Life is good! We are retired! Our children are grown! We pay our taxes! We are upstanding citizens! We are somewhat healthy! We walk daily! We have enough money to indulge in some of the finer things of life - only a few! We have time! Does it seem fair that we now have to watch what we eat? Does it seem fair that we cannot stop to have an ice cream now and again? It not like we want to eat ice cream every day. Oh wait, the hubby wants exactly that - ice cream every night - in front of the computer - eating out of the carton.
Hubby has been put on a restrictive diet, not for his weight, but for acid reflux. Everything the man likes, he can no longer have. Chocolate ice cream is at the top of the list. He has been on this diet for 4 months now. Long enough that you'd think he would be used to doing without his precious ice cream, preferably chocolate.
We were out and about today, setting at the stop light, me minding my own business, when 0ut of the blue the hubby blurts out "Extra big old-fashioned banana split!" "Up yours, Braum's!!!!" I laughed out loud to hear such passion from him reading the Braum's marquee. I guess you have to have a certain sense of humor when all your favorite things have been banished from your life and he does have a sense of humor. Up yours, Braum's!
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
White After Labor Day
Did you mother ever tell you that you shouldn't wear white after Labor Day? Mine did. I think she was talking about white shoes though since I don't ever remember any of us girls having anything white other than white blouses. Oh wait, I remember having a beautiful white pleated skirt back in the 60s. Oh my gosh, that skirt! A white pleated skirt was really the rage that summer and I wanted one so I saved my money. I felt like a million dollars in that skirt and I wore it with a pink blouse. I was beautiful! I earned a dollar an hour hoeing peanuts for my parents in the summer as all of us kids did. I would save my money for clothes to take to Falls Creek, the church summer camp that was always the highlight of the summer. I have to confess that I mainly wanted to go because there were boys! tons of boys! boys! I was such a shy teenager so my only hope was that there would be an equally shy boy there that would take an interest in me. I was sure that white skirt and the little velvet bow in my hair (that was another fad that year) was going to knock some boy off his feet.
Okay, back on subject. It is nearly Labor Day and time to put away the white clothes. In the last few years, I have bought almost nothing but white clothes, from linen to denim. I love it. I love the casualness of white and my tops are limited only to my imagination. Any color in the rainbow can go with white.
I used to worry that I would get white clothes dirty easier, but over the years I freed myself from that stress! And do you know what I have found? I don't get my white clothes any dirtier than any other color. I have a washer and dryer, and I am able bodied to run a load anytime I want.
Now the dilemma. Do I break all the rules of society and wear white after Labor Day? Let's see. If the weathermen are correct, then we will have many, many more hot days, possibly over 100 degrees. I don't think this 100 degree weather is going to suddenly drop from 100 to 75 the week after Labor Day, do you? I am retired so I don't go to an office where someone might cringe and run to their pod mate to point out my white pants, whispering about my lack of class and that I probably didn't know any better. Do you think that any of the unknown men I see at Lowe's are going to jab the guy with the sack of concrete over his shoulder to point out my faux pas? I might point out that Lowe's is the most exciting place I go.
There was a time in the not too distant past, like last year, when I put away everything in my closet that I would have worn in the summer the day after Labor Day or even a couple weeks prior to Labor Day. Up went the shorts, up went the white pants, up went the short sleeve tops, up went the sandals. Out came the suede shoes, out came the closed toed shoes, out came the boots, out came the black and brown pants, out came the sweaters, out came the long sleeve blouses.............
.............Hold on folks, I think I may be getting ready to buck the system. Yes.......maybe. Maybe I will relax and wear what I once thought was taboo. A new departure for me, but it is freeing to not feel the constraints of the fashion police. I feel a lot better. Sometimes I think I need someone to talk to.
Okay, back on subject. It is nearly Labor Day and time to put away the white clothes. In the last few years, I have bought almost nothing but white clothes, from linen to denim. I love it. I love the casualness of white and my tops are limited only to my imagination. Any color in the rainbow can go with white.
I used to worry that I would get white clothes dirty easier, but over the years I freed myself from that stress! And do you know what I have found? I don't get my white clothes any dirtier than any other color. I have a washer and dryer, and I am able bodied to run a load anytime I want.
Now the dilemma. Do I break all the rules of society and wear white after Labor Day? Let's see. If the weathermen are correct, then we will have many, many more hot days, possibly over 100 degrees. I don't think this 100 degree weather is going to suddenly drop from 100 to 75 the week after Labor Day, do you? I am retired so I don't go to an office where someone might cringe and run to their pod mate to point out my white pants, whispering about my lack of class and that I probably didn't know any better. Do you think that any of the unknown men I see at Lowe's are going to jab the guy with the sack of concrete over his shoulder to point out my faux pas? I might point out that Lowe's is the most exciting place I go.
