Laughing Through the Tears

Name Game

2011-09-05T08:48:00.000-07:00

Did you ever look up your name on Google just for the heck of it? Depending on how common your surname is, there are bound to be at least a few other individuals listed.

As you know, I have the last name of Johnson, so even with the rather different first name of Anita, I expected to see a number of ladies so named. I wasn't thrilled to see that my name is defined in the urban dictionary as a woman in need of sex! I had been introduced to someone a while ago and he laughed when he heard my name but at least was gracious enough not to explain why. Well, obviously his manners weren't that great since he laughed.

I then limited my search to Anita M. Johnson and found that I could view her criminal records in seconds. Another listing showed a person with that name had recentlly died. I found all three listings to be quite depressing but then did see some smiling faces with that name on Facebook. Not one of them appears to be either a sexual savage, behind bars or dead.

Shakespeare's Juliet said, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet." Or in the words of Popeye, "I yam what I yam."

If you can't judge a book by its cover, I guess you can't judge a person by her name. Thank goodness for that.

An Unexpected Adventure

2011-08-24T16:49:00.000-07:00

About a month ago, my wonderful and funny friend, Cathy, asked if her readers have pen pals. I was happy to report that I did in fact have one although I've been told recently that the correct term is "virtual friend."

Ruth and I met on GoodReads and have been emailing each other for almost a year now. We decided to actually meet in Washington DC and stay at the home of her sister, another GoodReads friend. We shared so many laughs, talking about everything from books to family and just about anything imaginable.

The three of us were all interested in seeing the new Museum of Crime and Punishment -- they reportedly show how CSI is made -- and went there on Tuesday. We had been there only a few minutes and had just looked at the documents on Timothy McVeigh and the Oklahoma City Bombing when the floor shook pretty violently and there was a loud rumbling as if a big train was passing beneath us. There was always a chance this was some really realistic simulation, maybe a scared straight tactic, but then the lights went out and a blood curdling cry rang out. The lights came back on and a very frightened employee tried to usher us out and told us, "We might be having an earthquake." We couldn't get out that way and were redirected to another exit. Most of us were feeling beyond relief to just be outside and to know that that this was not a terroristic attack but one man stood there, demanding that he be reimbursed for his ticket.

We spent a couple of hours standing in the sun outside Union Station with throngs of people since all the buildings in the area had been evacuated. Many of these individuals had been there on September 11th, almost 10 years ago, and this, I'm sure, was an eery deja vu experience for them.

A few hours after it all started, we were grateful to be relaxing at home, watching reports of the earthquake and the havoc it wreaked on various buildings, including the Washington Monument and Union Station.

This was a wonderful trip for me, giving me the long anticipated opportunity to meet my lovely friend and her wonderful family. It was also a wake-up call to appreciate the peace we experience every day. I really don't mind that we missed out on seeing the other exhibits at the museum but I just might write to them to request a refund.

Pax vobiscum or "peace be with you" for those who didn't have to translate Latin in high school and those of us who had to look it up because we couldn't remember the exact wording!

TO MEET OR NOT TO MEET

2011-04-21T11:36:00.000-07:00

It has been forever since I shared any thoughts here and that's due in part to my spending every spare minute either playing Scrabble on-line, reading, or sneezing at the pollen. I guess I'm not a "real writer" since I haven't felt compelled to put everything I think in print. Instead I go around the house and in the car, belting out screechy poems that I make up on the spot and that crack me up and make the cat fear for her life.

I have recently succumbed to my sister's suggestion to try to expand my world and have some fun. That translates to: Stop playing Scrabble and reading so much and get out there and meet someone. Hah! Books are a much safer bet. If I don't like one, I immediately stop reading and bring it back to the library. If I'm not winning at Scrabble, I quit the game and start a new one. You can see how patient I would be with meeting men.

I heard about Senior People Meet, an on-line dating site, and after telling myself there is no way on this earth at my age -- just turned the decrepit age of 64 :) -- that I would even consider doing such a thing, I signed up "for free." That must be the phoniest come-on line since "What's your sign?" I answered a couple of questions about myself but did not inclulde a photo. I was immediately informed that I was sure to find oodles of wonderful partners with my specifications: a widower within approximately a five-year range and five mile radius. Rather limited, I agree, but what the heck, they asked me what I wanted.

The site also told me to get started on my new adventure right away by paying for the first three months. Whoe, what happened to "free"? So I put in a note to please disregard any profile info they had on me since I did not want to participate. And then they sent me the first batch of potential new friends. Dating sites are not good listeners, also made clear by the individuals selected for me. One man, who is probably a lot of fun as he was obviously hoping to appear with martini in hand, was posted as being 73, a good five years older that requested, although I think he lied and is closer to 103.

The notes keep coming to post my picture and pay my money. And the pictures of eligible men keep coming. I realize now that my vocabulary and theirs are very different. Does "legally separated" qualify as eligible? And how by any map do Brunswick and Savannah fall into my local area when they are six hours away without heavy traffic? They do send profiles of some very nice looking and interesting sounding people -- who are a good 10 years younger than I. A crazy lady I may be -- a cougar I am not (I don't think).

I have to say I admire people who will subject themselves to the comments and barbs by cowards such as myself and are willing to "flirt" with someone they've never seen. I wish them all well and hope they meet lovely women.

Yesterday, I was helping a nice woman whom I would judge to be my age or a smidge older find some travel books and we chatted as we looked for them. She told me that she and her husband were celebrating their anniversary by going on a trip. I asked what number it was, assuming it was probably around their 40th, and she answered that they've been married eight years. They were both widowed and met on Match.com. They had lived just a few short miles away from each other. She looked really content. I guess that showed me a thing or three!

For now, I think I'll just keep meeting wonderful, dashing guys in my books and be stimulated by a challenging game of Scrabble. Don't knock it.

The Little Things -- for Better or Worse

2011-02-24T06:21:00.000-08:00

Too many of my musings revolve around the weather -- how un-creative is that! I feel almost guilty sitting here with the door to my porch open and enjoying 60'sh weather while my friend in New York braved 9 degrees a couple of days ago to go to an exercise class. I think my skin would turn blue just looking out the window at that -- she obviously is a much more disciplined and committed person than moi. Spring-like weather also makes me ramble and ramble and ...

While at work the other day, I found a little thank you note in my cubby that a former supervisor had sent me after a party held for her when she left our library system. The woman was usually very buttoned-up, opinionated, likely to scream when she felt the urge and told you exactly what she thought.

She has another side, a very kind and caring one. The short note spoke volumes to me about her true personality and not just by her words. I happen to like blank notecards because I have big, awful handwriting and hate having to swiggle around the printed generic sentiment and always end up going to the back of the card. I used to put little arrows pointing to the back flap but have figured out that the recipient probably would turn the page to see who sent it to them. Duh! As I already said, I ramble. She used a blank card and instead of writing on the left side and then the right, she wrote straight across both sides. She wasn't going to be held back by margins or centerfolds to express her feelings which were beautifully articulated. I have never thought of treating the inside of a card as one sheet of paper but for someone like me who is either forced to write very small or to only be able to fit five words on one side, it makes perfect sense. Eureka!

So, I was sitting at the front desk at work, feeling warm and fuzzy and thinking about how little things can mean a lot. Then a woman came up to me with a book that she had put down in "just a little bit of water" to which I told her there would be a little bit of a fee, $19.99, since the book was destroyed. She was horrified, beligerant, outraged and all those adjectives which means she was not pleased. Her husband seemed to understand my point, and my supervisor's when she came as back-up, and did his best to rush her out. Poor guy. We have so many really lovely customers that you have to just dismiss the mean ones.

Then one of our regular customers who resembles Bauregard Lee, the groundhog, came by the desk and threw (literally) a small picture at me and mumbled something. When I said, excuse me? he snapped "It was in a book." It was nice of him to return a little girl's picture that someone had apparently used as a bookmark and had forgotten but his clear message was that we are so negligent that we don't find items left in materials returned to us. And some of those items that we have found over the years have been interesting ones: a bra, used diapers (when our drop box was near the street and people mistook it for a trash can), a jail release form with the man's picture in his orange suit, baptismal and First Holy Communion certificates and countless other things that don't belong to us.

Well, it is time to go to work and see who will be lovely and who will be ugly today. I have coworkers who check to see if we are going to have a full moon to predict the general attitude climate. Not me. Spring is in the air here, at least at the moment, the daffodil leaves are shooting up and the pollen has not yet blanketed us in green. It is a lovely day.

Is Spring Really Here?

2011-02-20T14:19:00.000-08:00

Did the groundhog see his shadow? I've had enough of winter and am so happy we're having spring days although they might be teasers. It's cool enough to hang onto my turtlenecks and sweaters but warm enough to read on the porch and enjoy being outside.

