Reinventing a Boomer

HEARTS & FLOWERS & SMOOCHES & CHOCOLATE

2012-02-13T13:01:00.001-05:00

Last year, because I was lazy, I just reposted my Valentine's Day post from the year before.
Here it is.

I was not very complimentary to Cupid, the annoying little fart.

So, regarding my disdain for the chubby, arrow-wielding, diaper-clad brat,
look at the picture below.

http://groovyfoody.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/liquid_chocolate.jpg

I have to again eat my words.
Not all of them, mind you.
Just a couple, but this time they will be dipped in chocolate to make them taste a little better,
although I still have to hold on to my previously uttered opinion that when you are alone,
Valentine's Day brings nothing but a little sadness, a little envy, a little wishful thinking.
And, for me, now it brings sympathy, because I remember those days.

I still maintain my opinion that Valentine's Day is for sweethearts.
Not for parents,
Not for children.
Not for teachers,
Not for classmates.
Not for bosses, siblings, cousins, or BFFs.

Besides, we don't really even know who we are honoring today.
There are a bunch of early Christian martyrs named "Valentine",
none of whom had anything to do with lovey-dovey,
and no one knows which one got the day named after him.

M&M is under orders NOT to get me any chocolate.
(I'm fat enough.)
No roses.
(They just wither & die.)

Hmmm, I wonder if he knows women don't really mean it when they say
"You don't have to get me anything."
??

(Just kidding, dear.)

We will go to Carrabba's for lasagna.
I will drink sangria like it's punch.
I will look in wonder at his lovely face
and wonder anew how I got so lucky.
I will make him brownies with drizzle.
And a good time will be had by all.

So, to those for whom Valentine's Day is still a day to be endured with false cheer,
please feel free to use this, with my best wishes...

http://images.zwani.com/graphics/antivalentines_day/images/90slapcupid.jpg

CHANNELING JUNE CLEAVER

2012-02-05T20:09:00.003-05:00

On second thought, it's not really channeling. That implies a willing participation on my part. An invitation for her to live in my brain.

Au contraire, mes amis.

She invaded me. She is possessing me. She is digging up the memories that my lack of, and indifference to, domestic skills caused me great problems in my past life. The bee-yoch whispers in my ear that I better not let that happen again. So, here I am, after years of living alone, being accountable to only myself, and, after vowing never to do it again, worrying about things like planning meals, keeping the laundry done, cleaning (but not very well). After all, M&M works a whole lot more hours each week than I do, so I should those things, right?

See what I do to myself? These expectations are all self-imposed, self-inflicted. He has assured me many times that he doesn't expect those things. In fact, I get a puzzled look and the question "Why would I expect you to take care of me. I know how to take care of myself." He really is blessedly low maintenance, good-natured, and accommodating. So why don't I pay attention? Why do I sit at my desk wondering what I should fix for dinner? Why do I continue to worry about being the "good little woman"?

HA! Not that I'm any better at it now anyway. I'm thinking that, once I clear out some more STUFF, I might be making a periodic investment in Merry Maids. It's for my health. Really. Decreased stress levels mean a longer life. Right?

TIME CHANGES ALL THINGS

2012-01-20T20:00:00.000-05:00

I was awfully young & stupid when I got married just 1 month shy of my 21st birthday. Did I say stupid? Let's add 'naive', 'wimpy', 'spineless', 'timid'. Get the picture? I am noticing a world of difference between now & then. Then, I couldn't have brought myself to use body part terms as part of a normal conversation with the spouse. I wouldn't have wanted to disagree for fear that, I don't know, his affections might diminish? I want to be the kind of person he wanted. I didn't assert my own personality too much, not that I had much of one anyway.

Okay, maybe I exaggerate, but not much.

But with HS, time and a boatload of life experiences have made all the difference in the world. I'm not the same person I was all those years ago, and neither is he. I was still in the whole 'image', 'fitting in', acceptance', 'wanting to be liked' phase of my life. Of course, I still want those things. Who doesn't, but they are not the focus of my life anymore. It's odd to remember that, back in high school, neither of us looked at the other with much interest. And if we could go back in time & tell our high school selves that we'd be together in 35 years, we'd probably have said "No way, nuh uh!" And now, I don't want to think about life without him.

One of the best things is the easiness of the time we spend together. Silences can be comfortable. I don't have to worry about him seeing me without makeup. I don't have to be self-conscious about the wrinkles or rolls. I can belch. Still can't fart, but that's another post. I can disagree with him. Haven't really come across a subject that is too embarrassing. Heck, I even used the word (male appendage)** in a pretty entertaining conversation the other day.

Isn't getting old GREAT?
Oh stop, I can hear you snorting from here.

**Can't use the real word here or I get hits from perverts coming to my blog after googling some nasty stuff.

MAKE YOUR WORDS SWEET.....

2012-01-14T10:47:00.011-05:00

... for you may have to eat them.

http://www.softwarenewsdaily.com/2009/12/eat-your-words-americans-consume-over-100000-words-a-day

I have been munching away with great relish, amazement & just a bit of
trepidation for the last few months.

The time is 7 or so years ago.
The place is my old office at the college.
The conversation partner is my dear friend and colleague.
The topic is men.
We are both divorced and dateless.

"I don't care if I ever get married again. I'm getting old & crotchety & set in my ways."

"I know. I'm fine the way I am. I can eat when I want, sleep when I want,
go where I want, whenever I want. I don't have to answer to anyone."

"And my house is too full of crap as it is. I don't want anyone else's stuff in here."

"But, you know, it would be nice to have someone to do things with."

"Yeah, someone to go to dinner & the movies with."

"But not someone here all the time."

"I kind of like being on my own. Don't have to answer to anyone but myself."

And on and on... sour grapes... ad nauseum.
But it was true.
After many years of being on my own, especially now that BS is grown & out of the nest,
I had fallen into a rut of complacency.
Wouldn't use the word 'contentment', because I was lonely a lot.
I'm not a social butterfly. I don't go to bars,
so most evenings I was at home, by myself.
Me & my laptop.
Me & my television.
Me & my books.
Hadn't had a date in more years than I want to admit.

(Please take a moment to wipe away the tears of sympathy rolling down your face. I'll wait...)

Don't get me wrong. I have family in the area. I have friends.
But no friends that I could call on the spur of the moment and say

"Let's go get something to eat",
or
"You wanna go to a movie?"

They are either married or non-local or not very good about returning calls.

But, in April, all that changed. Because of Facebook.
I'm part of an 'us' instead of just 'me'.
And now, my house is full of more stuff.
I cook dinner... occasionally.
Some mornings I even pack his lunch.
I check with him before I make plans.
I greet him at the door... usually... when he comes home.
(fully clothed - don't want to scare him away - and no, I don't wear pearls.)
And I'm very happy about all this.

But, you know, after 20+ years of being on my own and stubbornly independent,
this will take some getting used to, and I'm thinking it may be a comedy of errors on my part...

...navigating the waters of couplehood again.

MAKING ROOM

2012-01-10T07:47:00.020-05:00

BS was home recently & his momma rejoiced with song & dance.

One of the tasks he set for himself was to shovel out his room & sort & toss & pack. Well, that's what he SAID he was going to do, and he KINDA succeeded.

A little more than 3 years ago, I posted about cleaning out the house. Didn't work very well.

You see, over the years, more stuff has crept into my house during the night & when I'm at work, because I swear it all wasn't there when I went to bed. When my beloved aunt died, some of her stuff snuck in. Then when my mother downsized her big ol' house for an apartment, it happened again. When BS came home from college, he brought several years worth of independent living with him. When he moved to the big city, he found (what to him were) plausible reasons that he couldn't take it all with him, so here it stayed. Add to that, I have found concrete and tangible examples that inanimate objects are capable of spontaneous generation, occurring in various hidden corners of the house.

I swear.

This could make the science journals. Add to that my almost-complete lack of domestic skills. As a result, my little house was stuffed to the gills with STUFF.

Enter HS & more STUFF. And not even all of his stuff, because most of his stuff is still in a storage unit. I have a storage unit full of stuff too, but I don't want to talk about it.

Right now, HS's stuff resides in the dining room. At least, I think it's a dining room. Can't really tell anymore, not that we ever did much dining in there. We're more the 'eat-on-the-sofa-and-watch-tv' kind of people, but nevertheless, the room is there. And it even has a table. And chairs. And what's a table for but to use as a receptacle for STUFF?

So, I take bags into St. Mary's for our semi-annual yard sale. I wade through piles of paper. I even tossed out a whole lot of my old college materials - handouts, lecture notes, old class notes. That was hard, as I have also posted about how much I wanted to teach again (here, here & here). But, no. Have I even looked at it in the last 2 years? No? Out it goes! Anything valuable is on the computer anyway. HS is demonstrating great patience as I try to turn from a pack rat into a minimalist. Good luck with THAT!

Baby steps, folks. Baby steps.

ANNOUNCEMENT:
The gentleman who was originally known as BB (Beloved Boyfriend), who then changed to HS (House Stud) at the suggestion of one of our twisted classmates, decided that he liked BB better after all, but then I proposed another that he likes best of all. Since he loves the mountains, used to live in them, and wants to again, he is going to be the Mountain Man, or M&M (since he loves chocolate too). So.... ANOTHER NAME CHANGE! Hopefully, this will be the last one.

HERE'S TO FACEBOOK

2012-01-08T20:58:00.015-05:00

This is my old high school:

http://www.kellamhs.vbschools.com/

Spent 3 years there.
At the time, it was the only high school serving the entire southern half of the city.
We had so many students, we had to go to school in shifts, 8-2 and 10-4.
There were all the usual cliques - jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, ROTC, brains...
you know, because you had them too.
We were all overly concerned with image, with being liked, with being cool, with fitting in.
What idiots.

What does this have to do with Facebook?
Up until a few years ago, I saw all my old classmates only at the reunions,
secretly glad I didn't look THAT old.
Up until a few years ago, I had kept in touch with only a couple of them,
and those were cherished friendships.
Up until a few years ago, I remembered them as they were in school.
But then, something happened.
Technology crept into my world.
It really started with BS begging me to join Facebook so I could do the farm game with him.

"Oh puh-leez! No way."
"Come on Momma. You'll like it."
"I don't wanna. Facebook is stupid."
"It'll be something we can do together.

(Man, did he have to go & put it THAT way?)

And back & forth it went.
I resisted for a few months, but apparently I have the spine of a jellyfish.
So, there we would sit, at least when he came home for visits, mother & son,
side by side on the sofa, each with our laptop, tending our farms.
If any of you are considering playing the Facebook games, DON'T!
STEP AWAY FROM THE ZYNGA!!!

But while I was glued to my cows & chickens, harvesting my crops, a funny thing happened.
I started hearing from some of my old classmates from school.
Some of them were farming buddies, others intermittent chat buddies.
We even planned some casual get-togethers.

And you know what?

Well, other than discovering some will-power to 12-step my way away from the farms,
I discovered something about all those classmates.
Time becomes the great equalizer.
35 years later, the cliques are gone.
Our image is pretty much the same - wrinkles, bags, sags, gray hair, no hair, bulges & rolls.
No one really gives a flying hoot what the others think any more.

Granted, some of these classmates were virtual strangers to me.
I hadn't known them well in school, but since the masquerades of youth had melted off,
so did the foolish blinders fall away.
I discovered a treasure trove of wonderful people.
People I might not have wanted to be friends with in school,
being the spineless twit that I was,
ended up being people of humor, intelligence, wit, kindness, generosity...
What is it about youth that prevents us from seeing those qualities before?

Maybe because those qualities take time and life experiences to refine?
Maybe because it's hard to recognize qualities in others when they are
sadly underdeveloped in ourselves?

Life does that, I guess.
Reinforces the truth that youth is wasted on the young.

For whatever reason, we can be friends now.
There is little awkwardness.
There is an instant connection of shared history,
shared people,
shared teachers,
shared experiences.
It creates a bond; a fellowship; a camaraderie.

I can cherish these people now.
One in particular, especially.
Facebook brought me together with the love of my life.
(I mentioned him in my last post.)
I knew him in school, but didn't really know him all that well.
Our separate lives have brought us each to a place & time that,
where we probably would have scoffed at the thought back in school days,
now I see the utter beauty of the man I couldn't have seen in the boy.
And I look forward to being able to appreciate that for years to come.

