Tangled Roots

I love gardens.  I guess one usually thinks of gardening in the spring and yes, that is a beautiful time.  But I am really enjoying the fall gardens this year.  Maybe it is because the mums I planted last fall after the blooms died back are alive and well in the backyard this year.

There are yellow and burgundy mums growing randomly against the house.  They don't look as perfect as the mums in the gallon pots I bought this fall, but I like that.  They are different heights and kinda wild-like but stunning.

Now when my Master Gardener friend came to visit recently, I didn't get to ask her what she thought about my garden of mums and monkey grass.  I'm sure she would have been kind, but it really didn't matter to me.  I like them and proud of the fact that they actually came back.

I guess I was somewhat surprised when the mums came back because I really know just very little about planting.  I know that when you take the plant out of the pot, you have to spread the roots out.  Generally they are very tangled; some are even growing through the bottom of the pot.

Now that is about the extent of my gardening expertise.  And I haven't engaged in any of my "heavy duty" gardening in awhile.  But what I have done is paint a picture for a dear friend who is about to celebrate a big birthday--you know, one of those that end in 0.  After painting the picture, I decided it needed a perfect quote to top it off.

I could have thought and thought and thought and come up with a sentiment to use, but instead I resorted to "googling" quotes.  Do you know that there are millions, no billions, of quotes about everything.  Well, I wanted an extra special one about friendships for my extra special friend.

I found a bunch.  Some were way too wordy.  Scratch those.  I'm sure they were very meaningful quotes, but remember, I was a preschool teacher forever.  I like short books, short sentences, and lots of great pictures.

Nevertheless, I won't list all of the quotes I actually read and liked, but the one that grabbed me was this:

"Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled.  I'm glad for that."  Ally Condie

 

WOW!  Isn't that good? 


That quote made me think not only about my garden but also my friend.  You know so many of metaphors of gardens and friendships.  But what struck me was the phrase, "our roots will always be tangled..."

My friend and I were young adults when we first met, but I still believe we grew into an awesome adulthood together.  Although there were many times we were as carefree and playful as young children, we had our serious times as well--tangling our roots tighter with each experience.

We have helped each other through good and bad times.  And I would do anything for her and I know she would for me too.  Before I moved, we would spend a Saturday or two each month running around.  I love her.  We would laugh and laugh.  We would eat Mexican food or if we were being "good," we would divide a sandwich and fore go the french fries.

We would attack painting walls or even wall-papering walls or moving heavy furniture.  We discovered that if we had a beer or two, we would do much better.  (Sometimes it took us until wee hours of the morning to finish our projects--and beer!)  We shopped together--tried on clothes over our clothes cause we didn't want to go to dressing room.  That was fine until the time she couldn't get the dress off that she pulled on over her clothes.  Then there was the time we had to try out the hula hoops at a discount store. 

We never were asked to leave a store, I promise.  Because of her, though, we knew where every restroom was in every store in town.  I could count on making memories on any day I spent with my friend.

Then the husband and I moved to Texas for five years.  My friend and I still talked and saw each other a few times.  Each time we got together, it was like nothing had changed.  But in reality it had.  When we moved back, my friend and I didn't get together as often.  Those weekend days had been filled with other friends of hers; I had a grand baby that I wanted to be with.  She had several grand kids that took her time.  She worked full time still; I didn't.  So I was sad that we weren't able to pick up exactly like we left off.

But when I read that quote, I realized that we will always be connected.  Our roots run deep and are pleasantly tangled.  I love her and enjoy the times we spend together as much as ever.  Sure I wish it were more, but our friendship has survived and perhaps even strengthened because of realizing the value of the tangled roots.

I am glad for the side by side times with my dear friend.  I'm sure there will be more and more.  I am glad for those roots that through our deep friendship got tangled and strong.  I am glad I have her as my friend and know that just like my perennial mums, she'll be there year after year. 

Old Friends and Old Friends Long Gone

Tonight I got to see some old friends and some old friends long gone.  The church celebrates its Centennial this weekend with a various activities planned--drop in reception, dinner tonight, and special worship service tomorrow to name a few.

We attended the dinner.  That was where we first got to connect with some friends.  I got to see those friends we usually just see on Sundays.  And I got to see one of my favorite people, Milly.  She has not been able to get to church for awhile but special efforts were made for her to get there tonight.

