I love a good road trip. Don’t even mind driving by myself every now and then. I take that opportunity to sing to my heart’s content. I sound just like the artist of the CD I’m playing!
In January, I was driving the road between Lubbock and Dallas. There were no CD’s in the car and radio reception was poor. I did happen to catch part of a Carrie Underwood song as I left Abilene, but it quickly faded.
Not to worry. I knew a couple of her songs. I decided to sing the one about her with the little baby in the car seat. She’s driving. I’m driving. Perfect choice. I couldn’t remember exactly how it started so I jumped to the chorus, “Jesus, take the wheee-eeeel. Take it from my hand. ‘Cause I can’t do this on my own. Nah nah nah nahnah....”...okay, so maybe I don’t know that one.
But! She does the one about messing up that guy’s car. Still with the auto theme. Another perfect choice. “Right now, he’s probably doing something...something something something and Shania karaoke. Right now...(ugh!) So I dug my keys into his car. (not car), I dug my keys into the side of his pretty little souped up four wheel drive...” (drive and side don’t rhyme, maybe it was four wheel ride) “Carved my name into his leather seeeeeats. I took a baseball bat and beat the lights...” (that can't be right) “Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats.”
That concert went nowhere fast.
Eastland was a few miles ahead, with a new WalMart, which meant clean restrooms and CD’s. So I stopped for a potty break and found the electronics department. There on the end cap was a display of new releases, and wouldn’t you know it, they had two Carrie Underwood CD’s. One was “Carrie Underwood Salutes the Grammys”. I looked on the back and “Jesus Take the Wheel” and “Right Now” were not listed. I picked up the other one. It said “A Carrie Underwood Tribute”. I checked the back and both of our greatest hits were listed, so I bought it and hit the road.
While I was at the Starbuck’s drive thru, I opened the package (grrrrrr) and popped it in. The music was a little slower than I remembered, and the intro was much longer...in fact, the entire song was instrumental. Had I bought a karaoke CD? Even better! Maybe the next trac would be of her singing the words, and then I could have my turn without her messing me up. I punched through all 18 songs...NOT ONE WORD. I pulled over and turned on the light to find the title, “A Carrie Underwood Tribute...by the Banjo Brothers. Or something like that. I bought a stinkin’ banjo CD!
I don’t hate banjos especially, but the point was to learn the words, not have “Deliverance” flashbacks. Now instead of singing “Jesus, Take the Wheel” and “Right Now!”, I’m singing, “...Take This Back to WalMart”.
RIGHT NOW!
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Ode to My Neti Pot
Dinner time was all for naught.
I couldn't taste the food I bought.
My throat was sore, my head was hot,
It must have been the flu I caught.
"It's only getting worse," I thought.
So Dr. Oz's help I sought.
On Oprah's show there was a spot,
With some girl rinsing out her snot.
At closer glance, I looked at what
Was in her hand...a neti pot?!
And at the store that's what I got.
Not a penicillin shot.
Now I can breathe, since I have taught
Myself to use a neti pot.
Thank you, Neti! Thanks a lot!
I couldn't taste the food I bought.
My throat was sore, my head was hot,
It must have been the flu I caught.
"It's only getting worse," I thought.
So Dr. Oz's help I sought.
On Oprah's show there was a spot,
With some girl rinsing out her snot.
At closer glance, I looked at what
Was in her hand...a neti pot?!
And at the store that's what I got.
Not a penicillin shot.
Now I can breathe, since I have taught
Myself to use a neti pot.
Thank you, Neti! Thanks a lot!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Miss You, Miss the Baby, Miss Texas!
Miss You, Miss the Baby, Miss Texas!
A year ago Karla Hale asked me to speak at the RE Women’s retreat about broken dreams. She had no way of knowing that the broken dream closest to my heart at the time was that we were leaving our friends and family in Texas and moving to Florida.
That seems a little petty now, as many of you are dealing with real life and death issues. But I couldn’t imagine that not being near our kids and future grandkids was anything in God’s plan for us. I had been at the hospital when all three of the Stevens’ babies were born. What would happen if I missed being there when Matt and Scott became dads?
Matt & Kyla were expecting their first baby January 2nd. We made airline reservations for Christmas afternoon, and planned to stay with one of you(!)until baby Mark was born. When Matt called to say the doctor wanted to induce on the 31st, we were relieved that we wouldn’t have to worry about missing the birth.
On Saturday morning, December 22nd around 5:00 Texas time, Matt called to say that they had been at the hospital since 4:00 and the doctor said they were staying. In my bravest voice, I said, “Matt, that’s great!”
“It’s okay, Mom. We’ll be okay.”
Knowing our flight was still 3 days away and the drive was 24 hours at best, we sent our love and told them we’d see them Christmas afternoon. There were surely no flights available the Saturday before Christmas. I knew it was tearing Drew up, too, so I wasn’t about to ask him to try to get another flight. However, the story of the crazy astronaut diaper lady flashed across my mind, and I had no problem running to the store for a box of Depends on our way out of town.
Drew sat on the edge of the bed and said, “Let’s pray.” We prayed for them and gave Him our travel plans. Then Drew said, “I’m calling American Airlines.” Within a few minutes I heard him say, “1:00 today?!” He had told the AA rep that our daughter-in-law had gone into labor early, and she informed him that he had said the magic words which qualified us for medical emergency tickets.
Excitement mixed with panic ensued as we began to throw things into suitcases. As far as I was concerned, all I needed was my camera and a photo ID. I was calculating centimeters and averages of first baby labor hours as I was shoving my third suitcase in the trunk, when Drew ran out to the driveway with his cell phone and said, “6 lbs, 2 oz? Congratulations, son! Here’s Mom!”
It happened. The moment I thought I wouldn’t survive was playing out before me and all I could think of was, “Is he okay?”
“He’s more than okay, Mom...he’s perfect! And he can’t wait to meet his Grams and Papa this afternoon.”
I paused to see if the world was still turning, and it was. In a way, it was a little easier getting on the plane and not worrying if we would make it to the hospital in time. The baby was here. They were okay. We had tickets. We were okay.
The 2 ½ hour flight also gave me time to get a grip and realize that this was not all about me. When I start to whine about having to be a long distance grandmother, Carla Holland comes to mind. She wins. Every time. She’s my hero.
God has been so sweet to give me friends at this church who ask to see baby pictures. Again. Little friends at church who call me Miss. Texas. (Long story...Pageant officials across the state are horrified!) Girlfriends who pray with me and encourage me to take care of myself spiritually and physically. And He’s given me one especially special friend who sits on the 2nd row at church with a camera in her purse and loves on someone else’s kids. I celebrate that!
I am so thankful. Right now that’s about all my heart can feel. I know the days will come when it will feel like that baby is as far away as Africa, but for now, it’s all good. I think he’ll call me Grams.
Or, Miss Texas!
A year ago Karla Hale asked me to speak at the RE Women’s retreat about broken dreams. She had no way of knowing that the broken dream closest to my heart at the time was that we were leaving our friends and family in Texas and moving to Florida.
That seems a little petty now, as many of you are dealing with real life and death issues. But I couldn’t imagine that not being near our kids and future grandkids was anything in God’s plan for us. I had been at the hospital when all three of the Stevens’ babies were born. What would happen if I missed being there when Matt and Scott became dads?
Matt & Kyla were expecting their first baby January 2nd. We made airline reservations for Christmas afternoon, and planned to stay with one of you(!)until baby Mark was born. When Matt called to say the doctor wanted to induce on the 31st, we were relieved that we wouldn’t have to worry about missing the birth.
On Saturday morning, December 22nd around 5:00 Texas time, Matt called to say that they had been at the hospital since 4:00 and the doctor said they were staying. In my bravest voice, I said, “Matt, that’s great!”
“It’s okay, Mom. We’ll be okay.”
Knowing our flight was still 3 days away and the drive was 24 hours at best, we sent our love and told them we’d see them Christmas afternoon. There were surely no flights available the Saturday before Christmas. I knew it was tearing Drew up, too, so I wasn’t about to ask him to try to get another flight. However, the story of the crazy astronaut diaper lady flashed across my mind, and I had no problem running to the store for a box of Depends on our way out of town.
Drew sat on the edge of the bed and said, “Let’s pray.” We prayed for them and gave Him our travel plans. Then Drew said, “I’m calling American Airlines.” Within a few minutes I heard him say, “1:00 today?!” He had told the AA rep that our daughter-in-law had gone into labor early, and she informed him that he had said the magic words which qualified us for medical emergency tickets.
Excitement mixed with panic ensued as we began to throw things into suitcases. As far as I was concerned, all I needed was my camera and a photo ID. I was calculating centimeters and averages of first baby labor hours as I was shoving my third suitcase in the trunk, when Drew ran out to the driveway with his cell phone and said, “6 lbs, 2 oz? Congratulations, son! Here’s Mom!”
It happened. The moment I thought I wouldn’t survive was playing out before me and all I could think of was, “Is he okay?”
“He’s more than okay, Mom...he’s perfect! And he can’t wait to meet his Grams and Papa this afternoon.”
I paused to see if the world was still turning, and it was. In a way, it was a little easier getting on the plane and not worrying if we would make it to the hospital in time. The baby was here. They were okay. We had tickets. We were okay.
The 2 ½ hour flight also gave me time to get a grip and realize that this was not all about me. When I start to whine about having to be a long distance grandmother, Carla Holland comes to mind. She wins. Every time. She’s my hero.