By the way, a moniker change has taken place.
Instead of BB, for 'Beloved Boyfriend",
he shall be known as HS, for "House Stud".
This was not my idea.
Blame my old new friends.
You know who you are.

A Girl Thing

2011-12-10T08:40:00.003-05:00

I have had a couple of facts reinforced recently:

Beloved Boyfriend (BB) is an incredibly good sport.
There are huge differences between men & women. And no, I'm not referring to THAT! Get your minds out of the gutter.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and I remembered that I was invited to a christening the next day. Oops, forgot about that, and I hadn't gotten a gift yet. This means I need to make a trip to that fortress of female delight, that bastion of baby-rufflyness - Babies-R-Us.

You girly types know what I'm talking about. Most people that have sufficient estrogen love this place. Baby clothes, baby furniture, baby accessories, baby toys, baby blankies. OMG! Especially yours truly, since I have a hankering for a grandchild (but no pressure, BS, hear?). So BB nicely says he will go with me. Huh? What's that? Did I hear him right? He'll go with me into the black hole of powdery, Pamper-y, pastel-y plentitude? Now, in my book, that's akin to volunteering to go to a Tupperware party or get a root canal. Did I mention he was a good sport?

The drive over showed his deceptively calm exterior, but as we approached the front door, a heavily pregnant woman and her whiny toddler-appendaged friend were exiting. Out the corner of my eye, I noted the start of an ever-so-slight slight twitch.

Inside the vast cavern, a look of pained resignation settled on his whiskery face as he followed me on my quest. Every now and then, he couldn't resist belting out a falsetto "oooh, it's so cuuuute!", but otherwise he soldiered on, forcing himself to smile, or maybe I should say 'show his teeth', whenever I held up an ever-so-cute frou frou to consider. I could see the thought bubble over his head that read "When will this END?"

Coming out into the sunshine of a world that had men & testosterone in it, I saw my atonement. Next door to the Babies-R-Us was........a Best Buy.......................

Why Do I Worry About This Stuff?

2011-11-24T12:51:00.002-05:00

Thanksgiving is here, and as time goes by, I am having a bit of a problem with it. I know that sounds strange, but it is something I stew over more & more as the years go by. Let me see if I can make this sound coherent.

Thanksgiving - giving thanks. That's pretty obvious. Being thankful means that you are happy for something someone has given you. We are supposed to be thanking God for the things we have: our food, our health, our home, our friends, our family, blah blah blah.

So when we thank God, we are thanking Him for giving us all those things. Now, don't get me wrong. I am very glad I have a job, a family that I love, a home, the best son in the world, enough to eat, and now a wonderful person to share my life with. But, what does that say for the people who have no family, no roof over their heads, not enough to eat, poor health, profound disabilities? What are we really saying when we say "Thank you"? Thanks for giving the goodies to me & not to them? Did He choose not to give those things to those other equally deserving people? How do I give thanks without sounding selfish?

And did God really give me my job, my house, and the food on my table? Or did I provide/work for/earn those things for myself (with help from my family & friends)?

I want to give thanks for those things that have been given to all of us equally - a world that can take my breath away with its beauty; humanity's capacity to love deeply. So, my prayer would have to be something like this:

Lord -

We give you thanks for the bounty and the beauty of the earth. Grant us the wisdom to use it to provide for all.

We give you thanks for the bounty and beauty of love, which binds together family and friends. May it shine through each of us to bind together all of mankind.

As this food nourishes out bodies, so does your spirit nourish our souls.

Amen

My good friend at work came up with an idea too - we can be thankful that we are in a position to be able to help others, so we can show it by helping to feed the hungry, heal the sick, provide comfort to the weary & friendship to those who are alone. Anyone interested in joining me?

What If.......

2011-08-14T20:30:00.002-04:00

One of the perks of a job that allows me to travel is that sometimes I'll leave
the highway and take the leisurely way home.
Such was the decision last weekend.
After a meeting in Richmond and lunch with BN (Beloved Niece),
the run home down I64 was making me twitchity.
Up pops a sign for Rt 5 & the James River Plantations (read about them here),
so I careen across the lanes of the interstate to make the exit.
Lovely, peaceful road, winding along the river with trees arching overhead.
Ahhh. Much better.

How many times have we spared only a glance at the historical markers along the road without really noticing them?
Sadly, they often become white noise in the scenery as we speed along.
If it was really important, it would be lit up or something, right?
Just as I was getting to the pretty part of the road, one of those ubiquitous gray signs whizzed past.
I glanced at it with half an eye, then my brain cleared and I realized what I just read.
One of the most significant, in retrospect, "events" in our story.
Something that has shaped 400 years of history and still reverberates today.

This...

...allowed for these to flourish in the South,

made possible by this,

http://www.veteranstoday.com/2010/04/13/robinson-on-haley-barbours-diddly-sense-of-slaverys-history/ ; http://www.nps.gov/liho/historyculture/slavery.htm

http://www.crgate.com/shist.htm

(one of the darkest & most shameful scars on our collective history)

and ultimately leading to this.

http://fromusatoday.com/commemorating-the-civil-war.htm ; http://www.soldierstudies.org/index.php?action=webquest_1

http://www.pixelparadox.com/battles_of_the_civil_war.htm

(one of the bloodiest and saddest scars on our collective history)

Makes me ponder "what if?"
What if those early crops had failed?
How would our history have been rewritten?

2011-06-06T21:43:00.010-04:00

I know I haven't posted anything in a looooong time, and I offer no explanations or promises of regular posting, but somewhere back in the annals of time, I mentioned finding the hidden gems of your town. Found another one this past weekend.

Every time I go to the Outer Banks, on the last leg home, I always notice a pretty little lake along the ramp from the 168 Bypass onto I64 W. Always wondered about it. And a couple weekends ago, when I went down to the OBX with a good friend, we noticed it again. What was it? Enter my high tech iPhone, my little pocket computer, my information-at-your-fingertips toy. We found out it was Oak Grove Lake Park in Chesapeake, so you know what that means? Time to EXPLORE! What a jewel of a place. A not-so-little lake surrounded by woods and a path that curves its way along the lakeshore. Only one short part is out in the open along the interstate. The rest of it is lovely, peaceful, serene, and relatively empty, at least on that Sunday. Benches and fishin' spots are laced within the trees.

On second thought, forget this whole post. Don't want the word to spread so crowds will start flocking there and cluttering up the paths. Oh wait, I think I'm giving myself a little too much credit. Since my faithful readers, after long neglect, are now down to 2.5, I doubt it will be much of a problem. My influence on tourism is about that of a gnat.

Oh, and Friend S is good at skipping stones. I got an action shot.

As usual, all my pictures are straight from my wee little point & shoot, unedited. Sorry RAD. I haven't learned my lessons yet.

Goodbye Sweet Girl

2011-01-12T22:32:00.007-05:00

I know my last post said "Blah".
It's still pretty blah, but never so blah that I won't take the time to honor the memory
of one of our beloved children.

Our sweet girl left us last night.

She had so many close calls in her short life, we hoped that this would be another.
That she would again defy all the predictions about her. That she would again rally.
That she would again come home to the people who loved her.
But, this time, it was not to be.

She did go home, just not back to St. Mary's.
We won't see her incredibly sweet face anymore except in our hearts & memories.

What I wouldn't give to see her as she is now - whole, not struggling for every breath,
laughing as she runs to greet the angels.

Goodbye sweetheart.

(I haven't had to put one of these up in a very long time. That in itself is a blessing.)

BLAH

2010-10-03T20:51:00.006-04:00

So, here's the situation. There have been things going on, both in my head and actual events, that certain friends and family might possibly find interesting . . . if only I could force fingers to keyboard & post about them. But I seem to be having a spell. It's not writer's block. I can think of all sorts of things to write about - BS's new job, Team Hoyt, Brandon & the Blacksburg trip, the St. Mary's record-breaking 5k, my overall dissatisfaction with life in general. It's a motivation thing. I can't seem to squeeze out the effort to push the "Publish Post" button. Sometimes I don't even want to check on my friends' blogs, and when I do, I can't muster the energy to comment. It's all kind of a big blah.

So, that's why there hasn't been anything up here in a few weeks. I keep thinking about why I started writing this blog in the first place. Haven't been totally successful in those lofty goals, so what do I want to do with this thing? When I figure it out, I guess I'll hit "Publish Post" with some enthusiasm. Until then, the button will get pushed to post this, but I guarantee I'll do it with blah blah blahiness.

Finding Family

2010-09-12T22:09:00.005-04:00

I have a boatload of cousins -
first cousins on my father's side.
The kids of my dad's brother & sisters.
Problem is, I don't know most of 'em.
Never met 'em.
Wouldn't know 'em if I hit 'em with the car.

That started to change a few years ago.
I got to meet the Texas bunch & now I love 'em more than my luggage.
(movie reference. I know Sista G knows...)

Last weekend I got some more.

Even though we were strangers,
we have a shared history and heritage that somehow takes away the strangeness.
You are oddly comfortable with them.
Especially if one of them has your grandmother's nose.
Family is funny that way.

Okay, okay, we're friends on Facebook, but still . . .

It turns out that Cousin K lives in the DC area kinda near BS,
who I went to visit last weekend.
And even though any weekend spent with my li'l spawn is a good weekend,
meeting Cousin K & Husband A made it even better.

We started out at Ray's Hell Burger, Obama's favorite hamburgers.

I must say, they were very tasty.
And if you don't like them, you can . . .

We ended up driving out to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia
at the confluence of the Potomac & Shenandoah Rivers, site of John Brown's raid in 1859.

From Wiki:
"In 1750 Robert Harper was given a patent on 125 acres (0.5 km²) at the present location of the town. In 1761 Harper established a ferry across the Potomac River, making the town a starting point for settlers moving into the Shenandoah Valley and further west. In 1763 the Virginia General Assembly established the town of "Shenandoah Falls at Mr. Harper's Ferry"... Thomas Jefferson called the site "perhaps one of the most stupendous scenes in nature."

This view from Wiki shows the town in 1865.

If you look at Google Earth, this is what you see.

You can see the 2 train trestles diverging as they come out of the mountain,
at the right of the image.
one turning northward to follow the Potomac
and the other following the Shenandoah to westward.

Just where the 2 rivers come together, you can see 5 piles of something in the water.

Those are the original train trestles, as seen in the 1865 picture.
This is what they look like today.

Harpers Ferry has been the site of some devastating floods throughout the centuries.
You Tube has some videos of the 1985 flood.
The Harpers Ferry coverage in this one starts at 1:12.

Some other pictures of the area, which is just dripping with history.
The levels in the rivers were kind of low, inviting swimmers & waders.
It is also a popular spot . . .

Oh look, a spider web on the train bridge . . .

Sorry, a touch of ADD.

Anyway, it is a popular spot for rafting and tubing,
although I imagine it would be a bit more exciting if there was, oh I don't know,
enough WATER to make some rapids.

Darn, too early for the war.

The next day, BS & I headed for a newer attraction in the area, National Harbor.
It's just across the Woodrow Wilson Bridge (on I95) in Maryland, right on the river.
It was FULL of Hokies because of the game with Boise State at Fed Ex Field,
which we LOST!
It also looked like money,
and it was full of places wanting you to part with too much of yours.
BS & I chose this place to eat because of my brother's love of ketchup.
There are only 3 in the world - LA, Saudi Arabia & Maryland.

Now, I'm not normally much of a wine drinker.
Wait. Back up. I'm hardly ever a wine drinker,
but this place had a white wine sangria that was heavenly. Fabulous. Sweet.
Look at it.

Oops, sorry, I already drank it.
The sweet potato fries were lightly sprinkled with cinnamon-sugar
and served with their signature '5 ketchups' - ranch, chipotle, maple, mango & raspberry.
Sweet potato fries dipped in maple ketchup. Raspberry & chipotle mixed.
Oh my.

The interior decor was ugly so we ate outside, but the food was very good.
Beautiful clear breezy day, not too hot.
A thirsty fly found its way into BS's empty sangria glass.
He didn't make it out alive.

