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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.