There was a time in the not too distant past, like last year, when I put away everything in my closet that I would have worn in the summer the day after Labor Day or even a couple weeks prior to Labor Day. Up went the shorts, up went the white pants, up went the short sleeve tops, up went the sandals. Out came the suede shoes, out came the closed toed shoes, out came the boots, out came the black and brown pants, out came the sweaters, out came the long sleeve blouses.............
.............Hold on folks, I think I may be getting ready to buck the system. Yes.......maybe. Maybe I will relax and wear what I once thought was taboo. A new departure for me, but it is freeing to not feel the constraints of the fashion police. I feel a lot better. Sometimes I think I need someone to talk to.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Fun in Second Grade
My oldest grandson called me early this morning excited to start his first day of second grade. It was so good to hear the enthusiasm in his voice; sometimes he stresses out about new things (just like his Nana).
I wonder if his mom got a picture of him on his first day of school. That was the ritual when I was a girl - picture taking on the first day of school. Dressed in our new school clothes, we were all lined up on the little green and white fence that separated the driveway from the yard -the picture spot. Whoever suggested that your subject need to face the sun ought to be shot. Can you imagine trying to get a good photo with five kids squinting, tears running down their faces? I could never seem to be able to look into the camera without squinting and I have pictures to prove it!
The little country school I attended was called Garden Grove. There were two buildings which housed 8 grades. Some of the grades didn't have students at all. My first four years were in the "little room" which was actually pretty good size building and had two rooms. The other room was where the stage was and the partitions would be opened whenever we had any plays or events in the community. I will tell you about the "big room" in another blog.
If you have ever seen "A Christmas Story", then you can imagine my classroom (minus the bricks and 2 stories and 3 more grades) with the alphabet charts in cursive above the blackboard. I remember our teacher putting a paper train on the wall with all our pictures. Every day we got to open our train window with our picture if we had brushed our teeth that day. It was a big deal and you sure wanted your picture to be open. There was a small, tiny library in one corner of the room that was cordoned off by a wooden fence with a wooden swinging gate. My favorite books were about dude ranching in Montana.
I can still smell the oily sawdust the teacher would spread on the floor to keep down dust before she swept the room. Teachers were the janitors, too. I remember the cloakroom to the side of the room where we hang our coats. That room wasn't heated, and man oh man, it was cold in there in the winter.
We had a sink with an attached water fountain. I can remember the teachers trying to get us to lean over the fountain without curving our backs so that we would grow up to have good posture.
I had my 7th birthday party at school. Back in those days, we were allowed to have a birthday party with cake and presents the last two hours of the day. You can do that when there are only 12 or 15 kids. I have a cute picture of that day. Mom even brought each of us a bottle of pop (soda for you town kids). My favorite present that year was a large plastic shaped pencil full of erasers, pencils, rulers, etc. There was even a multiplication table on the side--years and years before calculators.
If you know me, you may have noticed a scar between my eyes. The back door to the building had a concrete block to keep the door open for ventilation (no air conditioning in the school or our homes for that matter). At recess one day, a few of us girls had gathered to talk and laugh at that back door. I thought it would be fun if I held on to the door knobs and swung back and forth. It was for a few swings - UNTIL my hands slipped and I fell right on that concrete block. I remember my teacher sending one of the girls to the other room to get the other teacher to help her. I was bleeding a lot. Both of them were cleaning up my wound over the sink trying to decide if I needed to go home and/or to have stitches. They couldn't let me bleed to death, so they taped some gauze to my forehead. There was no telephones in our school and we didn't have one at home either. Finally, the decision was made to take me home. On the way home, the "big room" teacher said I looked just like a nurse with that bandage on my forehead. I can still remember that statement and how much better I felt afterward. By the way, I didn't go to the doctor and my wound healed pretty good. Wonder if I would have this scar had I gotten stitches.
Whenever a teacher had to leave, the kids in the "big room or small room" would bring their chairs to the other room and the kids would get to choose the person they wanted to set by. The big kids then would help the small kids with their work.
By the time I was in second grade, I didn't hate school as much as I did in first grade; however, I never liked it. Even to this day, when I see advertisements for back to school supplies, I secretly cringe. To hear the excitement in my grandson's voice today filled me with hope that maybe he will not follow my footsteps and my fear of school. Have fun in second grade, little guy.
I wonder if his mom got a picture of him on his first day of school. That was the ritual when I was a girl - picture taking on the first day of school. Dressed in our new school clothes, we were all lined up on the little green and white fence that separated the driveway from the yard -the picture spot. Whoever suggested that your subject need to face the sun ought to be shot. Can you imagine trying to get a good photo with five kids squinting, tears running down their faces? I could never seem to be able to look into the camera without squinting and I have pictures to prove it!