A terrific weekend.
I think the cousins had a good time,
especially seeing as they didn't know us from Adam.
(HAHA - inside joke)
Husband A said he was afraid he might be stuck with douchbags all day,
or something like that.
Wait, he didn't really say we weren't douchbags, did he? Hmmm . . .

Much Ado....

2010-09-02T20:36:00.008-04:00

Photo by Sun Realty Outer Banks Vacation Rentals

Whalebone Surf Shop is an Outer Banks business in Nags Head, NC.

Anytime the wind blows, the OBX sees the invasion of stern-faced storm reporters
in their fleets of satellite trucks,
risking life, limb, hair & makeup to stand in the wind & rain & floods,
sacrificing themselves to the greater glory of 24-hour storm coverage,
running down the locals who decide to ride it out for gripping person-on-the-street interviews.

"So Bob, why did you decide to stay instead of evacuating? Aren't you afraid?"

"Wellsir, we went to the Food Lion and got us some batteries and beer. Anyways, my house ain't never been blown over by a hurricane yet, so I 'spect it'll be okay. 'Sides, I'd rather stay in my own house than be stuck in the high school gym with a couple hundred smelly people and no TV."

"But Bob, I don't think you'll have TV either.
Excuse me ma'am, how 'bout you, are you going to stay?"

"Why, of course! Our little dogs just hate riding in the car."

Ad nauseum.

Jim Cantore of The Weather Channel has perfected this particular art form.
He is the master.

A Day In The Life . . .

2010-09-01T18:58:00.002-04:00

Chris Tyree, an incredibly gifted photographer, came to St. Mary's last week for a day.
Just one day.
(He has been here before.)
Mind you, this was not just someone taking snapshots.
He has a gift. He is an artist.
His pictures are gorgeous - the angles, the light.
I'm a little jealous. I've never made our kids look so beautiful.
He captured the goings on in the Home,
and a surprising number of the pictures were NOT posed.
They were serendipity.
He showed nothing that doesn't occur there during an ordinary day.
Any day.
Every day.
These pictures show our kids as any other kids -
pensive, happy, engaged, active, busy, having fun.
With people they love and that love them.
They are our family.

Chris, thank you for capturing that so well.

Chris works with a group that focuses on capturing images of & for non-profits.
Hopefully, the pictures will shine light on the good work
that goes on all around us, sometimes unknown & unseen.
They bring those lights out from under the bushel.
Their website isn't finished yet, but when it is up, I will link it.

Greatest Television Of All Time

2010-08-22T21:57:00.011-04:00

Boy, isn't that a grandiose statement, especially considering this will be solely my own opinion.

I got an email from my brother tonight with a link to an article written by a his friend Tom. It was Tom's opinion of the 10 greatest television shows of all time. I read it. I disagreed. Too many of his shows were modern series on the premium movie channels, shows that aren't available for all to watch. This can't help but lessen their impact.

Brother M responded with one of his own. I read his. I disagreed.

Maybe my definition of "greatest" isn't the same. Anyway, I complied my own list. I am of the first generation (I think) that was raised on television, so I remember the groundbreakers - those shows that set the stage for those that would follow in their footsteps, the rule breakers - the ones that changed the social climate, and the ones whose impact has become indelibly ingrained in American culture. Oh, and I couldn't limit myself to 10.

These aren't necessarily my favorites. They are included because of the scope of their influence on culture and the impact they had on the television as a medium. In my opinion.

So, in alphabetical order . . .

ALL IN THE FAMILY didn't care whose toes it stepped on. It slapped racial, ethnic & political issues right in our faces without worrying about political correctness. It took a sitcom about a bigot that tackled issues previously taboo on TV and made it one of the most popular and successful shows of all time.

COSMOS is one that was on my brother's list, and I have to agree with him on this one. Never before had hard science been so entertaining. I could still watch it over and over, even though some of the information has been supplanted by newer discoveries. I don't know that I ever saw the stars the same since. All billions and billions of them. But I like Brother M's rationale for its inclusion much better: "...Carl Sagan’s exploration of the elegance of the universe was more than the typical Discovery Channel show about killer asteroids. It was a sweeping documentary of what it means to be a curious animal endowed with the creative spark and covered literally everything from the evolution of the brain and the destruction of the ancient library of Alexandria to the discovery of the twin paradox and conjectures about the beginnings of space-time. Plus, if you watch Cosmos, you’ll understand a lot more of The Big Bang Theory."

DALLAS gave the primetime soap a perment place on television, paving the way for all those shows on Tom's list. Even though Peyton Place was the prototype here, it never attained the cult following Dallas did. I still remember the summer of agony waiting to find out who shot JR.

HILL STREET BLUES / ST. ELSEWHERE are lumped together for a couple reasons. They were on at the same time and accomplished the same task. They ushered in the ensemble cast (now copied by just about EVERYONE), and showed the cops and doctors not as clean, shiny heros, but as fault-filled humans who were sometimes heroic and sometimes failed.

I LOVE LUCY broke the ground of television comedy. It was, at various times in its run, the most watched program on television. It was the first to be shot in front of a studio audience and consistently earns a place in greatest TV lists from both TV Guide & Time Magazine. It was also the first show to feature a "biracial" couple - a 'white' woman with a 'brown' man. It was, simply, the prototype of television comedy.

LEAVE IT TO BEAVER gave us the quintessential, yet impossible to live up to and completely unattainable, definition of the all-American family of the 50's. It became the image of the ideal life and set the tone for so many ideal family shows to follow. I wanted to live there.

M*A*S*H let us see the horror of war in prime time. It was the first program to regularly have us laughing and crying at the same time, often every week, and no one can dispute the anti-war messages it delivered so well.

SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE has never cared who it poked fun at, and the biggest names in TV, movies, and politics have gamely gone along with the skewering. It was the first of the non-prime time shows to come back on the air after 9-11 and show us that we were allowed to laugh again. It has also launched more successful careers than just about any other show.

SEINFELD added a whole lot of entries to our lexicon of catch phrases and terminology. Who doesn't know "Yadda, yadda, yadda", "Not that there's anything wrong with that", "Master of my domain", "No soup for you!"? For a show about nothing, it became a whole lotta something.

SESAME STREET let the classroom into the living room and became the babysitter of generations of kids while setting the standard for educational programming. Its fuzzy puppets with their distinctive personalities have been part of every American household since. It debuted in 1969, meaning that it has been bringing smiles to our kids for 41 years, making it the longest-running program on television aside from news shows and soap operas (I think). Not even the death of Jim Henson could stop it, and it has the distinction of being the most widely watched children's program in the world. And no, the Cookie Monster will never be replaced with the Veggie Monster.

STAR TREK broke so much ground I can't begin to list it all. Not only that, it also set the stage for countless spin-offs and movies. It is undoubtedly one of the most successful franchises of all time. And let's not forget the first interracial kiss on television.

THE DAILY SHOW is another one that doesn't care who it makes fun of. But aside from that, it is done with so much intelligence that politicians regularly pop in to try to curry favor and ask for Jon Stewart's opinion. What other fake news/comedy show can claim that?

THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW was the first to really focus on a successful single woman. There were no husband & kids to define her character, and the program centered around her job, not her family or her hobbies or her boyfriends. Probably the first real feminist program.

THE OPRAH WINFREY SHOW took a chubby black woman and turned her into one of the richest and most influential people in television. She paved the way for countless knockoffs, none of which could match up. If Oprah endorses it, it sells. Period.

THE SIMPSONS always surprises me when I realize how long it has been on the air - since 1987. It successfully skewers aspects of American society, some of which we are a little uncomfortable admitting hit a little too close to home.

THE TONIGHT SHOW WITH JOHNNY CARSON didn't start it. Jack Paar was the first host, but Johnny Carson became the face of the Tonight Show and he left a whole lot more people with a whole lot more memories during his tenure than his predecessor or his successors. He paved the way for the successes of Letterman, Leno, and Conan.

So, that's my dashed-off list. No doubt tomorrow I'll want to add or delete or change the wording and make it sound as good as Brother M's, but if I keep thinking about it too much, I'll never finish. What would you add or delete?

Another Cloudy Sunrise

2010-08-15T22:40:00.005-04:00

Found this in my drafts. It's from June. Forgot to post it. Oops.

Whenever my old friend RAD is in town for some family business (or monkey business),
he'll call and see if I want to get up before the crack of dawn and go take pictures of the sunrise.
10 years ago, I would have told him to take a hike, but as I become older and more decrepit,
it's getting easier to get up early. Huh?

We've done this before when it was cloudy and not particularly colorful,
although there's nothing like a deserted beach all to yourself.
And son of a gun, we had an encore of cloudy. The pictures were completely uninteresting.
Even the sea oats were bare and dead looking. I think this is the best of the bunch.

Anyway, he made some whiny noises about broken promises of muffins
the last time he was here, so I dragged out the bowls & muffin tins & my finest groceries.
Had to shut him up about it (just kidding RAD).
No, really, it was my pleasure.

First were some peanut butter, banana & chocolate chip muffins.
I had some nice bananas,

some nice whole wheat flour,

and chocolate chips.

They turned out very well, considering. At least he said they were good.

I also decided to make some cheesecake muffins . . .

. . . with a dollop of strawberry jam in the center.

I think I liked those the best.

Finding Inspiration

2010-08-02T16:14:00.003-04:00

It's all too easy to get caught up in the twists & turns of your life
and end up bemoaning all the things that don't go your way.
I'm terribly guilty of that.
But every day that I go to work and see the smiles on the faces of our kids,
in spite of the insurmountable obstacles they face every day,
I'm kicked back to reality.

Brandon is one of those.
You all should know him by now.
(Put "Brandon" in my search box & a bunch of stuff will come up.)
His mind is fine, but his body has not cooperated.
Yet, he still manages to maintain a cheerful attitude.
He is a kind, considerate, smart, and thoughtful young man.

That doesn't mean he doesn't have his moments.
Yeah, I'm lookin' at you, buddy.
(And you know your mom will back me up on this.)
So, when the angst of adolescence rears its teenage head,
he looks for inspiration too; some meaning to his life.
He found some, in spades.

Look at this good-looking young man...

http://womenonthefence.com/2010/06/16/wordless-wednesday-13/

One day a couple months ago, when a planned outing to church didn't work out,
Brandon ended up watching a video of Nick Vujicic, the founder of Life Without Limbs.
He hasn't stopped.
PLEASE click on that short video link.
One of his special friends at work, Diana, mentioned
wouldn't it be great if we could take him to see him in person?
We found out that Nick was going to be in Virginia on July 31
as one of his worldwide stops.

The stars are aligning.
Hmmmm, could we?
Hmmmm, would it be possible?
Let me see what I can do.

It takes a plethora of planning to get him out of the Home overnight,
and a lot of work once we get wherever we're going.
Doesn't matter.
St. Mary's (I have said this before, I know)
goes above & beyond to give joy to our kids' lives.
(The nursing assistants at St. Mary's provide the bulk of our kids' personal care.
It is very physical & tiring work. I salute them.)

Our issue of lodging was solved by Sista G.
She said we could stay overnight at her house, since she lives right there.
And she pulled out all her tricks to keep Brandon entertained while we were there.
Movies, balloon-bouncing dogs,

feeding the sheep & horse.

One of the almost-grown lambs, the one they saved from near-death & raised in the house,
came inside for a little visit and nibbled a pretzel off Brandon's shoulder.

The fun quotient worked so well he wants to go back.
Well . . . you know, we're planning to go to a Hokies game on Oct 9th,
which is also just down the road from her house. . . . .
nudge, nudge, wink, wink.
Thank you so much Sista!
You helped give Brandon an unforgettable gift.

You know how they say 'you never know what you can do until you try'?
Well, you never know what will be given to you unless you ask.
A simple request emailed through Nick's website
garnered a generous reply from Allison, one of his assistants.

There were at least a thousand people assembled for Nick's talk,
both in the main assembly room and in an overflow room,
where they watched him on video.

Thanks to Allison, out of all those people,
only one was granted a meeting with Nick afterward in his private room.

Only one.

