It had been many wagon loads of day since I talked to my brother. So on my drive to Memphis on a recent Friday, I called him. Actually, had I realized it was Friday, not Saturday, I would not have called because I would have known he was at work as most people are unless they are "retired" like me. When you are not going to work every day, you forget what day it is--not the DATE-the DAY!
Nevertheless, I called his house and he answered. He just happened to be home on Friday because his office was being painted. My good fortune.
I love my brother.
I've always looked up to him and rightfully so. He grew up being a hard worker. For example, he had a paper route when he was young--in his teens--a time when most teens would rather sleep than anything else. He would get up every morning before any wagon loads of day peeked into the sky--including Sundays--to deliver the morning paper.
My sister and I learned his route once so he could take a trip. My stars--even if there were nothing else to admire about him, that would be worthy.
He had drawn a map for us, pointed out the houses in person for us, and was very conscientious about trying to train us on his route. We were very sure we knew what to do. Honestly! We were not stupid.
But my oh my--all those houses looked alike at 4:30-5:00 in the morning. Which ones got papers? Which ones didn't? Anyway, my sister and I did it and I don't think he ever told us how many complaints he got afterwards.
And we just did it for maybe a day or two, but he would get up early every morning and roll the papers, throw them
(and got them on the porch, for heaven's sakes! My sister and I tried to throw them but, obviously we threw them like girls. So we would have to go get them--maybe even hunt for them and then walk them to the porches).
He was so good at this that he would arrive back home before the neighborhood even woke up. My sister and I did make it back home but well after a wagon load or two of sun had passed and well after most people in the neighborhood were having breakfast. And I'm sure well after many fights between us. ("It's that house." "No, it's that one!" "You go find it. But you threw it...")
Another memory of growing up with my brother: The junior high we attended was just across a overgrown field from our house. One could walk around the three blocks of paved streets to get to school, but Lane, energetic and clever as he was, mowed a straight path from our backyard to the street in front of our junior high. My sister and I walked that path over and over again after he had moved on to a motorcycle and high school.
Our parents taught us all about working hard, loving each other, and doing our best. We learned that lesson well. (I have the finest siblings ever.) However, it seemed to me back then that my brother did his work without complaining. Can you imagine? I wasn't always so cheerful and eager to do chores. But he just did his jobs and still does.
He is so outstanding in so many ways--as a leader--first in his schools, now in his church and community--as an excellent student, as a real friend, and as a great athlete. He played football from junior high through college--usually as quarterback or half back and I think I saw every game.
He played baseball as a kid (I learned to say, "Hey, batterbatterbatter" while watching him play); he plays golf; he runs (like miles at a time and with his daughters and their families, so it's not just his word for it:) He can wash dishes with the best of them, build bookshelves, labor in the yard, and teach an adult Sunday School class. (Maybe under his finely tailored clothes he really dons a Superman suit. I think I hit on his success right there! But I won't tell anyone. I promise)
I love my brother.
Obviously, I think highly of my sweet brother. He has accomplished so much. But above all, he is a really, really nice guy and a good person. He loves people and they love him. He does things I only wish I would be disciplined enough to do. He lives his life never forgetting to be a loving, Christian man. He doesn't judge, condemn, or criticize, but rather he accepts people as they are and thinks of them according to their strengths not their weaknesses.
I love my brother. All his sisters do.
Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with such a fine family that includes such a great brother.
And I will not wait as many wagon loads of day before I call him again.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Saturday, October 27, 2012
She Can Do It All
(I wrote this post a few weeks ago and then I thought it went to cyber heaven. How glad I was when I found it today!)
Yes, I know. It's been several wagon loads of days since I have set down here to share some of my thoughts. Now, if I were my friend who can do it all, posting my blog would have been done long before the wagon load of day even thought about crossing the sky a month ago.
It's hard to believe a month has gone by and a lot of great things have occurred during the month. But today my thoughts are about my friend, Margaret, who can really and truly do it all.
I am sure that you know a person who can cook up a storm, or one (surely there are not too many) who even cleans her house from top to bottom--maybe even the baseboards--on a regular basis (ugh!) and maybe you even know one who irons the sheets, or one that can sew a bedspread or curtains or both in the same day. Or one that has her own tool belt and knows how to use the tools.
But how many women can you think of that can do all of the above? Plus play bridge? And keep a beautiful garden? And knows how to enjoy a glass of wine? And enjoys laughing? And can create a gourmet meal in a few minutes? I could go on and on.
Margaret is that kind of person. She is a hundred pounds of ability and she goes a hundred miles an hour each day. (Hmmmm-it just dawned on me--maybe if I went at that speed I might get more done. But then again, can I go at that speed even if I tried? I don't think so.)
You don't find many like her. In fact, I would say that Margaret is one of a kind. She not only is so talented in the ways mentioned, she is also so helpful. When she sees where she can help, she does. (And since I usually need lots of help, I love having her around!)
Now here is the best thing about my friend for thirty-five or so years...she loves me and my family.
The fact that she loves my daughters, my sons-in-law, and our grandson means more than the best gourmet meal she can prepare (and let me tell you there have been many of those!) She even loves my husband. (They are both very smart and try to outsmart each other on a regular basis. Fun to watch!)
In fact, there have been so many fun times with her and our husbands over the years including vacations to Florida, tennis matches, Trivia Pursuit matches (that ages us, doesn't it?), Mountain View trips, and many dinners and nights out. The memories make me smile and the jokes and laughter between us fill my heart with gladness.
How lucky I am to have such a friend. When she's around, the wagon loads of day are definitely better.
Thanks, my friend who can do it all. You are a treasure.
Yes, I know. It's been several wagon loads of days since I have set down here to share some of my thoughts. Now, if I were my friend who can do it all, posting my blog would have been done long before the wagon load of day even thought about crossing the sky a month ago.
It's hard to believe a month has gone by and a lot of great things have occurred during the month. But today my thoughts are about my friend, Margaret, who can really and truly do it all.
I am sure that you know a person who can cook up a storm, or one (surely there are not too many) who even cleans her house from top to bottom--maybe even the baseboards--on a regular basis (ugh!) and maybe you even know one who irons the sheets, or one that can sew a bedspread or curtains or both in the same day. Or one that has her own tool belt and knows how to use the tools.
But how many women can you think of that can do all of the above? Plus play bridge? And keep a beautiful garden? And knows how to enjoy a glass of wine? And enjoys laughing? And can create a gourmet meal in a few minutes? I could go on and on.
Margaret is that kind of person. She is a hundred pounds of ability and she goes a hundred miles an hour each day. (Hmmmm-it just dawned on me--maybe if I went at that speed I might get more done. But then again, can I go at that speed even if I tried? I don't think so.)
You don't find many like her. In fact, I would say that Margaret is one of a kind. She not only is so talented in the ways mentioned, she is also so helpful. When she sees where she can help, she does. (And since I usually need lots of help, I love having her around!)
Now here is the best thing about my friend for thirty-five or so years...she loves me and my family.
The fact that she loves my daughters, my sons-in-law, and our grandson means more than the best gourmet meal she can prepare (and let me tell you there have been many of those!) She even loves my husband. (They are both very smart and try to outsmart each other on a regular basis. Fun to watch!)
In fact, there have been so many fun times with her and our husbands over the years including vacations to Florida, tennis matches, Trivia Pursuit matches (that ages us, doesn't it?), Mountain View trips, and many dinners and nights out. The memories make me smile and the jokes and laughter between us fill my heart with gladness.