The little country school I attended was called Garden Grove. There were two buildings which housed 8 grades. Some of the grades didn't have students at all. My first four years were in the "little room" which was actually pretty good size building and had two rooms. The other room was where the stage was and the partitions would be opened whenever we had any plays or events in the community. I will tell you about the "big room" in another blog.
If you have ever seen "A Christmas Story", then you can imagine my classroom (minus the bricks and 2 stories and 3 more grades) with the alphabet charts in cursive above the blackboard. I remember our teacher putting a paper train on the wall with all our pictures. Every day we got to open our train window with our picture if we had brushed our teeth that day. It was a big deal and you sure wanted your picture to be open. There was a small, tiny library in one corner of the room that was cordoned off by a wooden fence with a wooden swinging gate. My favorite books were about dude ranching in Montana.
I can still smell the oily sawdust the teacher would spread on the floor to keep down dust before she swept the room. Teachers were the janitors, too. I remember the cloakroom to the side of the room where we hang our coats. That room wasn't heated, and man oh man, it was cold in there in the winter.
We had a sink with an attached water fountain. I can remember the teachers trying to get us to lean over the fountain without curving our backs so that we would grow up to have good posture.
I had my 7th birthday party at school. Back in those days, we were allowed to have a birthday party with cake and presents the last two hours of the day. You can do that when there are only 12 or 15 kids. I have a cute picture of that day. Mom even brought each of us a bottle of pop (soda for you town kids). My favorite present that year was a large plastic shaped pencil full of erasers, pencils, rulers, etc. There was even a multiplication table on the side--years and years before calculators.
If you know me, you may have noticed a scar between my eyes. The back door to the building had a concrete block to keep the door open for ventilation (no air conditioning in the school or our homes for that matter). At recess one day, a few of us girls had gathered to talk and laugh at that back door. I thought it would be fun if I held on to the door knobs and swung back and forth. It was for a few swings - UNTIL my hands slipped and I fell right on that concrete block. I remember my teacher sending one of the girls to the other room to get the other teacher to help her. I was bleeding a lot. Both of them were cleaning up my wound over the sink trying to decide if I needed to go home and/or to have stitches. They couldn't let me bleed to death, so they taped some gauze to my forehead. There was no telephones in our school and we didn't have one at home either. Finally, the decision was made to take me home. On the way home, the "big room" teacher said I looked just like a nurse with that bandage on my forehead. I can still remember that statement and how much better I felt afterward. By the way, I didn't go to the doctor and my wound healed pretty good. Wonder if I would have this scar had I gotten stitches.
Whenever a teacher had to leave, the kids in the "big room or small room" would bring their chairs to the other room and the kids would get to choose the person they wanted to set by. The big kids then would help the small kids with their work.
By the time I was in second grade, I didn't hate school as much as I did in first grade; however, I never liked it. Even to this day, when I see advertisements for back to school supplies, I secretly cringe. To hear the excitement in my grandson's voice today filled me with hope that maybe he will not follow my footsteps and my fear of school. Have fun in second grade, little guy.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
We are Right Back Where We Started
After dinner tonight, we went to one of the libraries we used back in the 70s and 80s, when the kids were young. Many an hour was spent watching them enjoy storytime. Our life was just beginning and full of hopes and dreams for our children and tonight was poignant remembering that time. It was so nice to see that our libraries are still be used by the young.
After a little walk, we ended up having snowcones. Rather than getting back in the car and heading home like we usually do, we parked ourselves on a concrete table. The sky was full of billowing clouds and with the slight breeze, it was bearable to be outdoors. It was a sweet moment in time with my hubby. One made just for remembering. We were within blocks of our first individual apartments and our first two homes. Over to our right was the pavilion where we used to buy our Christmas trees. They don't sell them there anymore. Sad. The playground was still there; however, much nicer than when our kids used them. We could hear the street traffic, and the distant sounds of children playing was especially haunting.
We may be boring people, and some even call us old-fashioned, but I say to each his own. Are you having more fun at that concert or your latest trip to Paris than we were setting on a park bench with a snowcone on a beautiful evening? Happiness is just a state of mind.
Our children are grown and they have lives of their own. Things are different than they were in 1980, but they are still good. My hubby brought a lump to my throat when he said as he looked around the park, "we are right back where we started, Midwest City".
After a little walk, we ended up having snowcones. Rather than getting back in the car and heading home like we usually do, we parked ourselves on a concrete table. The sky was full of billowing clouds and with the slight breeze, it was bearable to be outdoors. It was a sweet moment in time with my hubby. One made just for remembering. We were within blocks of our first individual apartments and our first two homes. Over to our right was the pavilion where we used to buy our Christmas trees. They don't sell them there anymore. Sad. The playground was still there; however, much nicer than when our kids used them. We could hear the street traffic, and the distant sounds of children playing was especially haunting.
