse can carry, hither they come for a pennyworth of Settle-brain, where they are sure to meet enow lazy pragmatical Companions, that resort here to prattle of News, that they neither understand, nor are concerned in; and after an hours impertinent Chat, begin to consider a Bottle of Claret would do excellent well before Dinner; whereupon to the Bush they all march together, till every one of them is as Drunk as a Drum, and then back again to the Coffee-house to drink themselves sober; where three or four dishes a piece, and smoaking, makes their throats as dry as Mount Aetna enflam'd with Brimflame; for that they must away to the next Red Lattice to quenc them with a dozen or two of Ale, which at last growing nauseous, one of them begins to extol the blood of the Grape, what rare Langoon, and Racy Canary may be had at the Miter:
Saist thou so? cries another, Let's then go and replenish there, with our Earthen Vessels: So once more they troop to the Sack-shop till they are drunker than before; and then by a retrograde motion, stagger back to Soberize themselves with Coffee: thus like Tennis Balls between two Rackets, the Fopps our Husbands are bandied to and fro all day between the Coffee-house and Tavern, whilst we poor souls sit mopeing all alone till Twelve at night, and when at last they come to bed finoakt like a Westphalia Hogs-head we have no more comfort of them, than from a shotten Herring or a dried Bulrush; which forces us to take up this Lamentation and sing,
Tom Farthing, Tom Farthing, where has thou been, Tom Farthing?
Twelve a Clock e're you come in, Two a clock ere you begin, And
then at last can do nothing: Would make a Woman weary, weary,
weary, would make a Woman weary, &c.
Wherefore the Premises considered, and to the end that our Just Rights may be restored, and all the Ancient Priviledges of our Sex preserved inviolable; That our Husbands may give us some other Testimonial of their being Men, besides their Beards and wearing of empty Pantaloons: That they no more run the hazard of being Cuckol'd by Dildo's: But returning to the good old strengthening Liquors of our Forefathers; that Natures Exchequer may once again be replenisht, and a Race of Lusty Here's begot, able by their Atchievements, to equal the Glories of our Ancesters.
We Humbly Pray, That you our Trusty Patrons would improve your Interest, that henceforth the Drinking COFFEE may on severe penalties be forbidden to all Persons under the Age of Threescore; and that instead thereof, Lusty nappy Beer, Cock-Ale, Cordial Canaries, Restoring Malago's, and Back-recruiting Chochole be Recommended to General Use, throughout the Utopian Territories.
In hopes of which Glorious Reformation, your Petitioners shall readily Prostrate themselves, and ever Pray, &c. FINIS.
.
The Women's Petition Against Coffee
Representing to Publick Consideration the Grand Inconveniencies accruing to their Sex from the Excessive Use of that drying, Enfeebling Liquor...By a Well-willer, London, Printed 1674.
To the Right Honorable the Keepers of the Liberties of Venus; The Worshipful Court of Female Assistants, &c.
The Humble Petitions and Address of Several Thousands of Buxome Good-Women, Languishing in Extremity of Want.
Sheweth, That since 'tis Reckon'd amongst the Glories of our Native Country, To be a Paradise for Women: The fame in our Apprehensions can consist in nothing more than the brisk Activity of our men, who in former Ages were justly esteemed the Ablest Performers in Christendome; But to our unspeakable Grief, we find of late a very sensible Decay of that true Old English Vigor; our Gallants being every way so Frenchified, that they are become meer Cock-sparrows, fluttering things that come on Sa sa, with a world of Fury, but are not able to stand to it, and in the very first Charge fall down flat before us.
Never did Men wear greater breeches, or carry less in them of any Mettle whatsoever. There was a glorious Dispensation ('twas surely in the Golden Age) when Lusty Ladds of Seven or eigh hundred years old, Got Sons and Daughters; ande we have read, how a Prince of Spain was forced to make a Law, that Men should not Repeat the Grand Kindness to their Wives, above NINE times a night; but Alas! Alas! Those forwards Days are gone, The dull Lubbers want a Spur now, rather than a Bridle: being so far from dowing any works of Supererregation that we find them not capable of performing those Devoirs which their Duty, and our Expectations Exact.