February was always the yuckiest month in my opinion -- cold, gray and no hint of spring being on its way. Then in 1972 I met my husband, 40 years ago yesterday in fact, so it took on a different aura. When we were still up north, I lost my voice for about a week every February. I don't remember my family clapping during those periods but they may have.

Stan's sister Grace lost her husband February 18th last year (the same day my real mother died in 1962), so we went out on Friday for lunch and shopping and had a really good day. We agree acceptance is a wonderful thing! Then, today, she brought her sister, Janet from NY, also a widow, to my house and we had such good conversations. It was one of the best times I've had with them and made me grateful to have good in-laws. You know what they say about not being able to pick your family and the same goes for not being able to pick your husband's family.

I just finished a book about family, set in Ireland (surprise, surprise for me!), Civil and Strange, and I can't begin to write or pronounce the author's Gaelic name. It was a little different from my normal chick lit -- more like a modern classic -- but I really liked it. The title is taken from advice given to Ellen, the main character, by her Uncle Matt when she moves to his small town, "Be civil and strange," meaning be polite but don't tell anyone your personal business. Of course, the nosy snoops find it all out anyway, usually fairly incorrectly, but it makes for a good story and a good study on human nature.

Think Spring, laugh a lot and keep writing. I love reading your blogs.

SNOWY DAY DREAMS

2011-01-09T13:29:00.000-08:00

The snow (and ice and sleet) is here. If you didn't hear about its impending arrival on the radio or television where it was reported every few minutes, you could tell by the shelves in the grocery store where there was not one container of milk, any kind or size, except buttermilk and that doesn't count. Apparently, bread was all sold out yesterday but the bakery was really busy this morning so at least people could have fresh five grain loaves and some other varieties.

A friend from Ohio once told me that every time snow was predicted she would notice people stocking up on toilet paper. We're in Georgia and it seems strange that people would think we could possibly be marooned long enough to go through more than a couple of 12-packs of Charmin. There appeared to be plenty there today so I guess someone will be happy.

I've lived outside Atlanta for over 25 years and have seen some major snow storms but they are rare. The pretty white blanket usually covers a couple of inches of ice and can be very scary and gruesome to drive on, especially once the sun has set which it does long before almost anyone leaves work. I try not to budge beyond the mailbox until snow is only on the lawn and trees and the only ice I see is in a glass. Of course, this is good news, at least to me, since I'll just have to snuggle with my furry Ambi, read, play Scrabble on-line and drink lots of hot chocolate. Rats!!! Of course, I won't be happy and cozy if we lose power which could last forever (3 days).

Everyone from the north probably has fond and not so fond snow memories. The February day I moved in with my cousins is a fond one. Four year-old Margi whose cheeks were as red as her snowsuit was pulling her five year-old sister Gracie on a sled and, as soon as she saw me, screamed, "She's here!" I guess she was the lookout. I remember noticing that a wheelbarrow planter on the lawn had a name plate with "SNOW" on it. My aunt told me the kids would always turn it around from "MONS" to confuse the mailman.

When we lived outside Philadelphia, we saw a lot of snow and sleet. One particular evening, the roads were a sheet of ice as my husband nervously traveled home from work several miles on the Schuykil Expressway. He said it was made even worse because the radio station kept replaying "Slip Sliding Away" by Simon and Garfunkle.

We will soon see what the winter of 2011 bestows on us but I hope we get to view a beautiful scene like those on the Christmas cards we received from the comfort of our homes. I hope my boss doesn't read this blog although I know she has figured out by now that I am not exactly the adventurous type. May you have many fond snow memories.

CHRISTMAS STORIES

2010-11-27T11:54:00.000-08:00

Surprise, I'm back, at least for the moment. Sorry I've been AWOL (Absent from Writing On Line) but I have been without a computer at home and my time on-line at work has been severely limited since our library branch no longer houses the helpline. I do read your blogs, just don't have much opportunity to enlighten you on my life lately -- you haven't missed much.

We began Advent last Sunday so we know Christmas is near although Walmart wanted us to think it was right around the corner in September. It's interesting how shopping and baking and everthing else associated with Christmas that used to make me groan are now fun since I have three little elves to do them for.

What I have always loved about Christmas is the stories: on tv and in the movies, books, magazines, on-line, conversations with friends. Just give me a glass of eggnog (without the rum-I think it ruins it), a throw to wrap up in or my furry blanket (Ambi, the cat), and a Christmas story. Christmas stories are my junk food. It's the only time of year that I constantly watch Lifetime and Hallmark movies and I almost always like them, even the really corny, shmaltzy ones.

I read Call Me Mrs. Miracle by Debbie Macomber lately and thoroughly enjoyed the sweet, simple tale even though it was predictable, and I looked forward to seeing the Hallmark movie last Saturday. It was horrible! Since the author was the executive producer, it seemed like a fair bet that the story would be kept relatively similar to the book. It's a good thing I'm not a betting woman. The names were kept the same but basic premises, as well as characters' personalities, were completely altered. I'm sure if I had not read the book first, I would have thought the movie was cute -- when will I learn?!

Do you have Christmas favorites that you watch or read every year? If you know of any that are not so popular -- Miracle on 34th Street; Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa; Home Alone; Christmas Story (I wonder if Ralphie is on Social Security yet) or White Christmas (one of my favorites along with Christmas in Connecticut) -- I'd love to hear of them.

Happy shopping, baking, reading and watching.

A Happy Yarn

2010-09-16T11:59:00.000-07:00

I most assuredly am not a crafter! I wish I were artistically talented so that I could create beautiful gifts for my family and friends. I do crochet but it is more of an obsessive lunacy than a creative venture and it is anyone's guess how the finished product will appear. I have one object in my living room that was supposed to be a throw. I failed to add a chain stitch at the end of each row, so it is a concave mass of yarn that looks like the shell of a turtle and actually makes a decent cocoon.

My beautiful little Kylie (granddaughter, aged 3) who wishes to be called by her "real" name, Princess Kylie, told me not long ago that she really likes pink and purple so, being a doting grandma, I told her I would make her something that's pink and purple. I don't know if any of you are old enough to remember the song, Purple People Eater, but that would probably aptly describe this project; I'm glad to say though that there isn't "one eye" or "one horn" on it.

I can't pick up a crochet hook in the summer -- it comes out when the weather is cooler and I can bury myself in mounds of soft yarn. The problem is my cat, Ambi, thinks that the yarn is her toy so as I wield the hook, she tries to chew the yarn; giving her her own supply doesn't divert her.

I can't stop adding rows so I went back to Walmart today to buy more yarn. A lovely sales person offered her assistance and gave her opinion when I asked. That was a unique experience in itself. A Walmart employee who is available, speaks English and offers help without being hunted down and tackled and then misunderstood?

The last time I was at a Walmart at a different location, I skirted the entire store looking for yarn, finally found a sales woman who didn't know where it was, so she found another employee who brought me to the other end of the store and pointed to a small appliance aisle. She said do you see it? I said, no, there is no yarn here, to which I was told, "Oh, yarn, I thought she said 'iron'." Back we went around to the section where I first started. So today, I felt like this woman was my new best friend and left positively giddy with yarn not only for Kylie but for my little guy, Logan, too.

Back in the '70's there was a very popular memoire, The Happy Hooker, by Xaviera Hollander, a wealthy madame on the Main Line of Philadelphia. There is an entirely different connation here but I do feel like one happy hooker as I turn skeins of yarn into some funky looking gifts for my babies.

Memories of Katrina

2010-08-26T10:33:00.000-07:00

WARNING: The following material may be hazardous to anyone vulnerable, sensitive or fearful that their good humor may be jeopardized. The producer of this blog does not wish to in way disturb or overly concern you about her mental state. She merely wishes to share her feelings with you knowing what kind, compassionate readers you are.

How's that for making you scared to continue to read?

As you are well aware, this is the fifth year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Good Morning America has been showing clips of the devastation wreaked on Louisiana and Mississippi during that time. The news coverage always affects me, both out of sympathy for those poor people and for my family. My husband Stan worked dilligently in procuring trucks and clean-up supplies to be sent to Mississippi for the restoration company where he was employed as their warehouse manager.

He and I would go to his daily radiation treatments at Emory (to which he insisted on driving) and he would be on his cell phone much of the way home, arranging for equipment to be shipped to the sites where employees from his company were stationed. He was totally committed to this effort and on the morning of August 31st, he struggled downstairs to watch the latest news details on Katrina. I told him I would see him in a little while. I was awakened an hour or so later by his cell phone. He had fallen asleep on the couch before turning on the tv. I told him that he was having some nap and not to scare me like that because he looked as if he were dead. He was.