How lucky I am to have such a friend. When she's around, the wagon loads of day are definitely better.
Thanks, my friend who can do it all. You are a treasure.
Changes
A little bit of winter crept its way into the wagon load of day this morning. Just a touch to remind us that soon we won't be seeing the beautiful leaves turning colors nor even the leaves on the trees. Of course we all know that Arkansas winters are fickle. The middle of December can produce a day much like this--crisp but sunny.
But change is definitely in the air. Change manifests itself in many ways and it's not only in the seasons.
Today it is the moving truck outside our neighbor's home. I knew this day was coming for a couple of months but I wasn't ready for it. It has produced a sense of sorrow for me. The sorrow is for a lost opportunity. She has been my neighbor for 6 months and I have visited with her only a handful of times. I am sorry for that and told her so today as I gave her a goodbye hug.
We could have been good friends; we could have enjoyed going out to dinner and sharing a bottle of wine. We could have started our day with a cup of coffee together and encouraged each other to do the things on our lists for the day. It would have been fun to have a real neighbor that I honestly knew not just waved to while passing.
So as I watch the boxes being loaded and soon the truck pulling away, change is taking place. Will I take this unwanted change and learn from it? Will I seize opportunities as they come my way and embrace them? Will I make the effort next time before it is too late?
Will I change?
The answer I guess will be found in the next few wagon loads of day. I hope so.
But change is definitely in the air. Change manifests itself in many ways and it's not only in the seasons.
Today it is the moving truck outside our neighbor's home. I knew this day was coming for a couple of months but I wasn't ready for it. It has produced a sense of sorrow for me. The sorrow is for a lost opportunity. She has been my neighbor for 6 months and I have visited with her only a handful of times. I am sorry for that and told her so today as I gave her a goodbye hug.
We could have been good friends; we could have enjoyed going out to dinner and sharing a bottle of wine. We could have started our day with a cup of coffee together and encouraged each other to do the things on our lists for the day. It would have been fun to have a real neighbor that I honestly knew not just waved to while passing.
So as I watch the boxes being loaded and soon the truck pulling away, change is taking place. Will I take this unwanted change and learn from it? Will I seize opportunities as they come my way and embrace them? Will I make the effort next time before it is too late?
Will I change?
The answer I guess will be found in the next few wagon loads of day. I hope so.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Becoming an Entreprenuer (of Sorts)
I think I woke up yesterday before any wagon loads of day went by at all. It was still dark and the house was still very quiet. No dog nudging me; no husband clinging glasses around; no Today show on. So why didn't I turn over and try to wait for the wagon loads to start their journey across the sky.Well, it's because I have a lot on my mind. I am preparing to try my hand (with a girlfriend) at having a booth at a flea market/antique mall.
Isn't that how Sam Walton started??? Sorta, kinda, maybe???
My friend and I had talked about doing this for the last few Tuesdays when we would get together for lunch and shopping. (She likes to call our get-togethers "Tuesdays with Leta." I don't know that we could write a book about that, not just because someone else has done so with "Morrie," but because we do very little constructive except to laugh and laugh. I guess that's good though.)
Anyway, my goal in having a booth is two-fold--one is to reduce the load of treasures I have stored in the attic and two is to sell some of my art that I have been doing for a good while. I've come to realize that you can only give so many pieces of art that you create to friends and relatives for gifts. I make more (because I love it) than I can give away. So I hope some people will buy them. I promise they will be my new best friends if they do!
Then my friend's hope was to empty some out of the storage rooms she is paying a monthly fee for. Evidently, the storage rooms are very full with furniture, etc. that she can't use in her present residence.
Those are noble goals, right. But it can't be denied either that we both just like going to antique malls. For that matter, who doesn't? (Never mind--I realize many are like one of my sisters. She can breeze through a gigantic mall before I get through the first booth.)
But then that may be the reason I have so much in my attic. As I think about it, there is most likely a direct correlation between the two. Nevertheless, going "antiquing" is something else I enjoy doing. Nothing is wrong with that, right?
Don't answer that--unless you agree with me. (I have discovered that frequently a person wants others' opinion IF they agree with her or him. Many times I, I mean she, will keep asking people until she finds one that does finally see the light and agrees! Why others don't is beyond me.)
Well, I digress. Back to the booth. When we got the courage to sign up for a booth, we were told that there were 29 people ahead of us. Oh well. It dashed our dreams somewhat but we thought that would give us plenty of time to gather our valuable treasures. We figured that maybe in a few months or years, we would be called. Even though I am quite aware of how "waiting lists" go, I was still surprised when we got a call last week only a week or two after being put on the infamous waiting list.
We were told we could come in and pick out the booth we wanted and after paying a deposit, we could start moving our stuff in even though the 1st wasn't until 3 days later.
Well, we decided on our booth (the smallest they had and the cheapest) and then it was the time of reckoning for me.
ALL that stuff living in the attic had to come downstairs. ALL that stuff living in the attic had to be priced. ALL that art stuff living in the guest house/art studio had to be brought in to go through. ALL that stuff had to be loaded up in the car, unloaded in the booth and arranged in an inviting style. And then ALL the stuff I decided not to take right now had to be stored (back in the attic???) Why, oh why, do I have ALL that stuff???
With all the moving stuff, pricing stuff, bubble wrap and newspaper to protect the stuff, you can imagine the mess in the living room where I decided to work. (Think, if you dare, yard sale. Same kind of mess.) It was in absolute disarray. Even the poor dog was discombobulated. He was unsure where it was safe to go. As a matter of fact, I think my husband was too. So that was what I had facing me in the early hours of this day.
The house hasn't yet fully recovered but there are things in the booth as you can see in photo. I knew the booth was small but I am sure it shrunk. It looks a little sparse now, but my friend hasn't put anything in yet. I think she's worried that I've taken all the space. In my opinion, it needs more treasures. In fact, I added more today. And, of course, there will be more tomorrow.And then, hopefully, there will be less and less eventually, you think? I really hope so. I need to get rid of some of these things.
But while I was in the antique mall, I found this really cute....
Okay, I guess I'll wait for a few wagon loads of day to go by before I start adding to my attic collection.
Maybe.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
A Really Special Birthday
I can't tell you how many loads of day this lovely friend of mine has seen. But I can tell you she is special. And she is having a birthday soon--today in fact! Here is your birthday cake, Milly! No calories--no mess!Although I have known her for a long time, I really got to know what a wonderful person she is when we went to London together. (Actually, her daughter--my friend Becky--went along too. That's how I came to know her in the first place.)
We had more fun exploring London and the countryside. I can't tell you how hard it was for us "younguns" to keep up with her. We got to London and didn't let jet lag stop us. On to the Changing of the Guard we charged after throwing our suitcases in the charming little hotel with the Peter Pan windows. We walked a million miles and we also "minded the gap" on many a subway without missing a beat early in the morning or late at night.We even managed to take in a play the first night. It was so thrilling to be in London at the theatre with my friends seeing "Oliver" performed. Ahhh. I love the thought of it even now. However, I don't think I have ever told anyone this even after all these years, but I must admit I dozed a little during the play. The time difference was catching up with me. But I am sure Milly didn't sleep a wink. She never wanted to miss a thing. (She probably knew I slept a bit but she kept it to herself!)
Being generous and kind with others, being encouraging, always smiling--that's Milly.