God has been so sweet to give me friends at this church who ask to see baby pictures. Again. Little friends at church who call me Miss. Texas. (Long story...Pageant officials across the state are horrified!) Girlfriends who pray with me and encourage me to take care of myself spiritually and physically. And He’s given me one especially special friend who sits on the 2nd row at church with a camera in her purse and loves on someone else’s kids. I celebrate that!
I am so thankful. Right now that’s about all my heart can feel. I know the days will come when it will feel like that baby is as far away as Africa, but for now, it’s all good. I think he’ll call me Grams.
Or, Miss Texas!
Monday, February 11, 2008
To Tattoo or Not To
I cannot believe the tattoos around here. Males and females of every age and stage of life sport some kind of permanent ink on their skin.
THESE ARE MY PEOPLE!
We credit our friends who blazed the parenting trails years ahead of us for helping us navigate the teenage waters. The mistakes we didn't make were due in part to their words of wisdom as they honestly shared their mistakes and victories in raising good kids.
One family was blindsided when their son came home from a rock concert with his ear pierced and a tattoo. They had warned him not to take candy/drugs/rides from strangers. But when they asked him why he got his ear pierced from some guy on a Harley, the reply was, "You didn't tell me not to."
So at every parting, we lovingly told our two sons to be safe, have fun and be in by curfew. AND DON'T GET ANYTHING PIERCED OR TATTOO'D.
A few years ago, my cousin Janet began to confess that she was 'having a little work done'. I had heard of permanent eyeliner, but didn't like the idea of having my eyelids stuck with needles. I'm funny that way. Not only had she done her eyeliner, she had permanent lipstick, cheek color and eyebrows. Eyebrows! That got my attention.
I began tweezing in the 70's and stopped when I saw a close-up of Brooke Shields. By then, it was too late. I had overdone it, and there was no going back. And none growing back. There were barely enough hairs there to trace with an eyebrow pencil, and if I happened to rub the wrong spot, I frightened small children with my one brow.
"If you ever have a coupon for 'buy one brow, get the other one free', call me." I half joked. The next time we were together, she surprised me with a gift certificate and an appointment for later that day. She assured me the procedure was professional and painless.
It was a comfort to see the technicians in white lab coats. And the fact that they did not also sell bail bonds was a plus. I was a little confused as to why they said I had to alert the blood bank before donating in the future, and I might not want to have an MRI anytime soon. I looked back and forth between the waiver and Janet's eyebrows. Those two, beautiful permanent eyebrows. I was in!
After the before photo, I was assisted in selecting a shape and color that complimented my face. The lines were drawn. Literally. As I reclined in the chair with a warm blanket, the humming of the tattoo tool was about to put me to sleep when suddenly I yelled for her to stop.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yes. But this is too funny. I have to call my boys!"
Matt and Scott were both untattoo'd students at Abilene Christian University. They were not going to believe what I was about to do. I left messages on both of their cell phones. "Hi, this is Mom. I just wanted you to know that I am in San Antonio for the weekend getting a tattoo. Love you!"
"Okay. You may continue." Minutes later one of the boys called back. His voice was tentative as he said, "Mom?"
"Hi, sweetheart. I can't talk right now. I'm getting a tattoo."
"I'm not kidding, Mom. What are you doing?"
"I'm not kidding either. Well, actually I am getting two tattoos. But she's not finished yet, so I need to go."
"Mom. Seriously. Are you getting a tattoo?"
"Yes, I am. Seriously."
Then he turned to the crowd and yelled, "My mom is totally getting tattoo'd!" Cheers rang out from the dorm as their friends yelled, "Way to go, Mrs. McBryde! You rock!"
Finally. I rocked.
Those two weeks of itchy, vaselined eyebrows were a little uncomfortable. And I don't even use my eyebrows that often. But lips? Eyelids? OUCH! I cannot imagine how painful and expensive it must be to have an entire arm or leg done. Not to mention the places I'm not going to mention.
I'm still glad I did it. The results were worth it. And except for that unfortunate experience of having to get out of line at the church blood drive, it was all positive. I probably didn't have to yell to the crowd on the way out, "It's not because I had sex with a strangers in Africa!" But they were my friends and I thought I owed them an explanation.
Those are my people, too.
THESE ARE MY PEOPLE!
We credit our friends who blazed the parenting trails years ahead of us for helping us navigate the teenage waters. The mistakes we didn't make were due in part to their words of wisdom as they honestly shared their mistakes and victories in raising good kids.
One family was blindsided when their son came home from a rock concert with his ear pierced and a tattoo. They had warned him not to take candy/drugs/rides from strangers. But when they asked him why he got his ear pierced from some guy on a Harley, the reply was, "You didn't tell me not to."
So at every parting, we lovingly told our two sons to be safe, have fun and be in by curfew. AND DON'T GET ANYTHING PIERCED OR TATTOO'D.
A few years ago, my cousin Janet began to confess that she was 'having a little work done'. I had heard of permanent eyeliner, but didn't like the idea of having my eyelids stuck with needles. I'm funny that way. Not only had she done her eyeliner, she had permanent lipstick, cheek color and eyebrows. Eyebrows! That got my attention.
I began tweezing in the 70's and stopped when I saw a close-up of Brooke Shields. By then, it was too late. I had overdone it, and there was no going back. And none growing back. There were barely enough hairs there to trace with an eyebrow pencil, and if I happened to rub the wrong spot, I frightened small children with my one brow.
"If you ever have a coupon for 'buy one brow, get the other one free', call me." I half joked. The next time we were together, she surprised me with a gift certificate and an appointment for later that day. She assured me the procedure was professional and painless.
It was a comfort to see the technicians in white lab coats. And the fact that they did not also sell bail bonds was a plus. I was a little confused as to why they said I had to alert the blood bank before donating in the future, and I might not want to have an MRI anytime soon. I looked back and forth between the waiver and Janet's eyebrows. Those two, beautiful permanent eyebrows. I was in!
After the before photo, I was assisted in selecting a shape and color that complimented my face. The lines were drawn. Literally. As I reclined in the chair with a warm blanket, the humming of the tattoo tool was about to put me to sleep when suddenly I yelled for her to stop.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yes. But this is too funny. I have to call my boys!"
Matt and Scott were both untattoo'd students at Abilene Christian University. They were not going to believe what I was about to do. I left messages on both of their cell phones. "Hi, this is Mom. I just wanted you to know that I am in San Antonio for the weekend getting a tattoo. Love you!"
"Okay. You may continue." Minutes later one of the boys called back. His voice was tentative as he said, "Mom?"
"Hi, sweetheart. I can't talk right now. I'm getting a tattoo."
"I'm not kidding, Mom. What are you doing?"
"I'm not kidding either. Well, actually I am getting two tattoos. But she's not finished yet, so I need to go."
"Mom. Seriously. Are you getting a tattoo?"
"Yes, I am. Seriously."
Then he turned to the crowd and yelled, "My mom is totally getting tattoo'd!" Cheers rang out from the dorm as their friends yelled, "Way to go, Mrs. McBryde! You rock!"
Finally. I rocked.
Those two weeks of itchy, vaselined eyebrows were a little uncomfortable. And I don't even use my eyebrows that often. But lips? Eyelids? OUCH! I cannot imagine how painful and expensive it must be to have an entire arm or leg done. Not to mention the places I'm not going to mention.
I'm still glad I did it. The results were worth it. And except for that unfortunate experience of having to get out of line at the church blood drive, it was all positive. I probably didn't have to yell to the crowd on the way out, "It's not because I had sex with a strangers in Africa!" But they were my friends and I thought I owed them an explanation.
Those are my people, too.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Man (not so far) From Atlantis
(This blog entry is dedicated to Karen H, whose apartment was destroyed by flaming pieces of the shuttle that dropped down her chimney. No one will actually admit it. I think it was covered up by the FBI.)
Today was a good day in Florida.
I got to watch Drew watch the space shuttle Atlantis take off! This has been a dream of his since the program began. And if he had his way, he would be on it. Or in it.
Probably the most devastating day of his childhood was when he found out he had to have glasses and his hopes of becoming an astronaut were dashed.
The only time I've seen him tear up in a movie, was the lift-off scene from Apollo 13.
We don't have passes to Disney World, but he has one to the Kennedy Space Center.
There was only a 30% chance of take off due to a thunderstorm headed that way. Since he had already cleared his calendar, we decided to go for it, and made the 2 1/2 hour drive. We watched from Titusville on the Atlantic shore. He's in front of the TV now, watching the NASA channel and reruns of the launch that he tivo'd.
Friends who have seen both say the daytime lift off is great, but it's nothing compared to seeing one at night. Tickets go on sale Monday for the Endeavour launch at 2:45 Tuesday morning.
One of the packages offers dinner with a real astronaut! (as opposed to...)
p.s. If Drew does manage to get a ride aboard the shuttle, will he be on it ot in it?
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
(Does That Make Me Crazy?)
I like to run over dead squirrells in the road.
There. I've said it.
(Does that make me crazy?)
When I see a dead one in the road (not live ones, mind you) and I don't have to move into oncoming traffic, I just run over it.
I wouldn't run over big animals. Dogs or cats or beavers or skunks. Well, unless Sarah S was in the car with me, and then I would hit a dead skunk because she likes the smell.
(Does that make her crazy?)
And snakes. Oh, I LOVE to run over snakes, dead or alive. I feel like I am doing the world a favor. I live by the motto, "The only good snake, is a dead snake!" (apologies to Ryan N)
When we lived outside the city limits of Austin, I was driving my little VW bug home from work one night and saw a huge rattler stretched out in the road in front of our house. I took dead aim. When I looked in my rear view mirror, it had coiled up. So I backed up and hit it again. He kept moving, so I kept trying to squash it. Then my dog, Gus came running out (pre leash law era) and I was afraid he would get too close, so I pulled in the driveway and took Gus inside.