Nick was wonderful - loving & kind.
He gave Brandon his time.
Talked to him. Prayed with him. Made him feel special.
He did not make us feel he was in a rush at all,
even though another service would be starting shortly.
It was something none of us will ever forget.
At the end, Nick asked that their chairs be maneuvered he could get close for a special hug.
A hug that lasted.

Nick, thank you from the bottom of our hearts and may God bless you all your days.
This was an experience Brandon will never forget.
(I know I never will.)
One that strengthened his spirit.
One that will fill his heart & occupy his dreams for a long time to come.

A Cessna Among Boeings

2010-07-29T23:25:00.019-04:00

That's what I felt like this past weekend.
I went up to Northern Virginia to visit with BS.
I also signed up for the Worldwide Photowalk and joined the group in Georgetown
with my old friend, loyal reader and frequent commenter RAD.
I had my trusty point & shoot camera.
Everyone else had big, impressive looking cameras with loooong lenses...

...although one lady seemed to have a camera smaller than mine.
This made me happy, but when I expressed my relief
that I wasn't the only one with humble equipment,
she looked a little taken aback and informed me that "Oh no, this is an SLR!"
Sigh.
We started along the historic C&O Canal tow path
and meandered up along M Street in Georgetown.
So, lets see what I came up with,
then compare to what the fancy cameras did.
These pictures are straight out of the camera. Not even any crops.
I seemed to have an odd fascination with reflections that day.

The people that organized this need to have their heads examined.
The middle of summer?
Really? No, really?
It only ended up being the hottest day of the year.
Here's the thing.
I have pale skin, freckles, blue eyes, and red hair.
(At least it used to be red - kinda faded now.)
My ancestors were from the cold, snowy north.
I don't do well in the heat.
Part of that is because I have, shall we say, a very efficient thermoregulatory system.
Oh, what the heck. I sweat. I'm sticky. I'm miserable.
I'm thinking that this should be in April. Or October.
But it was a happy weekend - saw old friends,
saw family, !!saw BS!! yay!

Oh, one last thing.
While we were walking back to the car...8 blocks...up The Exorcist steps...

in temps over 100 degrees,
we passed by Georgetown Cupcakes,
the newest fad in overpriced & trendy businesses.
The kind of place that's so popular that people stand in looooong lines,
for 1/2 hour, an hour, or more,
just to get a cupcake you could probably make just as tasty at home.
Honestly, I don't understand these people.
All for a stinkin' cupcake?

RUN... no, SWIM... no, RUN!!!

2010-07-20T15:39:00.108-04:00

On any given early morning at the beach,
before the hoards of tourists fill every possible space,
you'll see empty stretches of sand...

being groomed and cleaned.

Empty beach chairs awaiting bodies smelling of coconut & Coppertone.

But the calm emptiness of Saturday's hot muggy morning was deceptive.
You see, if I just turn a bit to my left, this is what I'll see...

It's the Allen Stone Memorial Run Swim Run & 5k.
It wasn't always called the "Allen Stone" run.
The race started in 1999 as the "Brave Heart Run-Swim-Run",
and Allen Stone, a member of our local Navy SEAL team, competed.
It was to be his last race.
He died in a training accident.
His friends, also the race's organizers, changed the name of the race in his memory.

So, it's a race, right?
It involves people running along the beach.
You know what that means?

Team Hoyt VB (the Virginia Beach chapter of Team Hoyt),
led by Trey White, was there in full force.
3 of our kids were able to go.
I've written about them before, here & here, for example.
If you don't feel like going back & looking, I'll summarize:

Take a bunch of athletes with hearts big to bursting,
add in children & young adults with disabilities who couldn't participate in a race on their own,
throw in jogging strollers, inflatable boats, lots of planning and even more determination,
and the result is magic.
Magic for the kids who can escape their disabilities for a while.
Magic for the athletes who get to see the joy on their faces
at the feeling that there's nothing they can't do.
Wherever you are, if you have the opportunity, you should see see this at a race in your area.

I love that Team Hoyt refers to the kids as the athletes
and themselves as their pushers.

Anyway, I took 377 pictures, but after all, my family's motto is "more is better",
so I tend to get carried away.
Bear with me, I'll leave a few out. But just a few.
Okay, more than a few, but I like them all.
You can click on any picture to enlarge it.
As usual, they are unedited, straight from the camera
(except for a 3 crops).
Sorry RAD, I know that makes you crazy.

SETTING UP:
A good-hearted and generous benefactor
(I don't know who. Help me out Trey, I'd like to give them credit)
donated a trailer to Team Hoyt.
They've come a long way since a few strollers stuffed into the back of a pick-up truck.

edited to add: I have been told that the trailer was donated by
The Noblemen, a local philanthropic group of more people with
hearts big to bursting.

GETTING READY:

FINDING OLD FRIENDS:

(shirtless men. yesssss...)

Can he get him to smile?

YES!

THE SEALS:
Since Allen Stone was a SEAL, their parachute team...

makes a jump in his memory.

THE START:
There were 2 simultaneous starts - the 5k (on the boardwalk)
& the Run-Swim-Run (on the beach).
I was on the boardwalk for that part.

THE SWIM:
I want you to know that the swimmers are pulling those boats behind them.
That's incredibly hard to do.

THE FINISH:

AFTERMATH:
No, wait, that's not right.
I think there's a better word.....

AFTERGLOW:
There's exhaustion.
There's exhilaration.
There's the task for those same exhausted & exhilarated people
to get everything back in the trailer.

RANDOM FAVORITES:

Whew!
Thanks to those of you who stuck it out to the end.
Participating in this uplifted me.
Thanks to Trey White & Team Hoyt for making this possible.

A New Chapter

2010-07-10T11:17:00.009-04:00

Damn.
These are supposed to be exciting times.
Why don't I feel excited?
What the heck am I talking about anyway?

When you send your kids off to college, you get your first taste of an empty nest.
But not really.
Holidays, some weekends, summers - they're back.
With their laundry.
They may have their own place at college, roommates or not.
They are experiencing independence - cooking, paying the bills, doing the chores.
But your house is still their home.

When BS finished his life in Blacksburg, he came back here, to his home.
I knew it was just temporary, really I did.
It's just that we have always been very close,
but never in a "Mama's boy" kind of way.
He is very independent.
We just . . . get along extraordinarily well.
Having him here is a joy.
But the last 3 years have been very hard on him for reasons I won't announce here.
The people that really matter already know.
But, for him, the light at the end of the tunnel is shining brightly at last.
He feels the sun on his face,
and it's time for him to start his new chapter.
He left yesterday.
This is no longer his home,
and his room looks awfully empty.

Freedom Isn't Free

2010-07-04T11:24:00.005-04:00

Freedom requires sacrifice . . .

Bravery . . .

Loss . . .

Thank you to the Founding Fathers for making us free.

Thank you to the soldiers that keep us free.

Have a safe & appreciative 4th!

Nurturing The Spirit

2010-06-26T14:14:00.018-04:00

Our kids have a lot of physical problems - more than any of us will ever experience - yet they remain generally cheerful and happy. It's amazing, especially for those who don't really have cognitive deficits to go along with their physical limitations, how they stay so upbeat in spite of the mountains they face every day. I believe it is a testament to the strength of their spirits.

We take care of their bodies, and we do it really well. We also love them to pieces, and they know it. But there is another side to our kids, and to anyone living in a residential care facility, indeed to all of us, that tends to get overlooked in caring for the overwhelming physical problems - their spiritual side. They have the same need to reach out; to seek something bigger than themselves. Something to feed their souls. Something to give them hope & comfort in the night when they are surrounded by medicines and machines.

Brandon went to Easter church services with one of my co-workers, and he has been asking to go again ever since. Well, we finally found a weekend when everyone was available. Then he decided that he wanted to share the wealth, so he asked some if some of his friends could go along. So now we snowballed from a mildly complicated outing for one (as it always is with our guys) into somewhat major undertaking with 4 kids, 5 adults, 1 spouse for any needed manual labor, 1 big bus (that I drove), a suitcase full of accouterments, and a boatload of optimism.

But, holy COW it was hot work getting them all loaded & unloaded!

First Presbyterian Church of Norfolk welcomed our interesting little group with open arms. We attended the contemporary service at 9:30 which takes place in a new addition behind the beautiful old church. The service was uplifting and full of music. I think I can speak for the kids in saying it meant a lot to them.

Oh, but just look where the 11:00 service is held:

I'm a big fan of Gothic architecture.

Many thanks to Jennifer, Diana, Danyell, Terry, Mr. Terry, and Cline for making Brandon's wish a reality.

Al Gore would be so pleased . . .

2010-06-16T22:30:00.020-04:00

Because, you see, I have irrefutable proof that he has been right all along.
Really, I do.

See these two kinds of trees?
First is Lagerstroemia, aka Crepe Myrtle.
Lovely lilac-esque flower clusters in all shades of pink, purple, and white.
When it blooms, it totally redeems itself for it's winter & spring bald branch ugliness.
When it blooms, it is a glorious profusion of color.

Then there's this tree - Albizia Julibrissin, aka Mimosa, or Powder Puff Tree.
They grow everywhere around here.
Everywhere, especially wild along the roadways.
The scent is sweet & heady.
The flowers come in all shades of pink.
The leaves look like ferns.
Gorgeous.

So what about these trees?
The thing is, they usually bloom mid-to-late summer.
It is something to look forward to after the spring flowers and azaleas wither away
and the brown grass of a hot, muggy summer sets in.
But noo-ho-ho-ho. Not this year.
These idiots started blooming at the end of May,
still technically in the spring.
What the heck?
It's Global Warming, I tell ya!
Gotta be.
What else would explain it?
Al Gore would be so pleased at this concrete & corroborating evidence.

Dirty, Dirty TV Cooking People

2010-06-04T15:13:00.015-04:00

And, no, I'm not talking about the near-constant display of Giada's cleavage.
Or the near-constant innuendo when Paula Deen does anything with a piece of meat.

I'm talking about these:

http://mintconditioned.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/citrus-fruits.jpg

There are other things they do that make me nuts, but I'll start with these.

The food people are crazy about citrus zest, some more than others. They put it in everything. Their little microplanes are whizzing back & forth a mile a minute, and the zest is flying all over the kitchen. Well, I might exaggerate, but not much.

Not that there's anything wrong with citrus zest. In fact, it's a very tasty ingredient that enhances the flavor of many dishes, both sweet and savory. Dang, I went back and read that last sentence. I sound like a commercial for the Lemon Board.

Here's the problem. I've watched just about all the programs on the Food Network, some only a couple times, some over & over. Much of the time, their only concessions to cleanliness in the kitchen seem to be waving their hands briefly under some water after handling nasty raw meat or talking about rinsing your herbs when you bring them home from the store. Otherwise, the cross-contamination and ingestion of unpleasantness is rampant.

You NEVER hear them mention the importance of washing any other items of fruit or vegetable matter. Certainly not citrus fruits. Think of it - those lemons have been sprayed with pesticides, had all sorts of bugs & vermin crawling over them in the warehouse, and been handled by dozens of filthy hands before it ever gets into your grocery bag. And then you're going to happily zest away the outer portion of the peel, the part with all the filth, and put it in your food?
Yummmm!

I wash my citrus. With soap.

My mother will love this post. But then she'll call me up and berate me for smashing lemon slices
down INTO my glass of water when we go out to eat.
Sigh.
Do as I say, not as I do.
After all, one must ingest little bits of nasty to build up our immune systems, right.

In Flanders Fields

2010-05-30T23:22:00.001-04:00

In honor of, and in grateful remembrance for those who gave their lives.

In 1915, Canadian physician and Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae saw his friend die during WWI and was inspired to write "In Flanders Fields", the most popular poem of the era.

The red of bloody battlefields has transformed into the scarlet of endless fields of poppies, growing in profusion on the graves of Flanders, an area encompassing parts of present-day Belgium, France, and The Netherlands.

In Flanders Fields
- John McCrae

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.

And one more:

Memorial Day

2010-05-28T20:14:00.016-04:00

I'm not going to wish anyone a "Happy" Memorial Day this weekend.
Memorial Day isn't supposed to be a 'happy' holiday.

http://www.swfwmd.state.fl.us/documents/publications/watermatters/2003q3/6.html

A sad reality of our consumer-driven society
is the loss of some of our meaningful national holidays.
Or, I guess I should qualify that to say that the holiday isn't lost,
but the original meaning of the holiday has changed.