When we returned from our wonderful trip, I decided that we had to continue our English adventure, so I invited Milly and her daughter to a tea in the garden in my backyard. Eagerly, I met them at the front door and was tickled to see them gracefully walking up the drive in their hats, gloves, and I'm sure "sensible shoes!" How English! They may have even have given me the "royal wave." It was so fun. Come to find out the hat and gloves were Milly's ideas! Fantastic!
That's another reason I love and respect her so much. She is willing to have fun and if you know me at all I love a good time! Yet she doesn't have fun at others' expense. She seems to know and understand what makes a person tick and she finds ways to encourage them.
One way Milly has always been so good in encouraging others is through her letter writing. She has always had such a wonderful way with words. She has sent many a letter of thanks or encouragement and concern to those needing to know that someone was thinking about them. She wrote me a note once that I have kept ever since (about 12 years or so and I even know where it is today [surprisingly] and I treasure it).
Reading those nice thoughts written so long ago still touches my heart. (But that is just the kind of thing she does and has always done.) I love having such wonderful experiences with her and be able to learn from her. As I face each day for the rest of my life, I hope to exhibit some of the wonderful qualities she has of courage, patience, love, and devotion to others. She is a beautiful person.
So I wish her a most wonderful birthday and hope that with every wagon load of day--tomorrow and everyday--she will be blessed. She deserves it. Happy Birthday, Milly--my sweet friend.
Monday, August 27, 2012
I Love Praise!
What happened to August? Certainly more loads of day have gone by than I can count, but I am inspired today.
Last night a friend, for whom I have great respect, gave me some unsolicited praise. Ka-boom! That's all it took--a few kind words--to give me a much needed bit of encouragement and here I am again. I know! I know! I am easy that way. But it got me to thinking, too, how little words of encouragement or PRAISE can lift a person's spirit.
Think about it. It is so nice to hear something positive or complimentary, isn't it? I can't think of a person who doesn't like it.
So, why is it so hard to do? I wonder if some people aren't brave enough to do it. Maybe being brave enough comes with age. I know now that if I see a person and I admire her outfit, her hair, or even her looks, I am more than likely to tell her. I don't know that I did that when I was younger. I hope I did but likely not. I was probably not brave enough.
Will others think one is out of bounds by giving a compliment? Will that nice-looking man think you are "coming on" to him if you throw out a compliment? (Well, I kid myself. Maybe a few years ago. Now, he would probably say, "Thank you, ma'am." Or think to himself, "Oh, boy, an old lady thinks I'm nice-looking! Gee!) But you know what I mean.
Does one think that a person probably already knows what you are admiring about them? Or maybe a person thinks it will give another, as we used to say, "the big head?"
Or are we mainly thinking more about ourselves than others? Hmmm.
Maybe it's little bit of all of the above. Maybe it's none. Nevertheless, I love praise. I really think most people do. (Maybe most don't say it publicly, but obviously I don't mind!) Anyway, thanks, my friend, for giving me a nice dose of praise last night. I thought about it with every wagon load of day that went by today!
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Olympics--Family Style
Uh-oh, I've let many wagon loads of day and weeks go by without a post. But I'm back to posting regularly, I hope. And just in time to comment on the Olympics.
I have always loved the Olympics--Summer or Winter. I could spend hours watching the competitions--those I kinda know the rules for and those that I have no idea what is going on. Same goes with the Opening Ceremony. Loved it! Mostly. This year it was a little long at first, I thought, but worth watching to see the Queen parachute into the arena, and to see the lighting of the torch and hearing Sir Paul!
But the NBC broadcast held nothing over our own rendition of the opening ceremony. This year my daughter, son-in-law and grandbaby came over to watch it with us. But we did more than just watch. We had decorations--the Olympic rings glowed on the front porch railing comparable to the ones hanging from the Tower Bridge. Our guest were greeted with silly string! (And they still came inside!) We ate BBQ and red, white, and blue strawberries made by my daughter. (Couldn't have been more patriotic!)
Then, we had our own Opening Ceremony while watching the other one on TV. But our games began right then. Why wait? And why wait on the confetti. It came early in the evening much to our surprise.
The baby was especially taken with the confetti. He would gather up the confetti on the floor (yes, this was all over the living room floor along with the silly string which was very fun to clean up the next morning), and then he would count to three and throw the confetti over and over. 1st place accomplishment, indeed.
Grandbaby absolutely loved all our other the games as well. Somehow he got first place in every event. (We did have medals!) He executed the paddle ball competition quite well for never having seen or held a paddle ball. He, in fact, had an innovative approach at playing. He held the ball and dribbled the paddle. (He is very smart and athletic already at 18 months.) He was superb in the stick horse dressage competition.
Soccer was no problem with a basket full of at least 50 balls. Many goals were made. And that led to the basketball competition for which I must admit he was quite gifted at getting a lot of the balls back in the basket, even himself. Since Grambo poured them all out, he did help the shortest player on the team in getting them all back in the basket. (By the way, "Grambo" is grandbaby's version of "Grandfather Jones" which the silly man actually thought would be his name.)
The fencing with glow torches might have been our favorite. We all had to compete in this event. Grandbaby was simply amazing with his talents of finding other ways to use the glow torch swords. In fact, he wouldn't let go of his and ended up falling asleep on his mama's shoulder still holding his glow stick sword.
By the end of "Hey, Jude," we were all ready for sleep. But it was a quite memorable evening, to say the least and a grand way to celebrate the Olympics, family style.
Now we have a few wagon loads of day to plan the closing ceremony. The opening ceremony was planned by my husband, Grambo, going to the dollar store and spending 10 minutes and $11.00 on the decorations and the equipment for some of the competitions.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Sally
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Vacation Packing
Yep, I'm going on my own little vacation. Well, it's not exactly an "all by myself" type vacation (although I have done that; and it, too, is fun). But this time I am driving all by myself to see my Texas daughter and then flying all by myself to see my California daughter. I am so excited.
I love trips of any kind, but trips that include fun people and fun places are the best, right?
So that leads to today's thoughts. I gotta pack. That should not be a problem. I have one sister that packs so well that everything in her suitcase has its place and nothing goes in her suitcase or comes out of the suitcase wrinkled. Then, on the other hand, I have another sister who packs like me, she says, but I know she is much better at it than I am.
This is my method. I make a list of what I will take and how I can interchange the tops and bottoms. Little lines connect the possibilities. Sometimes I even try on the different outfits to see if they look as good as I thought they did. (Darn those extra 5 pounds!) But I do feel so organized looking at my list. I know exactly what I plan to wear and when I'll probably wear it, but then it hits me...what if.....That is when I decide I'd better throw in a few extras, just in case.
As I go through my closet and chests to find the items on my list plus those few extras, I see other possibilities. I can't go without that tank top or certainly a white shirt is a must--so versatile. Oh my, I had totally forgotten about that cute little top.
Yes, I realize that I take too many clothes. Plus, I realize that you don't have to have new clothes for a trip, but I really love to have at least one new outfit. The husband says that no one in California or wherever has seen my old stuff so why do I need new stuff. Well, you and I know. Men, (at least my man), don't get it and it is one of those things if you have to try to explain then you know you are in trouble. Some things just can't be explained or understood.
So I throw all the clothes in the suitcase and I mean that very literally. I start out trying to fold things. (I really do, "perfect-packer" sister.) Then it starts getting tight. So that is when the wadding starts. Do you know how much you can stick in little edges of the bag if you kinda wad things up?