We may be boring people, and some even call us old-fashioned, but I say to each his own. Are you having more fun at that concert or your latest trip to Paris than we were setting on a park bench with a snowcone on a beautiful evening? Happiness is just a state of mind.
Our children are grown and they have lives of their own. Things are different than they were in 1980, but they are still good. My hubby brought a lump to my throat when he said as he looked around the park, "we are right back where we started, Midwest City".
Monday, August 15, 2011
Laundry
Today when I was doing laundry I decided that one load really needed just a little bleach. I got the load going and went off to do other tasks. For some reason I had to go back into the laundry room for something and the clean scent of bleach filled my nostrils. I love that smell. I know that my things, whether they be clothes or the kitchen sink, are getting clean and sanitized. And it also reminds me of swimming pools. Love it! It is so reminiscent of the wet clean clothes that snapped on the lines right outside my bedroom window when I was a teenager.
It was many years before we finally got a washer and even with a washer we still didn't have a dryer. Mom would do the washing early in the morning to get it done before the heat of the day. In the summer I would sleep with the windows open and the smell of the clean laundry, as sappy as it sounds, would wake me, or maybe it was my mom telling me to get up (for the 15th time). I have only pleasant memories of those days. Everything seemed right with the world. (Except for the time when I stayed out too late the night before on a date, and my dad wanted me to get up. But you know stubborn teenagers, I ignored him. That is until he decided the only way to get me up was to pour a pitcher of water slowly on the small of my back; my pesky brother egging him on. I think that may have been water torture. It was torture, I tell you! It was a standoff of wills! I didn't move a muscle till the pitcher was almost empty and the bed was soaked. Anyway I digress. That wasn't such a pleasant memory, but laughable now.)
Today, though, it also brought back another memory. I tell you, folks, I have a memory for everything you can think of. This one happened about 56 years ago involving my little sister who was just a toddler. Mom and we kids were at the Prague laundry mat doing our laundry since it would be years before we got a washer. Since my sister was a toddler, mom may have been pregnant or just had baby number 4 - all 4 at the laundry! Can you imagine taking 4 kids under the age 6 with her to do laundry - loads of laundry!? It was common in those days to add bleach so Mom had a glass of the clear liquid ready for the rinse cycle. My little sister must have thought it was water because she drank it just as my mother turned to see her. Oh my gosh, it was scary. She grabbed my sister up and headed to the hospital which luckily was only about 5 blocks away. As I recall they pumped her stomach. I don't even remember going with mom to the hospital so we must have stayed with the owner of the laundry mat and our clothes were still washing, too. My aunt lived in town so maybe she came to stay with us. It all worked out and my sister is well and happy today.
That isn't the only incident that we had. A year or so earlier when my brother was about two, he drank coal oil which is another clear liquid. This time we were at home. Mom told us that he was blue by the time they got him to the hospital and she thought he had died in her arms. I am glad to say that he, too, is well and happy today.
Is it any wonder that today so much is made about locking caps and locks on cabinets? When my children were little, there were times when I wondered if I should call poison control or a nurse about one thing or another. Now that my daughter has children of her own, she, too, has had those moments when she wonders or isn't quite sure if the kids need medical attention. I assure you that when your child drinks coal oil or bleach, you will not question whether emergency treatment is needed. You will run to the car with the child and drive as fast as you can to the nearest ER.
My mother-in-law told us that when she was little, one of her sisters ate a blueing stick. She laughed when she told the story. The little girl's mouth was bright blue and she and her brothers and sisters thought it was hilarious. Thank God she didn't eat enough to make her sick. Do you remember blueing? I only remember the liquid not the sticks. Blueing was
added to the white loads to make them brighter. Do you think they make blueing anymore?
On to more pleasant subjects. A couple of weeks ago I decided that my sheets would dry faster outside in this 110 degree heat than in the dryer. I spread them out on my patio furniture and within a few minutes they were ready to put back on the bed. The fresh smell was almost intoxicating, almost too fresh. It turned back the clock 50 years for me. I had forgotten that smell. As Martha would say, "Drying sheets outdoors, it's a good thing!" Try it.
It was many years before we finally got a washer and even with a washer we still didn't have a dryer. Mom would do the washing early in the morning to get it done before the heat of the day. In the summer I would sleep with the windows open and the smell of the clean laundry, as sappy as it sounds, would wake me, or maybe it was my mom telling me to get up (for the 15th time). I have only pleasant memories of those days. Everything seemed right with the world. (Except for the time when I stayed out too late the night before on a date, and my dad wanted me to get up. But you know stubborn teenagers, I ignored him. That is until he decided the only way to get me up was to pour a pitcher of water slowly on the small of my back; my pesky brother egging him on. I think that may have been water torture. It was torture, I tell you! It was a standoff of wills! I didn't move a muscle till the pitcher was almost empty and the bed was soaked. Anyway I digress. That wasn't such a pleasant memory, but laughable now.)