Hurricane Katrina's ravages are still felt by many people: victims; those involved in rescue operations, and all who witnessed the horror on television and radio. It has a special significance for me. I still bear the scars of my personal destruction but I have to say that I have been blessed with peace and acceptance recently. I wish the same for all.

The Beat Goes On

2010-08-06T11:32:00.000-07:00

I was be-bopping to the oldies on the radio, which means I looked like I was writhing in pain, on the way to work a few days ago and having a good old time listening to the songs I grew up on. Actually, my kids grew up on them too since all radios in the house and my car were always tuned to Fox 97, the oldies station.

One fateful day a few years ago, after much warning that baby boomers had to spend more money on advertisers' products and services, my ears were assaulted by some jarring hip-hop number. Fox 97 was no longer an oldies station. How would I start my day without Randy and Spiff's "Stupid Criminal" stories and the tunes that made me feel good (and young)? A little of Delilah, "The Queen of Sappy Love Songs," was okay at night but the mornings needed help.

Well, joy to the world ("and all the little fishies in the deep blue sea") -- we now have a new oldies station, 106.7. I guess every generation identifies with the popular songs of their youth and my teenage years have a sound track of Beach Boys, Simon and Garfunkle, and all the groups that were part of the British Invasion. My neighbor, Nancy, and I argued about which group, the Beatles or the Dave Clark Five, would last longer. She won.

Just hearing the Temptations, the Four Tops, the Supremes or any of the Motown crowd makes me jump up (not while driving) and move around like someone possessed. My poor cat becomes frozen and just stares at me and I know she's thinking, "uh, oh, here she goes again."

Nostalgia is the core of the oldies and they bring back sweet memories. The fast songs are fun to sing along with and the slow ones epitomize my teenage view of romance: The Righteous Brothers singing "Ebb Tide," and the Duprees crooning "You Belong to Me." My all-time favorite song is still "Words" by the Bee Gees.

Randy and Spiff are back to ushering in the morning program with their goofy wit and conversations with listeners. The DJ of the afternoon is Scott Shannon whose raspy voice and slightly arrogant manner can be annoying but that's okay because he plays great songs.

To quote a golden oldie: "It's the kind of music that soothes the soul; I like that old-time rock and roll."

STORY TIME

2010-07-19T08:25:00.000-07:00

I spent this weekend in Florida visiting my dad as well as two of my sisters and their families. My Eric and Keri (ages 36 and 26) joined me as we all thought this may be their last opportunity to visit with their granddad. Today is his 88th birthday; he has bone cancer and is expected to live only another few months.

He was in great form and good humor and hasn't slowed his routine down much at all. He drives to 8:30 mass every day and takes Holy Communion to old, sick people. A bit ironic, but when he's not experiencing pain or suffering from exhaustion, he's up to speed.

We chatted a lot, which means I heard some stories retold for at least the 99th time and learned a couple of new tidbits about our family that apparently have floated to the top of his memory after over 70 years. He remembers the names of all 13 boys in his eighth grade class and assured me he could tell me all the girls' names as well. I don't doubt that at all.

I have learned that old people usually love to talk about their youth and are especially fond of retelling war stories and recollections of how they met the love of their life. Since I love to read and my favorite novels are about families, I don't usually get too antsy listening to Dad's reveries.

While at the breakfast table, my nieces and nephews were talking about their summer reading lists and a couple of them were dreading having to read certain books. This is something I hear often since I answer the library help line and try to find specific titles for children to read before going back to school. There is no question about the value of reading during the summer. Studies have proven that children can slip as much as two reading levels during the two-month period.

The best case scenario with reading lists is that children are introduced to books and authors they wouldn't otherwise have read. My niece, Abbie, fell in love with "Gathering Blue" by Lois Lowry in seventh grade and has been re-reading it every summer since then, as well as her other reading choices. My daughter also found a couple of novels on school reading lists that she reads over and over.

The worst cases are those times when children who aren't avid readers cannot obtain a book that might interest them because of very long waiting lists at libraries and short supply at the book stores. I answer calls on the libray help line from panicky mothers who are desperate to find books their child needs to read. When they find out they're at least number 55 on the hold list for all the titles they think the kid might read, they try to get anything on the list.

I know reading materials for students need to be monitored or many teenagers would dive into graphic novels or vampire tales and not even attempt to read anything else. And I don't agree with those people who say, "As long a they're reading, it doesn't matter what it is." Sure it does. My fear, though, is that children are being turned off to reading in general because of one "boring" book. If they stick with it, they may find they actually enjoy it, although they probably won't admit it, but they may also choose not to pick up any book if they don't have to.

Some young people call asking how many pages a book has and then request the Cliff Notes. Of course, you always have those who have no intention of reading the book and want the movie version. One young guy wanted the movie of "To Kill A Mockingbird." I told him we had the book available and that he would proably like it but he said, nah, he just wanted to watch it. Another thorn in education's side!

I do remember seeing "My Antonia" by Willa Cather on my reading list every year for the duration of high school and avoiding it like the plague although I have no idea why. It is still on reading lists so it obviously endured the test of time despite my snubbing it.

You YA writers have a huge challenge: Turn those video game addicts into eager readers. Their moms will love you for life and I bet we'll have long waiting lists for your wonderful stories.

Happy reading and writing.

Summer Wear

2010-07-15T13:28:00.000-07:00

How much longer will summer be here? We're in the South, so I guess another three months or so. I really like summer with so many beautiful flowers and trees in bloom and just the lazy daisy feeling that goes with it. Humidity and "warm days" of 99 degrees aren't even going to be mentioned! The problem I have with this season is summer clothes. I'm sure I sound like an idiot and should just wear whatever is comfortable but I'd rather not be the laughing stock of Georgia!

Summer clothes are designed for those lovely individuals who become golden brown even when lathered in SPF 45 and who have nothing to hide on their legs. Varicose veins or razor cuts wouldn't dream of marring those limbs. And some even sport discreet (?) tatoos. I know there are 101 products on the market to "simulate a tan." The one time I tried using one, I had orange stripes for a month and am not brave enough to go that route again, even with all the new and improved brands available.

Try to find a nice, light-weight pair of slacks or casual pants that reach the ankles, besides khakis. Capris and shorts are great -- for most people. It isn't the stores' fault; they can't sell what isn't produced and I am quite obviously in the minority with wanting to cover up.

Remember that old song "Itsy, Bitsy, Teeny, Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini'? That describes paranoid me when I look in the mirror at my pale, scarred bean poles sticking out from what appears on the hanger to be a cute garment. "And in the locker, she wanted to stay."

I don't want summer to end to soon but I sure do look forward to Fall clothes.

YELLOW IS NOT THE NEW GREEN!

2010-06-10T10:23:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you, but I receive a variety of yellow page directories way too often. They're all short and fat and claim to cover my local area, and some have the audacity to state that they are the best yellow pages. Hah! Today I needed to find the number for PetSmart near me because my dear kitty, Ambi, has a bad case of fleas and I refuse to pay what our vet charges for Front Line. I can hear you telling me to order a supply on-line for a fraction of the cost and you are absolutely right, and I will in the future. However, I need flea treatment and bomb NOW.

How hard could it be to locate a telephone number in a book devoted solely to providing telephone numers of businesses in my area? Two out of three of these current directories do not list that location at all; only "The Real Yellow Pages" does. Conversely, I haven't received a White Page directory in forever. There was a time when you would see some residential pages tossed in before the business listings but no longer, at least in my area. Go figure.

Then there is the case of using my home telephone for which service is provided by a huge, major company that is said on many commercials to reach anywhere in the country and I guess virtually every point beyond, outside of Mars. Maybe -- but only if you position yourself near my front door, otherwise the other party cannot hear you and you just hear fuzzy gibberish.

What is even better than getting another yellow page directory is discovering that it has been left by my front door which I never use. Invariably, I don't see it there until there has been a drenching rain and a soggy mess is sprawled on my welcome mat -- not welcoming at all! I think there is some connection to these deliveries and downpours!!!

Think green and good luck if you have to look something up in the phone book.

A Few Good Words

2010-06-06T10:37:00.000-07:00

Way back in the dark ages before there were blogs -- heck, before there were personal computers -- newspapers were staples at our house. Stan would dive into the sports section and then world news -- he was a Joe Friday kind of guy, "Just the facts, ma'am, nothing but the facts." I would start with my favorite comic strip, "For Better or Worse," and then hunt through the editorial columns in hope of finding a human interest piece. My day would be made when I would see syndicated articles by Bob Green (the Chicago writer, not Oprah's fitness guy) and Anna Quindlen (former op-ed writer for the NY Times). I loved reading Erma Bombeck's hilarious reports on family life and Celestine Sibley's affectionate tales of living in her log cabin, Sweet Apple. I miss them.