I called a neighbor to please get his gun and shoot the snake. When he got to the middle of the road, there was a greasy spot but the snake was gone. I just had to assume that I had harmed it enough to not do too much damage.
Maybe in some way, I'm not running over cute little dead squirrells, I'm just still trying to kill that beast of a rattlesnake.
I've been thinking about what I will do when I see an alligator in the road. What if he bites my tires and there I am stuck on top of an alligator with a flat? It's illegal to shoot 'em. I already checked.
No, for now just dead squirrells and snakes, and sticks that look like snakes.
But me?
Drive over an alligator?
Are you crazy?
There. I've said it.
(Does that make me crazy?)
When I see a dead one in the road (not live ones, mind you) and I don't have to move into oncoming traffic, I just run over it.
I wouldn't run over big animals. Dogs or cats or beavers or skunks. Well, unless Sarah S was in the car with me, and then I would hit a dead skunk because she likes the smell.
(Does that make her crazy?)
And snakes. Oh, I LOVE to run over snakes, dead or alive. I feel like I am doing the world a favor. I live by the motto, "The only good snake, is a dead snake!" (apologies to Ryan N)
When we lived outside the city limits of Austin, I was driving my little VW bug home from work one night and saw a huge rattler stretched out in the road in front of our house. I took dead aim. When I looked in my rear view mirror, it had coiled up. So I backed up and hit it again. He kept moving, so I kept trying to squash it. Then my dog, Gus came running out (pre leash law era) and I was afraid he would get too close, so I pulled in the driveway and took Gus inside.
I called a neighbor to please get his gun and shoot the snake. When he got to the middle of the road, there was a greasy spot but the snake was gone. I just had to assume that I had harmed it enough to not do too much damage.
Maybe in some way, I'm not running over cute little dead squirrells, I'm just still trying to kill that beast of a rattlesnake.
I've been thinking about what I will do when I see an alligator in the road. What if he bites my tires and there I am stuck on top of an alligator with a flat? It's illegal to shoot 'em. I already checked.
No, for now just dead squirrells and snakes, and sticks that look like snakes.
But me?
Drive over an alligator?
Are you crazy?
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Baby Mark
Just wanted to put up a little photo of our grandson, Mark. He's already a month old. Matt & Kyla are so great with him.
Yesterday was Drew's 50th birthday. He is totally silly about this baby! On his 25th birthday, he was holding his 2nd son, Scott. I love that their birthdays are the same day. Yesterday, Scott called me to wish me a "Happy Giving Birth Day!"
Makes me want a piece of cake...
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Attendance Folder vs Visitor's Card
This is a video our son (Matt on the right) and the worship leader (Stephen on the left) produced for their church.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Happy Brrrrrrrrrthday!
Drew and I went to Epcot today. The weather was absolutely beautiful. There were no lines, because the Christmas crowd won't arrive until the weekend. We got to hear Kirk Cameron narrate The Nativity Story. His testimony was touching.
We had dinner in Italy. A lovely restaurant with delicious food and a nice bottle of wine...the end of a perfect day, when a few tables down from us, the waiters came out to sing 'Happy Birthday' to a customer. "It's Italy!", I thought. "This will be great!" They started out a couple of octaves too high, and it went down hill from there.
Hey, Italy! If you people can't start out on the right note, then don't even bother! I know...it's a universal problem. But, Italy? Opera? Didn't DaVinci invent the pitch pipe or something?
Better yet, let's just change the official birthday song. I already have. I prefer singing it to the tune of "We wish you a Merry Christmas". "We wish you a happy birthday, etc. and a happy new year!" See? It makes sense and it doesn't sound like fingernails on a chalkboard.
While we're at it, let's change the tune of The Star Spangled Banner. I am nervous for every soloist and help us all if it's acapella. Especially if it's started by an Italian.
Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin on the right note for crying out loud!
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Lonely Hearts Club
I'm on an oatmeal kick. A couple of weeks ago, I ran out the door for an appointment only to find that I was 2 hours early. I hadn't had breakfast, and saw an IHOP nearby, so I HOPped on in and ordered a bowl of oatmeal. It was INSTANT. That's false advertising.
While I was pouting, I saw a tall, handsome, elderly gentleman come in with his adult granddaughter on his arm. You could tell he was so proud of her and she was especially tender with him. It's not uncommon to see older people here, but it made me think of what my dad would be like if here were still alive, so I was pleased when the waitress sat them at the booth across from me.
I don't mind eating in restaurants by myself, because if I don't have anyone to talk to, I just listen to the nearest conversation. Well, I do! Anyway, the fact that he was hard of hearing gave their exchange extra volume. Both ways.
"I'm 96 years old, and not bad looking!" he boasted.
How cute of him, I thought.
"Did you have trouble finding my place?" he yelled.
She looked around to see if he was as loud as it seemed.
He was.
"No, I got directions off of the internet."
It must be her first time here. No wonder he is so excited to see her.
"I miss having someone to talk to...just like we are doing now. This is nice. I like to travel, but since I had my pacemaker put in, I don't go by myself."
Oh,...he's lonely. Why haven't you been to see him?
"This menu looks great", she says. "I'm hungry."
"Got any kids?" he asks.
"Two girls. Eight and Ten. They live with their dad, but I get to see them once a month."
hmmmmm...this is awkward...
"I have two daughters. They only call me when they need money. Last time one called and started making small talk. I said, 'how much do you need?', and she said, "$10,000". I sent her $13,000. I've made arrangements in my will to take care of them after I'm gone. But that could change if things go well... Are you married?"
What?
"No. I wanted to, but it just didn't work out."
"It's not about the sex for me. I just want a companion. Someone to watch TV with, and go to dinner. Do you like steak? We have a pool. I don't swim much, but you could lay out in the sun if you want to..."
OH
MY
GOSH!
This isn't his granddaughter...she's...he's...ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
I asked for a refill and got out a pen & notepad. I took eavesdropping to a new level.
"I'll pay your bills and all your expenses, but I won't give you a salary. If you're looking to make $200 a week, I'm not your guy. But you'll always have a hundred dollars in your pocketbook."
"I don't have any bills," she says.
"I'm not your average Joe," he continues. "I went to college and was going to make a doctor when I joined the Navy. I was an officer for eighteen years, so I have a good military retirement. And made some good investments, so you'll have the best of everything. Do you like filet mignon?"
Talk about a paradigm shift.
"And I'm easy to get along with. The wife and I were married 65 years..."
The waitress comes by..."Honey, the toast is cold. My butter won't even melt. Take it back to the kitchen. Didn't I order grits with this? It's too late now."
I hope she takes note of Mr. Easy-going.
"...then she died and I ran into an old girlfriend who was a widow, and we decided to move in together. But she fell and broke her hip and she's laid up in rehab, so I'm alone again. Do you like Canada?"
"I know a nice place there. Do you like to dance? I'll get you some nice clothes. Where did you see my ad?"
UNbelievable.
"I have a physical therapist and a home health care nurse. I'm not looking for someone to take care of my health, I'm just lonesome."
Six cups of coffee later, the three of us get up to leave.
I always thought of Anna Nicole as a gold digger. And maybe she was. But I looked at this young woman...with no income, no education, she's been in some kind of trouble if she doesn't have custody of her own kids...and here's this man offering to take care of her...
I thought Anna's old geezer was an old...geezer. As pathetic as it sounds, this man is really just lonesome.
But the person I want to help most, is the old girlfriend who got dumped when she broke her hip. She probably fell while they were dancing in Canada. Bless her heart.
Bless all their lonely hearts.
While I was pouting, I saw a tall, handsome, elderly gentleman come in with his adult granddaughter on his arm. You could tell he was so proud of her and she was especially tender with him. It's not uncommon to see older people here, but it made me think of what my dad would be like if here were still alive, so I was pleased when the waitress sat them at the booth across from me.
I don't mind eating in restaurants by myself, because if I don't have anyone to talk to, I just listen to the nearest conversation. Well, I do! Anyway, the fact that he was hard of hearing gave their exchange extra volume. Both ways.
"I'm 96 years old, and not bad looking!" he boasted.
How cute of him, I thought.
"Did you have trouble finding my place?" he yelled.
She looked around to see if he was as loud as it seemed.
He was.
"No, I got directions off of the internet."
It must be her first time here. No wonder he is so excited to see her.
"I miss having someone to talk to...just like we are doing now. This is nice. I like to travel, but since I had my pacemaker put in, I don't go by myself."
Oh,...he's lonely. Why haven't you been to see him?
"This menu looks great", she says. "I'm hungry."
"Got any kids?" he asks.
"Two girls. Eight and Ten. They live with their dad, but I get to see them once a month."
hmmmmm...this is awkward...
"I have two daughters. They only call me when they need money. Last time one called and started making small talk. I said, 'how much do you need?', and she said, "$10,000". I sent her $13,000. I've made arrangements in my will to take care of them after I'm gone. But that could change if things go well... Are you married?"
What?
"No. I wanted to, but it just didn't work out."
"It's not about the sex for me. I just want a companion. Someone to watch TV with, and go to dinner. Do you like steak? We have a pool. I don't swim much, but you could lay out in the sun if you want to..."
OH
MY
GOSH!
This isn't his granddaughter...she's...he's...ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
I asked for a refill and got out a pen & notepad. I took eavesdropping to a new level.
"I'll pay your bills and all your expenses, but I won't give you a salary. If you're looking to make $200 a week, I'm not your guy. But you'll always have a hundred dollars in your pocketbook."