She looked beautiful.  I could tell that this was an important occasion for her and she wanted to look her best.  (I understand that--I just put on and took off 3 outfits trying to find one that I liked for tonight.)  Her hair looked lovely and the smile on her face lit the room.

Milly is one of the church members whose example I treasure.  I remember (there was a lot of remembering going on tonight) her always being at church.  She faithfully attended Wednesday nights as well as Sunday mornings.  That in and of itself is worthwhile but she would also have her young granddaughters in tow.  Wow!  She did this from the time they were toddlers.  She knew the importance of being in church so she made sure those little girls were too.  Because of her, they grew up in the church.

Then I saw a girlfriend I hadn't seen in probably twenty years or so.  We had gone to a NLR church together at the age of 5 and 6.  She was a year older than me, but we spent many an afternoon together.  We also attended Ouachita together.  We lost contact with each other for several years and then, lo and behold, one weekend when I went to visit my parents in Fort Smith, I discovered that she and her husband and children lived just a few houses down the street from my parents.

Time went on.  My friend moved; my parents moved.  I hadn't seen her since, I don't believe.  But I saw her tonight!  It was great to catch up on her life.  I have such fond memories of our friendship.

At the end of a delightful program highlighting the events over the last 100 years, there was a slide show.   Some current church members--our friends--gave their reflections of the church.  There were funny stories told; there were poignant testimonies shared.  There was strength in their stories--the strength that this church needs now with enough to survive the future.

Then there were those slides from earlier generations--more friends--but long gone.  These old friends had been pillars of this church.  There was strength in their faces.  They had grit.  They had courage.  They had skills. They had love and pride in their church. They provided what the church needed--some did the unseen things, the repairs, the care of the building; some were the teachers, the nursery workers;  some were leaders in the community who had the courage to fight for civil rights.

They all were the backbone of the church; they lived their faith so loudly that the neighborhoods wanted to be a part of this church.  It was the glory days of this church.

Time has changed the church in many ways.  The pews aren't always filled; the dress is no longer your Sunday best; the songs are sometimes different.  But the friends are there.  Friends long gone are there in their supportive spirits.  Love is there.

Tomorrow is Sunday.  Those friends will be there.  I'll be there as well.

Forget School Supplies and Think Nora Ephron

“Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.” --Nora Ephron

Whew!  When I read that quote, I immediately felt better about my neck, myself, my silly attraction to school supplies and my previous lengthy post titled "School Supplies."  After seeing the quote on a quest for something else (can't remember what now), I thought I would just edit that post, include the justifying quote, and then be on to something else.

Well, let's forget the editing of that post and just go on to something else...like Nora Ephron.  Too bad there will be no more of her books and commentaries.  I've read a lot of her work and still laugh and think about her quirky wisdom and advice.  And yes, I do feel bad about my neck as most women of a certain age do, but I am glad about a woman such as Nora Ephron. 

Not being able to spontaneously recite interesting or famous lines from books, movies, or even songs, I turned to Google, always the smartest thing in the room.  (The husband is not here right now.)

I typed in "Nora Ephron quotes" and was successfully greeted by so many funny, thoughtful lines.  I simply could not quit reading them, laughing and pondering them all.  I won't copy and paste them all here; you can find them and enjoy them next time you're online.  You will probably agree that an essay, or blog post, could be written on any one of them.

But the following lines of a dialogue in Ephron's movie/play, Heartburn, really spoke to me.  I guess it's because I always seem to have a story.  My niece used to grab the camcorder when I arrived at family gatherings, ask me something, and then start recording away.   (Hmmm.  I better find out what she did with those!)  Anyway, maybe this is why I turn things into stories.  How about you?

“Vera said: “Why do you feel you have to turn everything into a story?”
So I told her why.
Because if I tell the story, I control the version.
Because if I tell the story, I can make you laugh, and I would rather have you laugh at me than feel sorry for me.
Because if I tell the story, it doesn't hurt as much.
Because if I tell the story, I can get on with it.” 

Talking

I recently saw a quote and illustration on a Kleenex box (of all places) that I thought was hilarious and probably more true than anyone would like to admit.  The illustration was fine but it was the quote that got my attention.