Well, let me tell you: working in a library and logging onto Goodreads have definitely expanded my world! I recently learned that Lisa Scottoline, the best-selling mystery author, writes a delightful column, "Chick Wit," for the Philadelphia Inquirer. She has compiled many of them as well as some additional essays into a very funny book, "Why My Third Husband Will be a Dog -- the Amazing Adventures of an Ordinary Woman."

She writes about her mom, "Mother Mary," her 20-something daughter Francesca, her two ex-husbands, "Thing One and Thing Two," and anyone she happens to encounter in the course of a day. She writes about living in the suburbs with four dogs and covers almost every imaginable subject, including VPL and VBL (visible panty lines and visible bra lines), and believes all GG's (good girls) should be proud to show them off. Reading Lisa's columns is like listening to a friend sound off about all the idiotic things that happen in any ordinary old day. They're not big news -- they're the little gems that make us laugh and want to yell, "Yes, that's exactly what I think."

Now, maybe you'll understand why I love reading all the wonderful, funny, sweet, human pieces that you all publish. Thank you, Cathy Hall, for introducing me to Lisa and all your writing friends who feel like mine now.

Lights, Action, Camera

2010-05-18T12:13:00.001-07:00

I know you must be sick of hearing about my grandchildren but since the only other funny characters in my life are at the library I find it far more entertaining to talk about my three wild and wooly little ones. Sunday was Baptism day for all three of them at Hope United Methodist Church in Paulding Co.

The pastor introduced them: Kylie was busy modeling her new dress for "her" audience, Logan was screaming bloody murder that he had to be there at all, and Sophie just lay quietly in her mom's arms. Kylie was the first to be anointed and was quite reverent but then lost interest in the ceremony when it was her brother and sister's turn. She went to the edge of the stage, looked up at the lights, fully extended her arms, looked out at everyone with a beatific smile and then yelled, "Grandma, Grandma"! I could totally see her playing Emily in "Our Town."

I retrieved her and we sat for a moment while I assured her that I would attend every play she is ever in and there is no doubt this child will be trying to star in every production her schools ever offer. She wasted no time in running back up to the stage with her family and was totally surprised when the another family took the stage. She and Logan were then happily led to the nursery where she probably recounted her moment of fame and glory in great detail.

It was a good day, a wonderful celebration and a delicious cake made it seem even sweeter!

FAMILY TIME

2010-04-29T13:26:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like being around young children, especially when they're your precious grandchildren, to help you view life through a different kaleidsecope! I've spent the last two weeks with Kylie, Logan, and our new arrival, Sophie, as well as their mom and dad. It's funny how you can go on a weekly carousel, moving a bit robotlike to work, etc., not really noticing life in its purest form.

Kids are incredible beings, exhausting but incredible. They welcome you into their life with their open arms, open hearts, and open mouths. They let you know how life is supposed to be. Flowers are to be planted and to make you see how beautiful nature is; swings are supposed to be pushed "really high"; stories are supposed to be read "aden and aden," and snacks should keep on coming. Not a bad lesson to re-learn: have fun playing in the dirt, experience a bit of adventure, always have a good book available, and enjoy your food! Little Sophie quietly enjoys the show from her baby seat and dozes off when the noise gets to be too much.

It sounds a little corny to say this has been a life-changing experience but it has been. My life basically ended almost five years ago but it has been reborn over and over with each new child and I'm so grateful for their love.

Real life re-starts this weekend and my old routine will basically resume but it feels much more colorful now.

WELCOME, SOPHIE!

2010-04-13T12:25:00.000-07:00

Sophia Anne (Sophie) joined the family on April 9th -- YAY!!! She looks so much like her brother and sister (and father and aunt) that it is almost comical how strong the Johnson genes are. Both Kylie and Logan have started to look more like their mom but at birth they're all Johnson all the way.

I am so proud of Jennifer and Eric for how they held up when they could not have their little sweetie in their room but had to visit her at certain times in the nursery where she was hooked up to an i.v.

There must be a connection between all parents when they hear that there is any sign of distress in their newborn. Even when it is for something that the doctors keep reassuring you will be okay, anxiety steals some of the initial joy and hope becomes more necessary than possibly at any other time in life. My heart goes out to all babies and their parents and makes me aware that it doesn't only take a village to raise a child; it takes a world -- to root for the little ones, to pray for them and to support them however we can.

Sophie's picture, taken on her car ride home, is on Facebook and I will be delighted to make you my friend so that you too can ooh and aah at this beautiful little girl.

NOT EXACTLY TRADITIONAL

2010-04-02T14:44:00.001-07:00

Easter is coming and I'm really looking forward to spending it with my family at Eric's house. I volunteered to bring the meal. I know I'm crazy but Jennifer is way too pregnant to be worrying about preparing dishes. I asked Keri for suggestions and she said we could pick up a pizza from Bambinelli's. Pizza for Easter?!! My mom would roll over in her grave. Easter dinner always consisted of a baked ham with pineapple rings on top and merachrino cherries in the middle of them. Neither of my kids has ever been a ham enthusiast though and they believe turkey is for Thanksgiving only. Since I don't eat much meat, I don't really care.

So, I must come up with an alternative. We are the people who have not a trace of Italian blood in us but have lasagne for Christmas dinner every year. So I tried to figure out what would appease all of us . The little ones are easy since they like mac and cheese which I make in a crock pot. I happened to be talking to a coworker who said she is making strombolis and she isn't Italian either. Hmmm, not too bad an idea -- she has assured me it's super simple. So, at 9:45 last night, I was in Publix buying frozen bread dough, onions, peppers, mushrooms, sausage and chicken and lots and lots of cheese to make two strombolis. I didn't mention my plans to Eric since a little surprise here and there is good for the soul.

This afternoon I had a message from my sweet son telling me they don't want me to go to any trouble and certainly don't want a ham or turkey. What they would really like is -- hold onto your seat -- a pizza from Bambinelli's. Where have I gone wrong!

Happy eating on Easter.

Is it Monday yet, Please!

2010-03-28T17:05:00.000-07:00

This weekend had a bit of an ominous beginning since I left the book I'm reading, The Lacemakers of Glenmara, at work and the library is closed Sunday and Monday (that will change as of April 25th). It was enough to induce a mini panic attack. Luckily, I have found that old movies and those tiny Cadbury eggs with the crisp shells that are completely addictive (Keri claims the shells are lined with crack!) can act as a substitute in a pinch.

Then, last night, Eric called to say that Jennifer was in Piedmont Hospital, possibly in labor a few weeks early. He was sitting in their van with their two little ones in the parking lot and Kylie had to go potty. Little Sophie didn't make her debut yet so we will, thankfully, have to wait a bit to meet her.

This morning I got a text from my sister saying my father was in the hospital because of dehydration. He had fainted at church and was rushed to the emergency room but was back home this afternoon. He sounded good but I learned that he is receiving chemotherapy. My mom's twelfth anniversary is this Sunday and we're hoping for no poetic coincidences here.

Right now I'm totally relaxed and watching Jack Nicholson experience a panic attack in Something's Gotta Give, a very cute, funny movie. Life is back to normal and now I can start thinking about Easter baskets for Kylie and Logan. When I gave Kylie a little Valentine bear she told her family in Tennessee her "friend Grandma" (pronounced Gamma) gave it to her.

I hope you enjoy a wonderful Easter and that Peter Rabbit treats you very well.

The Line Forms on the Left (and Right...)

2010-03-14T17:32:00.000-07:00

It doesn't do much for a woman's morale to witness wrinkles, lines, sags -- whatever wasn't there a while ago, like yesterday -- appearing in full glory when she innocently looks into the mirror with no intention of conducting an inspection.

Whoever came up with the quip, "aging gracefully" was probably a man or a nun but the French comedic actress, Jeanne Moreau, expressed her thoughts on it. "Aging gracefully is supposed to mean trying not to hide time passing and just looking a wreck. Don't worry, girls, look like a wreck, that's the way it goes." Not exactly encouraging, more like a challenge set up by Botox distributors!

I really hate to think of myself as overly concerned about looking my age but each new birthday imprints its greeting around my eyes and cheekbones. It seems that one part of the female body has a tug of war with the other. I have a couple of friends near my age who wish they were thinner, but they have beautiful, smooth, full faces. I caught a profile of my face and I'd swear the air was let out of one of my cheeks which looked like a deflated balloon.

Gloria Steinem once wrote that on her 60th birthday she was talking to someone in the ladies' room of a restaurant and mentioned what she was celebrating. The other woman told her she didn't look 60 but Gloria replied, "Yes, I do; this is what 60 looks like." It may have been the first time the other person had ever heard a woman over 30 admit her real age.