The Occasion of which Insufferable Disaster, after a furious Enquiry, and Discussion of the Point by the Learned of the Faculty, we can Attribute to nothing more than the Excessive use of that Newfangled, Abominable, Heathenish Liquor called COFFEE, which Riffling Nature of her Choicest Treasures, and Drying up the Radical Moisture, has so Eunucht our Husbands, and Cripple our more kind Gallants, that they are become as Impotent as Age, and as unfruitful as those Desarts whence that unhappy Berry is said to be brought.
For the continual flipping of this pitiful drink is enough to bewitch Men of two and twenty, and tie up the Codpiece-points without a Charm. It renders them that us it as Lean as Famine, as Rivvel'd as Envy, or an old meager Hagg over-ridden by an Incubus. They come from it with nothing moist but their snotty Noses, nothing stiffe but their Joints, nor standing but their Ears: They pretend 'twill keep them Waking, but we find by scurvy Experience, they sleep quietly enough after it. A Betrothed Queen might trust her self a bed with one of them, without the nice Caution of a sword between them: nor can call all the Art we use revive them from this Lethargy, so unfit they are for Action, that like young Train-band-men when called upon Duty, their Ammunition is wanting; peradventure they Present, but cannot give Fire, or at least do but flash in the Pan, instead of doing executions.
Nor let any Doating, Superstitious Catos shake their Goatish Beards, and task us of Immodesty for this Declaration, since 'tis a publick Grievance, and cries aloud for Reformation. Weight and Measure, 'tis well known, should go throughout the world, and there is no torment like Famishment. Experience witnesses our Damage, and Necessity (which easily supersedes all the Laws of Decency) justifies our complaints: For can any Woman of Sense or Spirit endure with Patience, that when priviledg'd by Legal Ceremonies, she approaches the Nuptial Bed, expecting a Man that with Sprightly Embraces, should Answer the Vigour of her Flames, she on the contrary should only meat A Bedful of Bones, and hug a meager useless Corpse rendred as sapless as a Kixe, and dryer than a Pumice-Stone, by the perpetual Fumes of Tobacco, and bewitching effects of this most pernitious COFFEE, where by Nature is Enfeebled, the Off-spring of our Mighty Ancestors Dwindled into a Succession of Apes and Pigmies: and ---The Age of Man Now Cramp't into an Inch, that was a Span.
Nor is this (though more than enough!) All the ground of our Complaint: For besides, we have reason to apprehend and grow Jealous, That Men by frequenting these Stygian Tap-houses will usurp on our Prerogative of tattling, and soon learn to exceed us in Talkativeness: a Quality wherein our Sex has ever Claimed preheminence: For here like so many Frogs in a puddle, they sup muddy water, and murmur insignificant notes till half a dozen of them out-babble an equal number of us at a Gossipping, talking all at once in Confusion, and running f rom point to point as insensibly, and swiftly, as ever the Ingenous Pole-wheel could run divisions on the Base-viol; yet in all their prattle every one abounds in his own sense, as stiffly as a Quaker at the late Barbican Dispute, and submits to the Reasons of no othre mortal: so that there being neither Moderator nor Rules observ'd, you mas as soon fill a Quart pot with Syllogismes, as profit by their Discourses.
Certainly our Countrymens pallates are become as Fantastical as their Brains; how ellse is't possible they should Apostatize from the good old primitve way of Ale-drinking, to run a whoring after such variety of distructive Foreign Liquors, to trifle away their time, scald their Chops, and spend their Money, all for a little base, black, thick, nasty, bitter, stinking, nauseous Puddle-water: Yet (as all Witches have their Charms) so this ugly Turskish Enchantress by certain Invisible VVyres attracts both Rich and Poor; so that those that have scarece Twopence to buy their Children Bread, must spend a penny each evening in this Insipid Stuff: Nor can we send one of our Husbands to Call a Midwife, or borrow a Glister-pipe, but he must stay an hour by the way drinking his two Dishes, & two Pipes.