"I don't have any bills," she says.
"I'm not your average Joe," he continues. "I went to college and was going to make a doctor when I joined the Navy. I was an officer for eighteen years, so I have a good military retirement. And made some good investments, so you'll have the best of everything. Do you like filet mignon?"
Talk about a paradigm shift.
"And I'm easy to get along with. The wife and I were married 65 years..."
The waitress comes by..."Honey, the toast is cold. My butter won't even melt. Take it back to the kitchen. Didn't I order grits with this? It's too late now."
I hope she takes note of Mr. Easy-going.
"...then she died and I ran into an old girlfriend who was a widow, and we decided to move in together. But she fell and broke her hip and she's laid up in rehab, so I'm alone again. Do you like Canada?"
"I know a nice place there. Do you like to dance? I'll get you some nice clothes. Where did you see my ad?"
UNbelievable.
"I have a physical therapist and a home health care nurse. I'm not looking for someone to take care of my health, I'm just lonesome."
Six cups of coffee later, the three of us get up to leave.
I always thought of Anna Nicole as a gold digger. And maybe she was. But I looked at this young woman...with no income, no education, she's been in some kind of trouble if she doesn't have custody of her own kids...and here's this man offering to take care of her...
I thought Anna's old geezer was an old...geezer. As pathetic as it sounds, this man is really just lonesome.
But the person I want to help most, is the old girlfriend who got dumped when she broke her hip. She probably fell while they were dancing in Canada. Bless her heart.
Bless all their lonely hearts.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
I Wish Me A Merry Christmas
It was about this time of the year in the mid 80's. I was at the Abilene WalMart while the boys were at preschool. I found myself beside a stack of cute country blue kitchen rugs. Ten bucks each.
I looked up and saw my friend Sandra Jane admiring the same thing. We chatted for a while as each of us had our hand on the rug. I don't know who started it, but the conversation progressed something like this.
"Aren't these cute?"
"Adorable!"
"It would match my kitchen colors perfectly."
"Mine, too."
(It would match every kitchen in Texas perfectly in 1980. Who didn't have a country blue theme?)
"I shouldn't be spending money on myself at Christmas."
"Me either...but I'd spend ten dollars to buy one for you."
"And I'd buy one for you!"
And so began the tradition of getting ourselves something for Christmas.
After we moved to the Dallas area in 1990, we weren't able to select our gifts together, so we just chose something and told the other one about it. No price limit, so the gifts have ranged from books to warm up suits. We don't plan for it, but every year we'd find ourselves out shopping and run across something we really would like to have, and think, "I shouldn't get this for myself" and then that little Christmas angel whispers...
"but Sandra Jane/Carolyn would love to get it for you!"
A few days ago, I received this thank you note. The thank you notes are almost as fun as the gifts.
Carolyn,
Please don't. You really shouldn't. I'm weary of pleading with you not to, but if you insist, I'll absolutely love to accept the darling black t-shirt with rhinestones so tastefully outlining a coffee cup and saucer and the words "Wake Up And Smell The Coffee" that's screaming my name at Cracker Barrel. It's a perfect Christmas gift from you and I will love wearing it! Have you received my Christmas gift to you yet?????
(I love you so much).
Happy Holidays, Sandra Jane
I replied,
I knew it was so you when you saw it! The mail is slow in Florida. I'm sure it will be here soon. love you!
Well, the package arrived last night at the Don CeSar resort gift shop. Our kids are here (wooooooooo-whoooooooooo!), so the girls and I were browsing while we were waiting for our table. My eyes went straight to a beautiful Brighton silver pen with a well.
Kyla and Terran ooooooed and ahhhhhhhhed appropriately. "That would be perfect for our guest book on the entry table."
They agreed.
"Forty dollars is a lot to spend on a pen..."
I put it back on the shelf and said, "I shouldn't spend that much on myself so close to Christmas..."
And then it hit me. Sandra Jane would love for me to have it!
I made a u-turn and headed to the register.
"Is this for you or is it a gift?" the clerk asked.
"Yes it is." I replied. She loved hearing the story. I made the guilt free purchase and went on my way rejoicing!
Dearest Sandra Jane, I am speechless! The fact that you took the time to select such a thoughtful gift means more to me than you'll ever know. The silver Brighton pen and well will be a beautiful reminder of our friendship. Through the years you have been my role model as a hostess and a writer, so it has an even sweeter meaning. I love you dearly! carolyn
HO! HO! HO!
I looked up and saw my friend Sandra Jane admiring the same thing. We chatted for a while as each of us had our hand on the rug. I don't know who started it, but the conversation progressed something like this.
"Aren't these cute?"
"Adorable!"
"It would match my kitchen colors perfectly."
"Mine, too."
(It would match every kitchen in Texas perfectly in 1980. Who didn't have a country blue theme?)
"I shouldn't be spending money on myself at Christmas."
"Me either...but I'd spend ten dollars to buy one for you."
"And I'd buy one for you!"
And so began the tradition of getting ourselves something for Christmas.
After we moved to the Dallas area in 1990, we weren't able to select our gifts together, so we just chose something and told the other one about it. No price limit, so the gifts have ranged from books to warm up suits. We don't plan for it, but every year we'd find ourselves out shopping and run across something we really would like to have, and think, "I shouldn't get this for myself" and then that little Christmas angel whispers...
"but Sandra Jane/Carolyn would love to get it for you!"
A few days ago, I received this thank you note. The thank you notes are almost as fun as the gifts.
Carolyn,
Please don't. You really shouldn't. I'm weary of pleading with you not to, but if you insist, I'll absolutely love to accept the darling black t-shirt with rhinestones so tastefully outlining a coffee cup and saucer and the words "Wake Up And Smell The Coffee" that's screaming my name at Cracker Barrel. It's a perfect Christmas gift from you and I will love wearing it! Have you received my Christmas gift to you yet?????
(I love you so much).
Happy Holidays, Sandra Jane
I replied,
I knew it was so you when you saw it! The mail is slow in Florida. I'm sure it will be here soon. love you!
Well, the package arrived last night at the Don CeSar resort gift shop. Our kids are here (wooooooooo-whoooooooooo!), so the girls and I were browsing while we were waiting for our table. My eyes went straight to a beautiful Brighton silver pen with a well.
Kyla and Terran ooooooed and ahhhhhhhhed appropriately. "That would be perfect for our guest book on the entry table."
They agreed.
"Forty dollars is a lot to spend on a pen..."
I put it back on the shelf and said, "I shouldn't spend that much on myself so close to Christmas..."
And then it hit me. Sandra Jane would love for me to have it!
I made a u-turn and headed to the register.
"Is this for you or is it a gift?" the clerk asked.
"Yes it is." I replied. She loved hearing the story. I made the guilt free purchase and went on my way rejoicing!
Dearest Sandra Jane, I am speechless! The fact that you took the time to select such a thoughtful gift means more to me than you'll ever know. The silver Brighton pen and well will be a beautiful reminder of our friendship. Through the years you have been my role model as a hostess and a writer, so it has an even sweeter meaning. I love you dearly! carolyn
HO! HO! HO!
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Just a Note...
How many times have you written or received a card with that little phrase at the beginning?
I am (still) going through boxes. Random receipts, photos, and a gallon freezer zip lock bag of cards were in the most recent box. This particular group of notes shared our prayer that we would use our new house on Denali as a way to bless others. Some were birthday cards for Drew and me that coincided with our move. Some were Swankie Blankie thank you notes.
Maybe it's the southern etiquette upbringing, but Mother instilled in Linda and me from the beginning that thank you notes were not optional. I witnessed the frowns and scowls from older women at baby showers who murmured, "I still haven't received a thank you note for her wedding gift...". Writing came naturally and was actually fun for me and I prided myself on getting my notes written in a timely manner.
Somehow, I forgot to pass that joy on to Drew and the boys. It was usually a chore. At the risk of totally throwing the boys under the article-bus, I'll let you guess which one I'm writing about. Frankly, both of them claimed handwriting disabilities and tried to get out of it.
Ask McSon about the night before he left for ACU. I had let some birthday thank yous slide. I usually included all three guys' family Christmas thank yous in with mine. When I suggested to Drew that he might want to write a personal note, he gave me the 'that's why I married you' look and I counted myself lucky to add his signature.
But I drew the line at high school graduation gifts. "You will not be allowed to leave for college until you get those notes written!", I promised. I reminded him on the way home from Sr. Sunday. He was too busy adding up his gift cards. I mentioned it throughout the summer and it was met with the best intentions to get them done as soon as he got back from camp, Trek, Kadesh, and the bathroom.
Sure enough, the night before the big day arrived. "I'll do them tonight, I promise." Then somebody called for one last goodbye, and he was out the door. Fast fwd to 2am. I'm sitting on the couch with his laundry that has yet to be packed. He walks in the door, wired and exhausted. I'm waving a stack on envelopes and a roll of stamps.
"Mom, I am SO TIRED!"
"I know you are. You're probably really sorry you put these notes off until the last minute."
"I'll do them in the mor..."
I jumped up on the couch and screamed, "NOW! YOU'LL DO THEM NOW! These sweet people went to the trouble of picking out a gift and getting it to you and as my last act of having you under our roof, I am sitting here with you until every last one is written!" It was like a bad Hallmark commercial.
And there we sat, while I read from the gift list and addressed the envelopes, until all 75 notes were written. By him. To this day, some of my favorite thank you notes come from high school senior boys with scratchy handwriting who obviously wrote them under durress.
I get it.