Of course, there are none of "perfect-packer sister's" cleaner's bags covering any perfectly pressed 100% cotton slacks or the already ironed t-shirts folded with precision. "It will keep all the outfits ready to wear as they come out of the suitcase--no wrinkles. It saves time and frustration. It doesn't really take any extra time because they come out of the drawer/closet like that." (That was her talking!)
I know! I know! I really do and I definitely wish I could be like that. She is always so perfectly dressed. So why don't I pack that way? That, I just don't know! I guess I didn't get that gene. But I must say other sister and I clean up very well. It may just take us a little longer by having to iron first. Uh-oh, better find the travel iron!
Okay, so my cute red and white polka-dot carry-on bag with wheels is crammed full, but I even haven't started on the shoes. Who could possibly get by with one pair of shoes? Plus, I don't want to look like a tourist. So back to the closet.
After a thorough examination, I make my final decisions about the shoes. I have narrowed it down to this: Wear the one new pair. (Okay, I confess. I got one new pair of shoes for the trip; well, actually two--if you count the flip flops). Pack the other two. The process of elimination was difficult, but I believe I have made good decisions.
I do not want to check my bag (it is so cute) and pay all that extra money so all of the above is in the carry-on. (See why I couldn't spare the room for the plastic cleaner bags??)
The make-up, the phone, the Kindle, the wallet, the brush, the toothbrush, the mirror, aspirin, band-aids (for the new shoes), deodorant, the flat iron, the skin care products, maybe a visor, and definitely the sunglasses and a little purse will go in the tote bag.
There, all packed. Just two carry-ons and no extra charges.
It's going to be fun!
Leta
I love trips of any kind, but trips that include fun people and fun places are the best, right?
So that leads to today's thoughts. I gotta pack. That should not be a problem. I have one sister that packs so well that everything in her suitcase has its place and nothing goes in her suitcase or comes out of the suitcase wrinkled. Then, on the other hand, I have another sister who packs like me, she says, but I know she is much better at it than I am.
This is my method. I make a list of what I will take and how I can interchange the tops and bottoms. Little lines connect the possibilities. Sometimes I even try on the different outfits to see if they look as good as I thought they did. (Darn those extra 5 pounds!) But I do feel so organized looking at my list. I know exactly what I plan to wear and when I'll probably wear it, but then it hits me...what if.....That is when I decide I'd better throw in a few extras, just in case.
As I go through my closet and chests to find the items on my list plus those few extras, I see other possibilities. I can't go without that tank top or certainly a white shirt is a must--so versatile. Oh my, I had totally forgotten about that cute little top.
Yes, I realize that I take too many clothes. Plus, I realize that you don't have to have new clothes for a trip, but I really love to have at least one new outfit. The husband says that no one in California or wherever has seen my old stuff so why do I need new stuff. Well, you and I know. Men, (at least my man), don't get it and it is one of those things if you have to try to explain then you know you are in trouble. Some things just can't be explained or understood.
So I throw all the clothes in the suitcase and I mean that very literally. I start out trying to fold things. (I really do, "perfect-packer" sister.) Then it starts getting tight. So that is when the wadding starts. Do you know how much you can stick in little edges of the bag if you kinda wad things up?
Of course, there are none of "perfect-packer sister's" cleaner's bags covering any perfectly pressed 100% cotton slacks or the already ironed t-shirts folded with precision. "It will keep all the outfits ready to wear as they come out of the suitcase--no wrinkles. It saves time and frustration. It doesn't really take any extra time because they come out of the drawer/closet like that." (That was her talking!)
I know! I know! I really do and I definitely wish I could be like that. She is always so perfectly dressed. So why don't I pack that way? That, I just don't know! I guess I didn't get that gene. But I must say other sister and I clean up very well. It may just take us a little longer by having to iron first. Uh-oh, better find the travel iron!
Okay, so my cute red and white polka-dot carry-on bag with wheels is crammed full, but I even haven't started on the shoes. Who could possibly get by with one pair of shoes? Plus, I don't want to look like a tourist. So back to the closet.
After a thorough examination, I make my final decisions about the shoes. I have narrowed it down to this: Wear the one new pair. (Okay, I confess. I got one new pair of shoes for the trip; well, actually two--if you count the flip flops). Pack the other two. The process of elimination was difficult, but I believe I have made good decisions.
I do not want to check my bag (it is so cute) and pay all that extra money so all of the above is in the carry-on. (See why I couldn't spare the room for the plastic cleaner bags??)
The make-up, the phone, the Kindle, the wallet, the brush, the toothbrush, the mirror, aspirin, band-aids (for the new shoes), deodorant, the flat iron, the skin care products, maybe a visor, and definitely the sunglasses and a little purse will go in the tote bag.
There, all packed. Just two carry-ons and no extra charges.
It's going to be fun!
Leta
Sunday, May 27, 2012
The Art of the Dismount
It's been a few wagon loads of years, not days, since I had been on a swing and let me tell you, it was glorious. Why was I on a swing today? Well, we were invited to join grandson and his parents for a play date at the park. (Play date--new terminology for me but doesn't it make it sound so special! When I was growing up, I didn't have play dates and even as a teen had few dates at all. Maybe that's why I like the term.)
Anyway, we were meeting at this new park near our homes. It is fantastic and a treat for kids of all ages (even 60 somethings!)
One section had water jetting vertically and then suddenly horizontally. Then it would stop and start in another area. It was hilariously fun if you didn't mind getting wet and especially if you didn't mind getting wet unexpectedly.
Another part had some tube slides, climbing ropes, tunnels, and a small rock climbing wall. Then there were the swings. Who can resist a swing? Baby boy and I got on and had a fun, gentle ride. I must admit I think I enjoyed it more than he did, but he didn't cry or scream (with terror or delight); he just held on tight. After a short ride, we stopped and he and his mama went back to the water fun.
However, I overheard my wonderful son-in-law say how good it felt to swing high and use those muscles. Hmmm, I thought for a minute. I'm in to exercise and using muscles! So I hopped back on the swing and started to swing with a grand pump of my legs.
With each pump, I became younger and younger. The air would blow through my hair; I was back in elementary school. I was flying. I was free! I leaned way back and would see the blue sky coming closer. I must say I was swinging higher and higher than my son-in-law did. (At least in my imagination.) The fact that we weren't in sync might explain my proud declaration. I'm sure he saw me touch the tall tree branches. I said I did anyway.
Then I asked him if he used to jump out of the swing while in the air. Being a manly man, he admitted that he used to do it all the time and I don't doubt it. So I said, "Yes, I did too! Wasn't it fun!" Now I am wondering if I really did. Was I that brave as a young child? I don't know but I was brave today. I suddenly declared that I was going to JUMP. No fear, no doubts or second-thoughts. After all, I was ten years old and could do anything!!!
I did let the swing die down just a bit before my dismount. There was never a question in my mind that I couldn't or shouldn't do this. You just let go and let gravity do the rest. No big deal. Just like riding a bike...you never forget how. (One small fact...I never learned to ride a bike!)
Anyway, I did it. I let go and flew gloriously through the air and all too quickly landed...on my back. I think I had forgotten, after all, how to do this. I don't believe the dismount was a 10 like I had planned and imagined. My sweet son-in-law jumped seconds after me (landing upright for heavens sake) and hurried to see if I were okay. He said he was trying to jump before I did so just in case I needed help, he would be there...Whoever would think I needed help? But I did need his help--his help for me to quit laughing and grab his hands so he could pull me upright!
