It's been one of those days. You ever have one of those days? It's hard to put my finger on exactly what went wrong, not that everything went wrong. It's just that nothing went exactly as planned. We sort of jumped off one train and on to another while in motion, but hey, we're still on the train.
As we going to take care of an unexpected task this afternoon, I told the hubby about the great new restaurant my friend and I tried yesterday. I happened to still have the receipt in my purse so I was ecstatically reviewing the bill and exclaiming that our entrees were a total of $13.98. That's a great value for lunch. Then I started figuring the total including our drinks and immediately I noticed that I was overcharged $5. Now, I am furious that my good deal has now turned out to be an overcharge and a frustration. THEN after another review of the bill by a second pair of eyes, the hubby told me to take a look at the number 3 below the $13. "Your entrees were $18.98 not $13.98." Oh, yes! Now it all makes sense. The ink had not imprinted to the paper correctly. In a matter of 60 seconds I had gone from being ecstatic, to feeling gypped, to feeling I gotten a delicious meal at decent price.
That's the way my day has been; ecstatic one minute, low another, and then realizing it is just one of those days but still, it's a decent day.
I love you.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Monday, October 24, 2016
A Look Back at a Look Back
October is going out the back door despite the Oklahoma temperatures in the high 70s to mid 80s.
Tonight I want to share a post I published on October 2, 2011. Just a look back at a look back. I hope you enjoy my memories.
My parents came to dinner one night back in 1981 and I shared the following essay that I had written that week with them. I could tell Daddy was getting choked up at the end, but true to form he never expressed any emotion. It just wasn't in his nature to share the emotion of sadness. He always said there was enough sadness in the world without adding to it so we never even had Dr. Kildare or Ben Casey on in our house. (Sometimes we girls would sneak a peak if he was not in the house. He probably knew that.)
In the third paragraph I reference "the hands". I am talking about the neighbors and local teenage boys. Since not everyone had a peanut combine, it was important that the neighbors work together going from field to field to ensure that the combine was used at it's maximum potential and that the peanuts were pulled at their peak. This story was about the earlier days of peanut harvesting when I was very young. By the time I was 12, the way of harvesting peanuts had changed tremendously. I will write more about that time in a future post.
I am copying this word for word as I had written it then including the grammar and punctuation - no word processing program in 1981. Had I written this today, I would have changed it up a lot, but word for word this is how I saw things in 1981. By the way, according to the last paragraph I was wondering if my own kids would have their own pleasant memories. Only yesterday, my daughter reminded me of one of her own pleasant childhood memories so I guess we were developing good memories for them after all.
REMEMBER PEANUT HARVEST by Regina Dawkins Tucker
As I gaze out of windows of my new home this beautiful fall day my mind wanders back to a quieter more serene time in my life - fall peanut harvest! Oh how those fresh peanuts did smell. Peanut brittle was just around the corner, which meant the holidays would be coming soon.
Each fall the two-room school I attended let out two weeks for peanut harvest. The boys had to work in the fields and my brother was no exception. He drove the tractor which pulled the combine. My dad was sacking the nuts and Mom had her huge needle and string sewing as fast as she could to keep up with Dad. I still remember her with her head tied up to keep the dirt out and oh, how they did get dirty.
While the hands were working, Grandma was baby setting and cooking dinner for the hands. We had a sort of tradition in our community that a huge lunch (we called it dinner then) would be served by the family whose peanuts were being harvested. Even though it was a busy time for the families of the community, everyone helped each other. Everyone had to get their peanuts out before frost. As I think back, I wonder if they didn't help each other just to taste each others' wonderful cooking, especially my grandmother's.
Grandma did not have a large kitchen so we set up a long table in her living room. The table was covered with wonderful dishes - pot roast, potatoes and gravy, at least a half-dozen vegetables and even homemade dinner rolls. I always thought of it as another THANKSGIVING DINNER and really I guess it was. God had been good to us for another year. He had seen us through planting; hoeing - I did hate to hoe peanuts but we made a lot of money hoeing; drought; and the rainy season....NOW THE HARVEST.
When Grandma finished getting lunch on the table she would send one of us kids to get the hands. Since I was the oldest I usually got that job. I remember wading through knee-high grass with the hot sun beaming down on my hair. Even though the day was hot it still had a feeling of fall in it. Maybe it was the beautiful fall colors of rust, reds, browns, golds and greens that made it seem cooler than it really was. My family has always been great admirers of nature's seasons and colors, but I can remember Mom and Dad saying that the most beautiful fall colors are in our own fields at harvest time.
Since Grandma didn't have indoor plumbing all the hands had to wash outside with water from the rain barrel. Then they would tramp inside and set down at a beautiful table. Never did I hear Grandma complain about them coming into her house dirty. She was just thankful that another harvest season was drawing to a close.
When harvest was over for another year we went to town to get material for Mom to sew into dresses, shirts, and jeans. Sometimes we even got store bought dresses. What a treat. At that time we didn't appreciate Mom's talent for sewing. Now that my sisters and I are grown and have children of our own we finally realize the time and effort it took for her to sew all those beautiful clothes. Hindsight is really a lot better than foresight.