This wasn't the blog I intended to write. I was just going to reiterate the importance of written notes. Not just thank you notes, but 'how are you' notes and 'wasn't that fun' notes and 'your friendship is precious' notes.
It's the gift that keeps on giving when you are like me and Mildred James who've saved every single one we've ever received! We read them again and again, and then put some of them in a box with random receipts and photos until years later when we're cleaning out a closet only to find the box, sit for an hour and read them all over...again.
Fortunately, the boys married wonderful girls who write the most precious notes, and somehow got the boys to not only sign, but write their own precious notes on birthday, Father's Day, Mother's Day and 'just because' cards. I've saved every single one. I have a feeling there was no screaming or couch jumping involved.
Just a note? There's no such thing.
I am (still) going through boxes. Random receipts, photos, and a gallon freezer zip lock bag of cards were in the most recent box. This particular group of notes shared our prayer that we would use our new house on Denali as a way to bless others. Some were birthday cards for Drew and me that coincided with our move. Some were Swankie Blankie thank you notes.
Maybe it's the southern etiquette upbringing, but Mother instilled in Linda and me from the beginning that thank you notes were not optional. I witnessed the frowns and scowls from older women at baby showers who murmured, "I still haven't received a thank you note for her wedding gift...". Writing came naturally and was actually fun for me and I prided myself on getting my notes written in a timely manner.
Somehow, I forgot to pass that joy on to Drew and the boys. It was usually a chore. At the risk of totally throwing the boys under the article-bus, I'll let you guess which one I'm writing about. Frankly, both of them claimed handwriting disabilities and tried to get out of it.
Ask McSon about the night before he left for ACU. I had let some birthday thank yous slide. I usually included all three guys' family Christmas thank yous in with mine. When I suggested to Drew that he might want to write a personal note, he gave me the 'that's why I married you' look and I counted myself lucky to add his signature.
But I drew the line at high school graduation gifts. "You will not be allowed to leave for college until you get those notes written!", I promised. I reminded him on the way home from Sr. Sunday. He was too busy adding up his gift cards. I mentioned it throughout the summer and it was met with the best intentions to get them done as soon as he got back from camp, Trek, Kadesh, and the bathroom.
Sure enough, the night before the big day arrived. "I'll do them tonight, I promise." Then somebody called for one last goodbye, and he was out the door. Fast fwd to 2am. I'm sitting on the couch with his laundry that has yet to be packed. He walks in the door, wired and exhausted. I'm waving a stack on envelopes and a roll of stamps.
"Mom, I am SO TIRED!"
"I know you are. You're probably really sorry you put these notes off until the last minute."
"I'll do them in the mor..."
I jumped up on the couch and screamed, "NOW! YOU'LL DO THEM NOW! These sweet people went to the trouble of picking out a gift and getting it to you and as my last act of having you under our roof, I am sitting here with you until every last one is written!" It was like a bad Hallmark commercial.
And there we sat, while I read from the gift list and addressed the envelopes, until all 75 notes were written. By him. To this day, some of my favorite thank you notes come from high school senior boys with scratchy handwriting who obviously wrote them under durress.
I get it.
This wasn't the blog I intended to write. I was just going to reiterate the importance of written notes. Not just thank you notes, but 'how are you' notes and 'wasn't that fun' notes and 'your friendship is precious' notes.
It's the gift that keeps on giving when you are like me and Mildred James who've saved every single one we've ever received! We read them again and again, and then put some of them in a box with random receipts and photos until years later when we're cleaning out a closet only to find the box, sit for an hour and read them all over...again.
Fortunately, the boys married wonderful girls who write the most precious notes, and somehow got the boys to not only sign, but write their own precious notes on birthday, Father's Day, Mother's Day and 'just because' cards. I've saved every single one. I have a feeling there was no screaming or couch jumping involved.
Just a note? There's no such thing.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Notifying Next of Kin
There are several reasons why we didn't bring Sophie with us to Florida. At 14, she didn't need the stress and confusion of living in an empty house for an indefinite period of time. She loved packing up and going to stay with MeeMaw and PapPaw English, but we didn't have childcare arrangements here. The lovely pond behind our new house held the potential for alligators, and...I don't even want to go there. Drew said we didn't have a closet big enough for her wardrobe. The girl loved to dress up, what can I say?
My mother recently lost her dog to cancer, and my sister's 16 year old Lhaso wasn't doing so well, so they offered to keep her in Lubbock at one house or the other. She often made the trip to west Texas and was lovingly known as The Uppity Cousin from Dallas. We knew she would be loved and dressed appropriately.
Linda called last Monday in tears. Sophie had been up all night sick to her stomach. When Linda went home to check on her at noon, she knew something was horribly wrong. She took her to the vet who diagnosed kidney failure. There were a couple of options of keeping her alive on an IV for a few weeks, but Linda made the right and difficult decision not to prolong her pain.
I felt so bad for Linda. Her dog, Sadie Mae had to be put to sleep just 6 weeks earlier. Sophie had only been sick a couple of days in her little Shih Tzu life, and one of those was because she OD'd on a leftover piece of pound cake. I called Drew and the boys and they were surprised and sad as I was. But, also grateful.
She was the family pet you hope for. Low maintenance, didn't shed, and had a great sense of fashion. Whenever we took her with us in the car, she hopped on her satin pillowcase and slept the whole way.
Sophie had her own Swankie Blankie with her name embroidered on it, an assortment of hair bows and sweaters, an Old Navy T-shirt, an Easter dress, a Sunday dress, a cheer leading outfit, an angel costume, a witch's hat and even a red boa that she wore to Karen H.'s 30th birthday party. Her recent additions included a little black taffeta number with spaghetti straps that she only pulled out for special occasions, (black was her signature color)and a cheetah print dress with hot pink trim.
She was patient with the little friends that came to our house. She taught us to be gentle and responsible. We surprised the boys with her Easter weekend 1993. They lifted the basket lid and out she hopped. (She looked more like a guinea pig than a puppy!) I kept her hair long until I was paying more to have hers done than mine.
Anyway, if you were in our home, you probably had Sophie in your lap, and we just wanted you to know. Linda said she held her while they administered the drugs, until she died.
"What was she wearing?" I asked.
"Her pink sweater."
"Oh, good. That was her favorite."
Sophie went out in style!
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Have You Seen My Keys?
That's one of those questions I ask on a regular basis. I'm sure if I had a designated spot in the house for them, I would never be late again. And if I could find the perfect purse, it would also have a convenient key spot, which would eliminate the rest of the problems of my life.
After church Wednesday night, a lady misplaced her keys. She finally had to call a relative to come, and they found the keys in the trunk of her car.
Been there.
Done that.
And done that.
While we were waiting, the stories of lost keys were shared. My tale has become legendary in our family.
Lubbock, TX 1983 B.C. (Before Cellphones)
I'm not sure why I had to drive downtown to the courthouse, but I remember it involved standing in a long line with two year old Matt and two month old baby Scott. It wasn't until I was trying to put the stroller back in the trunk that I realized I couldn't find my keys.
They were not in the diaper bag, my purse, or the ignition. They were not on the pavement, in the grass or under the car. They were not at the counter or on the floor or...anywhere, as far as I could see. I decided I had laid them in the trunk when I got the stroller out and slammed it shut.
Both boys were hungry and fussy, and all 3 of us were ready for a nap. I hated to admit defeat, but I had to call Drew at work. He was in the middle of a very important meeting and it was obvious that he was frustrated. In his defense, it was not the first time he had to come and get me. I'm not sure why there was not a key in the magnetic holder under the bumper. I probably used it and forgot to put it back, but for my sake I'll say it was his fault.
"Can you bring me your key?" I asked politely.
"Not right now. I'm in the middle of a meeting." he said not very politely.
"Well, what am I supposed to do?" I asked sweetly.
"Where's the key I put under the bumper?" he asked not so sweetly.
Suffice it to say this went on for way too long until finally, I played the 'mother of your starving children' card and he said, "I'm on my way."
On our adventure Matt had spotted a blind gentleman at a candy counter just inside the door. I decided to get us a snack while we waited.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"I'll take some M&M's, please. By chance, have you seen a set of keys," I asked the blind man. I was just about to apologize for asking him if he had seen my keys, when he held them up and said, "You mean these? Someone found them in the grass."
I was simultaneously filled with delight and horror. Yea for the keys, but oh no, Drew's about to waste a trip. I ran to the pay phone to call off the rescue, but the secretary said Drew had left.
He was already mad. I didn't think it would exactly thrill him to have left his meeting and driven across town only to find that the trip had been inconvenient and unnecessary. So, I made an executive decision...
After going through the different scenarios and possible outcomes, I determined that it was in the best interest of our marriage for him to be celebrated as the hero he was. I went to the car, opened the trunk, threw the keys in and slammed it shut.
Oh, yes I did!
Then I prayed.
When Drew arrived, I lavished praise and thanksgiving upon him.
"You are my hero! Give dad a big hug, Matt! Thank you for coming to the rescue!"
I apologized profusely.
"I am so, so very sorry for messing up your presentation."
"I just said it was a family emergency." His tone was softening as he opened the trunk and handed me keys. "You have got to be more careful..."
"Truer words were never spoken!" I exclaimed.
As we drove away, I turned to his offspring in the back seat, "You must never speak of this to anyone...EVER."
And I didn't, until the summer all four of us were on our way to Austin and stopped at a Dairy Queen in...
Brownwood, TX StarDate 1987
We went in for a break, and came out to find that Drew...DREW... had left the keys in the ignition for the first time in his existence. We happened to be parked next to a DPS officer who popped the lock within seconds, at no charge and we were on our way.