So the dismount wasn't so great or so artful. It certainly wasn't a 10! But sometimes you gotta just let go and give something a try.
Nothing is broken; nothing is hurting, not even my pride. It was fun. I'm just glad my husband did not see it or you would already have seen it on Facebook long before anymore wagon loads of day could go by!
Wheeee!
Leta
Anyway, we were meeting at this new park near our homes. It is fantastic and a treat for kids of all ages (even 60 somethings!)
One section had water jetting vertically and then suddenly horizontally. Then it would stop and start in another area. It was hilariously fun if you didn't mind getting wet and especially if you didn't mind getting wet unexpectedly.
Another part had some tube slides, climbing ropes, tunnels, and a small rock climbing wall. Then there were the swings. Who can resist a swing? Baby boy and I got on and had a fun, gentle ride. I must admit I think I enjoyed it more than he did, but he didn't cry or scream (with terror or delight); he just held on tight. After a short ride, we stopped and he and his mama went back to the water fun.
However, I overheard my wonderful son-in-law say how good it felt to swing high and use those muscles. Hmmm, I thought for a minute. I'm in to exercise and using muscles! So I hopped back on the swing and started to swing with a grand pump of my legs.
With each pump, I became younger and younger. The air would blow through my hair; I was back in elementary school. I was flying. I was free! I leaned way back and would see the blue sky coming closer. I must say I was swinging higher and higher than my son-in-law did. (At least in my imagination.) The fact that we weren't in sync might explain my proud declaration. I'm sure he saw me touch the tall tree branches. I said I did anyway.
Then I asked him if he used to jump out of the swing while in the air. Being a manly man, he admitted that he used to do it all the time and I don't doubt it. So I said, "Yes, I did too! Wasn't it fun!" Now I am wondering if I really did. Was I that brave as a young child? I don't know but I was brave today. I suddenly declared that I was going to JUMP. No fear, no doubts or second-thoughts. After all, I was ten years old and could do anything!!!
I did let the swing die down just a bit before my dismount. There was never a question in my mind that I couldn't or shouldn't do this. You just let go and let gravity do the rest. No big deal. Just like riding a bike...you never forget how. (One small fact...I never learned to ride a bike!)
Anyway, I did it. I let go and flew gloriously through the air and all too quickly landed...on my back. I think I had forgotten, after all, how to do this. I don't believe the dismount was a 10 like I had planned and imagined. My sweet son-in-law jumped seconds after me (landing upright for heavens sake) and hurried to see if I were okay. He said he was trying to jump before I did so just in case I needed help, he would be there...Whoever would think I needed help? But I did need his help--his help for me to quit laughing and grab his hands so he could pull me upright!
So the dismount wasn't so great or so artful. It certainly wasn't a 10! But sometimes you gotta just let go and give something a try.
Nothing is broken; nothing is hurting, not even my pride. It was fun. I'm just glad my husband did not see it or you would already have seen it on Facebook long before anymore wagon loads of day could go by!
Wheeee!
Leta
Friday, May 25, 2012
Clutter
Have you ever noticed that almost every magazine on the stands have a new article about clutter--"How to De-Clutter Your House, Your Office, Your Life," etc. And yes, I have bought most of them. There is bound to be something in those magazines that will totally 100% change my life and take care of the clutter. I might add that I really would like for the magazine article to do it just by being in my house.
My husband thinks our home has too much clutter. I look around for the clutter and, yes, I see his socks on the floor, his shoes in the den, his office a disaster area and I agree with him. He is RIGHT! This house is cluttered! Then I look around and see my beautiful, decorative, collectibles items which I do NOT consider clutter. They are items of beauty that enhance the house, add a touch of class, show that the house is "decorated." They definitely are not clutter!
Okay, so it is obvious that we have a little problem of communication. (Let me quickly add, that this is the only area ever that we have a disagreement about except for, maybe, just about anything!!!)
So, I decided to look up the word in the dictionary. (I used the online dictionary; I couldn't find the actual dictionary book!) And this is what I found:
verb (used with object)
1. to fill or litter with things in a disorderly manner: All kinds of papers cluttered the top of his desk.
Then an ad on "How to Get Organized." Then British usages. Then:
My husband thinks our home has too much clutter. I look around for the clutter and, yes, I see his socks on the floor, his shoes in the den, his office a disaster area and I agree with him. He is RIGHT! This house is cluttered! Then I look around and see my beautiful, decorative, collectibles items which I do NOT consider clutter. They are items of beauty that enhance the house, add a touch of class, show that the house is "decorated." They definitely are not clutter!
Okay, so it is obvious that we have a little problem of communication. (Let me quickly add, that this is the only area ever that we have a disagreement about except for, maybe, just about anything!!!)
So, I decided to look up the word in the dictionary. (I used the online dictionary; I couldn't find the actual dictionary book!) And this is what I found:
"clut·ter [kluht-er]
1. to fill or litter with things in a disorderly manner: All kinds of papers cluttered the top of his desk.
Then an ad on "How to Get Organized." Then British usages. Then:
noun
5. a disorderly heap or assemblage; litter: It's impossible to find anything in all this clutter.
6. a state or condition of confusion."
So, there. Obviously, if our home is "cluttered," it is not because of all my beautiful things! These things are displayed in the most orderly manner; I can find them at any moment; they do not present a state or condition of confusion. They look very orderly, stately, enlightened.
Case closed!
Well, the wagons are pulling those loads of day right past me at this very moment, so I better go attack the clutter!
Leta
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
90 Years Ago
Ahh! Do you ever get over missing your parents? Mama would have been 90 today. She died at 84; 6 years ago and I still miss her every day.
About this time of the year when I am thinking about what to get my first born for her birthday which was yesterday, I always think about what I would have bought for mom. I think back on that day before mom's birthday 35 years ago and feel giving her another grandbaby (her 8th out of 10) was an excellent gift. (Now that I am a grandmother, I realize how special that was for her. I'm sure if I ever have 8 or 2, I will be thrilled. It doesn't even have to be close to my own birthday!)
But I remember telling mom that Sunday morning after a long night of labor and finally delivering that sweet little 8 lb baby that I wished they would have been born on the same day. But what I really meant and said was I wished mom had been born on the 22nd instead of the 23rd because I didn't want to go through that experience again. (And I didn't--until 2 years later!) No words or advice about labor and delivery mean a darn thing until you go through it! And then you forget, I guess.
A new grandchild was a special gift. But mom gave us all many, many gifts. Most importantly, she gave us the gift of life and taught us how to live it.
She was a strong woman; she raised 4 children while dad's job required him to travel often six days a week. She kept the family fires going; she actually cooked us hot breakfasts each morning, packed lunches for us if we wanted them; she cooked dinner every night (no drive-throughs or take-outs--how did she do it?) and had us all cleaning up the kitchen afterwards (no dishwashers at that time). She made us girls beautiful outfits; she taught us how to iron (yuck); she instilled in us a love and respect for each other (yay); she taught us to say our prayers and to say, "I love you."
She praised us (double yay). I still remember how she and my sister's wonderful husband would always talk about how pretty my sister was--and still is. "She's such a pretty girl," one or the other would say! She led us by example.