At these Houses (as at the Springs in Afric) meet all sorts of Animals, whence follows the production of a thousand Monster Opinions and Absurdities; yet for being dangerous to Government, we dare to be their Compurgators, as well knowing them to be too tame and too talkative to make any desperate Politicians: For though they may now and then destroy a Fleet, or kill ten thousand of the French, more than all the Confederates can do, yet this is still in their politick Capacities, for by their personal valour they are scarce fit to be of the Life-guard to a Cherry-tree: and therefore, though they frequently have hot Contests about most Important Subjects; as what colour the Red Sea is of; whether the Great Turk be a Lutheran or a Calvinist; who Cain's Father in Law was, &c., yet they never fight about them with any other save our Weapon, the Tongue.
Some of our Sots pretend tippling of this boiled Soot cures them of being Drunk; but we have reason rather to conclude it makes them so, because we find them not able to stand after it: 'Tis at best but a kind of Earthing a Fox to hunt him more eagerly afterward: A rare method of good-husbandry, to enable a man to be drunk three times a day! Just such a Remedy for Drunkenness, as the Popes allowing of Stews, is a means to prevent Fornication:
The Coffee-house being in truth, only a Pimp to the Tavern, a relishing fop prearative to a fresh debauch: For when people have swill'd themselves with a morning draught of more Ale than a Brewer's horse can carry, hither they come for a pennyworth of Settle-brain, where they are sure to meet enow lazy pragmatical Companions, that resort here to prattle of News, that they neither understand, nor are concerned in; and after an hours impertinent Chat, begin to consider a Bottle of Claret would do excellent well before Dinner; whereupon to the Bush they all march together, till every one of them is as Drunk as a Drum, and then back again to the Coffee-house to drink themselves sober; where three or four dishes a piece, and smoaking, makes their throats as dry as Mount Aetna enflam'd with Brimflame; for that they must away to the next Red Lattice to quenc them with a dozen or two of Ale, which at last growing nauseous, one of them begins to extol the blood of the Grape, what rare Langoon, and Racy Canary may be had at the Miter:
Saist thou so? cries another, Let's then go and replenish there, with our Earthen Vessels: So once more they troop to the Sack-shop till they are drunker than before; and then by a retrograde motion, stagger back to Soberize themselves with Coffee: thus like Tennis Balls between two Rackets, the Fopps our Husbands are bandied to and fro all day between the Coffee-house and Tavern, whilst we poor souls sit mopeing all alone till Twelve at night, and when at last they come to bed finoakt like a Westphalia Hogs-head we have no more comfort of them, than from a shotten Herring or a dried Bulrush; which forces us to take up this Lamentation and sing,
Tom Farthing, Tom Farthing, where has thou been, Tom Farthing?
Twelve a Clock e're you come in, Two a clock ere you begin, And
then at last can do nothing: Would make a Woman weary, weary,
weary, would make a Woman weary, &c.
Wherefore the Premises considered, and to the end that our Just Rights may be restored, and all the Ancient Priviledges of our Sex preserved inviolable; That our Husbands may give us some other Testimonial of their being Men, besides their Beards and wearing of empty Pantaloons: That they no more run the hazard of being Cuckol'd by Dildo's: But returning to the good old strengthening Liquors of our Forefathers; that Natures Exchequer may once again be replenisht, and a Race of Lusty Here's begot, able by their Atchievements, to equal the Glories of our Ancesters.
We Humbly Pray, That you our Trusty Patrons would improve your Interest, that henceforth the Drinking COFFEE may on severe penalties be forbidden to all Persons under the Age of Threescore; and that instead thereof, Lusty nappy Beer, Cock-Ale, Cordial Canaries, Restoring Malago's, and Back-recruiting Chochole be Recommended to General Use, throughout the Utopian Territories.
In hopes of which Glorious Reformation, your Petitioners shall readily Prostrate themselves, and ever Pray, &c. FINIS.
.
