IT'S ALL RELATIVE(S)
Summer is here in all its blazing glory -- Hotlanta reported the highest temperature today to be 106 degrees but it's only 103 at almost 5 p.m.! Hot enough to close the main part of the library which is quite incredible.
I like summer -- most of the time -- and love the idea of getting away for a few days. My mom used to shake her head and say, "My girls always think they should have summer vacation." It did take some of us more time to adust to the real world of working throughout the year but even in middle age (old for some of us), we still look forward to taking a summer vacation.
This year, three sisters and I will get together at Judy's house in Woodstock, VT, and I can't wait. Spending five days in a quaint New England village that was once labeld "the prettiest small town in America" sounds like heaven. I haven't been there since my son was six months old and he's now 38, so it will be a whole new experience for me. I'm looking forward to seeing the gorge and covered bridge near Judy's home and the breathtaking landscape that Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys once explored. And I know Judy will have some fun day trips planned and we'll undoubtedly do a bit of shopping.
What I am looking forward to more than anything though is relaxing at home with Judy, Patty and Suzie and catching up on our lives. Judy has apologized that they don't have cell phone service or good internet access in her house and I am delighted. Suzie is a busy real estate agent and is on call 24/7 and Patty, who owns and runs a restaurant with her family, is constantly barraged with problems and questions. If really necessary, they can go down the hill to make a call but I'm hoping they cut that off at night.
The last time we got together was in January when we gathered at Patty's house in Yardley, PA, near the Delaware River. We went to see Jersey Boys in New York City and enjoyed several meals at the Continental Tavern where George Washington and his men are alleged to have wet their whistles. We ate so much of the fantastic tapinade that our eyes were practically closed one morning from all the salt. But it was worth it! The very best part of our visit though was staying up late and just talking. We laughed over family stories that we share almost every time we're together, we cried a little over losing our dad last September, and we caught up on each other's lives.
I feel so blessed that I am one of Grace's girls, as an aunt used to refer to Mom's daughters. With eight of their own (7 girls, one boy), ranging in age from 13 down to to two months old, they didn't need a lanky, shell-shocked, awkward 14 year-old in their home. But they have always considered me a sister and a daughter. One of my fondest memories is when Patty got into a fist fight with an obnoxious girl at the beach when she said I wasn't really their sister. My last name was different (in deference to my real deceased parents) which was kind of a give-away but Patty, at 10 years old, had never thought of that.
I used to focus on how different I was from the other kids in the family. I wasn't athletic and any of them could practically compete in the Olympics swimming events; I burned to a crisp as they turned golden brown; I wasn't as quick scholastically as they were and I defintely lacked their charm and charisma, not to mention their looks. Now at 65, I laugh and say "Who cares?" And they don't care either, which is wonderful. We are bound by love, by memories and by commitment. We are sisters, forever and ever.
I don't know how to break it to them but my daughter has told me that I can pick some songs to be played at her wedding in October but she will not allow "We Are Family" by Sly and the Family Stone to be played. What?! That is my family's theme song! I guess we'll get over it or I'll manage to sneak it onto the play list. Keri will be too happy to even notice.
Have a wonderful summer and if you can get together with family and friends, enjoy every minute of it, no matter where it is. Summer rocks!!!
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Gift of Grace
Yesterday was a milestone! It was the 14th anniversary of my mom's death and my 65th birthday. Now, even the federal government considers me old, although not old enough to pay out Social Security. Everyone assumes that the day must be sad for me since, of course, it brings up sad memories. Actually, in a sense, it's joyful for me because of a specific memory I'll always have.
Stan and I had gone out to dinner and to see Titanic on my 51st birthday. When we arrived home, my daughter Keri told me I had messages from several of my sisters wishing me a happy birthday but that they all sounded sad. Both she and Eric sensed something had happened to Grandmom who had been sick for a few months. Of course, their feelings were confirmed and I was clearly upset. Keri went to get me a glass of water and yelled for me to come into the kitchen. All I could think was, "What now"?
I had received a little plant, I think a type of violet, as a Christmas gift and it was sitting on the windowsill, looking pathetically neglected. I kept telling myself to dispose of it but hadn't gotten around to it.
When I walked into the kitchen to see what had grabbed Keri's attention so strongly, she pointed to the plant. First of all, Keri is not usually all that observant of home furnishing or plants so this had really struck her as incredible. The plant was totally transformed, with shiny green leaves and beautiful little purple flowers. No one had watered it or substituted a new healthy one in place of the poor little bedraggled specimen.
As I walked over to examine it, I clearly heard my mother's voice, "Happy Birthday, dear." She was still with us and always will be. Her name is Grace and she truly is a gift to all her family.
So, every year on my birthday, I smile because I know it will be a good day -- I'll receive a gift of Grace in one form or another. This year's miracle was that I received cards from my sisters on time, possibly the first time ever. I'm often guilty of that too; we have a family of procrastinators.
I wish you a happy Easter and hope you will receive much love and grace.
Stan and I had gone out to dinner and to see Titanic on my 51st birthday. When we arrived home, my daughter Keri told me I had messages from several of my sisters wishing me a happy birthday but that they all sounded sad. Both she and Eric sensed something had happened to Grandmom who had been sick for a few months. Of course, their feelings were confirmed and I was clearly upset. Keri went to get me a glass of water and yelled for me to come into the kitchen. All I could think was, "What now"?
I had received a little plant, I think a type of violet, as a Christmas gift and it was sitting on the windowsill, looking pathetically neglected. I kept telling myself to dispose of it but hadn't gotten around to it.
When I walked into the kitchen to see what had grabbed Keri's attention so strongly, she pointed to the plant. First of all, Keri is not usually all that observant of home furnishing or plants so this had really struck her as incredible. The plant was totally transformed, with shiny green leaves and beautiful little purple flowers. No one had watered it or substituted a new healthy one in place of the poor little bedraggled specimen.
As I walked over to examine it, I clearly heard my mother's voice, "Happy Birthday, dear." She was still with us and always will be. Her name is Grace and she truly is a gift to all her family.
So, every year on my birthday, I smile because I know it will be a good day -- I'll receive a gift of Grace in one form or another. This year's miracle was that I received cards from my sisters on time, possibly the first time ever. I'm often guilty of that too; we have a family of procrastinators.
I wish you a happy Easter and hope you will receive much love and grace.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Name Game
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
An Unexpected Adventure
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!
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!
Thursday, April 21, 2011
TO MEET OR NOT TO MEET
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.
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.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Little Things -- for Better or Worse
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.
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.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Is Spring Really Here?
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.
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.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
SNOWY DAY DREAMS
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.
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.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
CHRISTMAS STORIES
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.
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.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
A Happy Yarn
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.
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.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Memories of Katrina
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.
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.
Friday, August 6, 2010
The Beat Goes On
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.
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."
Monday, July 19, 2010
STORY TIME
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.
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.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Summer Wear
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.
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.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
YELLOW IS NOT THE NEW GREEN!
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.
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.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
A Few Good Words
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Lights, Action, Camera
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!
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!
Thursday, April 29, 2010
FAMILY TIME
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
WELCOME, SOPHIE!
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.
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.
Friday, April 2, 2010
NOT EXACTLY TRADITIONAL
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.
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.
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