Memorial Day.
A day set aside to
HONOR
and
REMEMBER
those brave men and women who died defending and protecting freedom at home and abroad,
has devolved into 3 things. But first, what is the history of Memorial day? To find out,
I looked up its origins on that great fount of all knowledge and wisdom - Wiki.

Originally know as "Decoration Day", it had its beginnings as a day set aside to honor the Union soldiers who died in the Civil War. The first "official" Decoration Day took place on May 5, 1866, and the support of 2 Civil War generals was instrumental in promoting the holiday. On May 5, 1868, one of those generals issued a proclamation that Decoration Day be observed nationwide. The date of May 30th was chosen because it was NOT the anniversary of any of the many, many Civil War battles.

Many southern states refused to play along as there was still some lingering bad blood, and besides, hardly any of them Yankee soldiers were buried in the South. Rising above the sore losers was Columbus, Mississippi (defended during the Civil War by General Nathan Bedford Forrest, of "Forrest Gump" fame). In their Decoration Day observances in 1866, they honored both Confederate and Union soldiers. The good ladies of the church decorated the 'graves of the glorious dead' (movie reference) with flowers, not caring which side they fought for. Poet Francis Miles Finch was there that day and was so moved that he wrote "The Blue and the Grey" in commemoration.

But, really, the first observance of a memorial to the fallen soldiers played out a little differently. According to Professor David Blight of Yale University, it was observed by freed slaves at the Washington Race Course in Charleston, South Carolina in 1865. The race course had been used as a temporary Confederate prison camp for captured Union soldiers toward the end of the war, and those who died there were buried in a mass grave. As soon as the war ended, the former slaves exhumed the bodies from the mass grave and gave them proper burials in individual graves. A fence was erected around it all and it was declared a Union graveyard. They accomplished all this in just 10 days. Afterward, a crowd of around 10,000, mostly black but including some Union veterans, gathered there for sermons, speeches, singing, and picnics, thereby creating the first Decoration Day. By the end of the century, the bodies had been moved to nearby national cemeteries.

It wasn't called "Memorial Day " until 1882, and the new name wasn't really very common until after WWII. It became official in 1967.

Then, in 1968, Congress, decided that it really would be more convenient for workers to have certain holidays on a Monday, thereby giving them a 3-day weekend. So they enacted the the Uniform Holidays Bill, which took Washington's Birthday (now defunct), Memorial Day, Columbus Day, and Veteran's Day and moved them all to a Monday. Veteran's Day, however, rose up in rebellion and got to go back to it's original date.

(After all, American workers are deserving of a bit of a break now & then, since they work longer hours, on average, than most of the rest of the industrialized world. That's why we have Labor Day, right? A day to honor the American labor force by having huge sales on items made in China and other countries that exploit low-paid workers ;-)

Japan did the same thing, only they called theirs the "Happy Monday System". I think I like that name better.

So, here's why I am sad for Memorial Day:

An excuse for a 3-day weekend. It didn't used to be a 3-day weekend. It was a fixed holiday on May 30. There are now some groups and individuals that advocate returning it back to its original date to try to preserve the meaning of the day instead of relegating it to the status of an excuse to get a day off work.
The newspapers are chock-full of sale ads, promoting the remembrance of Memorial Day by buying stuff we mostly don't need and putting it houses that are too cluttered anyway.
It now heralds the 'official' start of the summer tourist & vacation season. Sitting on the beach in a skimpy bathing suit soaking up some skin cancer (or watching cars with giant engines drive around in circles) is just a dandy way to honor the dead, don't you think?

How many fly a flag on Memorial Day?
How many lay flowers at someone's grave?
How many take a moment of silence to remember & honor those who died?
Many do, but not enough.

http://oneweirdworld.wordpress.com/2009/11/01/the-tale-of-colenel-faltu/

The Blue and the Gray
Francis Miles Finch

By the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the one, the Blue,
Under the other, the Gray.

These in the robings of glory,
Those in the gloom of defeat,
All with the battle-blood gory,
In the dusk of eternity meet:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgement-day
Under the laurel, the Blue,
Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours
The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers
Alike for the friend and the foe;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgement-day;
Under the roses, the Blue,
Under the lilies, the Gray.

So with an equal splendor,
The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue,
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment -day,
Wet with the rain, the Blue
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done,
In the storm of the years that are fading
No braver battle was won:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue,
Under the garlands, the Gray

No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day,
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray.

http://blogs.bootsnall.com/bucho_ky/memorial-day.html

I am a HYPOCRITE!

2010-05-22T12:00:00.002-04:00

Hypocrite.
Two-faced,
talk-out-of-both-sides-of-my-mouth,
hypocrite.

April was Occupational Therapy Month, and our OT Department at St. Mary's put up giant pieces of colored paper on the wall. We were all to write down what our legacy would be. That's fun, so I wrote "I made my coworkers eat brown rice & recycle." Now, I hope that's not my only legacy, but everyone else was writing mooshy wooshy stuff, and it was getting boring. But, it's true. We are now rabid recyclers in my department. Or, maybe it's that I am the rabid recycler, and they just play along to shut me up.

When I see cans,

http://37stories.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/aluminum-cans.jpg

bottles,

http://sustainbydesign.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/plastic-bottles-close-up.jpg

paper,

http://www.brodeur.com/openblog/wp-content/uploads/paper-pile-lg.jpg

or boxes in the trash,

http://www.mediabistro.com/fishbowlDC/original/cardboard-boxes-in-a-pile-web.jpg

I have to be restrained.
Held back.
*breathe in a paper bag*
I need a tranquilizer.

If it has a recycle code on the bottom, it goes in my big blue bin.
I know you're supposed to pay attention to the number inside the triangle . . .

(hee. 'PETE' is #1 - inside joke)

. . . since not all areas take everything, but I'm getting old,
and I can't see the number without my WallyWorld reading glasses on.
Besides, if it wasn't supposed to be recycled,
they wouldn't have put that little symbol on it to begin with, right?

So why does this make me a hypocrite?
Because while I am wildly recycling my cardboard, glass & plastic,
I wantonly waste other things.

Waste, as in
throw away,
fill the landfill,
it'll still be there in 100 years
waste.

With these:

I use a lot of this stuff.
I buy it from the Price Club.
In bulk.
I use it, then I throw it in the trash.
It can't be recycled,
and I won't give it up!
(Actually, I can live nicely without kleenex & napkins
as long as I have t.p & paper towels.)

So, I'm a hypocrite, right?
Or does it all balance out in the end?

I remember when BS & I went to Italy. He was 10, and we went to visit friends who were stationed in Gaeta, a beautiful little seaside city just north of Naples. A day trip to Rome was part of the plan, and I went to use one of the public restrooms at the train station in Rome. There was a lady sitting at the entrance SELLING TOILET PAPER! There wasn't any in the stalls, thank you very much. For your handful of lira, you got 4 squares of paper. 4 SQUARES! I don't know about any of you others out there, but there ain't no way 4 squares of toilet paper is getting the job done. Neither job, if you get my meaning.

Did I care? NO!!!

Having been forewarned of this, I went on in with my WHOLE ROLL safely hiding in my big ol' handbag. Ahhhhh! Enough t.p. and a moist towelette, and I was feeling fresh & clean. Probably more than you wanted to know, huh? But feeling fresh & clean is a big thing with me, hence my selfish, evil, wasteful use of paper products.
The earth weeps.
The landfills grow.
Tough.

Does this make me a bad person?

ps - I think the lady selling the t.p. thought I was dirty and smelly, on account of I didn't buy any of her scratchy paper. Mwaahaha!

Not Just Tolerance - Love

2010-05-17T17:31:00.002-04:00

I post this with love for and in honor of my Egyptian family:

A Mother's Heart

2010-05-09T10:58:00.009-04:00

There's something about a mother's heart

It has magic

No matter what kind of fur we have

We love

We nurture

We guide

We protect

We endure

Even if they're not ours

Even if they aren't so pretty

We will love them always.

Before you were conceived, I wanted you.
Before you were born, I loved you.
When you were born, I saw your face and knew I was in love.
Before you were a minute old, I knew I would die for you.
To this day, I still would.

Happy Mother's Day!

ps - None of the photos are mine. The poem is not mine. It was all found online.
I put this together in a hurry, but I will gladly give credit. Just let me know.

pps - my nephew informs me that the penguin is the dad. Tough.

Just Yesterday, They Were Our Babies

2010-05-07T17:54:00.027-04:00

Yes, our kids are in wheelchairs.
No, they don't talk.
Yes, they have disabilities so profound, we can't comprehend the hurdles they face.
No, their schooling doesn't involve high-level academics.
Yes, in spite of their physical disabilities, they have the spark of life that dazzles us.

So, just as any high school senior looks forward to certain rituals,
so we want our kids to experience those things as well.
Prom.
Graduation.

Last Sunday they had their senior prom,
and St. Mary's own blog has the story here and here.

Graduation was today, and we even made the local news!

I wrote about graduation last year, and this year was no different.
With one exception.
I immersed myself in picture-taking, so my tears weren't flowing as much.
Ah, the power of distraction.
It was deliberate, because I embarrassed myself enough last year.
This year I was all business.
Kinda. Mostly.

But at least I didn't need too many of these, generously dispersed throughout the room...

Every student deserves the pomp and ceremony, no matter their disabilities.
St. Mary's and the SECEP REACH Program (our school)
went all out to make them feel special today.

We had our Color Guard,

a great speaker (one of our most well-respected local news anchors
and managing editor of the news division of our CBS affiliate, Barbara Ciara),
a lovely and gracious woman with a wonderful sense of humor,

a special friend of each graduate speaking on their behalf,

the mother of one of our graduates to give a very moving tribute,

presentation of their diplomas by the principal,

a giant cake,

and a catered lunch of pulled pork barbecue and all the fixins,
which was just as good as Texas barbecue, thank you very much!

See St. Mary's blog post about the event here.
It's much better than this one.
It has quotes and everything.

It was a very special day, filled with very special people.
I am so lucky to be part of St. Mary's, SECEP, and the lives of those kids.

Today's stars:

Devonta, Greg, Katie, Justin, Demetrias, and Steven:
don't leave us too soon, hear?
We'll miss you too much, and your absence will leave an awfully big hole in our hearts.
We love you guys.

Surrounded By My Boys . . .

2010-05-02T19:00:00.000-04:00

. . . which is, of course, one of my favorite places to be.

Now that the Home is off the H1N1 restrictions, we can take the kids out again.
And Brandon has had cabin fever.
Big time.

We have already gone to the movies to see his beloved Miley Cyrus in her newest flick.
BS went along too.
It's better if I have someone else with me when I take Brandon out.
Just in case, you know.

It was the 2nd time seeing this movie for him.
He had already gone with his family to see it, and I was told they ALL cried.
But, since he wants to see it 53 times, we have a few more to go.
Doofus spent most of the movie looking over at us to see if we were crying yet.
Laughing at us.
NOT using his inside voice.
Making me "ssshhhhh" him a lot.
And yes, both BS & I got a little misty.
Good movie.

This afternoon, just to get him out again, the HandiRide bus dropped us off at my house
to veg out on the couch & watch more movies & eat junk,
or in Brandon's case, get little licks of junk.

I had to do a little preplanning to get him in the house.
Interesting procedure, getting him out of his chair & up the front steps.
We baby-stepped our way up & in the house & plopped him down
on the already-reclined-couch with no mishaps.
Didn't drop him on his head once.
Score!
The chair stayed outside, since we had no use for it in the house,
and I was sure no one would steal it.
It's a safe neighborhood, and besides,
if you don't know how to release the hidden brakes,
it ain't going nowhere.

Awww, makes a mother's (and an honorary aunt's) heart swell, don't it?

We had time for TWO movies.
And, even though we had the best of intentions to eat junk,
we ended up snacking on whole-wheat crackers, baby carrots & hummus.
Thrilling, huh?
Brandon tasted the hummus.
He was not impressed.
So he got a taste of his favorite barbeque sauce
and a sip of water to wash it all down.
What a good afternoon it was.
Hey BS - thank you for your help.