Haviland Blue Garland Tablescape
When I was a teenager...barely 13, Publix was selling china. You bought so much in groceries, got a stamp for so many dollars spent, and you bought pieces of china with the completed stamp booklets. My mom and I were in Publix the day the display went up and I fell in love with Johann Haviland Blue Garland. We shopped regularly at Publix, so I began the collection process. I worked dilligently and even got friends who were not wanting to buy the china to get stamps for me. At the end of the selling period I had a complete service for 12. For years the china sat untouched in boxes and then...in 1976...I got married. I did what every young bride is supposed to do, went to the jewelry store(at the time that was pretty much your only choice...Bed, Bath and Beyond was nonexistant)to pick out my silver, crystal,everyday and special china patterns. All of my friends had chosen Spode, Mikasa, you know...the fine bone china...but when I got to the jewelry store...there was nothing I wanted. I love heirlooms....so I wanted my mom's silver (which I now have...complete with wooden case), I wanted Corelle everyday (because I am practical and had an instant family with two children under the age of 5), I wanted Libby glasses from Big K(in case the kids broke them). The jewelry store lady and my friends were frustrated with me because I did not want to pick out expensive china. I tried to make them all understand that I did not need the stuff...packed in boxes I had service for 12 of the prettiest stuff ever...the Blue Garland. 
Over the years I have added silver chargers and replaced a sugar dish that was broken in a move...but 40+ years later...the Blue Garland is STILL my most prized possession....all 12 place settings, including the drink coasters.
There is a gravy boat, a soup tureen, salt and pepper shaker, sugar creamer, two serving bowls, 3 platters, coffee server,and a tiered serving piece. I have the old school Blue Garland....mine has the footed cups with the saucers. That is just what I wanted ...for some reason I had it in my head that I would be serving high tea or coffee to my lady friends during the day. Trust me...that was not going to happen in the town I moved to when I married. Heck...it was not going to happen in my life...period. Yet, as a stay at home mom....every now and then...I would put on a pot of coffee....take out the Blue Garland cup and saucer, sit at the dining room table and dream.
The Blue Garland has been used many times over the years. My kids loved to see the table set with it. To them it meant company was coming, it was one of their birthdays, or they were getting a special treat. Mid-Atlantic Martha blogged about Blue Garland last week...and it made me want to do the same....so I set up a table in my dining room (which we never use, since there is only the two of us)...and photographed my prize. Do you have a prized possession? What makes it your special thing? My story is simple...a young teenager...who loved collecting stamps...bought some grocery store china...and because she worked so hard to get it...placed value on it. I am 55 years old for a few more weeks...and still love the Blue Garland. I could have changed it for something else many times over...but I don't want to. Oh, and by the way...I still have Corelle everyday dishes...you just can't break the things....and I currently own 6 Waterford goblets I bought in Ireland at the Waterford factory...6 more to go and I will have enough to set a complete table for 12....sigh...dream on! I love setting tables...I should work for Martha Stewart.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Ode to a Blessed Woman
When I first moved to Alabama I lived with Lucy. Lucy was a year older than me...she was the sister of my Aunt Milly...and the sweetest person in the world. Everyone loved her....Lucy and I lived together, married a year apart...I married her brother...making her my sister-in-law...but I felt she was more my sister-by-choice. Our friendship blossomed as we grew older...and we ended up going to college together. Then one day...I was not married to her brother anymore...by my choice...and things changed. In Sept of 2008 I was told that Lucy had cancer...and it was bad. What is it with this cancer thing? Why does it keep killing my close people? Anyways...I had not seen Lucy in a long time...but felt I needed to let her know that not a day went by that I did not think of her....so there I was...trying to write her a letter....pouring out my soul...or trying to. What was really happening was that I found myself sitting at my computer stumbling over the right words to say…and there just were none. Where had all the time gone. It seemed like just yesterday when Lucy and I were living in the trailer next door to Trollis and Millie and doing things young single girls do. I