Oh, yeah, she was a disciplinarian as well. Okay, some of us needed it more than others, but the lessons were learned. She was able to get us all to work together and get our chores done. Sometimes the chores were put in a jar and we "got" to draw the chore out. Then when we got that one done--guess what? We got to draw another chore. I must admit I didn't think that was such a fun game, but she got it to work.
When I tried it on my own family, somehow I think I ended up not only drawing out the chores but doing them as well. Like I said, she was amazing and as one of my sisters has stated she could have managed any company of any size. I agree.
And she was funny. She would tell us stories of her and daddy "courting" and how she "chased him til he caught her!" She was fun. She was known to do some pranks on us and on some of her friends. She and a friend made matching baby outfits for Halloween to go trick or treating on another crazy friend. She had me believe one April Fool's day that an outfit she was ironing for me to wear that day had a hole in it. Oh how sad I was but confused because I couldn't see it!
She loved her husband and her family dearly. On her and dad's sixtieth anniversary, my brother described her perfectly when he said in part, "From my mom I learned how to love unconditionally..."
She did; he does; all her children do. We all received that gift from her. What a gift! What a woman! What a mother!
There have been way too many wagon loads of day gone by since she was here with us.
I miss her.
Leta
About this time of the year when I am thinking about what to get my first born for her birthday which was yesterday, I always think about what I would have bought for mom. I think back on that day before mom's birthday 35 years ago and feel giving her another grandbaby (her 8th out of 10) was an excellent gift. (Now that I am a grandmother, I realize how special that was for her. I'm sure if I ever have 8 or 2, I will be thrilled. It doesn't even have to be close to my own birthday!)
But I remember telling mom that Sunday morning after a long night of labor and finally delivering that sweet little 8 lb baby that I wished they would have been born on the same day. But what I really meant and said was I wished mom had been born on the 22nd instead of the 23rd because I didn't want to go through that experience again. (And I didn't--until 2 years later!) No words or advice about labor and delivery mean a darn thing until you go through it! And then you forget, I guess.
A new grandchild was a special gift. But mom gave us all many, many gifts. Most importantly, she gave us the gift of life and taught us how to live it.
She was a strong woman; she raised 4 children while dad's job required him to travel often six days a week. She kept the family fires going; she actually cooked us hot breakfasts each morning, packed lunches for us if we wanted them; she cooked dinner every night (no drive-throughs or take-outs--how did she do it?) and had us all cleaning up the kitchen afterwards (no dishwashers at that time). She made us girls beautiful outfits; she taught us how to iron (yuck); she instilled in us a love and respect for each other (yay); she taught us to say our prayers and to say, "I love you."
She praised us (double yay). I still remember how she and my sister's wonderful husband would always talk about how pretty my sister was--and still is. "She's such a pretty girl," one or the other would say! She led us by example.
Oh, yeah, she was a disciplinarian as well. Okay, some of us needed it more than others, but the lessons were learned. She was able to get us all to work together and get our chores done. Sometimes the chores were put in a jar and we "got" to draw the chore out. Then when we got that one done--guess what? We got to draw another chore. I must admit I didn't think that was such a fun game, but she got it to work.
When I tried it on my own family, somehow I think I ended up not only drawing out the chores but doing them as well. Like I said, she was amazing and as one of my sisters has stated she could have managed any company of any size. I agree.
And she was funny. She would tell us stories of her and daddy "courting" and how she "chased him til he caught her!" She was fun. She was known to do some pranks on us and on some of her friends. She and a friend made matching baby outfits for Halloween to go trick or treating on another crazy friend. She had me believe one April Fool's day that an outfit she was ironing for me to wear that day had a hole in it. Oh how sad I was but confused because I couldn't see it!
She loved her husband and her family dearly. On her and dad's sixtieth anniversary, my brother described her perfectly when he said in part, "From my mom I learned how to love unconditionally..."
She did; he does; all her children do. We all received that gift from her. What a gift! What a woman! What a mother!
There have been way too many wagon loads of day gone by since she was here with us.
I miss her.
Leta
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
It's a Birthday Day!
Wow! I see that I have not sat down at the computer to write for 2 weeks. My blog has certainly missed not just one wagonload of day but I think about 14 days! I can't even think why. Oh, now I remember. At least for one week: COMPANY! Last week we had company almost every day of the week. And this week the birthday daughter is here for a few days! Yay!
Now you have to understand that having company is wonderful to me (after they get here. Before they arrive, I do all the stuff most sane people do daily or at least weekly--like clean). This happens especially with new guests that haven't seen our house or for those who haven't seen our house in its natural state. When the girls were little and would see me cleaning like a mad woman, they would ask, "Momma, who is coming over?" They knew something was up. And they were right. Company would be coming!
But, of course, that's not a bad thing. Getting the house all nice and clean feels great. I do think after each of these manic cleaning episodes that I will change my habits. I make a chart; I buy a new book on how to stay organized; or I google it. I promise myself that I will do a little everyday so that the house always looks presentable if not clean. Blah, blah, blah!
But the birthday girl is the focus today! I have already made a cake (in my books, that means I opened a cake mix and followed the directions!) But this time I got a little creative and added chocolate chips in the mix. Do you think that will taste right? I hope so cause it's a done deal. To make sure that we would have something for dessert, I bought some Yarnell Ice Cream. So if the cake is a flop, we can have the ice cream. Or if the cake is a flop, maybe the ice cream will cover it up.
Nevertheless, let me tell you how creative this daughter is. Actually, all three of my daughters are artistic. But since it is her birthday, let me brag on her a bit. She can sew! Now in my mind that says it all. She can figure out how much material is needed, how the direction of the material should be; she can read patterns; and she can actually have whatever she is working on turn out to be what she had planned! Brilliant!
Actually, she is really brilliant in lots of areas. It is amazing. She is amazing. And I hope she has an amazing day, an amazing year. And since she is still in bed, I will have to say that she has let an amazing number of wagonloads of day go by but, after all, it is her birthday! Happy Birthday, Sweetie.
Leta
Now you have to understand that having company is wonderful to me (after they get here. Before they arrive, I do all the stuff most sane people do daily or at least weekly--like clean). This happens especially with new guests that haven't seen our house or for those who haven't seen our house in its natural state. When the girls were little and would see me cleaning like a mad woman, they would ask, "Momma, who is coming over?" They knew something was up. And they were right. Company would be coming!
But, of course, that's not a bad thing. Getting the house all nice and clean feels great. I do think after each of these manic cleaning episodes that I will change my habits. I make a chart; I buy a new book on how to stay organized; or I google it. I promise myself that I will do a little everyday so that the house always looks presentable if not clean. Blah, blah, blah!
But the birthday girl is the focus today! I have already made a cake (in my books, that means I opened a cake mix and followed the directions!) But this time I got a little creative and added chocolate chips in the mix. Do you think that will taste right? I hope so cause it's a done deal. To make sure that we would have something for dessert, I bought some Yarnell Ice Cream. So if the cake is a flop, we can have the ice cream. Or if the cake is a flop, maybe the ice cream will cover it up.
Nevertheless, let me tell you how creative this daughter is. Actually, all three of my daughters are artistic. But since it is her birthday, let me brag on her a bit. She can sew! Now in my mind that says it all. She can figure out how much material is needed, how the direction of the material should be; she can read patterns; and she can actually have whatever she is working on turn out to be what she had planned! Brilliant!
Actually, she is really brilliant in lots of areas. It is amazing. She is amazing. And I hope she has an amazing day, an amazing year. And since she is still in bed, I will have to say that she has let an amazing number of wagonloads of day go by but, after all, it is her birthday! Happy Birthday, Sweetie.
