silly gals

The trip to Mexico was for and about the girls. Lisa and I followed along and simply enjoyed the company of five great teenaged girls who handled themselves with poised maturity. Lisa and I were able to relax and, well, get silly at times. More silly than might befit women our age.

Again, I'll let some photos tell the story. I ain't proud! And Lisa, I hope you aren't, either.

Not even in focus, but this makes me laugh!



On the turi-bus in Mexico City



It rained. And was windy. We bought ponchos for pesos.

 

Lisa being a sport.

 What a blast. Last post: at the pyramids and heading home!

fly the hilarious skies

A couple of weeks ago, I made the trip to Nashville to visit my dad. But this time I traded the 7-hour drive for a one-hour flight. Fortunately for me, I flew Southwest Airlines.

The flight was packed. In agonizing slowness, the passengers finally were seated. Why don't more people check their bags? It's FREE on Southwest. I guess folks are carrying highly valuable belongings because they insist on hauling it all into the cabin.

Once settled, our show began. As the flight attendants demonstrated the emergency oxygen equipment, the one speaking said, "if your do all this and yours doesn't work, I'm sorry. It just wasn't your day." The plane erupted in laughter.

She followed up with, "if you're traveling with small children ... what on earth were you thinking?" I loved that one. I always wonder why airlines instruct "parents traveling with young children" to board first? To me, it's best to board last and get off first when traveling with squirrely kids. In fact, why not board everyone from back to front and seat parents and kids in the bulkhead?

They were just warming up. The lights dimmed as we taxiied and a sultry, male voice floated over us: "You're getting sleepy. You're not thirsty, and peanuts give you gas." Wow.

The first flight attendant then reminded us, "there's no smoking permitted on this aircraft, and not in the lavatory, either. If we find you smoking, you'll be asked to step out on the patio where you'll view our feature film, "Gone With The Wind." By now people were howling.

Finally, as we landed and were told where to make flight connections, the flight attendant said, "and if you're connecting to another airline, we don't care about you. Now get off!"

Air travel can be stressful and monotonous. But this wasn't my first fun experience with Southwest. Choose them next time you fly; you might have a special treat!

kinder and gentler

I guess it had been awhile since I'd gotten gas at Speedway. In any event, the pump wouldn't recognize my rewards card. Not willing to forfeit the 3-cents-a-gallon savings, I walked inside.

Young clerk: "Do you want me to come help you at the pump, honey?"

Me, slightly startled at her endearing term: "Uh, I don't think so, thanks, my rewards card just isn't working."

When she couldn't get my card to work, either, she said, "Well, you let me know if you need help, dear," as if the problem was my senility.

I've noticed: people are treating me differently. Subtle at times, but definitely a noticeable change. I don't ever remember people being so - nice - to me in the past. Holding doors, "oh, you first." Kinder, gentler. It's funny, I still think and feel young, like in my 20's or 30's. But obviously I don't look so young. Hair, body shape, wrinkles, whatever.

Maybe some would be bothered by this deferential treatment. But I'm not bothered, just humored. I wonder if women my age who, um, haven't yet "gone gray" have a different experience?

There you have it. Aging has its perks so I'm not about to cover it up! Wouldn't it be great if we could all treat each other in a kinder and gentler fashion?

Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life.

Proverbs 16:31

today's laugh

This text-messaging isn't always reliable. A couple of days ago, my son Mark, the soon-daddy-to-be, sent a text out after he and Jill had a doctor's appointment. Well. Somehow it missed me AND Bill and we didn't hear from him until several hours later. He's a reticent guy anyway, coming forth with only the essentials. I'm hoping I'll get the memo when his baby's on the way.

This morning I texted Mark and asked, "is baby girl stirring at all this morning?"

The answer came. "Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, she's in the crib sleeping, wanna come see her?"

Bahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

the horrible holes

I know, I know. Our kids keep reminding me. The holes on the wall of our stairwell are utterly ridiculous. They clearly reflect that champion procrastinators live in this house. I blame them on the builder, who neglected to build an access to the tub plumbing.

When a plumber had to cut into the wall to repair the plumbing about two years ago, trouble resulted. For about a year, I covered it with - I am not making this up - a piece of Christmas wrapping paper in a poster frame. Well, that was acceptable for December and part of January, but by July it was just stupidly pathetic.

So the houseguests/relatives who were here last September are coming again in two weeks and I absolutely must find an acceptable alternative to disguise the holes.