A couple of years ago, I heard people saying "60 is the new 40"! Obviously, Mother Nature wasn't informed of this and doesn't believe in cover-ups. So, on Easter Sunday, I will hit the ripe age of 63 and I will eat all the cake I want --maybe some butter cream will lodge inside my cheeks (probably the wrong ones!).

The best way to deal with our imperfections staring at us in the mirror is a sense of humor. Then we can convince ourselve that the new flaws are just laugh lines. Ha ha ha!

We Interrupt This Game

2010-03-09T09:55:00.000-08:00

You know spring is really here when life starts to revolve around ballfield schedules. My days of taking turns at manning the Mountain Park snack bar and socializing in the stands at the games for both of my kids are over and I pass that baton on to the next generation. I have to admit that as hectic as our lives were every spring, I miss those days.

Both Eric and Keri inherited Stan's athletic DNA. (I do not possess one trace of that gene). Eric has lived and breathed sports since he was three years old and has an assortment of scars to prove it. His daughter now is three and has abandoned ballet for T-ball. She only really joined dance classes for the tutu and she wears that with her princess tiara constantly! Her dad, the assistant coach, is so proud. He is also pretty shocked that she listens to him when he tells her to run and mucho impressed that she has a powerful swing despite her wiry frame.

He was not prepared for what happened at the last practice. He knows that three and four year- olds are prone to sitting down in the field and throwing pebbles. But he never saw practice interrupted for hugging. There are only two girls on the team, both named Kylie. They apparently discovered that all important gift that girls seem to recognize instinctively -- friendship -- and they just couldn't contain themselves.

Cathy recently wrote about the Oatmeal greeting card line and I keep picturing a card with two little girls in their helmets on a ballfield, oblivious to their apoplectic fathers, hugging each other and grinning their heads off. But a humorous quip escapes me. If you think of something, feel free to send it to Oatmeal.

Eric tells me that Kylie is just like me -- she never keeps quiet! Well, we have other things in common too: we both wear glasses, love books, and are huggers! It makes Gramma's day to know this.

Shaping Up

2010-03-04T10:27:00.000-08:00

I am sitting near a window looking out at a sunny day that belies the cold temperatures. Two days ago, this window looked like a snow globe but the weatherwoman said this morning that we are getting closer to Spring. That's wonderful news because I'm sick of winter.

That means though, with the way time has been soaring by before I can even appreciate it, summer will be here in a blink of an eye and I will (horrors) have to look for summer clothes. I do not like summer clothes -- I like turtlenecks. I love the scene in "Something's Gotta Give" where Jack Nicholson asks Diane Keaton why she is wearing a turtleneck in the summer (at the beach no-less) and she tells him it's because she likes them. She is my heroine. (My husband used to tease me about them too and I told him the same thing).

I think trying on bathing suits ranks right up there with prepping for a colonoscopy. My daughter is working out with a trainer now and eating better -- so she is more positive about the bathing suit situation. She and her buddy Rebecca started a blog: Seasonshapeup.blogspot.com,
and it is really pretty informative on how to eat better, etc., in a realistic way. Both girls are doing well and I'm proud of them. I would be extremely grateful if you wonderful ladies would pleeeeease check out their blog once in a while so that the magazine sees that people are reading it (other than mothers).

Let's hope the weather keeps shaping up and that we don't get sleet on Easter!

Bridge of Love

2010-02-24T09:39:00.000-08:00

The past few days have been a bit surreal for my family. You know the state where you're a little bit numb, a lot relieved and grateful but sad, all at the same time?

My brother-in-law Bob, the life of every party, who never met a stranger, and who entertained anyone who would listen for hours, (usually with the same stories), died of bone cancer on Thursday. It probably sounds like a cliche to say that his wife and siblings are glad he is no longer in horrible pain or still in a coma that lasted for a week, but in this case it is absolutely true.

It has been a rough year for them. Grace (Stan's sister) works at Gwinnett Medical Center and is well-versed in medical matters. The two of them spoke about his impending death openly and without fear or emotion and were pretty shocked that he lived as long as he did. Their love for each other and family was so obvious and inspiring.

She called me the morning of Feb. 18th to tell me he had passed away at 5 a.m. My real mother also died on Feb. 18, in 1962, and has been my guardian angel many times on that date. Before I went to sleep on Ash Wednesday, I asked God to let her help us in some way. I think God listened to her.

Grace is living up to her name perfectly and is doing very well, handling everything the way they both wanted. There was no wake or funeral or obituary in the newspapers. Family and close friends have visited with her and have been uplifted by her attitude. She will be hosting a "celebration of life" gathering at her house over the weekend when she will have a chance to see special friends who have moved away from Georgia. She wants it to be like an Irish wake and it sounds like it certainly will be. She'll be showing a video from 20 years ago taken at a friend's 40th birthday party where Bob and the birthday girl's husband did a little skit and were hysterically funny and entertaining. This is the way she wants Bob remembered and cherished and I believe he will be.

As I was watching American Idol last night, I thought it was rather amusing that so many of the girls sang Beatles songs, obviously trying to appeal to Boomers as well as the younger generation. The Beatles are such a part of our culture, especially for those of us who listened to their records constantly in the 60's and swooned at them on the Ed Sullivan Show. They're an international icon but they aren't number one on my hit parade. That spot goes to Simon and Garfunkle.

When Stan and I were first married, we didn't splurge on a lot of purchases (except at delis and bakeries!) but we bought Simon and Garfunkle records. The cover of Bookends still stares at me whenever I open my hall closet. I always loved Sounds of Silence and he liked it a lot too but his favorite was Bridge Over Troubled Water. Over the past week, I've been thinking about that song a lot and have been touched by how eloquently the lyrics express my feelings for Stan and the relationship between Grace and Bob.

My memory got stuck on a few words and I was afraid to look on lyrics.com because it has crashed my computer and I'm not risking ruining the library's or my daughter's. I am fortunate to have a friend who remembers song lyrics verbatim and typed them out for me. I don't know how Paul and Art came up with the words but they seem spiritual to me. (The Catholic Church doesn't agree since I could not have it played at Stan's mass but the CD was on at the luncheon afterwards.) "When you're weary, feeling small/When tears are in your eyes I will dry them all. I'm on your side when darkness fall/And pain is all around/Like a bridge over troubled water/I will lay me down."

The last part is the clincher: "When you need a friend I'm sailing right behind/Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind." It makes me want to bow my head and say, Amen.

We, thank goodness, have a life to celebrate. I don't know who sang it but I like the thought, "Celebrate, celebrate, dance to the music."

TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION

2010-02-10T10:18:00.000-08:00

I am happily reading a brand new book, The Brightest Star in the Sky, by one of my favorite Irish lasses, Marian Keyes. She is witty, even makes me laugh out loud at times, and is very insightful about human nature. Okay, not so unusual for a good writer -- can evoke emotions, entertain and show astute perception. What is surprising is that, according to her blog, she is suffering from depression and has been for some time.

I guess the book could have been written before her current bout, especially since books from the UK often are delayed with being released in the US. Her husband, whom she refers to as "himself," sends out her monthly blog and reports on terrific recent sales. He is most definitely not suffering from depression!

It's almost like hearing that a friend is sick. When you follow an author's works, you feel like you know that person through her characters, don't you? I found myself saying a little prayer for her -- maybe selfishly because I don't want her to stop writing -- but also because she is a truly funny, kind woman.

During my most cheerful moments, I couldn't compose one line as good as hers, no less many novels as well as a couple of collections of humorous essays (Under the Duvet and Cracks in My Foundation).

As we approach St. Patrick's Day, I hope her black cloud disappears and she is filled with the joy that she brings to her readers.

Not Connected

2010-01-17T12:58:00.000-08:00

It doesn't seem all that long ago -- actually six years to be exact -- that I would often declare I didn't want a cell phone and since I refused to use one while driving, who needed it?! Now, I don't leave home without it. A couple of days ago my trusty new Nokia, which has replaced the last two that didn't work right, decided it does not like living in my purse any more than its buddies. It keeps taunting me by shutting off and on, will not let me make or retrieve calls or check messages and keeps playing a very annoying little tune as if to announce its glorious, but useless, presence.

Okay, I had held onto my old, bigger, ugly phone that has been dropped on the pavement and swum in the toilet (I bumped it with my hairbrush one morning and it literally flew through the air into the john.) The others have not been subjected to such indignities, so don't go saying, "User problems"! So I used the old stand-by to call customer service at my provider who would not speak to me because that phone was not now registered with them. After pushing 0 enough times I finally reached someone who told me to turn on the faulty phone. Although I could not open the battery compartment because they have it sealed worse than Ft. Knox and he seemed to think I was a weak, incompetent whiner, he said he would try to work on it at his end while I stayed on the phone, which promptly went dead.