Today, though, it also brought back another memory. I tell you, folks, I have a memory for everything you can think of. This one happened about 56 years ago involving my little sister who was just a toddler. Mom and we kids were at the Prague laundry mat doing our laundry since it would be years before we got a washer. Since my sister was a toddler, mom may have been pregnant or just had baby number 4 - all 4 at the laundry! Can you imagine taking 4 kids under the age 6 with her to do laundry - loads of laundry!? It was common in those days to add bleach so Mom had a glass of the clear liquid ready for the rinse cycle. My little sister must have thought it was water because she drank it just as my mother turned to see her. Oh my gosh, it was scary. She grabbed my sister up and headed to the hospital which luckily was only about 5 blocks away. As I recall they pumped her stomach. I don't even remember going with mom to the hospital so we must have stayed with the owner of the laundry mat and our clothes were still washing, too. My aunt lived in town so maybe she came to stay with us. It all worked out and my sister is well and happy today.
That isn't the only incident that we had. A year or so earlier when my brother was about two, he drank coal oil which is another clear liquid. This time we were at home. Mom told us that he was blue by the time they got him to the hospital and she thought he had died in her arms. I am glad to say that he, too, is well and happy today.
Is it any wonder that today so much is made about locking caps and locks on cabinets? When my children were little, there were times when I wondered if I should call poison control or a nurse about one thing or another. Now that my daughter has children of her own, she, too, has had those moments when she wonders or isn't quite sure if the kids need medical attention. I assure you that when your child drinks coal oil or bleach, you will not question whether emergency treatment is needed. You will run to the car with the child and drive as fast as you can to the nearest ER.
My mother-in-law told us that when she was little, one of her sisters ate a blueing stick. She laughed when she told the story. The little girl's mouth was bright blue and she and her brothers and sisters thought it was hilarious. Thank God she didn't eat enough to make her sick. Do you remember blueing? I only remember the liquid not the sticks. Blueing was
added to the white loads to make them brighter. Do you think they make blueing anymore?
On to more pleasant subjects. A couple of weeks ago I decided that my sheets would dry faster outside in this 110 degree heat than in the dryer. I spread them out on my patio furniture and within a few minutes they were ready to put back on the bed. The fresh smell was almost intoxicating, almost too fresh. It turned back the clock 50 years for me. I had forgotten that smell. As Martha would say, "Drying sheets outdoors, it's a good thing!" Try it.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Cookies are not Just for Pigs
Thursday and Friday this last week, we were at a hotel that served a cook to order breakfast which also included all manner of breakfast foods; fresh fruit, bacon!, potatoes, gravy, bacon! all sort of breads and cereals, bacon!, donuts. I absolutely love bacon! so I kind of over indulged. All this gluttony with the bacon! reminded me of a cookie bin back in the day.
When I was a little girl, every Sunday or every other Sunday, we gathered at my mom's house or one of her three sister's houses for dinner (the noon meal to Oklahoma country people was dinner, not lunch). Those dinners are a whole other blog post for the future, but I want to share this one today.
We were at Aunt Geneva's house this particular Sunday. She is 96 years old and still a lively, lovely woman and is mom's older sister. Back in the day, the kids were always fed at the same time as the men only in another room. They fed us first to get us out of the way so that their meals could be enjoyed without whining hungry kids clamoring to eat. Have you noticed that when kids are hungry, they are whiny and gripe a lot? That is the reason grandmas continually fed grand kids. And you thought it was to spoil them. No, it was to keep them from whining.
We children were expected to play outside if weather permitted so we were out wandering around. My aunt and uncle had really nice, neat barns and some had concrete floors. They even had a dairy herd for a while and if you know about dairy barns, they are really clean and cool. They also had hogs. In our area of the country, almost everyone had a pig or two...not so much anymore. We ended up poking around in the barns and what to our wandering eyes should appear, but a huge, huge barrel of cookies. This barrel was the 50 gallon drum kind of barrel. There was a glorious light shining down on this barrel, like gold at the end of the rainbow, but then again, that may have been exaggeration, but the part about a 50 gallon drum of cookies was true! Cookies, you ask? Yes! We could not believe our good fortune. Oh my gosh, cookies with bits of coconut, cookies with chocolate bits, shortbread cookies, cookies with fruit, cookies with nuts, strawberry cookies, lemon cookies, chocolate cookies............ Oh my....... enough to delight any child. Never mind that they were broken. COOKIES!!! Eat we did! and we kept eating until we were stuffed. There were 7 of us eating cookies until we were almost sick, but we never made a dent in that barrel.