Look out. I have an idea and it doesn't involve wrapping paper. But I'm also taking suggestions. Please hurry!

Indiana cows

In case you think we - or someone else - posed these cows, no. They're the real deal.  During Saturday's birthday trip to Muncie, Indiana, Katie and I yelled, "stop!" Bill backed up so we could photograph this trio of cows.

Two are rump-to-rump, perfectly lined up. The third is straddling the two. What on earth could they have in mind? Is it family bonding? Pre-mating? Post-mating? A stance predicting impending weather?

Any cow experts out there, I'd like to know!

Who says the country is boring?

(And last year, also in Indiana, we saw a goat getting a boost from a goat buddy: front hooves on the other goat's rump in order to nibble from a tree. Indiana animals are an odd lot!)

with a tree on top, don't, DON'T pull into the garage!

I'm pleased to announce that we did NOT pull into the garage whilst our Christmas tree was tied atop the van. Yay us!

Who would do that, you ask? I did. Yes, I most certainly did, probably ten years ago. But I had four giddy kids in the van at the time, all of them loudly drunk on Christmas expectation. We'd just visited Bill at his office, where a lovely Christmas open house was in progress. After letting them eat a free dinner of BBQ weenies and onion dip, I corralled the kids and headed home. Garage door up, pull in.

Scrreeeeech, scratch. My four sobered up in a hurry. "MOM! THE TREE'S STILL ON THE VAN!"
Duh. I knew that. Well, I did know it, but as harried moms tend to do, I forgot for the few seconds it took to pull into the garage and wedge the tree between van and garage door. Dang.

The boys were big enough to tackle the problem, which, picture this, was a tree in a tight spot. I'd had it. Had enough of kids, Christmas, BBQ weenies, and trees. I walked into the house and let them solve it.

They scooted and slid it right off. And we all laughed.

Every year they remind me of my Christmas lapse in judgment. I'm sure this year will be no different.

consider the clothespin

Ah, the clothespin: where would I be without it?

Have you ever been in someone else's home and marveled at the doo-hickies they use that you don't? And vice versa? So it is with clothespins. It seems that few people use them anymore. Or am I mistaken?

My most frequent use of clothespins occurs in the kitchen. We keep a stash of them for sealing bags of tortilla chips and pretzels. Those over-sized, awkward chip clips just won't do. The tension on those things is utterly pathetic. Of course our clothespins are put into service hanging wet rags and rubber gloves, too.

For the first five years of married life, I used clothespins for their intended purpose because we didn't have a clothes dryer in Florida. If we still lived in a sunnier, drier climate, I would still hang clothes outside to dry. It's a spiritual experience if you ask me.

In a pinch, I've used a clothespin instead of a paper clip, particularly on large stacks of paper.

In our family, we devised a game that is probably the dumbest ever; really more of a prank. The victim is anyone wearing a hooded sweatshirt. Over the course of an evening, the prankster clips as many clothespins on the victim's hood as possible without being discovered. This is a more sophisticated version of sticking a sign that says "kick me" on someone's back. Everyone except the victim knows what's going on. We've had some good laughs from it.

It seems to me that we used clothespins once for a tie-dying project, but I'm not certain.

As kids we derived hours of entertainment by clothes-pinning baseball cards on the spokes of our bikes. "Wackety-wack-wackety-wack" they went as we rode up and down our street. A really cool sound effect!

Thank you, Mr. David M. Smith of Springfield, Vermont, who in 1853 invented this functional wonder. You are a clever man. Surely your wife was elated that at last she could easily 'peg' the laundry out in the cool New England breeze!

How do you use clothespins? And if you have none, I recommend you pick up a bag, only about $2, and greatly improve your quality of life.

don't poison the in-laws

Sadly, middle age has set in. While I find many satisfactory aspects of growing older, the one that trips me up is my eyesight.

Today it dawned on me, probably a few weeks too late, to sprinkle that pre-emergent weed-preventer stuff under our pine trees. Darn those weeds beat and confound me every year.

It was after the sprinkling that I glanced at the label to see if I'd done it correctly. I learned this from my mother: "when all else fails, read the directions," she used to say, and always with a self-indulgent chuckle.

And there on the label, I'm not kidding, I saw:

"Not for use on in-laws."

On closer inspection, of course, I realized it really said,

"Not for use on lawns."

Which is way more sensible. But a lot less humorous.

April fooling

I couldn't come up with some wild, wonderfully believable April Fool's joke to post, so I am sharing some I remember from years past.