After a couple of moments, okay hours, of fretting, I realized the old days weren't so bad. I still have Ma Bell, who has changed her name, for local calls only but should I be desperate to have a pizza delivered, I'll be okay.

The new year is starting off pretty quietly around here.

Another Christmas Past

2010-01-02T17:12:00.000-08:00

Christmas 2009 was fun (Christmas Eve with the grandkids) and peacefully quiet (Christmas Day without the grandkids) and, I have to say, the nicest one of the past five. The tree dropped needles by the bucket-load but smelled good. It was determined not to stay up straight until Keri's friend came over and with the strength of Hulk Hogan put it in its place although it still had a bit of a twitch. I discovered a couple of days after Christmas that the cat had chewed apart a string of lights -- we were dangerously close to a remake of Chevy Chase's Christmas scene where the cat became electrified. My little grandson decided no one should be drinking and sent red wine everywhere but I didn't even care -- just got out the Resolve again. I will see Kylie and Logan tomorrow and will have to remember to only drink water while they're here.

The holidays are great for celebrating with the people that you really care about but don't always get to share much time with during the rest of the year. That's why I love reading my friends' blogs -- finding out the funny, wonderful things that are going on in your lives and your minds. Have a wonderful 2010 -- I'll be looking for you here.

LET'S PARTY!

2009-11-08T17:49:00.000-08:00

Today is momentous -- it is my little Kylie's third birthday. It is amazing how this extaordinary tot has morphed into the diva of all princesses almost over night. She met us (and anyone who happened to drive down their street at any time yesterday) at the door in her royal attire which included a tutu, crown and magic wand. She was so excited and verbal although I still am not fluent in Kylie-ese but "presents" rang loudly and clearly throughout her kingdom. Forget princess, this child was definitely queen for a day and all those around her were priveleged to serve her and to follow her orders.

She was awed by the many glittery princess-themed items she received, particularly a pair of high heeled sandals which she insisted on wearing and mastered a comical but effective walk that rivaled anyone on the red carpet at the Oscars. Her ensemble of ornate jewelry with long, dangling earrings, very short tutu and the high heels gave me very scary images of what she may consider high fashion in her teens. I'll be very surprised if she shows no interest in drama.

We enjoyed a beautiful purple princess cake that she had specified be chocolate and it was very good. But the first thing she said was, "I wanted yellow cake." That didn't stop her from scoffing down a big piece and I'm glad her mom didn't choke on hers.

Birthdays are meant to be celebrations of life and I am so grateful that I can celebrate Kylie's and Logan's presence in our lives and we'll soon celebrate their little brother or sister's arrival. We all will be delighted with either Colton or Sophie but think it's Sophie. Of course, most of us have been wrong both other times so no money should be placed as bets just yet.

Let the holidays begin since we're already in party mode.

Time for Change

2009-10-23T10:17:00.000-07:00

Time for another learning experience -- motherly euphanism for "Oh, my God, what are we in for now?"! Anyone who has ever had kids probably knows to expect the unexpected and my daughter Keri will probably be re-teaching me that lesson for the next 30 years, should I survive that long.

Having departed a teaching job at a rough middle school in Dekalb County, we were delighted when she secured a position teaching fourth grade at a nearby school in August. My sighs of relief were replaced by stomach-clenching nerves recently as I witnessed her anxiety and despair over the stress and pressures of the educational system. Not one to wallow in misery for very long, Keri is in the throes of pursuing volunteer work in a foreign country. She isn't one to allow lack of income to deter her. At least it is with a missionary group that I'm familiar with since they are headquartered in New Rochelle, NY, where I'm from, and located across the street from where my dad worked for many years. "Danger" never flusters my daring daughter, while I can't even watch "24" by msyelf because I get scared to death.

The good thing about all of this frustration is that both Keri and I are feeling at peace now and are experiencing some "meant to be" moments. Of course, there are many details to be worked out, such as acceptance, and money to be earned in order to fly to training sessions in California and the actual mission site which could be Bolivia or one of various points in South America and Africa.

A couple of days ago, I read a quote from a prayer by St. Therese about not worrying, because "You won't abandon me." Amen.

Autumn is here!

2009-10-03T14:21:00.000-07:00

Wow, September flew by before I truly appreciated it, but October is beautiful. What bad things can you say about a month that starts out with the feast day of St. Therese, the Little Flower, on the first and of the Guardian Angels on the second? My Catholic school roots are showing as much as my gray ones!

My son Eric loves October because it's synonymous with UGA football and every other team, college or pro, that ever crossed a field. Keri, now a fourth grade teacher in Snellville, is excited that the first quarter is almost done and can't wait for the Beer Festival in Decatur. October makes me remember various foods: apple cider, pumpkin pie, the turnips (frozen) my mom used to mash with potatoes, and the best apple pie I've ever eaten that we'd get at Wallabee Farms in Pennsylvania when we lived there. We even gladly endured the smell of cow manure as we trudged to the barn/shop where they sold wonderful, home-made ice cream as well as the pies. My dad was just telling me last week that he loved going to my brother's youth football games on Saturday mornings and now goes to watch his grandson play.

October is a time for memories, pretty flowers and yummy foods - not too bad a reputation for a month.

Wedding Drama -- A True Reality Show

2009-08-21T14:00:00.000-07:00

Well, my short trip to the Jersey Shore is history but it was a good trip. It's always fun to get together with my crazy sisters, especially when we're celebrating and are away from our own homes. The girls had rented three houses, with many bodies of adults and children packed in on beds, air matresses, couches and floors.

My niece Kelly offered to host the rehearsal party since the groom's family didn't want to. Kelly's father-in-law, John, is a wonderful caterer who happens to live nearby at the beach. The night of the party, the caterers arrived and put the food into the oven. Apparently, the former tenants had had done some cooking and smoke billowed through the house, setting off all the smoke alarms. It was very hot inside and was raining, with lots of lightning thrown in just to add to the fun. One of the rooms was flooded; they said it was from condensation but I think some sprinklers must have gone off. John had left his team to take care of everything and had gone to visit his dying sister who was in hospice. After the caterers finished serving all the food, they took their equipment and left. A mess remained. Kelly, who is a bit of a drama queen, started shrieking at her sisters to help her and lovely spats resulted and two of her three little kids were crying.

The wedding day was beautiful with clear skies and attitudes were a little sunnier too. The groom and his men arrived by boat at the yacht club where Megan and Kyle were married on the dock. The reception was a lot of fun and yes, we all boogied to We Are Family and lots of other stuff. Megan was the calmest bride I've ever seen. Of course, that may be because she and Kyle were already married. The Archdiocese of New Jersey states that couples have to be wed in a church, so they, along with only their parents went up to Newark where her uncle is a priest and were married at his church a month earlier. Fr. John graciously came down to the shore to do it again without telling anyone that they were watching a repeat performance!

I loved being with all of them but I was happy to come back to my calm life in Lilburn. At least I thought it was calm until I heard about all the drama going on in the library system. The excitement never ends.

Family Wedding -- It Must Be Summer!

2009-07-02T13:07:00.000-07:00

The symbol of summer for our family has once again arrived at our house -- a wedding invitation. Over the last several years, my son and five of my many nieces and nephews have said "I do" in assorted locations: Arizona, Vermont, New York, Pennsylvania, Florida, and the Bahamas. A couple were in late spring but most were held during the summer. Megan, my sister Patty's daughter, will be getting married on the Jersey Shore in August. Other families schedule reunions; we usually just do weddings.

These are not simple affairs that last a few hours, but celebrations that continue over a weekend and often longer. The ceremonies are always inspiring and the beautiful receptions seem right out of a Martha Stewart book (and they might be!). My sisters appear elegant, chic and gracious. Until they get to the dance floor. Then, you'd better watch out or they'll mow you down as they work it out to "Jump" and "Celebration" and break the sound barrier with their theme song, "We Are Family." One sister changed her clothes and blew dry her hair three times at her daughter's festivities. It's tough to have fun like a teenager when you're going through menapause.

Megan's big day will be here before we know it. I sense a need to go shopping for some new dancing shoes.

Max-imum Joy

2009-05-19T09:43:00.000-07:00

Say what you will about two-year-olds, they know how to enjoy themselves. Kylie and her little brother Logan visited the library last Saturday so that Kylie could meet her idol, Max of Max and Ruby storybook fame. She sat quietly with me (usually asks "Where's Mama" and "Where's Daddy?" over and over) and listened to the story. She then stood on line with me forever since we seemed to keep ending up at the end of the queue no matter what and was so calm and patient, unlike her grandma who wanted to smack the charming little brat who screamed, "You cutted in, you cutted in" at the top of her lungs. As we got close to Max, she beamed with joy and her little arms shook in excitement. She then let her hero hug her and posed for a picture. If I could figure out how to attach a photo to this I'd do it.