After we were satiated, all we could do was ask for forgiveness since we had not asked for permission to eat a pound of cookies each. We went to the house to share our good fortune with the family. After all, they must partake of this glorious find, too. Cookies for everybody. We were all bouncing from foot to foot, excited as only kids can be to tell them all the varieties of cookies in the BARN. They surely didn't know about this or they would have been there, too.
Wait. Why are they laughing at us? "Those are for the hogs", my aunt said. We found out that the cookies were broken cookies that my uncle had gotten from a bakery to fatten his hogs. If the cookies were broken or malformed, they couldn't be sold to the public; however, they could be sold to farmers for their hogs. There is no telling how old, how dirty, or if they were varmint infested, but having 50 years to think about this, my reality says they probably were. All I can say is that none of us got sick and having all the cookies we could eat is a priceless memory. Cookies are not just for pigs!
When I was a little girl, every Sunday or every other Sunday, we gathered at my mom's house or one of her three sister's houses for dinner (the noon meal to Oklahoma country people was dinner, not lunch). Those dinners are a whole other blog post for the future, but I want to share this one today.
We were at Aunt Geneva's house this particular Sunday. She is 96 years old and still a lively, lovely woman and is mom's older sister. Back in the day, the kids were always fed at the same time as the men only in another room. They fed us first to get us out of the way so that their meals could be enjoyed without whining hungry kids clamoring to eat. Have you noticed that when kids are hungry, they are whiny and gripe a lot? That is the reason grandmas continually fed grand kids. And you thought it was to spoil them. No, it was to keep them from whining.
We children were expected to play outside if weather permitted so we were out wandering around. My aunt and uncle had really nice, neat barns and some had concrete floors. They even had a dairy herd for a while and if you know about dairy barns, they are really clean and cool. They also had hogs. In our area of the country, almost everyone had a pig or two...not so much anymore. We ended up poking around in the barns and what to our wandering eyes should appear, but a huge, huge barrel of cookies. This barrel was the 50 gallon drum kind of barrel. There was a glorious light shining down on this barrel, like gold at the end of the rainbow, but then again, that may have been exaggeration, but the part about a 50 gallon drum of cookies was true! Cookies, you ask? Yes! We could not believe our good fortune. Oh my gosh, cookies with bits of coconut, cookies with chocolate bits, shortbread cookies, cookies with fruit, cookies with nuts, strawberry cookies, lemon cookies, chocolate cookies............ Oh my....... enough to delight any child. Never mind that they were broken. COOKIES!!! Eat we did! and we kept eating until we were stuffed. There were 7 of us eating cookies until we were almost sick, but we never made a dent in that barrel.
After we were satiated, all we could do was ask for forgiveness since we had not asked for permission to eat a pound of cookies each. We went to the house to share our good fortune with the family. After all, they must partake of this glorious find, too. Cookies for everybody. We were all bouncing from foot to foot, excited as only kids can be to tell them all the varieties of cookies in the BARN. They surely didn't know about this or they would have been there, too.
Wait. Why are they laughing at us? "Those are for the hogs", my aunt said. We found out that the cookies were broken cookies that my uncle had gotten from a bakery to fatten his hogs. If the cookies were broken or malformed, they couldn't be sold to the public; however, they could be sold to farmers for their hogs. There is no telling how old, how dirty, or if they were varmint infested, but having 50 years to think about this, my reality says they probably were. All I can say is that none of us got sick and having all the cookies we could eat is a priceless memory. Cookies are not just for pigs!
Friday, August 5, 2011
Kick Your Feet
Last summer, my daughter and I took my oldest grandson (B) to the Embassy Suites in Tulsa. He has talked about it ever since and wanted to go again this year. This time we took his brother (L), too, but this time we stayed right here in Oklahoma City.
I wish I had a recorder so I could have recorded all their hilarious comments the last two days. I feel very protected because I now know that my 4 year old has already killed a bear. He told me this yesterday so that I would know it would be okay to leave him at the table alone while I ordered my breakfast.
In just two days, 48 hours of swimming or so it seemed to me, B made 100% progress in the water. Much to our chagrin, he is an overly cautious child and extremely fearful of trying anything that he remotely thinks of as dangerous. Unlike L who spent most of the swim time under water, B would hardly put his face in the water, let alone go under the first day. I decided that I would spend most of my time with him and maybe I could build up his confidence a bit. This may have involved a promised dollar, but hey, whatever works and besides I am Nana. Once he put his head under water he was absolutely thrilled. You could just see his little face beam with pride. I told him that I learned to swim (not that I can actually swim, but I can get from one end of the pool to the other) by practicing over and over and if he can touch bottom, then he could just put his feet down, rest, and start again. I am proud to say that after two days, he can now swim about 12 to 15 feet.