I Need Motivation

2010-04-29T22:23:00.002-04:00

Here's the thing.
March was a difficult month.
Teaching the class.
Family difficulties.
But the class is over.
The other is vastly improved.
A month has passed, and now April is over too.
So, what's the problem?
I can't seem to get motivated to post.
Seems like too much effort.
How do I get my MOJO back?

Mystery Girl Revealed

2010-04-24T10:23:00.008-04:00

Ooh, sorry about the mystery girl from a couple of posts ago.
(Refresh your memory here.)
I kind of forgot to give you the answer.
So, the girl in this picture...

...the pretty one, back row, white blouse, 2nd from right?
(and by the way, my sisters & I are also in that picture.
All of us were in our awkward phase at the same time, I think.)

That girl is the much younger version of:

http://www.celebritywonder.com/picture/Kathie_Lee_Gifford/KathyLeeGiff_J__McCart_16641055.jpg

After some of you recover from the recoil and mental "ewwww",
(I know she can inspire strong reactions)
let me just say this.
My family and her family were good friends back in the days before fame & fortune hit.
Wonderful people.
Salt of the earth & lots of fun.
We always had a great time with them at their big old inn in Rehoboth Beach.
She wouldn't know me from Adam these days,
but I have very fond memories of those days.

So, other than Sista G & Nana,
how many of you guessed?

Never Forget

2010-04-16T11:07:00.008-04:00

April 16, 2007

Never forget . . .

not the students and faculty that died,
not their grieving families,
not the students and faculty and staff who lost their friends,
not the thousands of other students whose lives were forever changed,
not the Hokie families who saw their loved ones weeping,
not the world who wept with them,
not the lessons learned,
not the legacies left behind.

This anniversary still touches the lives of those who were there.

Never forget.

They're Called "Vanity Plates" For A Reason

2010-04-10T22:46:00.007-04:00

A site that I look at regularly had a post recently about the road trips of the author's youth.
The post was really about modern road trips,
wherein each whiny brat has his own personal DVD player
and doesn't have to interact with another family member the entire time.

I thought about the road trips of my own youth with my sisters.
Remember arguing with each other and yelling "Daddy! She touched me!"?
And Daddy saying "Don't make me stop this car."

We had bubble gum chewing contests with my mother on our way to the beach.
And we slept in the back seat leaning against each other like toppled statues.
This is me & my sisters on our way to Ocean Isle, NC.
Looks like that awkward stage again, huh?
Scary.
The slide is old & faded, and I don't know how to fix that yet. Sorry RAD.

We would load up my father's Bug and go to Rehoboth Beach in Delaware
to stay at a big old rambling hotel owned by friends of the family.
That's us with some of them in this picture with my father behind the camera.
See the girl in the white shirt, 2nd from the right, next to the girl with the long blond hair?
She is now hugely famous, and not always in a good way.
Click on the picture to enlarge it and see if you can figure it out.

Remember playing the Snug Bug game?
I think the kids are playing that again, complete with overly hard arm punches.
(In fact, I think BS still does.)
Although now they call it "Punch Buggy".
What do they know?

Remember playing the license plate game to see how many states you could find?
Wasn't hard to do since most states had easily identifiable tags.
There were unique combinations of letters, numbers, colors, state mottos & sometimes an image.
We could tell a Colorado plate from way down the road by its green & white mountain design.

Pennsylvania had that odd mustard colored plate.

Florida was "The Sunshine State" . . .

. . . and later the state's outline in unmistakeable orange.

(license plate pics courtesy of this site)

Can't do that anymore, as each state has about 1,496 different patterns available.
Look here at just of a few of the ones you can get in Virginia.

And, of course, all of these road trips were taken in the summer.
With NO air conditioning.
They are some of my fondest memories.
Take THAT, spoiled modern kids!

But I digress.
This all got me thinking about the idiotic vanity plates I encounter on a regular basis.
Are they nuts?
They pay money, every year, to announce this kind of stuff?
I saw these in the last week.

"THK JCY"
Dude, THAT I don't need to know about you.
And yes, it was a young man driving, but I had no way of verifying his claim.
Darn. But something tells me I didn't miss much.

"FXY LDY"
Does anyone else share that high opinion of yourself, Missy?
She had on an overly tight shirt.

"EUNIQUE"
Excuse me, but aren't we all?
Didn't see who was driving.

"IBEFAST"
Another young man.
Should have read, "IBEFAILINGENGLISHANDFLIPPINGBURGERSFORALIVING".
Or "IBEGONNAGETATICKETFERSURE".

I found one on the internet machine that said "COPBAIT" on a little sports car.
He'll NEVER talk his way out of a ticket.

Here is a link to a few more.
The first one says "IDIOT".
I have a feeling that announcing it on your car is redundant.

Some were so borderline profane, I won't show them here.
But go see for yourself, or here, and mock them to your heart's content.
If they make you feel intellectually or smugly superior, don't worry.
It's not vanity.

Leave comments with your guess as to Mystery Girl
and the worst vanity plates you have encountered.
I'll post the answer in a couple days.

update: I confess.
After looking at the VA plates available, I want one.
I am ashamed of myself.
And I know what I want it to say - a personalized plate.
I am doubly ashamed of myself.
I have been sucked in.
But I won't be announcing my questionable physical attributes or obvious mental deficiencies.

Free At Last . . .

2010-04-05T19:27:00.008-04:00

It's over!!!

The month from H. e. doubletoothpicks is over, and I have had a weekend of sleeping late and drinking in the glorious spring weather. (Although today it hit almost 90 degrees. Sheesh.)

I had hoped to add that there were several days of drinking celebratory margaritas, but that didn't happen. Although I did have a Caribbean Breeze last night with Sista G, Brotha P & BS at a local watering hole. It was cool & frooty & good.

First - the course I taught:

I purely LOVED being in the classroom again!!!

BUT, the reality of rearranging my schedule at work to accommodate the class was more of a nightmare that I anticipated. Not only was there an additional 3+ hours of travel time each week (depending on traffic), the 10 hours of class time, and the ~1/2 hour before & after each class to take care of the details of academia, but there were also the hours of preparatory work & grading at home. I figure that I added an additional almost 20 hours per week to my regular full-time workload. Ewwwwww!

It's every teacher's dread to teach someone else's class with all their course materials and tests. Especially when some of the stuff is unfamiliar. But I mudded through, and the students gave me glowing evals at the end. They were a good group, and I actually learned all their names by the end of the class.

Evidently, the students gave such good feedback that the program offered me a full-time job teaching and coordinating the internships. Just what I love doing. Wait, whaaaa? Really? Wow!

Yeah, and I turned that one down.

Why, you ask?

The commute. 45 minutes each way on a day with zero traffic. No thanks.
The philosophy of the college (not the program; the college). I don't buy into the whole 'herd them through as quickly as you can' mentality. That may work fine for a profession that is not a hands-on field, like computers (which is what they started with), but I don't think the formula works as well for professions that require a lot of hands-on practice, like many of the medical programs. I didn't like that a whole semester's worth of material is condensed into a 5 week class, which translates into 5-hour class sessions. Okay for memorizing, I guess, but not really conducive to being able to solidify & apply knowledge. But that's just my opinion. Plus, it's no fun to have to teach for 5 straight hours. Yuk.
The cost. The amount that students have to shell out for this privilege makes me gulp. I can't help but think it's something of a rip-off, especially since you can do the same thing at the local community college for 1/4 - 1/3 of the price. Granted, it will take longer, but still, in the grand scheme of things, not that much longer.
The atmosphere. All of the "rules" almost made it feel like high school. Technically, I was supposed to clock in & out every day, even though I was on a flat-rate contract (WTF?!), but they never got around to showing me where the timeclock was, so that was okay after all. Every student has to wear a uniform to class - each discipline with its own uniform. They are not supposed to call their instructors by their first names. What did I do about that, coming from the community college program where we always called our instructors by their first names? I said that when the door is closed, please call me 'Kathy', since I didn't like any of my other options. I'm not really a 'Miss', I haven't been a 'Mrs.' for a lot of years, and I purely loathe "Ms." The response I got was "You mean we're actually going to be treated like adults? Wow! It's the dawn of a new era?" Funny kids ;-)

So, I turned it down without stewing and pacing and fretting about it. They still want me to teach this class again in November when it is offered again. We'll see. Maybe by then, I will have forgotten how miserable this past 5 weeks was, but I don't think so.

Second - the family issues:

Some of you reading this already know what this is referring to, and I am happy to report, with relief and joy, that things are going very well. I know we had a lot of prayers going up, and for that I thank you.

For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to provide details. Suffice it to say that some very black clouds are lifting and light is coming back into someone's life again.

So, my relief has more than one face, and I feel strangely free.

Here's The Deal . . . .

2010-03-21T11:28:00.004-04:00

For the next week & a half, I will still have 2 jobs.
I've decided I don't like having 2 jobs.
Plus, there are some family issues going on,
so I want to ignore my blog until April Fool's Day.
Or at least until 2 weekends from now,
which, I believe, is Easter weekend.

My plate is full.
So much so that I even dropped out of my concert for this season
since I was missing too many rehearsals.
THAT was a tough call.
Singing is my life.
But with getting up at 5 am to shower & get ready & drive 45 minutes to class,
teaching for 5 hours,
getting to work to put in the needed hours,
then going to rehearsal,
Mondays were a nightmare.

I won't be repeating this experience.
But, more on that later.
Until then,
after a long, white winter,
enjoy the spring.

Go outside, sniff the wind,
and drink in the sun.

See you on the flip side.

And Little Lambs Eat Ivy . . .

2010-03-12T22:06:00.013-05:00

Since I have been a little busy lately with my extra job teaching the class at the college, I have been ignoring my blog to the point of embarrassment, so to avoid further red-faced neglect, I have resorted to enlisting someone else to do my work for me and provide you with fresh entertainment. I give you . . . . SISTA G & her husband MISTA P!

This is Kathy’s Sista G, with a lamb story for you. The preface of the story is that we live outside of Roanoke, VA on just over 9 acres, of which half is a bowl-shaped field. Currently residing in the field is a horse and 14 sheep. We have had the original two sheep (Rambo and Snowbird) for three years, and they begat all the others.

On February 5th, the day of the second big snowstorm here, one of the ewes (Love Ewe) had twins (typical for sheep) in the late morning. They both seemed fine during the course of the afternoon, but when our son came over just before dusk to see them, one of them was lying in the cold mud away from all the others, still and almost lifeless. He brought it up to the house and put it in a warm bath, and after a while, it started to come around, albeit still very weak. We dried him off, brought him upstairs, and tried feeding him some lamb formula in a baby bottle. He drank a little, but not too much. I dashed to the store to buy diapers (because you know what animals do that you can’t control), cut a hole for his little tail and slapped a diaper on him. He slept in our Jack Russell’s (Magnum) pet carrier, and the next morning he started to stand and walk a little. We named him Phoenix (since he rose from the ashes), and as the days progressed, so did he.

Then, on Valentine’s Day, another ewe (Snowbird – the original mama) had twins, and we noticed from the house that one of them never got up, so Mista P went down to check on it. He came back and said that its back legs were limp and wouldn’t work, so we gave it the rest of that day to see if it would recover. We also put Phoenix out there to see if Snowbird or Love Ewe would let him nurse – they tried, but he would have none of it, just crying the whole time. By the end of the day, we brought both of them back to the house, and put the new one in diapers, too. She was pretty pitiful – we named her Valentine, since she was born on Valentine’s Day.

After a few days, we could stand her up and she would try to take a couple of steps, dragging her bad legs behind her.

Phoenix even cuddled up with her several times.

Magnum just put up with the whole newfangled arrangement.

But, one week after she was born, she woke up without her front legs working either, and one of them was curled back. Her neck would arch back, too, and she was obviously in pain, so we had to euthanize her. It was a hard good-bye for me, “and that’s all I have to say about that” (pop quiz – what movie?).

Phoenix is now 5 weeks old - quite a handful, and a little spitfire! He hops around like a gazelle, and runs up and down the stairs in the house. He is starting to get on the dog's nerves, too, always wanting to nibble on his tail. He gets up on the couch with us and watches TV, very patiently staying up late with me every night during the Olympics.