My home computer is dead as a doornail so I use the one at work while I'm on the help line in between calls. One of our callers recently asked me "How much is a circumcision"? And people think my job must be boring!

The excitement didn't end with Max since we all went to eat at Bambinelli's. Thank goodness it was a pretty slow time! Kylie danced around the table (had her first ballet class that morning) twirling spaghetti as if it was streamers. Her mom ordered her ice cream for dessert after her "bites" and it arrived in a wine glass -- idiot wait staff. Her brother, who is the closest thing to a football player any 10-month old could possibly be, wasted no time scooping the ice cream out of the glass until it finally broke. His aunt Keri plopped him onto her lap and he immediately knocked her full glass of water onto her lap and he didn't have one drop on himself. Of course, she was going directly to see her boyfriend too so no chance to change. Luckily, it was very warm out and she dried before she knew it.

My replacements are here so I'll keep you posted on the exhausting -- I mean wonderful -- tales of grandmahood again soon. Toodles for now.

A Bit of Celtic Charm

2009-04-18T15:29:00.000-07:00

Is there anyone who hasn't seen and heard the Scottish lady, Susan Boyle, who knocked the socks off the judges and audience of "Britain's Got Talent," England's equivalent of American Idol? Just to see the look of shock on Simon Cowell's face and to watch the smug spectators' snide expressions turn to "gobsmacked" looks of awe and admiration was priceless. I rarely buy CD's but I'm definitely purchasing hers when it comes out.

I am such a fan of almost everything Celtic these days. My green roots are showing -- they might be an improvement over the grey ones -- and I'm consumed with reading all kinds of novels set in Ireland and Scotland. Keri and I are planning to take a trip to Ireland and hopefully visit Scotland as well next year -- if she doesn't do something major to change that, like get married!

My parents come from County Carlow, a very small area but where many of our Irish priests in this country went to seminary. We hope to trace my family tree. Apparently, the Irish are very eager to sell you your "history" so it is necessary to bring birth or death certificates along to make sure you get your real family's information. We'll tour some of the big spots like a castle and the Blarney Stone but we are both eager to get to know some of the local folk, which my daughter assures me can be best accomplished by frequent visits to the pubs. Should be an interesting trip -- if we can remember any of the sights.

So, for the time being, may the road rise to meet you ... And when you need to see that the impossible sometimes really does come true, go to youtube to listen to Susan Boyle.

2009-03-06T12:04:00.000-08:00

Spring is springing into life, thank goodness. I can go back to being lazy, reading out on the porch (if I can beat the cat to my chair) instead of being lazy, reading inside. A few of my favorite writing ladies have come out with new books very recently and it has been wonderful to meet all their new characters.

I just read Maeve Binchy's Heart and Soul and loved it. Maeve has retired any number of times over the last several years but then yells, "Surprise"! and pops out another wonderful novel. This one was better than her last couple in my opinion. Then there's my favorite lass, Cathy Kelly, whose Lessons in Heartbreak finally made it to this country. A lot of it took place in New York but the publishers still took their sweet time releasing it here. Maybe they were waiting until close to St. Patrick's Day -- who knows! Another couple of ladies to check out if you're looking for a bit of blarney are Patricia Scanlan, Cecelia Ahern (do not judge her by the movie of her book, P.S. I Love You), and Sharon Owens from Belfast. Sharon can be hilarious in her stories. She has a few out that are in the library (others can be gotten through inter-library loan): The Tea House on Mulberry Street, The Ballroom on Magnolia Street, and The Tavern on Maple Street.

The new breed of Irish authors is so much more fun than the depressing old guys -- no offense to James Joyce fans, etc., but they didn't exactly make you chuckle. Patrick Taylor is probably as old as I am but he's a hoot. He wrote the Irish doctor books and it makes you wish you could kick your HMO to the curb and run to the office he runs with Barry, the new,young doctor.

So, if you get tired of drinking green beer or stomping on snakes, grab one of the new Celtic generation's editions and maybe an Irish coffee to go with it. Enjoy.

TALK DEFINITELY ISN'T CHEAP

2009-02-19T07:51:00.000-08:00

It's been a while -- lots going on at work and I was the lucky recipient of Keri's nasty cold.

I know I tend to have my moments of being high-strung, emotional -- okay, crazy, but I decided this morning, during my "chat" with the beloved ATT that I would prefer to be the crazy lady than a robot. I would have sworn I was talking to the automated message that intones coldly, "all representatives are currently busy with other customers." This fella was probably listening to his ipod and playing a video game as he told me about my "great rate" which was supposed to be a greater rate than what I had been paying but amounted to $15.51 MORE than previous bills. He kept saying, "give me just a moment" -- I stopped counting after the seventh utterance. He could not have cared less if I dropped my account -- actually, he was probably hoping for it. Anyway, I'm staying with them for a while since I'm supposedly restored to my old rate, which is not the outstanding bargain he wanted me to believe but once I'm on the Social Security dole, ATT will supposedly take $13 off every month which is "a really great rate" according to Mr. Robot.

Enough of my whining. I heard an oldie but goodie on the radio the other night and the lyrics have been with me since then: "If you believe in forever, life is just a one night stand. If there's a rock & roll heaven, you know they've got a hell of a band"!

Amen.

Anti-Social Security

2009-01-21T14:16:00.000-08:00

I called the Social Security offices today to find out how much money I'll rake in monthly once I get old -- in two months. I spoke to a very nice young lady in Cleveland, Ohio who assured me that I was doing the right thing by applying for my own benefits to start once I turn 62 and that they could take care of it by phone interview.

Okay, the interviewer who initially sounded as if she had just been woken up from a nap (2 pm) and would rather be having a root canal also told me I was doing the right thing by applying for my own benefits now. I was almost giddy -- I didn't have to go sit in a horrible office and wait forever to talk to someone who would possibly be even less enthused about talking to me and they would see to it that I started getting money right after my birthday. What a wonderful world! I really need to have the rose tint removed from my glasses!

The lovely lady asked how much I earn and when I told her the embarrassingly low amount (hey, it's government work) she said, "I will pay you nothing. Nothing." Apparently, since I earn more than $14,000-something a year, I'm not deserving of receiving the money they have been removing from my paychecks since 1967. I was then told I could receive one check (quite small) in December because since my birthday is in the latter part of the year, it has to be postponed until Dec. Excuse me - since when is the fourth month considered the second half of the year?!

The woman actually turned out to be very sweet and we chatted a bit. The long and short of this interview was that anyone who continues to work full-time past 62 or who earns more than the bare poverty level is considered by government standards to be a moron or a glutton for punishment. I know I should be glad that I'll receive some benefits, but who knows if they'll still be there in four years!

The call made me realize that the organization is due for a name change: they're really not very sociable and our benefits are by no means secure.

Another Pleasant Valley Sunday

2009-01-11T15:40:00.001-08:00

As my dad used to say when he'd answer my weekly phone calls, "Happy Sunday." The day started well since I actually got enough sleep and had time to read some of my book of the moment, Italian Lessons, by Peter Pezzelli.

Then, my favorite priest and one of the funniest of all time, Fr. Small -- a young fella from Emory and St. Pius H.S.-- said Mass. When we got to the Lord's Prayer, the old gent next to me whipered a few things, none of which I understood and he was speaking English. I think he was asking me if it was all right to hold my hand but who knows? Then, he said "okay" after every statement of the prayer. Our Father -- okay! Who art in heaven -- okay! Hallowed be Thy name -- okay! You get the picture. At the sign of peace, after he hugged his sweet wife on the other side of him, he leaned over to me, kissed my cheek and said, "thank you, honey." His wife shook my hand and also said thank you. Okay, it doesn't take anything at all to make me tear up at church and that did me in.

Keri's home now, doing laundry, eating, discussing her take on the world and how it should be run, talking on the phone and just being plain old Keri which I thoroughly enjoy.

Okay, happy Sunday!

A Wonderful Christmas

2008-12-29T08:06:00.000-08:00

Christmas was wonderful. Only the Grinch or Scrooge wouldn't have laughed and felt happiness bubbling up inside just watching Kylie and Logan.

She smiled the entire time -- not just because of the gifts that flowed around her like lava but, it seemed to me, because she was so glad she and her brother were being honored on this special holiday. That child has perfect comedic timing. She loves having her picture taken and posed with a big grin, and then just as the button was being pushed, she held Richie Bear completely in front of her.

Aside from Eric and Keri with their yearly demand for lasagne, I am not usually sought out for my cooking skills. Okay, mac and cheese is not a culinary achievement but I feel like Julia Child as Kylie scoops the morsels up with her fingers and hands me the spoon to allow me to feed her a bit. How does she read me so well?