It is so much fun to be in the water with a 7 year old because they are not yet at that age where they have to act "cool". They aren't embarrassed that Nana is in the pool. They aren't embarrassed to act excited when they finally put their head under water. They aren't embarrassed to ask Nana to watch them. I know that soon, maybe even next year, his sweet innocence may be gone. I saw glimpses of that this year. Any swim aides came off and were thrown out of the water as soon as little girls came to the pool. Does that mean that Nana's pool days are numbered?
Memory: I was den mother to my son's cub scouts. On summer we took them to summer camp where one of the requirements was to swim across the pool unassisted. I was so concerned whether he could do this as he was as timid and fearful as his nephew is today. You cannot imagine how proud I was of him as he swam across the pool by himself. I really couldn't embarrass him by screaming how proud I was in front of a couple hundred 7-9 year olds plus their counselors. I couldn't wait to get him alone and hold his little beaming face in my hands and tell him how proud I was.
Another memory was when I was about 10 years old visiting my Aunt Norma (I wrote about her a few blogs back) in Prague. She really thought I would enjoy swimming lessons at the city pool. This should have been a huge treat, but oh my gosh it was torture as I was so backwards, timid, and extremely shy, not to mention scared to death. The kids taking lessons were town kids and I was a country kid and I knew the difference was more than where we lived or so I thought. I didn't know one soul at that pool. I didn't talk to anybody and nobody sought me out. I was already missing my mom and having to endure those swimming lessons was gut wrenching. To this day, I can see my aunt setting on the bench under the trees right outside the pool fence waiting on me to finish and I can smell the dank concrete and see those metal bins where we stashed our possessions. All I wanted was to go home. Sometimes I still just want to go home.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Laugh Today at Your Own Expense
Oh my gosh, it is hot out there. I think I will use that as my excuse for not writing last night. Just too hot to hold the lap top. That sounds like a very good excuse. 110 degrees on my thermometer.
Remember that picture of my mom from Sunday night's blog, the one where she is trying desperately not to open her mouth? As I told you, mom was reserved when it came to laughing. That is not to say she didn't have a sense of humor, it was that she reserved her huge belly laughs for special occasions.
One time, a long time ago, when my kids were small, mom, dad, hubby, and my two little ones went to Branson, MO. Mom and Dad took each one of their adult children and their families to Branson at one time or another, and we each have a favorite Branson story. A month ago, I repeated my Branson story to my family as we were setting outside after a delicious "lake" meal -- not a 110 degree day either. Most of them had heard this story, but some had forgotten. At any rate, it still got a belly laugh out of us because of Mom's reaction. If you knew Mom, then you will understand how funny this story is. If you didn't know my mom, perhaps you will just find a little humor (at my expense).
When we were traveling and in a hotel room with our little ones asleep in the other bed, I tried to be very discrete when I got ready for bed. I slipped my nightgown over my head and used it as a sort of dressing room. Removing my top clothing was proving a little difficult, but I finally made it. Whew! Now to remove my jeans and underclothes. Oh, this was simple. I just have to slip under the covers and whip them off in one smooth operation. Okay, maybe not a smooth, one step operation, but I got them tugged off. Now, what to do with my clothes? Since I am prepared to go to the emergency room at any moment, and since most emergency room visits are in the middle of the night, then I must put my clothes where they will be the most accessible. In this case, they needed to be on the floor, draped out as if I had literally evaporated out of them while laying prone on the floor. So, to my thinking, I would be able to leap out of bed, grab them and off we could go to the emergency room. Can you guess how many times I have had to go to the emergency room at all let alone the middle of the night where time was of the essence? Yep, NONE! But nonetheless, I must be prepared. Well, no emergency room visit was needed that night. Yea!
The next morning I grabbed my jeans and clean underwear and tore off to the shower. Daddy liked his breakfast so we were to meet them in about 30 minutes and I had two little ones to get ready, pack, and meet my parents at the car, ready for the day. My jeans were clean or clean enough for me. I think one can get several days out of a pair of jeans before they can stand on their own, especially when traveling, don't you?
Wow, we made it to the car in time. We drove to the Gingham Goose (oh, now you know you are in Branson with a name like that, huh?) restaurant which served a delicious breakfast buffet. Remember the breakfast buffets in the 80s? Thinking about that much food for breakfast is sickening to me these days. We had many vacation driving trips tanking up on breakfast buffets and heading out. Ugh, momma, I don't feel good. Do we have to take this curvy road??? Ugh.... Mom, I am so sick. Stop the car! (Guess who that was?)