You would think we would be on our way rejoicing, but Drew couldn't forgive himself. "I can't believe I did that!" "What if that officer hadn't been right there?" That was totally irresponsible of me!" "Where is the key that is supposed to be in the magnetic holder?"
Since I could tell this was about to take a nasty turn in my direction, I decided it was time to lighten things up a bit. "I have the funniest thing to tell you, and ha...I mean, you are just going to laugh out loud when I tell you this very funny story. Remember the time I locked my keys in the trunk of my car?"
"In Sherman?"
"No, not that time."
"At the retreat?"
"No. not...okay, do you remember bringing keys to the courthouse when the boys were babies?..." and I began to retell the story. It was all coming back to him until I got to the part where I found the keys at the candy counter. His puzzled expression changed to horror as I said, "and so I, ha...here's the funny part...put the keys in the trunk and slammed it shut! Can you believe how funny that is? Now? Several years later?"
I turned to the back seat for support and saw both boys with their little jaws dropped and their eyes bugged out. Drew looked at me like I was some crazy woman and said, "You did what?!"
As I told this story to the group in the church parking lot, I noticed something interesting. The women figured out what I was going to do and high-fived me when I got to the part where I slammed the trunk shut. The men had that oh-so familiar look that I saw on Drew's face.
Like I'm some kind of crazy woman! ha! Can you believe that?
After church Wednesday night, a lady misplaced her keys. She finally had to call a relative to come, and they found the keys in the trunk of her car.
Been there.
Done that.
And done that.
While we were waiting, the stories of lost keys were shared. My tale has become legendary in our family.
Lubbock, TX 1983 B.C. (Before Cellphones)
I'm not sure why I had to drive downtown to the courthouse, but I remember it involved standing in a long line with two year old Matt and two month old baby Scott. It wasn't until I was trying to put the stroller back in the trunk that I realized I couldn't find my keys.
They were not in the diaper bag, my purse, or the ignition. They were not on the pavement, in the grass or under the car. They were not at the counter or on the floor or...anywhere, as far as I could see. I decided I had laid them in the trunk when I got the stroller out and slammed it shut.
Both boys were hungry and fussy, and all 3 of us were ready for a nap. I hated to admit defeat, but I had to call Drew at work. He was in the middle of a very important meeting and it was obvious that he was frustrated. In his defense, it was not the first time he had to come and get me. I'm not sure why there was not a key in the magnetic holder under the bumper. I probably used it and forgot to put it back, but for my sake I'll say it was his fault.
"Can you bring me your key?" I asked politely.
"Not right now. I'm in the middle of a meeting." he said not very politely.
"Well, what am I supposed to do?" I asked sweetly.
"Where's the key I put under the bumper?" he asked not so sweetly.
Suffice it to say this went on for way too long until finally, I played the 'mother of your starving children' card and he said, "I'm on my way."
On our adventure Matt had spotted a blind gentleman at a candy counter just inside the door. I decided to get us a snack while we waited.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"I'll take some M&M's, please. By chance, have you seen a set of keys," I asked the blind man. I was just about to apologize for asking him if he had seen my keys, when he held them up and said, "You mean these? Someone found them in the grass."
I was simultaneously filled with delight and horror. Yea for the keys, but oh no, Drew's about to waste a trip. I ran to the pay phone to call off the rescue, but the secretary said Drew had left.
He was already mad. I didn't think it would exactly thrill him to have left his meeting and driven across town only to find that the trip had been inconvenient and unnecessary. So, I made an executive decision...
After going through the different scenarios and possible outcomes, I determined that it was in the best interest of our marriage for him to be celebrated as the hero he was. I went to the car, opened the trunk, threw the keys in and slammed it shut.
Oh, yes I did!
Then I prayed.
When Drew arrived, I lavished praise and thanksgiving upon him.
"You are my hero! Give dad a big hug, Matt! Thank you for coming to the rescue!"
I apologized profusely.
"I am so, so very sorry for messing up your presentation."
"I just said it was a family emergency." His tone was softening as he opened the trunk and handed me keys. "You have got to be more careful..."
"Truer words were never spoken!" I exclaimed.
As we drove away, I turned to his offspring in the back seat, "You must never speak of this to anyone...EVER."
And I didn't, until the summer all four of us were on our way to Austin and stopped at a Dairy Queen in...
Brownwood, TX StarDate 1987
We went in for a break, and came out to find that Drew...DREW... had left the keys in the ignition for the first time in his existence. We happened to be parked next to a DPS officer who popped the lock within seconds, at no charge and we were on our way.
You would think we would be on our way rejoicing, but Drew couldn't forgive himself. "I can't believe I did that!" "What if that officer hadn't been right there?" That was totally irresponsible of me!" "Where is the key that is supposed to be in the magnetic holder?"
Since I could tell this was about to take a nasty turn in my direction, I decided it was time to lighten things up a bit. "I have the funniest thing to tell you, and ha...I mean, you are just going to laugh out loud when I tell you this very funny story. Remember the time I locked my keys in the trunk of my car?"
"In Sherman?"
"No, not that time."
"At the retreat?"
"No. not...okay, do you remember bringing keys to the courthouse when the boys were babies?..." and I began to retell the story. It was all coming back to him until I got to the part where I found the keys at the candy counter. His puzzled expression changed to horror as I said, "and so I, ha...here's the funny part...put the keys in the trunk and slammed it shut! Can you believe how funny that is? Now? Several years later?"
I turned to the back seat for support and saw both boys with their little jaws dropped and their eyes bugged out. Drew looked at me like I was some crazy woman and said, "You did what?!"
As I told this story to the group in the church parking lot, I noticed something interesting. The women figured out what I was going to do and high-fived me when I got to the part where I slammed the trunk shut. The men had that oh-so familiar look that I saw on Drew's face.
Like I'm some kind of crazy woman! ha! Can you believe that?
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Mike Cope Sings the Classics
I still love this! Hopefully they'll do "Once There Were Three Wandering Jews" in the sequel...
GG
My mother came to visit last week. She flew by her 82 year old self from Lubbock, Texas at 10:00 a.m., stopped in Dallas, changed planes in Houston, and arrived in Tampa at 8:30 p.m. I am so proud of her for being brave!
As I drove away from the airport yesterday, I called my sister Linda to tell her GG was on her way home. We were talking about how blessed we were to have her as our mother and role model. Positive. Gracious. Remarkable. And as my new friend Melissa said after meeting her Sunday, "Your mother is just so darn cute!"
That, too.
She was the perfect guest. The closest she came to a negative comment was when we took her to the beautiful Don Cesar resort for dinner. It is a favorite place to take guests for a light meal on the beach. There is usually a wedding or two while we are enjoying our dinner and watching the sunset. I was reading her some menu choices when she saw the prices.
"Does that say $10.95 for a turkey sandwich?!"
"It's okay, GG. This is our treat." (What I didn't tell her was that she was looking at the wrong line item, and the sandwich was actually $12.95.)
She bragged on every little thing in and around our house.
She struck up meaningful conversations with strangers everywhere we went. This photo was taken at Vinoy Park by the bay. Within minutes, she was counseling this lady in pink who was unhappy in her nursing home, and had asked a man walking his dog is she could hold it!
She insisted that I not change one thing in my schedule just because she was here. (what schedule?)
I found her outside by the pool. "GG, do you want to go for a swim?"
"Sure! I brought my Speedo!"
We ventured to the Beall's outlet. "Don't even show me where the shoes are. I don't need any more!" She bought 2 pairs.
She encouraged me to buy a new purse at Dillard's...I celebrate that!
Her sandals came flying off the minute her feet hit the beach.
After church Sunday morning she said, "Well, on a scale of 1-10, I give your preacher a 10! Or 12!"
She just called while I was writing this to thank me for the perfect visit, and tell me about the people she met on the plane. It gave me a chance to tell her about one of the sweetest compliments. Last night at Ladies bible class, someone said the older they got, the less they thought they knew about God. The teacher, Sandy said, "Sometimes we can't see it in ourselves, but as we mature in Christ, we become more like Him. Like GG! How many of you met Carolyn's mother Sunday morning?" (Hands went up all around the room. She must have been working the crowd while I wasn't watching...) "When I met her mother, I said, 'I feel like I know you from somewhere'. Later I realized that it wasn't that we had actually met, but she just had that sweet, beautiful expression that comes from someone who has walked with the Lord her whole life."
My dad was the outgoing, social one. She willingly let him have the spotlight for over 50 years of marriage. We weren't sure what to expect after he died in 1999. It shouldn't have surprised us to see her find her own place, her own voice in the world. She did it with grace and dignity and a positive outlook on life that amazes those of us who love her.
That's our GG! You Go, Girl!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I'm That Grandmother!
I would like for it to go on record that I have shown tremendous restraint since I found out that Matt & Kyla were having a baby. I didn't buy anything until I found out if we were having a boy or a girl. Well, except for the Willow Tree figurine for Kyla. You know, the one where she is pregnant, but that was also to add to her collection. And that was all.
oh, and a clock for the nursery. And we gave Matt a Jeep brand baby pouch/carrier for Father's Day...okay, so I bought a few things, but just trust me when I say, I didn't get everything I thought about getting.
But I especially held off buying any generic clothes. I did find a cute little white onesie at Target that said something fun on the front in black print, but that was to frame, not to wear, so that didn't count.
Fast fwd to the day Matt called and asked what I was doing, and in fact I was at Sport's Authority getting Drew a no-sweat golf shirt. He said, "Well, while you're there, you might pick up a baseball mitt for your grandson!" A boy! Mark! Perfect! Some of my favorite people started out as baby boys!
