Okay, I finally made a plan to organize my time. One part of the plan was to walk daily with Sonny. Since I just made the plan last night, I hated to cop out on it the first day. So Sonny and I went for a walk in the neighborhood after my storytime visit at the church's dayschool.
It's a beautiful day and it felt good to walk. I told Sonny we would walk for twenty minutes. He said that was fine. In fact, everything was fine until...
We were moving along at a good clip with me pulling Sonny away from what I guess was various delicious smells to him. One truck slowly passed. We waved and continued the walk. Then another truck, a red one, pulled slowly to the side to make sure we were safe and then it happened.
I hit a uneven piece of road which is quite common in our neighborhood. But what is probably not common is to see a 60-ish (my pride is a little injured so I hesitate to say my real age) go flying through the air with the phone, sunglasses (prescription) and dog leash flying in their own directions.
I did have the recollection of what a physical therapist friend had told me long ago--when you fall, roll with it.
So that is what I did. And I ended up on my back looking up at a fuzzy sky. (Remember, my glasses were three feet away.) Now, here is the best part. The young man in the red truck hopped out and asked me if I was okay.
Silly question, I thought, and replied truthfully, "No, not really." But really I was--no blood, no bones sticking out, no facial injuries. My next sentence was to ask him to get my dog who was standing near by probably amazed at this spectacular walk. I don't think the walks he has with the husband includes such excitement.
Then the very, very nice young man (and nice looking I might add--I'm not that old or that blind!) helped me up and proceeded to tell me he had been a military medic. Since I told him I had hit my elbow and knee, he checked my wrist and had me move my hand up and down (something about pressure points) to make sure my elbow was okay which it was since it didn't hurt doing those motions. He had me do the same with my foot to check on the knee.
So I am okay. (Well, I could always use a little sympathy!) But I am also very impressed with the kindness of this stranger. He could have just driven on and I could have just laid there for awhile hoping to melt into the concrete, but he was very concerned and helpful.
Indeed there are nice people in this world--even nice strangers. Thank you kind sir.
I just hope the rest of my organizational plan goes better or a nice (good-looking stranger) is nearby to help!
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Reading vs Cleaning House
Last night we celebrated the husband's birthday with a dinner at our house which I didn't have to cook (thank goodness for take-out) and I didn't have to make the cake (thank goodness for the daughter who made a cake more superbly than I ever could or in fact, better than any bakery cake I've ever bought--which is what I usually do when I need a dessert) and a friend who brought a chocolate cream pie.
So, you say..."How easy that dinner party was!" Yes, I agree and no, you don't know the whole story. When I know I'm having company, I get into the "clean it up, YaYa" mode as the grandson would say. That mode really comes from my mother who always had a tidy if not very clean house. The grandson may have gotten that gene. I definitely hope so.
Nevertheless, I always think the house must be spotless for company--no clutter out, no old newspapers or magazines untidily sitting around, no keys (or anything else, for that matter) left on the side table where they are not suppose to live, even rearranging furniture or pictures. Everything needs to be as "magazine-perfect" as possible.
The husband doesn't understand that notion because he says that we live here and, of course, things are out! He doesn't understand that I don't think everyone lives with so much mess out and he didn't have my mother expecting one to actually put away their things, dust furniture on a weekly (at least) basis, and vacuum and mop not just weekly but more like daily if there was a spill or noticeable dust bunnies or spider webs. (Oh my--I forgot to even check for those. Yikes.)
So that brings me to last night. I kept my precious grandson yesterday afternoon and I am known to leave things until the last minute, so there was plenty to do yesterday. I did get a good amount done before he arrived, but then my time was his time.
For his time, he loves books. "Go to my room and read book, YaYa." So we did. That brings me to the question or dilemma presented in the title of this post--"Reading vs Cleaning." And I must tell you reading books to that sweet feller won out hands-down!
So, the party went on quite well with a few spots on the kitchen floor and the furniture not dusted. I don't even care if anyone was noticing or later criticizing the state of the house. I did the most important job I have as YaYa--I read and loved on that grandson of mine! I think my mama would understand and agree because he is SO cute.
"Read it again, YaYa."
So, you say..."How easy that dinner party was!" Yes, I agree and no, you don't know the whole story. When I know I'm having company, I get into the "clean it up, YaYa" mode as the grandson would say. That mode really comes from my mother who always had a tidy if not very clean house. The grandson may have gotten that gene. I definitely hope so.
Nevertheless, I always think the house must be spotless for company--no clutter out, no old newspapers or magazines untidily sitting around, no keys (or anything else, for that matter) left on the side table where they are not suppose to live, even rearranging furniture or pictures. Everything needs to be as "magazine-perfect" as possible.
The husband doesn't understand that notion because he says that we live here and, of course, things are out! He doesn't understand that I don't think everyone lives with so much mess out and he didn't have my mother expecting one to actually put away their things, dust furniture on a weekly (at least) basis, and vacuum and mop not just weekly but more like daily if there was a spill or noticeable dust bunnies or spider webs. (Oh my--I forgot to even check for those. Yikes.)
So that brings me to last night. I kept my precious grandson yesterday afternoon and I am known to leave things until the last minute, so there was plenty to do yesterday. I did get a good amount done before he arrived, but then my time was his time.
For his time, he loves books. "Go to my room and read book, YaYa." So we did. That brings me to the question or dilemma presented in the title of this post--"Reading vs Cleaning." And I must tell you reading books to that sweet feller won out hands-down!
So, the party went on quite well with a few spots on the kitchen floor and the furniture not dusted. I don't even care if anyone was noticing or later criticizing the state of the house. I did the most important job I have as YaYa--I read and loved on that grandson of mine! I think my mama would understand and agree because he is SO cute.