"I hear what you are saying, but I'm thinking about myself." 

Okay, I confess--I am guilty of that at times.

I'm sure if everyone was really honest they could remember some--maybe many--occasions in which this has happened.

It reminds me of an incident that occurred while I was director of a preschool.  One morning a teacher came to my office during her break to tell me this absolutely precious story that happened earlier that morning during circle time with her class of three year olds.

I think the unit for the week was "Dinosaurs," and this superb teacher would have been presenting it in a totally awesome way as usual.  After talking awhile about dinosaurs and getting the children interested by showing pictures and books, she noticed a little princess of a three year old with her hand waving fiercely in the air.

The teacher sweetly called on her, thinking the child was anxiously wanting to tell something she knew about dinosaurs or that she had a new cat or something equally important, but then to the teacher's great amusement, the little girl said with much exasperation, "Can we talk about me now?"

There you go. That says it all, right?  It's funny and true.  I think maybe the three year old child in all of us has experienced that desire from  time to time.  Then there are those adults who haven't grown past that stage.   They keep the conversation centered on them.  Some do it to the extent to make this following quote true:

We would rather speak ill of ourselves than not talk about ourselves at all.

Francois de La Rochefoucauld  

Those people are tiresome.  But there are those people that you don't ever get tired of listening to.   Some people, such as my brilliant husband for one,  are wonderful conversationalists.  The husband can talk about anything with facts, history, and humor, so it is great fun to be a listener to a person like that. 

But it is equally important and takes great skill to be a good listener.  I've known both great conversationalists as well as great listeners.  But I am now wondering how many people are excellent at both?  Hmmm.  Good question.  (Husband, are you reading this?  If so, then you are that person!  kiss kiss)

We have all listened to great speakers.  These are the speakers who keep you waiting for the next word or sentence.  Listening to my brother-in-law is like that.  He is enthralling.  I never want to miss a word in any of his sermons or his conversations. 

Brother-in-law is the exception.  Many times listening can be hard.  Have you ever "listened" to say--directions to some place (especially if someone else is also listening), the "specials" on the menu, or someone's latest "problem du jour" and afterwards realized that you had no idea what was just said.  Or you just catch some of what was said?  I hate when that happens.

I also hate when you are with someone who doesn't ever start a conversation.  I've come to realize how important that is.  In fact, I think I would rather have someone with me that talked all the time than one who never started a conversation. 

I had an occasion with a non-starter recently.  It was just the two of us and once I could start the conversation, it was fine.  Lots of interesting information came out.  Then a long pause...Think, think, think...what else can I ask?  I didn't dare think about me (too much) during the conversation with that person because I was trying to listen to know what else I could ask.  Whew!  Let me just say, it is much easier to "talk about me!"  

But come to think of it, who TALKS anymore anyway.  Talking and listening may go the way of the hand-written letter.  In fact, why talk when you can just text; why listen when you can just read.  So go ahead and put that phone that you keep in your hand to good use and just text me.  Then we both can text about ourselves!

Oh, wait--who texts first; do you have to put a smiley face in the text or respond with a K or respond at all?  Do you abbreviate everything?  Do you correct spelling?  Do you include others in your message?  Do you wait to text until the sun comes up?  Do you LOL.  Gee--Forget it--Just call me.  I'll be glad to listen to you talk about yourself (while I think about myself!)



ADBB4N

                                                       

--in case you don't text much and would not ever know what that meant unless you googled it like I just did, it says, "All done.  Bye Bye for Now."  I think all I would have figured out is the 4!

A Significant Day

Thirty-four years ago today, I was up all night just like last night.  But back in 1979, it was for a much better reason.  Last night was due to an unpleasant cold and stuffed up nose.  Yuck.

But back then, I was arriving at the hospital about this time of morning--6:00 a.m.--to deliver my second sweet daughter.   Having had one baby already, one would think I would know about labor.  I did but I didn't.  

I definitely didn't want to get to the hospital too early this time and be told to go home or walk around the maternity floor in my breezy hospital gown throughout the night.  So about 5:45, we decided to take our first born to a friend's house and then head to the hospital.