have some great memories of that time. I am so glad we had that time together. Then we moved on to marriages and children and school and teaching….LOL…I found some pictures of South Hill Virginia(the vacation that wasn't spot) the other day and had to laugh....but that is a story for another day...it will make you laugh out loud I promise. We were so young and stupid then….God truly does take care of the young ones….because he was definitely with us during that trip. We both finished college….got teaching jobs…and life was good…..things happen in life and sometimes people get lost in the aftermath. Lucy married again, had Patrick, moved to Clay County and began a life up there. We both moved on in a sense….we were running parallel to each other….and occasionally our paths crossed….Christmas, Thanksgiving, other family get-togethers…then things changed again and I began a journey down a much different road. I missed the connection with my old family….but it was for my sanity that it had to be. I hated that somewhere during this upheavel I lost my old friend. Lucy had always been my friend first and foremost….before anything else...and had always been a dear, sweet person. Two years ago, I began mirroring our old lives together when Frank accepted God’s call and became the pastor of Waverly United Methodist Church. I used to wonder….when it was Lucy as the pastor’s wife…how on earth she did it. I found myself learning first hand. I have loved every moment of being a preacher's wife. Life has been a struggle for me during the last year...struggling with my dad and the big C...and then I received news that my dear friend was sick. It broke my heart. Not Lucy….I just could not believe it! I bowed my head instantly and began to pray that God would heal her….then I got a feeling ….that God needed to heal me….that we needed to connect again….and hug. I called a couple of times, left a message once, and felt as if she did not want to see me. I found out later...that was not the case...she was just very sick. Lucy is, was, and will forever be my dear friend in my heart, in my prayers, and in my thoughts each day. I saw her again not long ago. She was not hurting anymore...and at peace. Her family and I will miss her dearly....she left a big impact on people. The world is a little more dreary without her in it...but I like knowing she is looking out after us all. I see things that remind me of her....and I smile. She lived a full life...and I am glad that for a brief and shining moment...I was part of that life. I will never be the same.
I love you Lucy,
I love you Lucy,
The Golf Outfit
Tommy asked, “Can I try on my new outfit?”
I went, “Of course!” I had been wanting to try it on him to make sure it fit. I bought it at, where else, Gymboree.
Tommy asked, “Is this like a golf outfit?”
I went, “Yes, it is.”
Tommy asked, “Can I golf someday?”
I went, “Sure. You’ll have to go with your Dad though because I have no idea how to golf. I don’t know a golf club from another. Maybe I need to re-watch Happy Gilmore to remind myself.” (The price is WRONG, bitch.)
Tommy asked, “Can I be a golfer and a swimmer?”
I went, “You can be whatever you want to be.”
Tommy asked, “Can I be a golfer like that Lion Woods guy?”
I went, “It’s Tiger Woods and maybe one day you’ll be as good as him. But I’d rather you not act like him.”
Tommy asked, “What does that mean?”
I hesitated. I didn’t think using the term “man whore” was appropriate for a seven year old.
So I went, “He just made some poor choices.”
Tommy asked, “Like when I asked what French kissing was at Target?”
I went, “That was a poor choice, yes. Let’s not ever do that again, okay?”
Tommy asked, “My friend got French kissed, you know.”
I went, “You’re seven! You’re not to French kiss for many, many years.”
Tommy asked, “Like when I’m twenty five?”
I went, “Yes. Perfect.”
I went, “Of course!” I had been wanting to try it on him to make sure it fit. I bought it at, where else, Gymboree.
Tommy asked, “Is this like a golf outfit?”
I went, “Yes, it is.”
Tommy asked, “Can I golf someday?”
I went, “Sure. You’ll have to go with your Dad though because I have no idea how to golf. I don’t know a golf club from another. Maybe I need to re-watch Happy Gilmore to remind myself.” (The price is WRONG, bitch.)
Tommy asked, “Can I be a golfer and a swimmer?”
I went, “You can be whatever you want to be.”
Tommy asked, “Can I be a golfer like that Lion Woods guy?”
I went, “It’s Tiger Woods and maybe one day you’ll be as good as him. But I’d rather you not act like him.”
Tommy asked, “What does that mean?”
I hesitated. I didn’t think using the term “man whore” was appropriate for a seven year old.
So I went, “He just made some poor choices.”
Tommy asked, “Like when I asked what French kissing was at Target?”
I went, “That was a poor choice, yes. Let’s not ever do that again, okay?”