When it’s a nice day out, we’ve been putting him out in the field during the day with the rest of the sheep and four other lambs - we have two more new ones, too. The newest lamb (Snowshoe, because it was born while we were at Snowshoe a week ago – I’m not a deep thinker) looks just like Valentine, so that’s a comfort. Anyway…Phoenix has been such a cry-lambie that all he’s done is pace the fence and bleat the whole time. He has such a Pinocchio complex - he wants to be a “real boy” instead of a “real lamb”. Saturday evening when we brought him back inside, he had cried so much during the day he had “lamb-yngitis”! Maybe that was his catharsis, because now, ever since Sunday, when we put him out there, he realizes that he is a lamb, and has actually been playing, hopping, chasing, and frolicking with the other lambs. Here he is with his twin sister (Tucson) and Valentine’s twin (Valentino).

He has been eating some grass, too (now that the snow has finally melted). Here he is with Hocus and her baby (Two-Socks).

In a couple of weeks he’ll be fully weaned and he’ll go in the field for good, even though I know he’ll run right over to the fence for some rubs when we show up there.

Our other sheep that I haven’t talked about are: Pocus (Hocus’ twin), Alpine, Cuervo, Coco (new lamb Snowshoe’s mom) and Little Cow – that should round out all 14!

It’s been fun and frenetic to be lambparents!!

(Thank you Sista G. And for those of you who were wondering, lamb chops are not on the dinner menu.)

A Different Kind Of Goodbye

2010-03-03T19:55:00.010-05:00

I think you all know by now that when you see this picture . . .

. . . you know that St. Mary's has lost one of our beloved children to heaven.

Problem is, that's not the only kind of goodbye we have saying more & more of this past year.
When our kids turn 21, they have to move.
They cease to become kids, at least by Medicaid guidelines,
and they become adults that have to go to another place to live.

We have a lot of kids who have turned, or are getting ready to turn, 21.

It's kind of like sending them off to college,
except they won't be coming home on weekends and holidays
with bags of laundry and requests to borrow the car.
We know they're not coming home again.

This breaks our hearts in an equal, but very different way.
Because we know, we KNOW to the very depths of our souls,
that no one will love them and take care of them like we did.

That's our story and we're sticking to it.

Jamie left us yesterday morning.
She came to us when she was a very small little girl,
and I've known her pretty much the whole time she has been there.
Soft, dark hair the texture of silk threads.
Large, expressive brown eyes.
A ready smile for anyone who would talk to her.
An even bigger smile for anyone who would sing to her.
And you know what that means.
I live to sing, so I spend a lot of time crooning her favorite song to her.
Over and over and over and over and . . . she never got tired of it.
Served a dual purpose, really.
Not only did I get to see that beautiful smile, but it also made therapy go a lot smoother.
I could get away with a lot more PT stuff with a few songs attached.

Yesterday, while she was waiting for the bus that would take her away from us,
I sang her favorite to her one more time.
"This Old Man".
Could only sing it through once though.
There seemed to be something stuck in my throat.

Reinvention - Partial Success

2010-02-25T21:15:00.008-05:00

I have, in past posts, whined about my desire to teach again. In addition to the college where I ran my program, there is another program not too far away.

School XYZ contacted me a few weeks ago. Seems they lost an instructor, and they were in desperate need of someone to take the class.

Happy, happy, joy, joy!
But yet some trepidation as well.

They run their courses in 5 week modules. Basically, it condenses a semester's worth of work into 5 weeks. That's how they advertise that you'll have your degree in such a short time. For this, they charge a sickening amount of money. And the credits don't transfer to a regular college. I have a little bit of a problem with that.

Then, every time I talked to them, another layer of annoyance was added:

Oh, and by the way, you have to come in for an interview - even though you have the job.

Oh, and by the way, you have to come in again for an interview with the dean - even though you have the job.

Oh, and did I mention that you also have to do a teaching demo - even though you have the job?

Oh, and I forgot to tell you that even though you will be paid on a contract for the class, you still have to punch in & out. (Excuse me, I am not a Wal-Mart flunky. I have never heard of faculty having to punch a clock.)

The class is all done & the whole thing is on Power Point (a somewhat overrated mechanism of course delivery, in my opinion). I am NOT to deviate from the slides. I am NOT encouraged to bring in any of my own materials (I have taught this stuff before). On the bright side, all the tests & quizzes are already written too. That was always my least favorite part of teaching. Makes me think I could be replaced by a trained monkey.

http://www.farshot.com/images/stories/Articles/monkey.jpg

So, yeah, while I am excited to get the chance to teach again, I am chafing at the constraints.

What More Could You Ask?

2010-02-19T23:43:00.004-05:00

Friday night.

Creeping back to the Home to watch some Olympics on the giant TV . . .

with a good dinner . . .

and good company.

What more could you ask?
(Except if BS could have come too.)

Goodbye

2010-02-15T21:29:00.001-05:00

We were blessed to have you with us for a long time.
You fought your battles with courage and good humor that inspired us all,
but it was time to go home.
Watch out for your family now, okay?

Somewhere a journey begins at the end of the worldly existence we know,
Somewhere a path stretches over the stars, and rivers of memories flow.
Somewhere a silence is heard far away, and the brightness of day fills the night,
Where the trials of life are resolved into peace when a soul finds its way to the Light.

Happy Valentine's Day

2010-02-14T19:06:00.004-05:00

Just a brief follow-up to my last post:

I Blame The Pope

2010-02-11T18:41:00.011-05:00

Yes, I do. It's his fault.
More specifically, it's the fault of Pope Gelasius I.
He's the one that made Valentine's Day an official church holiday in 496 AD.

Some people have also blamed Geoffery Chaucer,
who wrote some romantic nonsense about it in 1382.

But wait, let's not stop there.
There's plenty of blame to go around.

The earliest surviving valentine was written in the fifteenth century by
Charles, Duke of Orleans.

Hamlet mentions it in 1600.

In 1797, a British publisher came out with a booklet containing sloppy sentimental verses
for gentlemen too unimaginative to think of their own.
Embellished valentines then flourished in the UK.
Sadly, the custom trickled across the pond, and in the mid 1800's,
they began being mass-produced here in the States.

That's Esther Howland's fault.
She was so besotted by one of the English ones she received
that she got her father's book & stationary store to start selling them.
It's so much her fault that the Greeting Card Association gives out an annual
"Esther Howland Award for a Greeting Card Visionary".
Hmmph.
Makes me want to puke.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Victorian-valentines-cards-two-cherubs-red-hearts.jpg

The rest is Hallmark history.

disclaimer: I found all this on Wiki, so it may all be hooey anyway.

Here's the thing.
Valentine's Day is clearly an excuse to make men feel unworthy
unless they ply their wives/girlfriends with cards, candy, chocolate,
jewels, and other manner of sentimental gifts.
Of course, the women reciprocate with sloppy sentimentality of their own.

It is not a holiday to exchange these things with parents, children,
brothers, sisters, dogs, cats, co-workers, or classmates.

If you don't have one of those sweethearts, Valentine's Day is endured, not celebrated.
It makes me want to curl my lip & growl like Clint Eastwood in "Gran Torino"
(one of the best movies ever made, by the way).

Having said that,
*sheepishly hangs head*
thank you Pop and Brother for the Valentines I got in the mail today.

Mom, I hope you believed me when I said I didn't want one,
'cause BS & I will be seeing you Sunday for lunch & a movie,
and I didn't get you one.
I didn't get BS one either.
Or Pop or Brother.

Of course, this is all blatant and unabashed sour grapes on my part.
I seem to recall writing something along these lines last year around this time too.
So . . .

It Really Did Thaw, But Then . . . .

2010-02-06T17:04:00.025-05:00

Has this been the best winter EVER, or what?!

My thanks to Rosie Hawthorne for that graphic!

I realize that I am spending an unnatural amount of time being consumed with snow.
You gotta understand something though.
For Southeastern Virginia, this is such a rarity that I am going to milk every minute I can.

that last picture is out of order - it's from last week - but I like the sequence

Sometimes a dusting can be the prettiest of all.

This time, the trees were sprayed in white. Pretty.

I especially like those occasions when I could advertise 'waterfront property'.

Uh oh. Would someone please tell them that February has only just started.

There is a trick to taking snow pictures at night.
Obviously, I don't think I have the hang of it yet.
But oooh look - cotton balls!

The Great Thaw

2010-02-01T18:55:00.006-05:00

What if there had just been a big snowstorm?

And what if you were a happy little bush, minding your own business?

But what if part of your business just happened to be
right under the drip line on a roof with no gutters?

Then, what if all that snow started to melt, but the air was still cold?

This is what would happen.

And some of his brothers had the same problem, but on a smaller scale.

That's okay, all is well - this one never leaves his post.

And this one, just because I like it.

A Few Images Of The Snow

2010-01-31T18:30:00.012-05:00

If you're from anywhere around here and you're also on Facebook,
you have been innundated with images of the best snowstorm here in the last 20 years.
In that case, sorry, 'cause here are some more.

If you're not from around here and for some reason
have been living in a bubble the last couple days,
this is what you have been waiting for!
Not.

But, snow like this is such a rarity around here,
that I had to get out my camera & snap like crazy.
Here are the results.
As usual, I haven't done any post-editing,
on account of that would take time & effort,
and I'm way to lazy for that.

During & afters:

I took so many, it's hard to choose . . .
(and please ignore the peeling paint on the eaves, thanks)

I do love snow.

A Promise Is A Promise

2010-01-30T19:01:00.014-05:00

Yesterday, while we all waited for our "weather event",
I told a certain someone that, if I could get out of my neighborhood,
I would come take him out in the snow.

Very blithly made promise.
See, most predictions of snowy doom don't pan out around here.
Plus, it was still sunny with nary a cloud in sight.
Even if it did snow, I love going out in it.
Especially in the car.

So, yeah, a "weather event" indeed.

(If you click on that picture & enlarge it, I got the tiny snowflakes too. Cool.)

I put 4 root beers out in the snow for later.
There's something very rustic & ski lodge-esque about using the snow as your personal fridge.
After a couple hours, I went to pull out a couple for BS & me and . . .

. . . huh?
It was the mailman!
That's okay. "through rain, sleet, snow or gloom of night . . ." and all that.
He sure got the snow & sleet today.
He deserves a treat.

I really should pack up & move to Buffalo, as much as I love snow.

I left myself a bit of an out in that promise yesterday.
I distinctly remember saying "If I can make it out of the neighborhood . . .",
so I waffled & vacillated & alternated & pondered.
Do I stay in my warm, toasty house?
Do I brave the elements & go back to the Home?
Do I tell him the roads were just too bad?
I spent a good couple of hours doing this,
but the thought of that hopeful face won the argument.
So, after a fruitless attempt to persuade BS to venture out with me -
"Mom, I used to live in Blacksburg. We got this every winter.
If I don't have to go out, I ain't going out", or something to that effect,
I got in the car & slid down the driveway.
It was still snowing, and the roads were terrible.

Very little had been plowed.
I really do like driving in it, though.
I just go very slow and I don't have a problem.
Unlike some of the other buttheads on the road.
I didn't get above 22 mph the whole way.
The trip took an extra 7 minutes.
Big whoop.

But it was worth it.
We bundled that boy in so many layers of clothes,
he was like that little kid in "A Christmas Story".

Normally, this kid is a human furnace and wants a fan blowing on him all the time.
Uh, not this afternoon.
When we got back in, he was still cold and wanted to sit
by his roommate's bed under the heat lamp.
With blankets.
It was a memorable moment,
and I'm sure his mom won't believe me without photographic evidence.

For those people who grumble & complain when it snows,
Just slow down and enjoy the gift.

Catching The Snowy Spirit

2010-01-29T22:23:00.013-05:00

Even our local grosh'ry store is getting into the spirit of the impending winter storm of doom.
Although, something tells me that this wasn't quite on purpose.

Unintentional or not, I felt the chill.

Of Pictures, Parties & Performers

2010-01-25T09:32:00.032-05:00

On Saturday, I got to do 2 fun things.

No, make that 3 fun things.
Although, if you include sleeping late, that would make 4 fun things.