Anyway back to the breakfast. With my plate full overflowing I returned to the table, ready to chow down. Mom has her plate full, too, but as she returns to the table she notices something - something under the table, so she pulls back to see. She leans over and whispers to me that there is a pair of panties on the floor. This has me curious, so I have to take a look, too. I have a huge grin on my face as I lean to her to explain that those were my panties on the floor and how they got there. Yes, there on the floor for the whole place to see was my underwear from the night before (I did have on clean underwear, for Pete's sake). Mom absolutely lost it. She started laughing out loud, cackling, to the point of embarrassing my dad. She couldn't even catch her breath. Gasping for air she tried to explain to dad that she would tell him later what she was laughing at. Hubby was looking at me so strangely and dad was furrowing his brows. Neither of them could imagine what we were laughing at. I guess these panties had been creeping out of my jeans and dusting the floor as I was plating up tons of scrambled eggs and bacon -- for the world to see.
I tell you this because Mom's picture reminded me of how much she enjoyed my tribute to stripping in a public place and embarrassingly I relived the same experience just last week only this time I was at home and nobody was the wiser. Well, I guess now everybody in the world knows because I have so many followers. Laugh today even if it is at your own expense!
Remember that picture of my mom from Sunday night's blog, the one where she is trying desperately not to open her mouth? As I told you, mom was reserved when it came to laughing. That is not to say she didn't have a sense of humor, it was that she reserved her huge belly laughs for special occasions.
One time, a long time ago, when my kids were small, mom, dad, hubby, and my two little ones went to Branson, MO. Mom and Dad took each one of their adult children and their families to Branson at one time or another, and we each have a favorite Branson story. A month ago, I repeated my Branson story to my family as we were setting outside after a delicious "lake" meal -- not a 110 degree day either. Most of them had heard this story, but some had forgotten. At any rate, it still got a belly laugh out of us because of Mom's reaction. If you knew Mom, then you will understand how funny this story is. If you didn't know my mom, perhaps you will just find a little humor (at my expense).
When we were traveling and in a hotel room with our little ones asleep in the other bed, I tried to be very discrete when I got ready for bed. I slipped my nightgown over my head and used it as a sort of dressing room. Removing my top clothing was proving a little difficult, but I finally made it. Whew! Now to remove my jeans and underclothes. Oh, this was simple. I just have to slip under the covers and whip them off in one smooth operation. Okay, maybe not a smooth, one step operation, but I got them tugged off. Now, what to do with my clothes? Since I am prepared to go to the emergency room at any moment, and since most emergency room visits are in the middle of the night, then I must put my clothes where they will be the most accessible. In this case, they needed to be on the floor, draped out as if I had literally evaporated out of them while laying prone on the floor. So, to my thinking, I would be able to leap out of bed, grab them and off we could go to the emergency room. Can you guess how many times I have had to go to the emergency room at all let alone the middle of the night where time was of the essence? Yep, NONE! But nonetheless, I must be prepared. Well, no emergency room visit was needed that night. Yea!
The next morning I grabbed my jeans and clean underwear and tore off to the shower. Daddy liked his breakfast so we were to meet them in about 30 minutes and I had two little ones to get ready, pack, and meet my parents at the car, ready for the day. My jeans were clean or clean enough for me. I think one can get several days out of a pair of jeans before they can stand on their own, especially when traveling, don't you?
Wow, we made it to the car in time. We drove to the Gingham Goose (oh, now you know you are in Branson with a name like that, huh?) restaurant which served a delicious breakfast buffet. Remember the breakfast buffets in the 80s? Thinking about that much food for breakfast is sickening to me these days. We had many vacation driving trips tanking up on breakfast buffets and heading out. Ugh, momma, I don't feel good. Do we have to take this curvy road??? Ugh.... Mom, I am so sick. Stop the car! (Guess who that was?)
Anyway back to the breakfast. With my plate full overflowing I returned to the table, ready to chow down. Mom has her plate full, too, but as she returns to the table she notices something - something under the table, so she pulls back to see. She leans over and whispers to me that there is a pair of panties on the floor. This has me curious, so I have to take a look, too. I have a huge grin on my face as I lean to her to explain that those were my panties on the floor and how they got there. Yes, there on the floor for the whole place to see was my underwear from the night before (I did have on clean underwear, for Pete's sake). Mom absolutely lost it. She started laughing out loud, cackling, to the point of embarrassing my dad. She couldn't even catch her breath. Gasping for air she tried to explain to dad that she would tell him later what she was laughing at. Hubby was looking at me so strangely and dad was furrowing his brows. Neither of them could imagine what we were laughing at. I guess these panties had been creeping out of my jeans and dusting the floor as I was plating up tons of scrambled eggs and bacon -- for the world to see.
I tell you this because Mom's picture reminded me of how much she enjoyed my tribute to stripping in a public place and embarrassingly I relived the same experience just last week only this time I was at home and nobody was the wiser. Well, I guess now everybody in the world knows because I have so many followers. Laugh today even if it is at your own expense!
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