Tommy asked, “My friend got French kissed, you know.”
I went, “You’re seven! You’re not to French kiss for many, many years.”
Tommy asked, “Like when I’m twenty five?”
I went, “Yes. Perfect.”
Thursday, January 21, 2010
It Was Missing
Oh no.
I couldn’t find it.
It was lost.
So I dialed my husband’s cell phone. When he picked up I went, “Tom, this is in an emergency.” I didn’t say it in a this-is-a-real-emergency tone. It was a playful tone.
Tom didn’t seem to get this though.
“What happened? Are the kids okay? Did you get spooked again? Amber, I told you, if you hear something moving around in the front yard it’s just antelope. It’s not an alien. And no, that thing you saw in the corner was not a ghost. It was probably the curtain,” Tom said.
“The kids are fine. I’m not spooked,” I said, rifling through the cabinet for my missing treasure. Where could it be? WHERE WAS IT? Maybe an alien abducted it…
“Then…why are you calling me? I’m at work.” Now Tom was irritated. And yes, I know I shouldn’t call him at work but let it be known that sometimes he just calls me just to see what’s up. And usually when he calls it’s not a good time. I’m usually struggling to get Natalie to brush her teeth and when I grab the phone she escapes and hides. Or I’m trying to get Natalie to sleep and when I turn and get the phone, she races from the room and yells, “Bye!” and then I have to wrangle her all over again.
“I know you’re at work. But it’s missing!” I wailed.
“What’s missing?” Tom asked impatiently.
Oh. Right. I should probably tell him that.
“The Hangover. My DVD! It was here in the movie cabinet and now it’s gone. I really wanted to watch Mike Tyson try to act tonight. I wanted to see that Chinese man who appears on like every show and movie jump out of the trunk of the car naked,” I complained. I pushed aside some of my other DVDs.
“Oh.” Now Tom sounded guilty. “I took it to watch tonight.”
See, if he finishes all his walks with his dog he gets to sit and watch DVDs until he gets a call telling him to show up with his dog.
“Tom! That was my DVD!” Seriously, it was MINE. I paid for it with my Christmas money.
“Technically it’s ours,” Tom pointed out.
“You should have asked! You don’t appreciate it like I do!”
“Yes, I do,” Tom argued.
“No, you don’t. Take Billy Madison for example. You never laugh when Billy is making the shampoo and conditioner fight. That scene is hilarious and you just SIT there,” I whined.
“It’s not that funny,” Tom said. “He’s making shower products argue.”
“It’s hilarious!” I insisted. “I want my Hangover back!”
“You can have it tomorrow,” Tom said calmly. “Go watch Pacey’s Creek or something.”
“It’s DAWSON’S Creek and I don’t feel like it. I have to be all angsty when I watch that. I’m not feeling angsty. I’m feeling silly and I want to watch The Hangover,” I fumed.
“You can’t,” Tom said simply. I hate how he can remain so calm while we’re arguing. I just want him to react sometimes. Don’t just STAND there.
“You’re mean,” I said and hung up. In the end I decided to watch Billy Madison.
And yes, I cracked up at the fight between the shampoo and conditioner.
I couldn’t find it.
It was lost.
So I dialed my husband’s cell phone. When he picked up I went, “Tom, this is in an emergency.” I didn’t say it in a this-is-a-real-emergency tone. It was a playful tone.
Tom didn’t seem to get this though.
“What happened? Are the kids okay? Did you get spooked again? Amber, I told you, if you hear something moving around in the front yard it’s just antelope. It’s not an alien. And no, that thing you saw in the corner was not a ghost. It was probably the curtain,” Tom said.
“The kids are fine. I’m not spooked,” I said, rifling through the cabinet for my missing treasure. Where could it be? WHERE WAS IT? Maybe an alien abducted it…
“Then…why are you calling me? I’m at work.” Now Tom was irritated. And yes, I know I shouldn’t call him at work but let it be known that sometimes he just calls me just to see what’s up. And usually when he calls it’s not a good time. I’m usually struggling to get Natalie to brush her teeth and when I grab the phone she escapes and hides. Or I’m trying to get Natalie to sleep and when I turn and get the phone, she races from the room and yells, “Bye!” and then I have to wrangle her all over again.