Leta
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Being Grandmother
Grandbabies! Amazing. Need I say more? No, but I will.
Never did I truly believe why a grandmother would gush on about her little grandchild. I have three darling, smart, and loving daughters but even when they were babies, I never felt the need to constantly tell people how cute they were or make strangers look at the latest pictures of them. (I do sometimes now have a desire that flickers through me to show some stranger my grandson's picture. I'm sure it would make them very happy and probably amazed to see such a cutie and it would probably improve their lives! I want to say, "Look at how cute he is in that hat! Oh, And look at him in the sandbox."
Since I worked with babies and preschoolers for 25 years, I have always thought that they were fun and funny, but honestly! And there were stories that have become classic from my experience with these children--like the little 3 year old who urgently raised her hand and stopped her teacher during circle time and asked, "Can we talk about me now?"
So when people would tell me that having grandchildren was such a wonderful experience, I would politely agree. (yeah, yeah--I would think! I've seen and been with these grandchildren for a long time and they are cute but...)
Besides, my life was busy as it was. Working, having fun with friends, doing things with my grown-up daughters, traveling with my husband. Life was just fine. I never pressured any daughter to hurry and have a baby. (I don't think I did.) I wanted one when they wanted one. (After all, I am a modern liberated woman--hear me roar!)
Well, 16 months ago, all of my neutral feelings about grandchildren changed. My little grandson arrived in my life and I must say, as a friend described, he was/is the "cutest boy in the whole United States!"
Yes, he has me smitten! I love holding him; playing with him; following him around; strolling with him; reading to him. Anything and everything. Not only is he so very pretty with those big blue eyes and blond curls, but he is probably the smartest baby ever. And I am not prejudiced at all!
With this sweet child, the wagon loads of day have passed quickly. It's was just a minute ago when he was a 9 lb. newborn and now he is so tall and inquisitive, babbling, pointing, laughing and learning new words daily! I am so thrilled to be able to watch him grow and be a part of his life. And be a gushy grandmother.
Loads of days are going by fast with that little fellow. I know that there will be a time when going to a friend's house is more appealing to him than going to see grandparents, so I hope to value each wagon load now and pray I see many many of them!
One more enamored granny!
Leta
Never did I truly believe why a grandmother would gush on about her little grandchild. I have three darling, smart, and loving daughters but even when they were babies, I never felt the need to constantly tell people how cute they were or make strangers look at the latest pictures of them. (I do sometimes now have a desire that flickers through me to show some stranger my grandson's picture. I'm sure it would make them very happy and probably amazed to see such a cutie and it would probably improve their lives! I want to say, "Look at how cute he is in that hat! Oh, And look at him in the sandbox."
Since I worked with babies and preschoolers for 25 years, I have always thought that they were fun and funny, but honestly! And there were stories that have become classic from my experience with these children--like the little 3 year old who urgently raised her hand and stopped her teacher during circle time and asked, "Can we talk about me now?"
So when people would tell me that having grandchildren was such a wonderful experience, I would politely agree. (yeah, yeah--I would think! I've seen and been with these grandchildren for a long time and they are cute but...)
Besides, my life was busy as it was. Working, having fun with friends, doing things with my grown-up daughters, traveling with my husband. Life was just fine. I never pressured any daughter to hurry and have a baby. (I don't think I did.) I wanted one when they wanted one. (After all, I am a modern liberated woman--hear me roar!)
Well, 16 months ago, all of my neutral feelings about grandchildren changed. My little grandson arrived in my life and I must say, as a friend described, he was/is the "cutest boy in the whole United States!"
Yes, he has me smitten! I love holding him; playing with him; following him around; strolling with him; reading to him. Anything and everything. Not only is he so very pretty with those big blue eyes and blond curls, but he is probably the smartest baby ever. And I am not prejudiced at all!
With this sweet child, the wagon loads of day have passed quickly. It's was just a minute ago when he was a 9 lb. newborn and now he is so tall and inquisitive, babbling, pointing, laughing and learning new words daily! I am so thrilled to be able to watch him grow and be a part of his life. And be a gushy grandmother.
Loads of days are going by fast with that little fellow. I know that there will be a time when going to a friend's house is more appealing to him than going to see grandparents, so I hope to value each wagon load now and pray I see many many of them!
One more enamored granny!
Leta
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Cleaning Day, Interrupted
Getting out of bed in the morning was never my strong suit. Why I thought hitting the snooze button for 9 more minutes would make a difference, I don't know. Even hitting it 2 or 3 times in the long run didn't help that much. So the fact that I now rarely even set my phone's alarm is strange. I know, Mama, you are smiling in heaven seeing that I'm awake before hardly any loads of day have gone by.
Is that what happens when one ages??? (I'll have to google it and see!)
Friday was one of those days. I was up with my "to do list" already in my head (and, no, the ATTIC didn't even make that list.)
But I was motivated. It was my goal while my grandson was out of town to get lots of chores done. I was straightening which always for me involves rearranging something, so I did; plus, vacuuming, mopping kitchen...you know the routine--except for maybe the rearranging part. I understand from my family and friends not everyone does that when cleaning! hmmm!
Then the call came. "Would you please substitute this afternoon?" My good friend who is still a preschool director had that clear tone of desperation I knew so well from my own preschool director days! "Sure," I replied and put the mop away. (Okay, I admit--I was kinda thrilled to put the mop away!)
After throwing some decent clothes on and putting my face on, I headed to "work." And there I was in charge of 6 two and three year olds. I supervised their eating lunch, their playing on the playground and then their naps. I considered my afternoon as a substitute successful as I didn't lose anyone, no one got hurt on the playground, and 1/4 of them actually took a nap. (I know you are doing the math; I just thought 1/4 sounded better than 2!)
Plans changed Friday. Often plans change. That can be a good thing, too. The wagonloads of day go by one by one and being open to change creates interesting days.
This was an interesting day!
Leta
Is that what happens when one ages??? (I'll have to google it and see!)
Friday was one of those days. I was up with my "to do list" already in my head (and, no, the ATTIC didn't even make that list.)
But I was motivated. It was my goal while my grandson was out of town to get lots of chores done. I was straightening which always for me involves rearranging something, so I did; plus, vacuuming, mopping kitchen...you know the routine--except for maybe the rearranging part. I understand from my family and friends not everyone does that when cleaning! hmmm!
Then the call came. "Would you please substitute this afternoon?" My good friend who is still a preschool director had that clear tone of desperation I knew so well from my own preschool director days! "Sure," I replied and put the mop away. (Okay, I admit--I was kinda thrilled to put the mop away!)
After throwing some decent clothes on and putting my face on, I headed to "work." And there I was in charge of 6 two and three year olds. I supervised their eating lunch, their playing on the playground and then their naps. I considered my afternoon as a substitute successful as I didn't lose anyone, no one got hurt on the playground, and 1/4 of them actually took a nap. (I know you are doing the math; I just thought 1/4 sounded better than 2!)
Plans changed Friday. Often plans change. That can be a good thing, too. The wagonloads of day go by one by one and being open to change creates interesting days.
This was an interesting day!
Leta
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Best of Intentions
First, I must admit, the attic did not get any attention. I meant to do it. I really did. But little did I know the phone would ring and a friend would invite me to come over for a cup of coffee. Well, the cup must have been very big because I stayed for 3 hours. Then "while I was out," (you've heard that before I'm sure) I ran by a couple of stores.