Matt's birthday was in September, so we gave him Father/Son Tampa Bay Rays baseball t-shirts. Mark's was on sale for $3 at Marshall's. I don't think that qualifies as buying baby clothes, do you?
Last week, I was in Macy's to return some dishes. On the way to the down escalator, I walked by the baby department. They were having a sale, so I browsed the racks. "Cute, cute, cute, too girly, cute, white?!, oh! how cute, probably will get a lot of those at the shower, cute, cute."
I started to leave with my great restraint when a little old(er) grandmother tapped me on the arm and said, "Which one of these should I buy?" And there she was, holding cute, cute, and the perfect outfit for Mark! I hadn't seen that one. I quickly scanned the rack again to see if I had missed it, and it was obvious that she had the only one left.
You can imagine my moral dilemma.
"Well," I began nervously, "they're all cute. When is the baby due?"
"October." she said.
"These two would probably be more practical for winter weather," I said as I steered her away from Mark's perfect outfit.
"We don't get much winter here," she said. "This one's cute, too," she had the nerve to say while she was holding Mark's perfect outfit.
"Yes," I said as indifferently as possible. "But you know young parents these days. Go, go go! They'll probably be going north for the winter and won't you be the hero for giving them one of these other two adorable rompers!"
"Put it back! OH, PULEEZE PUT MARK'S PERFECT OUTFIT BACK ON THE THE RACK!", I screamed silently. I found myself reaching to take it out of her little old wrinkled hand.
"I guess I'll get this one," she said, referring to one of the other cute ones.
"Good choice!" I said. She turned and walked over to get her daughter's approval. When she did, I snatched Mark's perfect outfit off of the rack and ran as fast as I could to the nearest checkout, only to encounter the slowest checkout girl on the planet. Yeah, yeah, brand new terminals, whatever, just hurry up! NO! I don't want to donate any money to any diseases! I must have said that last part out loud, because she looked at me like I was evil, so I said okay.
I felt just a little bit guilty about the whole incident, so I called Matt to confess. "Am I going to be that grandmother?" I asked?
Matt was still laughing, "Man, I sure hope so!"
p.s. Since I bought Mark's perfect outfit using part of the credit I had from returning the dishes, it's not really even like I used money to buy it. So technically, I still haven't bought him any clothes. Pretty good restraint, don't you think?!
oh, and a clock for the nursery. And we gave Matt a Jeep brand baby pouch/carrier for Father's Day...okay, so I bought a few things, but just trust me when I say, I didn't get everything I thought about getting.
But I especially held off buying any generic clothes. I did find a cute little white onesie at Target that said something fun on the front in black print, but that was to frame, not to wear, so that didn't count.
Fast fwd to the day Matt called and asked what I was doing, and in fact I was at Sport's Authority getting Drew a no-sweat golf shirt. He said, "Well, while you're there, you might pick up a baseball mitt for your grandson!" A boy! Mark! Perfect! Some of my favorite people started out as baby boys!
Matt's birthday was in September, so we gave him Father/Son Tampa Bay Rays baseball t-shirts. Mark's was on sale for $3 at Marshall's. I don't think that qualifies as buying baby clothes, do you?
Last week, I was in Macy's to return some dishes. On the way to the down escalator, I walked by the baby department. They were having a sale, so I browsed the racks. "Cute, cute, cute, too girly, cute, white?!, oh! how cute, probably will get a lot of those at the shower, cute, cute."
I started to leave with my great restraint when a little old(er) grandmother tapped me on the arm and said, "Which one of these should I buy?" And there she was, holding cute, cute, and the perfect outfit for Mark! I hadn't seen that one. I quickly scanned the rack again to see if I had missed it, and it was obvious that she had the only one left.
You can imagine my moral dilemma.
"Well," I began nervously, "they're all cute. When is the baby due?"
"October." she said.
"These two would probably be more practical for winter weather," I said as I steered her away from Mark's perfect outfit.
"We don't get much winter here," she said. "This one's cute, too," she had the nerve to say while she was holding Mark's perfect outfit.
"Yes," I said as indifferently as possible. "But you know young parents these days. Go, go go! They'll probably be going north for the winter and won't you be the hero for giving them one of these other two adorable rompers!"
"Put it back! OH, PULEEZE PUT MARK'S PERFECT OUTFIT BACK ON THE THE RACK!", I screamed silently. I found myself reaching to take it out of her little old wrinkled hand.
"I guess I'll get this one," she said, referring to one of the other cute ones.
"Good choice!" I said. She turned and walked over to get her daughter's approval. When she did, I snatched Mark's perfect outfit off of the rack and ran as fast as I could to the nearest checkout, only to encounter the slowest checkout girl on the planet. Yeah, yeah, brand new terminals, whatever, just hurry up! NO! I don't want to donate any money to any diseases! I must have said that last part out loud, because she looked at me like I was evil, so I said okay.
I felt just a little bit guilty about the whole incident, so I called Matt to confess. "Am I going to be that grandmother?" I asked?
Matt was still laughing, "Man, I sure hope so!"
p.s. Since I bought Mark's perfect outfit using part of the credit I had from returning the dishes, it's not really even like I used money to buy it. So technically, I still haven't bought him any clothes. Pretty good restraint, don't you think?!
Friday, September 14, 2007
TARGETed
We had only been here a week when I found a better Target. The one near us was under renovation and it messed up my shopping aura. I had ordered some dark brown leather furniture, and wanted to look for some pillows to brighten it up. (as if I needed an excuse to go to Target)
With my one little pillow in the basket, I browsed the rest of the store. Somewhere between the toy and electronics departments, I was accosted by two boys asking for money.
"Can I have a dollar?"
"Excuse me?" There went my shopping aura.
The Accomplice explained, "He needs a dollar."
As a matter of fact, I had just returned something and had a wad of dollars, but I was longing for conversation, so I asked, "Why do you need a dollar?"
"Because I wanna buy this toy and I need another dollar."
"Where's your mother?"
"She dropped us off. But my uncle gave me $20 for my birthday..."
The Accomplice, "Show her the money! He's got a 20 dollar bill!"
"...and I found this cool car for $19.99..."
The Accomplice, "I'll go get the car!"
"...except when I went to pay for it the total was $21.34 with tax. The guy in electronics said he would forget about the 34 cents if I could find another dollar."
I looked at those 2 faces. I looked at the guy in electronics. I looked at the cool lime green remote control car. I looked into my soul and thought, 'What would Jesus do'? That didn't work so well, since Jesus wouldn't be in Target buying decorative pillows.
I wanted to help the boys. They could do worse things with $20 than to buy something that would keep them busy for a few hot summer days, but I also didn't want to encourage them to hit up old ladies for money so I thought, 'What would Larry James do'?
Larry would let them earn the money.
I said, "I won't give you a dollar, but I'll give you an opportunity to earn a dollar if you're willing to work for it." They jumped and smiled and vowed they would do whatever I asked.
"Well...(I looked in my basket),I'm about to buy something really heavy, and I'll probably need 2 strong boys to help me get it in my shopping cart."
They high-fived each other and flexed their muscles. Now if I could just think of something really heavy to buy. I turned to go to the garden department. The item we found was on the top shelf. The Accomplice offered to get Mr. Electronics to get it down for us. Birthday Boy waited with me.
I checked out the TOM-TOM GPS on the end cap. "I need one of these for my car."
Birthday Boy chimed in, "Yeah, so does my uncle. He dudn't know how to get anywhere in Florida. He's from TEXAS!" I let it slide.
Soon The Accomplice returned with his report. "The guy in electronics said, 'Tell your mom I'll be right there.' He thinks you're our MOM!"
"Oh, my. I'm much older than your mom."
"Nuh-UH!" said The Accomplice. "My mom's 27!"
And suddenly it occurred to me. It really wouldn't be fair to just give the birthday boy a dollar when that sweet young friend of his was being so helpful..."How old are you?" I asked.
"I'm 10." (do the math; he's a child of a child)
Birthday Boy, "My mom's WAY older than his mom and you. She's 52!"
"I'm 52." I said.
"NO WAY!" they shouted. And I for one believe they were sincerely shocked, and were not just trying to get an extra dollar out of me. "You look more like HIS mom than MY mom!"
"Well, I have used Mary Kay products since my twen..." oops, wrong story.
I asked Birthday Boy, "How old are you?"
"I'm 12." The Accomplice confirmed that it was indeed the truth. I did that math, too, and figured if I had given birth to that kid when I was 40, I would look years beyond my years, as well.
I looked at my watch and realized that I needed to leave and pick up Drew, so I said, "Okay, look. You have proven to me that if I did have something heavy, you would have helped me get it to the cart, but I've gotta go. So, here's a dollar for each of you. Happy Birthday!"
Could life get any better? They ran to the electronics department and I went to the express lane. As the clerk was ringing up my pillow, I saw The Accomplice run for the gourmet cookie counter.
"Ma'am?"
"I'm sorry. How much do I owe you?"
"The pillow was $19.99 and with tax it will be..."
"I know," I nodded as my aura returned. "$21.34".
With my one little pillow in the basket, I browsed the rest of the store. Somewhere between the toy and electronics departments, I was accosted by two boys asking for money.
"Can I have a dollar?"
"Excuse me?" There went my shopping aura.
The Accomplice explained, "He needs a dollar."
As a matter of fact, I had just returned something and had a wad of dollars, but I was longing for conversation, so I asked, "Why do you need a dollar?"
"Because I wanna buy this toy and I need another dollar."