“I know you’re at work. But it’s missing!” I wailed.
“What’s missing?” Tom asked impatiently.
Oh. Right. I should probably tell him that.
“The Hangover. My DVD! It was here in the movie cabinet and now it’s gone. I really wanted to watch Mike Tyson try to act tonight. I wanted to see that Chinese man who appears on like every show and movie jump out of the trunk of the car naked,” I complained. I pushed aside some of my other DVDs.
“Oh.” Now Tom sounded guilty. “I took it to watch tonight.”
See, if he finishes all his walks with his dog he gets to sit and watch DVDs until he gets a call telling him to show up with his dog.
“Tom! That was my DVD!” Seriously, it was MINE. I paid for it with my Christmas money.
“Technically it’s ours,” Tom pointed out.
“You should have asked! You don’t appreciate it like I do!”
“Yes, I do,” Tom argued.
“No, you don’t. Take Billy Madison for example. You never laugh when Billy is making the shampoo and conditioner fight. That scene is hilarious and you just SIT there,” I whined.
“It’s not that funny,” Tom said. “He’s making shower products argue.”
“It’s hilarious!” I insisted. “I want my Hangover back!”
“You can have it tomorrow,” Tom said calmly. “Go watch Pacey’s Creek or something.”
“It’s DAWSON’S Creek and I don’t feel like it. I have to be all angsty when I watch that. I’m not feeling angsty. I’m feeling silly and I want to watch The Hangover,” I fumed.
“You can’t,” Tom said simply. I hate how he can remain so calm while we’re arguing. I just want him to react sometimes. Don’t just STAND there.
“You’re mean,” I said and hung up. In the end I decided to watch Billy Madison.
And yes, I cracked up at the fight between the shampoo and conditioner.
Life is an Adventure Worth Enjoying
When I was a child, my parents used to go "rambling"...of course...who was I to know that that same "rambling" would get them in trouble in their later years...but when I was a child...it was exciting. Every weekend...we would get in our car...and go explore Florida. I have seen more of Florida than most people ever dream of seeing it. I loved exploring with my dad. I remember one time when I was young...we were lost. I kept hearing my mom say, "Honey, you need to stop and ask someone..." To which my dad would reply, "Sweetheart, I am not lost...we are just exploring." Jana Stanfield, a singer I heard at the Loft in Columbus...caught my attention with a song she wrote called, "I'm Not Lost, I'm Just Exploring." I felt like she had entered my life and understood. My whole life...as a child, a parent, and a wife...I have never been afraid of being lost...cause I truly was always exploring. I thought today I would share the video of the song with you....so you can start your adventure.The Explorers Creed according to Jana Stanfield is:
I have more than enough of all that I need
To do all I can do, be all I can be.
As I come to appreciate the importance of living at my own pace,
I am less likely to compare my pace, with anyone else's pace.
I am learning exactly what I need to learn,
even when I don't understand the lesson yet.
What I'm learning today is preparing me
for all the good and all the challenge that lies ahead.
I am getting better every day in every way that matters to me.
I can be excellent without being perfect.
I am letting go of perfectionism, which kept me coming up short.
I now find comfort in constant progress.
I don't need to completely understand the big picture
to know that my role is important.
I don't have to know the destination.
to know I'm headed in the right direction.
Though I may not know where I'm going,
I'm not lost, I'm exploring.
So...with whatever life deals me this year, has dealt me in the past, or will deal me in the future...I don't have to understand the big picture...I just have to know that I am going the right way...and enjoy my adventure. Want to come with me?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
New Glasses Rock!
Sometimes getting my mail is no fun. Especially when it's filled with bills and applications for credit cards that I don't even want. It's like, hello Discovery if I've turned you down for five years, what makes you think I'm going to suddenly change my mind? Anyhow, yesterday I actually had good mail! I got a pair of eyeglasses from GlassesUSA! I was contacted to review a pair of glasses and I was thrilled to see that they had arrived.