I did make it back home and up into the attic to put away my suitcase from our weekend trip. Being up there would surely put me in the right frame of mind to get started. But while putting the suitcase in the attic closet, I happened to look in a plastic box. Now exactly what did I put in this box that says, "ATTIC?" More clothes? Maybe some that are springy and fun and maybe even new? Or maybe some other summer shoes?
Oh boy! It was better than clothes or shoes. It was a box of treasures! I found one of my many boxes of props I used in my storytimes at the library. These will be perfect to play with that precious grandson of mine! I had been looking for these puppets, farm animals, and stuffed animals for awhile. Who would have thought they would have been living in the cedar lined attic closet!
I started picking out a few of the treasures to take downstairs and what do you know but the phone rings again. The phone happened to be in my pocket so I didn't have to run down the narrow stairs and risk life and limb as my husband is afraid I'm going to do.
I answered and another good friend whom I haven't seen much since the move back asked if I wanted to go....Actually, that was all I needed to hear. "Of course," I said barely letting her finish her sentence. So off I go. (Some people have said my middle name ought to be "Go." They could be right. I love to go.)
Needless to say, the attic didn't get the attention I have been planning for it. The plan, when and if it happens, is going to be so neat, so organized. There will be a section for Christmas decorations, a section for other seasonal things, a section for the camping gear that is used once in a blue moon and not by me, a section for my art, a section for my props, etc. Of course, it will be in alphabetical order too. (The ole library habits remain.) Plus, all the boxes will be opened and examined. Maybe I'll find our land line phone.
Well, sadly, all but one of the boxes still remain untouched, waiting patiently for another day. But you know, in thinking about it, they don't seem unhappy in their present arrangement; and I can go downstairs, close the door, and forget them for awhile longer. A good job for another day!
My conclusion: it doesn't matter what your intentions are or whether you do them or not, the wagonloads of days always go by.
Leta
I did make it back home and up into the attic to put away my suitcase from our weekend trip. Being up there would surely put me in the right frame of mind to get started. But while putting the suitcase in the attic closet, I happened to look in a plastic box. Now exactly what did I put in this box that says, "ATTIC?" More clothes? Maybe some that are springy and fun and maybe even new? Or maybe some other summer shoes?
Oh boy! It was better than clothes or shoes. It was a box of treasures! I found one of my many boxes of props I used in my storytimes at the library. These will be perfect to play with that precious grandson of mine! I had been looking for these puppets, farm animals, and stuffed animals for awhile. Who would have thought they would have been living in the cedar lined attic closet!
I started picking out a few of the treasures to take downstairs and what do you know but the phone rings again. The phone happened to be in my pocket so I didn't have to run down the narrow stairs and risk life and limb as my husband is afraid I'm going to do.
I answered and another good friend whom I haven't seen much since the move back asked if I wanted to go....Actually, that was all I needed to hear. "Of course," I said barely letting her finish her sentence. So off I go. (Some people have said my middle name ought to be "Go." They could be right. I love to go.)
Needless to say, the attic didn't get the attention I have been planning for it. The plan, when and if it happens, is going to be so neat, so organized. There will be a section for Christmas decorations, a section for other seasonal things, a section for the camping gear that is used once in a blue moon and not by me, a section for my art, a section for my props, etc. Of course, it will be in alphabetical order too. (The ole library habits remain.) Plus, all the boxes will be opened and examined. Maybe I'll find our land line phone.
Well, sadly, all but one of the boxes still remain untouched, waiting patiently for another day. But you know, in thinking about it, they don't seem unhappy in their present arrangement; and I can go downstairs, close the door, and forget them for awhile longer. A good job for another day!
My conclusion: it doesn't matter what your intentions are or whether you do them or not, the wagonloads of days always go by.
Leta
Monday, April 30, 2012
Introduction
My parents came from a long line of driven, hard working, accomplish-something-each-day kind of folks. They were down to earth young parents with only a high school education but with sky-high expectations of their 4 children. And we didn't let them down in that respect. Just a college degree was not the stopping place for this family.
All of this to say, that mom and dad set the example of "get up early, don't waste time, work hard, and accomplish something each day."
I value that now but to be honest when growing up, it wasn't always a pleasure to be awakened on a Saturday morning hearing mom bustle down the hall, cheerily waking us up with, "Wake up! Wake up! Three wagonloads of day have already gone by!" (It may have been only 8:00 in the morning.)
Thus, the title of my blog, "Wagonloads of Day."
It will be about what days are like for life after 60, after a move, after retiring from libraries and preschool work, and after becoming a grandmother for the first time.
And yes, 2 or 3 loads of day have already gone by...
But I have gone to Sonic to get my DDP. (Does that count for an accomplishment?) I love DDP and especially when they are half-priced!
So today I'm focused on the moving part of my days.
Moving is hard. Don't let anyone tell you differently. We moved back to what we call home on March 1. I had one month to get the house packed. For this move we (meaning "me"--my husband was already working here) packed our belongings instead of having movers do it like the last time five years ago. (Not recommended)
But it does make one go through things and try to decide what to get rid of--not my strong suit. When I finally got through of some of the "going through and throwing out," the packing began. I started out oh so organized--printed labels slapped on all 4 sides of the box stating the room it should be moved to and a label on top explaining its contents. I could be organized; I had a month to do this.
HOWEVER, somewhere along the way, I had let too many loads of day go by without getting things done so by the last weekend before the movers came, whatever was in sight at a certain moment went into the same box and every box from then on was labeled with only one label and they all read, "ATTIC."
So today my goal is to attack that "ATTIC." Wish me luck. I better hurry; it's 9:30 and I would guess that is at least 3 loads of day that has already gone by...
Leta
All of this to say, that mom and dad set the example of "get up early, don't waste time, work hard, and accomplish something each day."
I value that now but to be honest when growing up, it wasn't always a pleasure to be awakened on a Saturday morning hearing mom bustle down the hall, cheerily waking us up with, "Wake up! Wake up! Three wagonloads of day have already gone by!" (It may have been only 8:00 in the morning.)
Thus, the title of my blog, "Wagonloads of Day."
It will be about what days are like for life after 60, after a move, after retiring from libraries and preschool work, and after becoming a grandmother for the first time.
And yes, 2 or 3 loads of day have already gone by...
But I have gone to Sonic to get my DDP. (Does that count for an accomplishment?) I love DDP and especially when they are half-priced!
So today I'm focused on the moving part of my days.
Moving is hard. Don't let anyone tell you differently. We moved back to what we call home on March 1. I had one month to get the house packed. For this move we (meaning "me"--my husband was already working here) packed our belongings instead of having movers do it like the last time five years ago. (Not recommended)
But it does make one go through things and try to decide what to get rid of--not my strong suit. When I finally got through of some of the "going through and throwing out," the packing began. I started out oh so organized--printed labels slapped on all 4 sides of the box stating the room it should be moved to and a label on top explaining its contents. I could be organized; I had a month to do this.
HOWEVER, somewhere along the way, I had let too many loads of day go by without getting things done so by the last weekend before the movers came, whatever was in sight at a certain moment went into the same box and every box from then on was labeled with only one label and they all read, "ATTIC."
So today my goal is to attack that "ATTIC." Wish me luck. I better hurry; it's 9:30 and I would guess that is at least 3 loads of day that has already gone by...
Leta
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