Fun Thing #2 - Disappearin' Railroad Blues

After sleeping late (fun thing #1), I drove down to the Outer Banks,
but on the way, I met up with my friend RAD to take some pictures.
It was a gray & dreary day.
Again.
We ended up at Bob's Fishing Hole on Rt 168, just north of the NC line.
I had remembered cypress knees all along the edges of the water.
Trouble is, we really couldn't get to a good place to shoot the cypress knees,
but there was a very nice set of train tracks there.
Part of the Chesapeake & Albemarle RR.

I don't think these tracks are used any more.
Or, if they are, it is only rarely, since the rails are rusted.
But it makes me feel more than a little sad and very nostalgic for a different era.
An era before the interstate & the solitary automobile, before the impersonal & efficient jet.
An era where the journey was as much of an adventure as the destination.

Now, here's what I want you to do.
Play the video below, and while the music plays, slowly scroll through the pictures.

If you want to read about the song and the real "City of New Orleans" train, you can do that too.

Fun Thing #3 - Happy Birthday To Rosie

I left the train tracks and continued my journey south.
My friend Rosie Hawthorne (not her real name) has a birthday this week,
so a party was in order with some friends, relatives & neighbors.

On the way there, I stopped along the beach road to take a peek at the ocean.
Ahhhhh, that's more like it.
This is what an Atlantic winter should look like,

not this, like it was the previous weekend . . .

Poor Rosie even made some of her own party food,
although she would say it wasn't really her party.
Saturday was also the birthday of one of her party guests.
Surprise!

There was music and fun

and even a little groping.
(some of you will get the reference of the sunglasses on the backs of their heads.)

More than once, evidently.

And Rosie with her faaaaavorite gift.
(Sorry, another inside joke.)

Fun Thing #4 - The Muse's First Comedy Club

My brother runs a writing school downtown, The Muse,
which he founded with a friend.
It is linked on the right.
Saturday night they had their first graduates of the comedy writing class
perform their stand-up routines.

It was very enjoyable.
The school regularly holds readings for their students in all genres.
If you are in the area, check it out sometime.

I was beat.
Really, how much more fun could I have squeezed onto one day?

The Trip Home

2010-01-24T10:09:00.016-05:00

We woke up to torrential rain for our trip home.
Now, I want to make sure you understand something.
Not only did we need to load all our supplies into our vehicles,
but we needed to load Brandon as well.
And his chair.
All while keeping them dry.

HA!

That didn't happen.

There are no pictures of this for one simple reason.
I helped hold Brandon's poncho over him while we got him in the van.
It was like I jumped into the pool with all my clothes on.
No way was I going to try to take pictures in that rain.
(BS was the other lucky holder of the poncho. :-)
Being soaking wet in the middle of winter is my faaaavorite thing.

The seat heaters in my car got turned to high.
The regular heater was blasting.
There was a lot of steam in that car, I can tell you.

So, how do we turn an otherwise miserable ride home into some fun?
We ditch the others.

I didn't have to go back to the Home to drop off Brandon,
as there were 7 other people who had to go back there,
so BS & I took the scenic route home.

First thing we did was take the beach road back to the bridge.
It's slower, but there aren't any stoplights, and the road floods regularly during hard rains.
My kind of road.
I love to drive through puddles and watch the water whoooosh up the sides of the car.
It didn't disappoint.

You may have noticed that all these pictures were taken from the driver's side of the car.
But, don't worry Mom.
BS was steering while I took the pictures.

See the right side of the road?
See how close the dunes are to the road?
There used to be houses lining the whole east side of the road.
But the Outer Banks are a moving chain of islands,
slowly migrating westward toward the mainland.
Anything along the shoreline will eventually be eaten by waves.
Many of those houses have already been destroyed.
Now, during storms, the road is not only covered by water, but also by sand.

It's quite a nuisance, really, for those people whose houses are still standing.
(Cue sarcasm.)

Damn ocean, thinking it can do whatever it wants.

As soon as we crossed the bridge to the mainland,
the rain tapered off and eventually stopped.
BS had heard me extoll the fun factor of the Currituck Ferry to Knotts Island,
so he wanted to see if we were in time to catch it back to VA.

By golly, luck was with us again - it was just pulling in.

Even though the rain had stopped, it was very misty on the water.
Lovely.

This channel marker reminded me of Neptune's trident.

And then . . .

And then . . .

What happens when there is mist and the sun is at your back?

There was no color, so I can't call it a rainbow.
Maybe a mist-bow?

I couldn't stop snapping pictures -
From the port side, starboard, upstairs, downstairs.
Wouldn't all fit in one frame, though.

It was ethereal, and it hovered in front of the boat all the way to the dock.

I can't tell you how beautiful it was.
I didn't want to get off the boat.
But, when we did, the sky cleared and it turned into a crystal clear day.
The drive up through Knotts Island was delightful.
(I'm trying real hard here not to use the same adjectives for everything. It's hard.)

(Yes Rosie, I got the car inspected.)

About this time, BS got tired of me taking pictures while I was driving.
He said I was making him nervous.
Imagine!
So we switched places.
Made him feel better.

Only one thing missing from the ferry ride this time.
No hoards of seagulls.
That's okay, there will be other opportunities with a loaf of bread.

Funny thing is, as soon as we left Knotts Island and drove up into Virginia Beach,
it clouded up again and started drizzling.
We got the day's beauty at the perfect time.
Thank you God.

Wright Flyers & Beach Loafers

2010-01-22T19:57:00.030-05:00

I was out to dinner with some old friends this evening

(not old as in years, but old as in length of friendship),

and I was reminded, rather bluntly, that I have neglected my blog of late.
I haven't posted in a while.
I didn't write about what I did last weekend,
and it was good stuff, so here it is.

Remember this young man?

Remember how I took him to Blacksburg in the fall of 2007 & 2008 (scroll to Nov. 13th)
to go to a football game and root for the Hokies?

Remember how that trip got the kobosh this year because of Swine Flu?

We had to think of something fun to do instead.
Something that wouldn't involve large germy crowds.
So, we gathered Team Brandon together to ponder our options.
One of us says,
"Oh wait, my brother-in-law owns a house on the beach in Nags Head.
Maybe he'll let us use it. Would Brandon like to do that?"
Brandon (and the rest of us) give her that unique "DUH!" look
followed by Brandon's emphatic "Yes!"

Much scurrying & planning & calling ensued, and, after a setback or two,
we set off for Nags Head (on the Outer Banks) bright & early
on Saturday morning with a caravan of 3 vehicles.
Brandon, his family, and his invited guests - 10 people in all.

Oh my.
Beachfront house indeed!
3 stories, hardwood floors throughout, TV's in every room,
marble counters in the huge kitchen,
more bedrooms & bathrooms than we could use,
and an ever-so-comfy yellow sofa that was the perfect size.

He pronounced it more comfortable than his own bed.
Can we just live here, please?

Porches overlooked the ferocious winter Atlantic Ocean.

Whaaaah?

This IS winter, right?

What the heck?

I have never, EVER, in the decades I have lived at the coast,
seen the Atlantic look like a bathtub.

Never, ever seen it this calm.
It was like the Chesapeake Bay on a still day.
In an alternate universe.

Good thing the East Coast Surfing Championships weren't that weekend.
Can you imagine?
Rows of surfers, boards under their arms,
waiting for a wave, staring in disbelief, wondering,
"Can I ride that in?"

Look at this next one.

Those little shapes in front of the boat are a pod of dolphins.
(Click on the picture to enlarge.)
And I love the dog standing as a sentinel in the front of the boat.

As it turns out, another co-worker has a mother-in-law who is the Executive Director
of the First Flight Foundation at the Wright Brothers National Memorial.
Whoo-hoo! She gave Brandon & his entourage special VIP treatment.
Thank you, Lola, for a very special afternoon.

One thing he got to do was touch the flier.
With a gloved hand, of course.
I was totally jealous, and let him know it, so he had to rub it in.

You should know that this is not the original flyer,
but an exact replica that was built, with painstaking detail,
at a cost of 1.2 million dollars.
!
Hence the white gloves.

This is our very nice Park Ranger Tom White
who gave a very informative & interesting presentation
(and arranged for the white glove touch).
You should really read about it.
You'll learn something.

Here is Brandon & his family in front of the museum.
The Teddy Bear is another story for another day.

In this next picture, I just wanted to capture the serendipitous juxtaposition
(I love big words)
of the stones marking the first 3 attempts at controlled, manned flight
with a controlled, manned airplane waiting to take off from the Kitty Hawk Airport.

One of the Wright Brothers' assistants lived into the 1980's.
He was there at the dawn of flight.
He lived to see man walk on the moon and the launch of the space shuttle.
Makes you go "wow" at the history he witnessed.

We didn't spend a long time at the memorial.
It was cold outside,
and no one felt like pushing Brandon's chair up this hill.

Yeah, we were all a big bunch of wusses.
But the chair is *whiny voice* heavy *whiny voice*.

Also, a brief history lesson here.
The Wright brothers came to Kitty Hawk to fly their plane,
but Kitty Hawk encompassed a much larger area back then.
The memorial is in the present town of Kill Devil Hills, which became a separate town in 1953.
It's NOT in Kitty Hawk any more.
Kill Devil Hills is named after Kill Devil Hill, the large sand dune upon which the memorial sits.
And how did the dune get its name?
There are some good guesses, but no one really knows.

We went back to the house to hang out, waste time, lounge, play games,
and generally be useless human beings for the rest of the day.
I made dinner, which included homemade spaghetti & meatballs.
I never made meatballs before.
Just never got around to it, I guess.
But I was pleased with the results.
And I guess everyone else was too.
It all got eaten. They said nice things.
And I didn't take a single picture of my food preparation.

We played "Cranium" well into the night.

Fun game.

Later - the trip home. An adventure in of itself.

This Man Needs A Muzzle

2010-01-13T19:08:00.014-05:00

This man and his ilk are a big reason that Republicans and Christians,
especially evangelical Christians,
have gotten the bad rap they have in recent years.

This man is an embarrassment to my fine city.

Did you click on the above link?
Are you in disbelief at what you read?
Let's get it from the horse's mouth, or should I say the horse's ass . . .

Yeah, and 9-11 was a punishment for homosexuality too.

Here are a few more of his gems of lunacy.

I try not to get political on this site, but this just pissed me off.

The Snow Miser Strikes

2010-01-12T20:01:00.014-05:00

A little bit, anyway.

Evidently, Snow Miser has something on Heat Miser on account of Heat Miser allowed some real winter on the Outer Banks over the last few weeks. It's not often that we see the Currituck Sound iced over, but iced over it was, all along the edges. That, coupled with some stiff winds, made for some beautiful ice formations where there normally ain't none.

After our foray onto the sub-freezing beach in the fierce winds and blowing sand, Rosie & I went in search of pretty, sparkly ice. We didn't have to look far, especially after my friend Russ posted some very nice icy pictures taken from the causeway on his blog. So the causeway was our goal. This is the road leading from the Outer Banks to Roanoke Island, home of The Lost Colony and the town of Manteo, the county seat of Dare County. There is a thin strip of land running west before you hit the bridge, and it was on this strip of land, at the water's edge, that we decided to stop.

I think Rosie's pictures of the event are better than mine. I was so cold by then, I just wanted to soak in the efficient heater in my trusty Subaru. Although, I kind of like the last one below.

On the way back to the house, I wanted to stop at Jockey's Ridge to find the castle. The dunes ate a mini-golf course many years ago. I posted about this before, so you can refresh your memory here.

The castle was there in the evening sun, in all its gobbled up glory.

But it seems SOMEONE didn't want to get out of the warm car and trudge up the dunes with me. Wuss.

When I left Rosie's, it was dark. My mother called as I was pulling out of Rosie's neighborhood. When she heard I had only started for home, she no doubt wrung her hands with worry until I called to tell her I was home . . . in the house . . . with the door locked.

But, on the drive back, I found the haunted house. I love to look at in the daytime . . .

. . .but, at night, it is positively eerie.

Oh, one more thing. Rosie spied something that I had to turn around for. One last picture. Through the window of the warm car.

Morning woodies. Yeah, I like those.