So as I set here thinking about the "Good Old Days", I wonder if my own children will have pleasant memories of yearly events in their childhood. I know that they won't have peanut harvest to look back on for we only have five acres not hardly enough to have a garden let alone peanuts. But just maybe, just maybe they'll remember watching leaves falling from the front window.
I love you.
https://retirementthegoodlife.blogspot.com/b/post-preview?token=Xdkr-1cBAAA.rTbBXnpIzF_dh9LUF-SMRZ8FJSB53nCNo1VDBXscZDtgtZ4OLAc3wuDNuRhllw94AvfF8NhWV-0lQmMujfCuMw.ButgLJfCWYZIArVgaJxgTQ&postId=704651771407964891&type=POST
Tonight I want to share a post I published on October 2, 2011. Just a look back at a look back. I hope you enjoy my memories.
My parents came to dinner one night back in 1981 and I shared the following essay that I had written that week with them. I could tell Daddy was getting choked up at the end, but true to form he never expressed any emotion. It just wasn't in his nature to share the emotion of sadness. He always said there was enough sadness in the world without adding to it so we never even had Dr. Kildare or Ben Casey on in our house. (Sometimes we girls would sneak a peak if he was not in the house. He probably knew that.)
In the third paragraph I reference "the hands". I am talking about the neighbors and local teenage boys. Since not everyone had a peanut combine, it was important that the neighbors work together going from field to field to ensure that the combine was used at it's maximum potential and that the peanuts were pulled at their peak. This story was about the earlier days of peanut harvesting when I was very young. By the time I was 12, the way of harvesting peanuts had changed tremendously. I will write more about that time in a future post.
I am copying this word for word as I had written it then including the grammar and punctuation - no word processing program in 1981. Had I written this today, I would have changed it up a lot, but word for word this is how I saw things in 1981. By the way, according to the last paragraph I was wondering if my own kids would have their own pleasant memories. Only yesterday, my daughter reminded me of one of her own pleasant childhood memories so I guess we were developing good memories for them after all.
REMEMBER PEANUT HARVEST by Regina Dawkins Tucker
As I gaze out of windows of my new home this beautiful fall day my mind wanders back to a quieter more serene time in my life - fall peanut harvest! Oh how those fresh peanuts did smell. Peanut brittle was just around the corner, which meant the holidays would be coming soon.
Each fall the two-room school I attended let out two weeks for peanut harvest. The boys had to work in the fields and my brother was no exception. He drove the tractor which pulled the combine. My dad was sacking the nuts and Mom had her huge needle and string sewing as fast as she could to keep up with Dad. I still remember her with her head tied up to keep the dirt out and oh, how they did get dirty.
While the hands were working, Grandma was baby setting and cooking dinner for the hands. We had a sort of tradition in our community that a huge lunch (we called it dinner then) would be served by the family whose peanuts were being harvested. Even though it was a busy time for the families of the community, everyone helped each other. Everyone had to get their peanuts out before frost. As I think back, I wonder if they didn't help each other just to taste each others' wonderful cooking, especially my grandmother's.
Grandma did not have a large kitchen so we set up a long table in her living room. The table was covered with wonderful dishes - pot roast, potatoes and gravy, at least a half-dozen vegetables and even homemade dinner rolls. I always thought of it as another THANKSGIVING DINNER and really I guess it was. God had been good to us for another year. He had seen us through planting; hoeing - I did hate to hoe peanuts but we made a lot of money hoeing; drought; and the rainy season....NOW THE HARVEST.
When Grandma finished getting lunch on the table she would send one of us kids to get the hands. Since I was the oldest I usually got that job. I remember wading through knee-high grass with the hot sun beaming down on my hair. Even though the day was hot it still had a feeling of fall in it. Maybe it was the beautiful fall colors of rust, reds, browns, golds and greens that made it seem cooler than it really was. My family has always been great admirers of nature's seasons and colors, but I can remember Mom and Dad saying that the most beautiful fall colors are in our own fields at harvest time.
Since Grandma didn't have indoor plumbing all the hands had to wash outside with water from the rain barrel. Then they would tramp inside and set down at a beautiful table. Never did I hear Grandma complain about them coming into her house dirty. She was just thankful that another harvest season was drawing to a close.
When harvest was over for another year we went to town to get material for Mom to sew into dresses, shirts, and jeans. Sometimes we even got store bought dresses. What a treat. At that time we didn't appreciate Mom's talent for sewing. Now that my sisters and I are grown and have children of our own we finally realize the time and effort it took for her to sew all those beautiful clothes. Hindsight is really a lot better than foresight.
So as I set here thinking about the "Good Old Days", I wonder if my own children will have pleasant memories of yearly events in their childhood. I know that they won't have peanut harvest to look back on for we only have five acres not hardly enough to have a garden let alone peanuts. But just maybe, just maybe they'll remember watching leaves falling from the front window.