One morning, as a teen, my brother Pat came running upstairs yelling, "the basement's flooded!" His bedroom, most of our toys, our TV room and the laundry were all in the basement and our mother lived in fear of having to mop it all in the event of a flood. Just as she fell for it he said, "April Fool!"

I still boast of the year I 'got' all my kids in a simple prank. On occasion, deer would wander from the woods into our front yard. It was a most exciting event. So one April first, I went to the living room windows and hollered, "deer out front!" All four kids came trotting in. As they rounded the corner I said, "oh, they've run to the back!" And the children scampered to the back of the house, hoping to catch sight of the deer. By the time I fooled them into running to the front again, I squealed, "April fool!" and laughed hysterically.

Well, I just got my husband Bill. I went up to the washer, pulling the knob in and out and hollered, "great, the washer's not coming on!" And I snapped the knob a few more times for drama.

"What?" He bit. "I'll go down and check the circuits." After a few minutes of his rumbling around the basement, I tiptoed down.

"Find anything?" I asked.
"No," he was none too happy.
"Have you checked the calendar?"
"Huh?" Still clueless.
"It's April Fool's day!"

What April Fool's jokes do you remember, either as the fooled or the fooler?

a most forgettable spring break

spring break 1996*

An article in Sunday's paper caught my eye: "A Break from Tradition: Ohio offers unusual ideas for spring vacation." The article details some "exciting" and money-saving spring break alternatives. Maple syrup festivals! Museums! Cleveland's Expo Center! And THREE zoos: Cincinnati, Columbus and Cleveland.

The writer has nothing on our family, who hit upon the idea of a "stay-cation" in 1996. What we failed to take into account was the minor detail of taking our kids along. Four kids who, it turned out, seemed to be suffering acute "bad humors" as my mother used to put it.

Or the stars misaligned.
Or bad karma.
Nah. The kids were just downright bad those three days.

Our destination: Salt Fork state park in east-central Ohio. Ohio's largest park! Lakeside cabins! Indoor pool at the lodge! Miles of hiking trails! A virtual nirvana, it would seem.

Well. Immediately upon arrival, our darling foursome conspired to make this the getaway from you-know-where.

Bed-jumping.
Head-smacking.
Brother-chasing.
Sister-tormenting.
Door-slamming.
Interminable tattling.
A sudden aversion to board games.
Uncontrollable, obnoxious squealing and laughing.
Bodily noise-making. Lots of that.

Now, Bill and I were fully capable of and experienced in discipline. But the lakeside cabin was, at best, cramped quarters for six and the weather too cold and rainy to banish four kids outside for the day. And night. Maybe we were just tuckered out parents, too winter-weary, too annoyed, too something to improve the situation. What can I say? Family life isn't perfect.

We hiked the slippery, muddy trails. For 45 minutes. We swam in the lodge pool: the one saving activity of the trip. At wit's end, we ventured to the nearest town to check out a well-known diner. We ate at that diner three times in two days for entertainment.

On the drive home, I promised myself: we just took our first and last spring break in Ohio. I also wondered if perhaps the children had outfoxed us: they weren't crazy about the idea from the start, and their minds wandered to warmer destinations for our cold Ohio spring breaks.

Local spring break? A romantic get-away with your honey, perhaps. But you might consider leaving the kids at home, especially if you have four who are in a season of acute bad humor.

* Dad - trying to be postive.
   Katie, 6 - the persecuted, dejected youngest.
   David, 12 - the "angel" oldest, undoubtedly with something up his sleeve.
   Mark, 8 - kicking someone under the picnic table.
   Dan, 11 - hoping he won't be caught.

Mother's Day in reverse

One gorgeously sunny Mother's Day, my son Mark took me golfing. Hidden Valley golf course, a par-three here in town set the stage for a riotous afternoon.

First off, I was deeply touched that my 14-year-old would be seen in public with me, and golfing together at that. And frankly, I might have chosen to spend the afternoon sitting in the sun. But off we went.

My thoughtful son insisted on renting a golf cart to give his mom an afternoon of pampering. Therein lurked the problem.

We hacked our way through the first couple of holes, enjoying each other's company. But around the fourth hole, far from the clubhouse, our golf cart took on an evil mind of its own.

Since Mark was considered underage for driving the cart, I was at the wheel. The cart decided to quit working; it absolutely wouldn't stay in gear. Forward gear, that is. I tried; then Mark tried. Finally, I threw it in reverse and voila! We were off, craning our necks to make sure we didn't collide with trees, ball-cleaners or - my biggest fear - other golfers. And so it continued through the next five holes.