"Read it again, YaYa."
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Some Things Don't Change
I found this poem I wrote a couple of years ago. It goes to show some things just don't change.
Resolutions
I
resolved to do better this year.
I
would eat right, exercise, and think pretty thoughts.
I
would get organized by February.
The
house would be clean.
The
fridge purged of lean cuisune.
The
laundry washed, dried and put away
All in
a single day.
The
closets would be straight
And I
wouldn’t even stay up late.
I’d
read—not watch crime
And
I’d do better with my time.
But
April is now descending upon me.
And I
wonder how this could be.
The
house is topsy-turvy.
The
laundry needs to be done.
The
vacuum run,
And
the closets are screaming for help.
Even
the maid who was heaven sent
Has
now given me up for Lent.
But
the year isn’t over.
There
is time left.
Surely
I can find a solution.
So let
it be said
While
I’m in my right head
I will
not make any more resolutions.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Hugs
Isn't it wonderful to see someone and they give you a great hug? I love to get hugs, don't you? It doesn't even have to be after several loads of days have gone by. It can be just after a few hours of seeing someone.
There are so many kinds of hugs--you know what I mean. Some are those that are "almost hugs" for appearance sake. In those hugs, there is usually little if any actual touching one another. It may be like an arm partially around the other person and a "body lean in."
This motion is quickly followed by the typical social comments--"Good to see you. How's it going?" But, most importantly, it is followed by a quick withdrawal--usually to the other side of the room. These are often the "party hugs."
Then there is the hug that's a little too long. Generally, these are from those who have maybe, say, a different agenda than you do. You do your best to avoid their hugs at all costs--unless...oh never mind that thought. I don't know what I was thinking--I promise!
Of course there is the genuine hug that is when both arms go around your body or neck with a short squeeze included. Hmm, those are nice. They are given freely from old friends, moms and dads, children you haven't seen or won't see for awhile and maybe a few other special people.
Oh, and don't forget the hug from the grandchild or even any little one. They are so pure and sweet. Today, in fact, when the grandson woke up (of course in my arms), he looked up, smiled, and gave me a hug and a sweet kiss on the mouth no less. So unsolicited. So wonderful.
Even doing story times at the church, the children come give my legs hugs. And did you know that with children, hugs generate hugs? All of a sudden I will have a herd of children grabbing and hugging my legs or hugging someone who is hugging my legs. If you ever want to feel really important, read some stories to children. They are so eager to express their adoration. It does your soul good and you can easily get a few hugs.
Then occasionally, you will run across someone--sometimes male, sometimes female--that can give the ultimate hug. That is when their shoulders as well as their arms encircle you; their shoulders mold around you and make you feel totally important to them. Wow! You feel empowered yet you wonder how they learned to hug so--well, so right. It's like they are surrounding you with comfort, friendship, and mutual respect.
I have a few friends that know how to hug like that and it always takes me back a bit with delight. I love it and want to be that kind of hugger myself, but most often I forget with friends and acquaintances and give the hug that is somewhere between the same-o "glad to see ya hug," "we'll be friends forever hug" and "I can't really remember your name, but I know I know you" hug.
I think I'll go practice my hugs on my husband and surprise the heck out of him. I wonder: Can you give one of those hugs when another is soaked into the sofa watching TV?
I'll let you know and maybe it will be before too many wagon loads of days go by again. In the meantime, go give someone a really, really good hug.
There are so many kinds of hugs--you know what I mean. Some are those that are "almost hugs" for appearance sake. In those hugs, there is usually little if any actual touching one another. It may be like an arm partially around the other person and a "body lean in."
This motion is quickly followed by the typical social comments--"Good to see you. How's it going?" But, most importantly, it is followed by a quick withdrawal--usually to the other side of the room. These are often the "party hugs."
Then there is the hug that's a little too long. Generally, these are from those who have maybe, say, a different agenda than you do. You do your best to avoid their hugs at all costs--unless...oh never mind that thought. I don't know what I was thinking--I promise!
Of course there is the genuine hug that is when both arms go around your body or neck with a short squeeze included. Hmm, those are nice. They are given freely from old friends, moms and dads, children you haven't seen or won't see for awhile and maybe a few other special people.
Oh, and don't forget the hug from the grandchild or even any little one. They are so pure and sweet. Today, in fact, when the grandson woke up (of course in my arms), he looked up, smiled, and gave me a hug and a sweet kiss on the mouth no less. So unsolicited. So wonderful.
Even doing story times at the church, the children come give my legs hugs. And did you know that with children, hugs generate hugs? All of a sudden I will have a herd of children grabbing and hugging my legs or hugging someone who is hugging my legs. If you ever want to feel really important, read some stories to children. They are so eager to express their adoration. It does your soul good and you can easily get a few hugs.
Then occasionally, you will run across someone--sometimes male, sometimes female--that can give the ultimate hug. That is when their shoulders as well as their arms encircle you; their shoulders mold around you and make you feel totally important to them. Wow! You feel empowered yet you wonder how they learned to hug so--well, so right. It's like they are surrounding you with comfort, friendship, and mutual respect.
I have a few friends that know how to hug like that and it always takes me back a bit with delight. I love it and want to be that kind of hugger myself, but most often I forget with friends and acquaintances and give the hug that is somewhere between the same-o "glad to see ya hug," "we'll be friends forever hug" and "I can't really remember your name, but I know I know you" hug.
I think I'll go practice my hugs on my husband and surprise the heck out of him. I wonder: Can you give one of those hugs when another is soaked into the sofa watching TV?
I'll let you know and maybe it will be before too many wagon loads of days go by again. In the meantime, go give someone a really, really good hug.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
I Love My Brother!
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.
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.
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.
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