I love you.
https://retirementthegoodlife.blogspot.com/b/post-preview?token=Xdkr-1cBAAA.rTbBXnpIzF_dh9LUF-SMRZ8FJSB53nCNo1VDBXscZDtgtZ4OLAc3wuDNuRhllw94AvfF8NhWV-0lQmMujfCuMw.ButgLJfCWYZIArVgaJxgTQ&postId=704651771407964891&type=POST
Sunday, October 23, 2016
Higher and Higher
A breath away..............and it was proven to me a few days ago how time really is but just a breath away when this young boy, now a much wiser 12 year old, told me he was going to take a shower. Not one time in the last 12 years has he willingly taken a bath at my house.............and now in his deep voice he tells me he is going to take a shower. I knew at that moment that things had changed.
Yes, things changed and very quickly. I am not fully prepared for this. Will he want to come spend fall break with me next year? Will he want to sit on the swing with me? Will he beg me to go higher and higher? Maybe or perhaps not. I will just have to adjust because time is NOT going to stand still for me. But in my heart he will forever be that little 5 year old begging me to go higher and higher.
I love you. Always. Higher and higher.
Thursday, October 20, 2016
This Man--His Eyes
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
Just as I posted yesterday, it IS hard to say goodbye and last week we had to say goodbye to one of my favorite relatives. This man!
I guess the Dawkins' blood must run true, because this man was a lot like my own daddy. When he'd call me it would always take me my surprise. It'd surprise me first of all just for the fact that he'd called. Second, he would just start talking as if we had already been in conversation for 10 minutes, just like daddy. I had to catch up quickly and do a lot of mental 'filling in the blanks' to even be on the same page. And just as quickly as the conversation began, it would be over, and I'd hear the click of the phone, just like daddy. No need in extra conversation. He'd said what he needed to say and he was off to do other things.
In recent years we'd see him and my aunt Donna out and about, most often at a restaurant. As we'd approach them, his eyes would start sparkling, every time, and I could just see that he was going to have a story. He'd start the conversation as if we had been setting there talking for the last ten minutes and I'd be lying if I didn't say I was often perplexed because it took me a minute to figured out just where he was in thought and words. The conversation most often started with "one of your relatives...............". (My mind would be racing to figure out just which relative he was talking about and if I remembered them.) He was always good for the latest up-to-date story of a relative and how he kept up with everybody I'll never know.
He pretty much passed away just as he hung up the phone. I'm glad he didn't have to suffer long, but still I will miss him. One of the things I will miss most about him are his eyes, His eyes! They always reminded me of these lines in "A Visit From St. Nicholas" by Clement C. Moore.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
I love you.
This man could have played Santa and I would have believed that he had just come from the North Pole.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
This man--his eyes!
By the way, the lovely woman with him is his daughter. No doubt, huh? Perhaps she could play Mrs. Claus because she has his same twinkly eyes.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
It's Hard to Let Go
A lot of events this week have led me think about letting go; whether it is the loss of a loved one, a pet, children going out on their own, or simple bouquets.
Last week I bought a bouquet of flowers and also was given a bouquet from some new found friends. This week............well, they just aren't fresh looking and some of the individual flowers had to be culled from the overall bouquets. Needless to say, tomorrow, additional flowers will be removed. Nonetheless, it is hard for me to "let go".
So here are some pictures of the remaining flowers............and just like my grandma Dawkins would have done, some flower heads had to be preserved just a tad longer. So in memory of my grandma, the flowers float gently in their own frames. It's hard to let go.
I love you.
Last week I bought a bouquet of flowers and also was given a bouquet from some new found friends. This week............well, they just aren't fresh looking and some of the individual flowers had to be culled from the overall bouquets. Needless to say, tomorrow, additional flowers will be removed. Nonetheless, it is hard for me to "let go".
So here are some pictures of the remaining flowers............and just like my grandma Dawkins would have done, some flower heads had to be preserved just a tad longer. So in memory of my grandma, the flowers float gently in their own frames. It's hard to let go.
I love you.
Saturday, October 1, 2016
Let's Get This Party Started
It's dark! Holy cow! Did you know it is DARK at 6:30? It has been so long since I was up at 6:30, that I had forgotten what an ungodly hour it is! Holy cow!
Indeed I was up this morning at 6:05 and out the door at 6:30. I had to use my lights, I tell you! It might as well have been 1:00 a.m. The last time I was up that early was to go on vacation and I was pumped. This morning, not so much. Believe me, there's a big difference in driving for pleasure and driving to a meeting.
But I'm back home now having my second cup of coffee and ready to start the day..........relatively early compared to yesterday when I was still in the chair at 9:30. Let's get this party started.
Carpe diem! that's the coffee talking.
I love you.
Indeed I was up this morning at 6:05 and out the door at 6:30. I had to use my lights, I tell you! It might as well have been 1:00 a.m. The last time I was up that early was to go on vacation and I was pumped. This morning, not so much. Believe me, there's a big difference in driving for pleasure and driving to a meeting.
But I'm back home now having my second cup of coffee and ready to start the day..........relatively early compared to yesterday when I was still in the chair at 9:30. Let's get this party started.
Carpe diem! that's the coffee talking.
I love you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)