The cart let out a soft beep-beep as we careened the course, warning others that we were moving in reverse. Of course, this scene put me in fits of laughter. Even the disdainful glares of a pair of men behind us couldn't straighten me up. And soon Mark was laughing, too. All these years later, we still laugh together over the memory.

It was a fine Mother's Day. Maybe even the best ever.

May your Mother's Day (whether or not you're a mother) be full of laughter, too.

question of the day

"You're married, right?"

This question came from a jovial gentleman in the Tampa airport as I boarded a train over to the next terminal for baggage claim.

He thought he was hilarious. I simply asked if the train was headed to the baggage claim area. He continued: "your husband does all the driving, right, and you don't know how to get places!"

I smiled and answered, "I managed to get from Ohio to Tampa on 2 airplanes on my own and I can follow a map."

As Chonda Pierce's mother used to say, "Do you want your face slapped?"

Let it be a lesson. As many moms have said, "think before you speak." Use your brain before you open your mouth.

And someday I'll write about my travels with four young children, driving WITHOUT my husband for many, many miles.

Conversation overheard

This was a real conversation, spoken by real people. I heard it myself. But I sure don't understand it.

Customer: I had to find my bike lock this morning.

Shopkeeper: Oh, yes. It's so important to lock up your bike!

Customer: Isn't that awful, when you can't even leave your bike without worrying about it being stolen?

Shopkeeper: That's for sure.

Customer: Yes - it's terrible!

Shopkeeper: And I just don't know what will happen after the November election!

Happy Birthday, Mom

story time - 1960

Today's my mom's 83rd birthday. She was born September 1, 1925. But there won't be a celebration, because she died at the age I am now, 53.

This post isn't intended to bring tears, but inspiration. Not sad sentimentality, but reflection.

My mom had maybe the best sense of humor of anyone I've ever known. As a child, I loved to laugh with her. So I laugh a lot with my kids. I think people with no sense of humor are missing out.

My mom loved the unlovable, like the mentally disabled (and very unpopular) girl she welcomed into our Girl Scout troop. So I try to be accepting of people such as this.

My mom knew without a doubt that God exists. She pointed this out to me when I was a teenager and questioning the purpose of life. So I have introduced my children to the creator of the universe.

My mom pretty much hated housecleaning. So I have followed suit.

Along the same lines, my mom secretly admired a relative she never met: "Aunt Betty," who was the scourge of the family for PLAYING THE PIANO INSTEAD OF DOING HER HOUSEWORK. So I look for fun pursuits in order to avoid housework.

My mom used to yell at us four kids. So I have yelled at my four kids, too.

One of my mom's favorite summer pastimes was taking us swimming at the town lake and "beach." So, I spent countless hours taking my kids swimming. (good for avoiding housework.)

My mom made the best southern fried chicken. I don't, but I'm sure I could make some since I spent many a dinner hour watching my mom fry chicken.

My mom embraced most new experiences with gusto: moving far away from her hometown, discovering the ocean, camping, road trips, hikes in the woods, welcoming new neighbors, ice skating and color TV. So I have tried to do the same because I think it's a good way to open kids' eyes to the world & people around them.

I'd say my mom was brave and I think I am, too, most of the time. I'd rather be a brave girl than a scared and cowardly girl.

My mom loved my dad. She found ways to express her lifelong commitment. So I learned what committed marriage meant, imperfect as it was.

My mom loved being a mom. I see this now but probably didn't then. Kids don't get that kind of stuff. Motherhood is the best job - and sometimes the worst - ever. And it's not even a job. It's like becoming a new person as you nuture new little persons.

My mom was excited about being a grandmother, but she didn't live long enough. I hope I will.

My mom didn't want a lot of stuff. Though she might have had some unrealized dreams, she was content with who and where she was. I strive for this, but don't often succeed.

I'm thinking of the best birthday gift I could give my mom. And I've decided what she'd like. I will honor her legacy by loving life, my husband and children. And being content. Recognizing God is God. I think mom would like for me to forget the dog hair in the hall and instead walk the dog in the woods.

She'd want me to love her grandchildren for her. So today, David, Dan, Mark, Katie, Jenny and Jill: know that I love you! Sometimes, the need to express this has unbearable urgency. I hope I've mothered - not smothered - you. Maybe, just maybe, God saved mom's unused love for me to pass on to you. So pardon me if I give too much.

And that's my happy birthday to mom.