GlassesUSA has tons of prescription eyeglasses to choose from for men and women. They have full frames, semi-rimless frames, rimless eyeglasses, classic frames, and progressive lenses. I was told I could pick a pair and there were so many I liked. Plus, you have to understand that I have a strong eye prescription so I was impressed that GlassesUSA was easily able to accomodate that. Sometimes I go into a glasses store and am told I can't have certain frames due to my prescription. It stinks, let me tell you.
(Here are some other frames I liked:
)
In the end I choose these pair of eyeglass frames:
You can't go wrong with pink after all! The ironic thing is, when I was little I hated the color pink. I swore I'd never wear it. And now look at me! Pink everywhere. Pink splashed all over my daughter. It's like a flamingo threw up in her closet or something.
But back to the glasses. For starters, I was impressed on how they were packaged.
I hate when things arrive in a huge package when it's just a tiny item. I liked how the package from GlassesUSA was nice and compact.
Still nicely wrapped....
My glasses came with a case and a cloth--this comes in handy when you have grabby two-year-olds who like to rip your glasses off of your face. Farewell, fingerprints!
Another good thing about GlassesUSA? They donate all of their returned glasses to all sorts of organizations so that people who can't afford vision care can get some glasses.
If you'd like a pair of glasses from GlassesUSA you can use the code Mommy5 and save 5%. This never expires.
Of course I had to try the glasses on. I wore them out to Wal-Mart and got complimented by the guy standing in line behind me. Granted, at first he said, "Are those real diamonds?" Um, hello, if they were I probably wouldn't be in Wal-Mart. Actually, I probably still would. Even if I struck it rich I'd still be a bargain hunter I imagine. But anyhow, I told the guy that no, sorry, they weren't real. He nodded and went, "They look nice." And yes, he might have been wearing a t-shirt with the words LEGEND written across the front in big yellow letters with a giant arrow underneath that pointing to his crotch. But still. Dude from Wal-Mart complimented me.
So thank you GlassesUSA for giving me the chance to review your glasses. I'll definately pass on the website to all my friends and family.
GlassesUSA has tons of prescription eyeglasses to choose from for men and women. They have full frames, semi-rimless frames, rimless eyeglasses, classic frames, and progressive lenses. I was told I could pick a pair and there were so many I liked. Plus, you have to understand that I have a strong eye prescription so I was impressed that GlassesUSA was easily able to accomodate that. Sometimes I go into a glasses store and am told I can't have certain frames due to my prescription. It stinks, let me tell you.
(Here are some other frames I liked:
)In the end I choose these pair of eyeglass frames:
You can't go wrong with pink after all! The ironic thing is, when I was little I hated the color pink. I swore I'd never wear it. And now look at me! Pink everywhere. Pink splashed all over my daughter. It's like a flamingo threw up in her closet or something.
But back to the glasses. For starters, I was impressed on how they were packaged.
I hate when things arrive in a huge package when it's just a tiny item. I liked how the package from GlassesUSA was nice and compact.
Still nicely wrapped....
My glasses came with a case and a cloth--this comes in handy when you have grabby two-year-olds who like to rip your glasses off of your face. Farewell, fingerprints!
Another good thing about GlassesUSA? They donate all of their returned glasses to all sorts of organizations so that people who can't afford vision care can get some glasses.
If you'd like a pair of glasses from GlassesUSA you can use the code Mommy5 and save 5%. This never expires.
Of course I had to try the glasses on. I wore them out to Wal-Mart and got complimented by the guy standing in line behind me. Granted, at first he said, "Are those real diamonds?" Um, hello, if they were I probably wouldn't be in Wal-Mart. Actually, I probably still would. Even if I struck it rich I'd still be a bargain hunter I imagine. But anyhow, I told the guy that no, sorry, they weren't real. He nodded and went, "They look nice." And yes, he might have been wearing a t-shirt with the words LEGEND written across the front in big yellow letters with a giant arrow underneath that pointing to his crotch. But still. Dude from Wal-Mart complimented me.
So thank you GlassesUSA for giving me the chance to review your glasses. I'll definately pass on the website to all my friends and family.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)