"Where's your mother?"
"She dropped us off. But my uncle gave me $20 for my birthday..."
The Accomplice, "Show her the money! He's got a 20 dollar bill!"
"...and I found this cool car for $19.99..."
The Accomplice, "I'll go get the car!"
"...except when I went to pay for it the total was $21.34 with tax. The guy in electronics said he would forget about the 34 cents if I could find another dollar."
I looked at those 2 faces. I looked at the guy in electronics. I looked at the cool lime green remote control car. I looked into my soul and thought, 'What would Jesus do'? That didn't work so well, since Jesus wouldn't be in Target buying decorative pillows.
I wanted to help the boys. They could do worse things with $20 than to buy something that would keep them busy for a few hot summer days, but I also didn't want to encourage them to hit up old ladies for money so I thought, 'What would Larry James do'?
Larry would let them earn the money.
I said, "I won't give you a dollar, but I'll give you an opportunity to earn a dollar if you're willing to work for it." They jumped and smiled and vowed they would do whatever I asked.
"Well...(I looked in my basket),I'm about to buy something really heavy, and I'll probably need 2 strong boys to help me get it in my shopping cart."
They high-fived each other and flexed their muscles. Now if I could just think of something really heavy to buy. I turned to go to the garden department. The item we found was on the top shelf. The Accomplice offered to get Mr. Electronics to get it down for us. Birthday Boy waited with me.
I checked out the TOM-TOM GPS on the end cap. "I need one of these for my car."
Birthday Boy chimed in, "Yeah, so does my uncle. He dudn't know how to get anywhere in Florida. He's from TEXAS!" I let it slide.
Soon The Accomplice returned with his report. "The guy in electronics said, 'Tell your mom I'll be right there.' He thinks you're our MOM!"
"Oh, my. I'm much older than your mom."
"Nuh-UH!" said The Accomplice. "My mom's 27!"
And suddenly it occurred to me. It really wouldn't be fair to just give the birthday boy a dollar when that sweet young friend of his was being so helpful..."How old are you?" I asked.
"I'm 10." (do the math; he's a child of a child)
Birthday Boy, "My mom's WAY older than his mom and you. She's 52!"
"I'm 52." I said.
"NO WAY!" they shouted. And I for one believe they were sincerely shocked, and were not just trying to get an extra dollar out of me. "You look more like HIS mom than MY mom!"
"Well, I have used Mary Kay products since my twen..." oops, wrong story.
I asked Birthday Boy, "How old are you?"
"I'm 12." The Accomplice confirmed that it was indeed the truth. I did that math, too, and figured if I had given birth to that kid when I was 40, I would look years beyond my years, as well.
I looked at my watch and realized that I needed to leave and pick up Drew, so I said, "Okay, look. You have proven to me that if I did have something heavy, you would have helped me get it to the cart, but I've gotta go. So, here's a dollar for each of you. Happy Birthday!"
Could life get any better? They ran to the electronics department and I went to the express lane. As the clerk was ringing up my pillow, I saw The Accomplice run for the gourmet cookie counter.
"Ma'am?"
"I'm sorry. How much do I owe you?"
"The pillow was $19.99 and with tax it will be..."
"I know," I nodded as my aura returned. "$21.34".
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Why Men Should Not Be Allowed to Write Advice Columns:
Thanks for sharing this, Angie. And that reminds me...I need to do laundry.
Happy birthday, Matt!
Dear Walter:
I hope you can help me here. The other day I set off for work
leaving my husband in the house watching the TV as usual. I hadn't gone more
than a few hundred yards down the road when my engine conked out and
the car shuddered to a halt. I walked back home to get my husband's help.
When I got home I couldn't believe my eyes. He was parading in front
of the wardrobe mirror dressed in my underwear and high-heel shoes, and
he was wearing my make up.
I am 32, my husband is 34 and we have been married for twelve
years. When I confronted him, he tried to make out that he had dressed in my
lingerie because he couldn't find his own underwear. But when I
asked him about the make-up, he broke down and admitted that he'd been
wearing my clothes for six months.
I told him to stop or I would leave him.
He was let go from his job six months ago and he says he has been
feeling depressed and worthless. I love him very much,
but ever since I gave him the ultimatum he has become increasingly
distant. I don't feel I can get through to him anymore.
Can you please help?
Sheila
Dear Sheila:
A car stalling after being driven a short distance can be caused by a
variety of faults with the engine. Start by checking that there is
no debris in the fuel line. If it is clear, check the jubilee clips
holding the vacuum pipes onto the inlet manifold. If none of these
approaches solves the problem, it could be that the fuel pump itself
is faulty, causing low delivery pressure to the carburetor float
chamber.
I hope this helps.
Walter
Happy birthday, Matt!
Dear Walter:
I hope you can help me here. The other day I set off for work
leaving my husband in the house watching the TV as usual. I hadn't gone more
than a few hundred yards down the road when my engine conked out and
the car shuddered to a halt. I walked back home to get my husband's help.
When I got home I couldn't believe my eyes. He was parading in front
of the wardrobe mirror dressed in my underwear and high-heel shoes, and
he was wearing my make up.
I am 32, my husband is 34 and we have been married for twelve
years. When I confronted him, he tried to make out that he had dressed in my
lingerie because he couldn't find his own underwear. But when I
asked him about the make-up, he broke down and admitted that he'd been
wearing my clothes for six months.
I told him to stop or I would leave him.
He was let go from his job six months ago and he says he has been
feeling depressed and worthless. I love him very much,
but ever since I gave him the ultimatum he has become increasingly
distant. I don't feel I can get through to him anymore.
Can you please help?
Sheila
Dear Sheila:
A car stalling after being driven a short distance can be caused by a
variety of faults with the engine. Start by checking that there is
no debris in the fuel line. If it is clear, check the jubilee clips
holding the vacuum pipes onto the inlet manifold. If none of these
approaches solves the problem, it could be that the fuel pump itself
is faulty, causing low delivery pressure to the carburetor float
chamber.
I hope this helps.
Walter
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Say what?
The Tower of Babel was the perfect Bible lesson for the day. I was subbing for the 3rd grade class at GCChristian Schools, which is associated with the church we're attending. We began the day with the pledge, a prayer and turning to Genesis 11:1-9. "Now the whole world had one language and a common dialect..."
"What's a dialect?" I asked. No response. "People from England speak English, but they sound like a Mary Poppins movie. They have a different dialect." I thought that was a brilliant comparison. The children politely nodded and we finished the story.
The next assignment was Language Arts. There was a list of words that they were to rhyme. The first one was 'crown'. So I asked, "Who can think of a word that rhymes with crown?" I could tell they were thinking, but decided they were just shy, so I asked Pamela.
She shook her head. "I can't think of a word that rhymes with 'crayon'.
"Oh, honey, not 'crayon',the word is 'crou-un', like a king wears on his
hey-yud."
"You mean, 'crown'!"
(aren't we saying the same thing here?)
Heads and hands popped up. "Oh! 'crown'!"
"I know!" "frown!" "town!" "down!"
It was a great object lesson for the Tower of Babel. I explained that I was from Texas and that people in Florida talked wrong.
"You're from Texas?!" Nicholas was impressed. "Have you ever been in a big tornado?"
"Yes, I have."
"Cool! What was it's name?"
(these poor hurricane babies)
"Well, I guess we have so many that there isn't time to name them all."
When we first moved here, I was curious to listen for the Florida accent. Instead, I heard people from Boston, New York, and England. Yesterday, a deliveryman noticed my Texas license plate. (still haven't changed it) "You heah from Texas? I'm from New Yoak. Been heah three yeahs. My brothah moved to Texas. He didden like it. Took a beatin on his house and moved back heah to Flahradah. Took him twenty-foah houahs in his cah."
I gave him a tip and a bottle of water.
"Good luck in your new house. Hey, thanks for the watah."
"You're welcome." I smiled and waved and shut the door.
"And good luck finding your R's!"
"What's a dialect?" I asked. No response. "People from England speak English, but they sound like a Mary Poppins movie. They have a different dialect." I thought that was a brilliant comparison. The children politely nodded and we finished the story.
The next assignment was Language Arts. There was a list of words that they were to rhyme. The first one was 'crown'. So I asked, "Who can think of a word that rhymes with crown?" I could tell they were thinking, but decided they were just shy, so I asked Pamela.
She shook her head. "I can't think of a word that rhymes with 'crayon'.
"Oh, honey, not 'crayon',the word is 'crou-un', like a king wears on his
hey-yud."
"You mean, 'crown'!"
(aren't we saying the same thing here?)
Heads and hands popped up. "Oh! 'crown'!"
"I know!" "frown!" "town!" "down!"
It was a great object lesson for the Tower of Babel. I explained that I was from Texas and that people in Florida talked wrong.
"You're from Texas?!" Nicholas was impressed. "Have you ever been in a big tornado?"
"Yes, I have."
"Cool! What was it's name?"
(these poor hurricane babies)
"Well, I guess we have so many that there isn't time to name them all."
When we first moved here, I was curious to listen for the Florida accent. Instead, I heard people from Boston, New York, and England. Yesterday, a deliveryman noticed my Texas license plate. (still haven't changed it) "You heah from Texas? I'm from New Yoak. Been heah three yeahs. My brothah moved to Texas. He didden like it. Took a beatin on his house and moved back heah to Flahradah. Took him twenty-foah houahs in his cah."
I gave him a tip and a bottle of water.
"Good luck in your new house. Hey, thanks for the watah."
"You're welcome." I smiled and waved and shut the door.
"And good luck finding your R's!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)