Her little brother also has the gift to make you feel special. He just smiles beatifically as you squeeze him. I have never seen Alexa look so peaceful as when she fed him a bottle -- she was positively transformed.

They seem to be a perfect team to me. Kylie will run the show and Logan will play his part, admiring her direction all the way, but will no doubt sit back after a little while just to enjoy the scenery. He'll say, "chill, Kylie, just chill for a while," with a big smile and then we'll know his grandad Stan passed down a gene or two.

I got up this morning and when I went to put away some Christmas bags I had to pull out years and years worth of stuff from an overcrowded closet. I came upon a book with Keri's first published prose, written when she was in kindergarten. Luckily, there was a translation because it was obvious she hadn't learned phonex (and never did, thanks to the idiotic whole language phase in the school system in the '90's). Her story was about a friendly giant ("the Jit") who shared his food with her, "hot dogs as big and long as a car" and who "can climb up mountains in one step."

I can see that kind of imagination in Kylie and with all the reading she and her mom do, I know she will have fantabulous stories to share very soon. Hers might also need some translating but I can't wait to hear them.

This is the time for resolutions. I've got one and only one: Have fun! I know two little people who will help me to stick with it. Happy New Year.

We Need a Little Christmas

2008-12-05T06:15:00.000-08:00

You know how everyone always says, "Christmas is for kids"? And of course, all the marketing spiels say that there is a kid in all of us -- but who believes advertisers? So, shocked am I that behind all these bags and wrinkles there lives a clammoring six-year-old. I can't wait to get out to Target later and see all the toys and books that I know Kylie and Logan absolutely have to have even though there isn't an empty inch of space in their playroom.

I got positively giddy yesterday when I saw that a small set of Christmas lights that never fit on anything were just the right size for the doll house my brother-in-law built for Keri about 20 years ago. That is the only thing in my house decorated right now but it's a start.

This Thanksgiving was so much fun -- the best in four years for me -- just being with family. Okay, sharing books with Kylie is one of the highlights in my life. I loved it when she walked backwards and wiggled her little butt into my lap, ready for the books I brought. One was about the Nativity and had tiny stuffed animals -- she knew sheep instantly and loudly. The petting zoo trips haven't been wasted on her.

I have been hearing from well-meaning people and bereavement experts over the last few years that the holidays are really rough when you're grieving. I wonder if they were born with that wisdom or had to learn it!!! Then there are those who are a quart low on empathy and proclaim, "Get on with life." Lately, I'm finding (surprisingly so) that they're both right. This Christmas season, or Advent to be specific, is so much more hopeful and peaceful. It really is possible to feel real joy while missing someone.

I work with a woman who refuses to read any book that is "bittersweet." I love those novels -- maybe because I feel comfortable with them. Isn't real life bittersweet? You've got your laughs and your tears, now and then at the exact same time, but perhaps I'm unique there. When I was pregnant with Keri, I remember telling the doctor during a visit that I was very emotional and would laugh and cry at the same time. He was nice about it but told me later that he had been very concerned for me since he found that behavior quite strange. Obviously, the dear man didn't know me very well.

I better get busy -- the North Pole calls and says I am way behind, but this year there is no stress, well, a teeny bit but that's okay. Let's go jingle some bells!

Ho, Ho, Ho befor Gobble, Gobble?

2008-11-23T18:18:00.000-08:00

The Christmas season is here, according to the stores and the Home and Gardening television channel. Wait a minute -- did I sleep through Thanksgiving?

Now that I am a joyful, proud grandma, Christmas can't come soon enough. But it just doesn't seem right that Thanksgiving, a meaningful and sentimental celebration for families, should be preempted by "holiday" festivities, meaning Christmas sales, shows and assorted activities.

I went on a tour of five homes in Lilburn today with three friends. Each one was magnificently decorated for Christmas with trees and elaborate trimmings in every room. In the last house, Santa Claus served sips of Chardonnay to visitors ogling his wine cellar.

The homes were all lovely in different ways. Some were warm and cozy and you could tell a family really lived there. Some displayed amazing collections of Christmas villages and nostalgic figurines. One was elegant and sophisticated but didn't seem to say "sit down for a while" as much as to whisper, "didn't our interior designer do a faaaaabulous job"?

As I left each place, I wondered if the owners would be celebrating Thanksgiving at home. And if so, wouldn't it feel strange to be carving Tom Turkey to the beat of Jingle Bells?

Of course, those people are now fully prepared to smugly sit back and admire their fully decked out abodes and laugh at prograstinators like me who will be untangling strings of lights and scavenging through bags of ornaments in mid-December. The holidays have begun!

Potty Talk

2008-11-20T05:48:00.000-08:00

Here I am, as usual, a day late and a dollar short! Yesterday was National Toilet Day and I forgot to observe it.

The mention of it made me think of my own private (until now) fearful relationship with the toilet. I have been the not so proud owner of exploding toilets, leaking toilets and apparently possessed toilets (one was known to let out eerie noises only at certain times of the night).

A coworker happened to tell me a few years ago that when her roommate went to use the commode, surprise, surprise, an alligator appeared in the bowl. I didn't doubt her for a second. Back in the '60's in the suburbs of New York City, a very popular present for high school boys to give their girlfriends for occasions when they were expected to come bearing gifts was a baby alligator. Why pet stores would sell such a creature is still beyond me but they did. The girls would be either amused, horrified, or annoyed at their beloved's lack of imagination. The mothers usually found no humor in this whatsoever and would promptly discard the critter into the toilet and flush it into the already overly inhabited New York sewage system.

Esso, which later became Exxon, advertised "Put a Tiger in Your Tank" for years -- they probably didn't realize their beloved animal had serious competition in many domestic tanks.

I read on-line that in Edinburgh, Scotland, a number of college students taped campus toilets shut to try to bring attention to the very serious problem of lack of proper sanitation across the globe. An estimated 40% of the world's population does not have the luxury of using bathrooms the way we are so used to taking for granted.

It puts a new emphasis on the severe consequences of our water shortage in the South and when we sit on the throne helps us to appreciate the possibly endangered opportunity.

2008-11-17T09:40:00.000-08:00

Fall is here -- even in Georgia, hooray!!! I don't love the cold, windy days and nights but I don't consider 60 degrees freezing. I love the feeling of Autumn and all the things that come with it -- beautiful leaves, even if they are colorfully carpeting the lawn, warm apple cidar, fall festivals, being outside more, and Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday.

As I was dashing off to work a few days ago -- I'm always dashing because I'm always running late -- I noticed a holly bush that is climbing up the chimney has bloomed. Maybe not earth-shattering news, but I've been in this house since 1985 and not one of the several holly bushes has ever produced one red berry. I got so excited and today ran out and snapped off a couple of twigs to brighten up one of the rooms. Of course, then I panicked about the very real possibility of my cat attacking one of the sprigs, chomping on its fruit and being found dead on the carpet hours later.

Amber, the cat, was brought home by my husband, Stan, nine years ago, after she had been found in a fire and brought to his office. We were not "cat people" but he fell in love with her and thus we were permitted to become her family, which she undoubtedly would sometimes like to reconsider. Anyway, he passed away in 2005 and she and I have both done our share of grieving. She stopped grooming for a while and her usually shiny, thick white mane stuck up in gray tufts all over, showing bare pink spots of her back. The vet said she was mourning. Hey, so was I but I couldn't stop washing my hair. We are now best buds and she is on my lap as I write this.

I realized, as I guess everyone who loses someone they love does eventually, that the sad moments come without any bidding so you need to notice the little joys in life and appreciate them as gifts. When I look at my two precious grandchildren who have never met their granddad, I try to focus on how blessed I am to have them. One of my goals in life is to keep a journal of stories about our family life as their dad and Aunt Keri were growing up.

I figure this way they will have some idea of the funny, loving family man who played Santa Claus every Christmas for a few years and who was their dad's best buddy almost all his life. I hope they will get a glimpse of how their daddy was a cute little boy who wore glasses and cried when he was told he didn't have to wear them anymore because I had told him he looked handsome in them, and who left handprints on ceilings because he was always practicing basketball jumps. I'm sure Eric will not want me to share some of my memories of his teenage years but we'll see about that when the time comes. Even grandmas need their private arsenals!

It's all part of a good life -- the funny memories and the sadness that he won't be physically in new ones but will always be a part of our family life. He still makes me laugh, even when I'm crying. Yes, that might be strange but what's a normal life without its quirks?

Whether it's a holly bush that blooms for the first time, or a baby who grins at you, or a beautiful crisp fall day that makes you glad to be alive, I hope you can laugh today even if there are a few tears.

Anita