It wasn't 30 minutes until she popped out (well, was born--there really wasn't any "popping out" going on.   I still remember those few minutes.)  But I must say, being in labor at the hospital for just 30 minutes wasn't bad.  

Of course, at that time 34 years ago moms and pops didn't know what sex the baby was and we didn't know exactly when the baby would arrive.  I remember discussing what the middle name should be if it was a girl on the way to the hospital.  We had already decided on the first name for a girl and just in case, one for a boy.    

Good thing she wasn't a boy cause I can't remember what the boy's name would have been!

But this sweet daughter one couldn't forget.  She is a bright, loving daughter with a super husband and child.  She has brought much joy to our lives.   

I wish her a very wonderful birthday (and I hope I can stay awake to tell her in person!)

Sleepless in Little Rock

We all know how important sleep is.  No one does too well without it.   We are lucky if we get through the next day with just crankiness.  Sometimes other things happen.  And they usually are not good. 

I realize there are various reasons for lack of sleep.  My sleepless night this time was a result of my jumpy legs acting up.  After being up all night, I had plenty of time to think about sleep and the lack of it.  My predicament brought to mind the movie, "Sleepless in Seattle."  However, none of my sleepless nights have turned out as well as the ones in "Sleepless in Seattle." I certainly don't look as perky as Meg Ryan after little or no sleep.   Maybe I don't look that perky with a good night's sleep either.  Hmmm.  

I had hoped to go directly to bed after finishing my middle-of-the-night post which was my way of trying to trick my legs into behaving.  However, it didn't happen.  Sleep was not forthcoming.  

So, I decided to jump into my chores, full force.  I spent the day vacuuming, dusting, washing clothes, and folding them.  You know the drill.  All those things that always have to be done over and over and over again. 

Miraculously, I got it all done just in time to go to the airport to pick up my daughter flying in from California.  Then the results of no sleep started making their appearances.  I was half way to the airport and I remembered I didn't have my phone. 

Not too big a deal except the flight info was on the phone--not in my head.  Why bother trying to remember details when you have them all in the phone, right?

Well, I knew she was arriving at 4:00 so obviously I could look at the arrival screens and find out if her flight had landed.  No phone?  No problem.  Right?  Not so much.  

Uh--I didn't see a 4:00 flight listed from California and I didn't know if she flew through Dallas or Phoenix or Las Vegas or what.  In fact, I didn't even know which airline she was flying on.

Now, don't be harsh in your judgment.  I know I should have known all of that.  But remember, too, I was operating on no sleep.

But it was all okay.  She found me.  We got her luggage and headed to the car where I asked her if she wanted to drive.  "No, you drive," she said.  She later questioned her judgment on that matter when I parked at the liquor store to purchase some wine for the night's dinner party.  

There were no other cars around and I just whipped into the parking space quick as a wink.  Only on coming out of the grocery store next door, did my parking skills come into question.  (Not by me, of course.)  The car was parked perfectly straight but perfectly straddling two places.  She drove the rest of the way home.

But actually, that is not the worst part of this story at all.  I thought I handled the evening fairly well and finally headed to bed that night about 11:00.  I did all (well, most) of the nighttime rituals--at least I got into my jammies.  

I can't remember if I did the full routine of teeth brushing, makeup removal, applying the cream to make me look younger and perkier by morning (I'm sure Meg Ryan does all that cream stuff every night), but I did remember to plug in my phone.  

Lights out.  Covers up.  Phone on the nightstand.  Great.  Turn over and go to sleep.  And, thankfully, I actually did fall fast asleep!  All is well until around 2:00 when the dog starts barking and barking and barking.  I reached to turn on the light and touched the phone instead.  Oh well.  Dog stopped barking.  I returned to slumber land.  

Next thing I knew it was morning.  Like always I immediately reach for my glasses and phone, and in the daylight I see my phone floating in my glass of sweet tea on the night stand. Holy moly!

When I reached for the light, I must have knocked it gently into the glass.  I didn't hear any splash and I know that phones should not purposely go in a glass of liquid, contrary to my daughters' "cute" comments.  Listen, I was sleep deprived, remember!

Now what is worse is that I didn't have a case on my phone this time.  I always have a case on it.  I have had the Otterbox case since I got this version of the smart phones.  And then my daughter had given me the new and improved case called the LifeProof iPhone Case--you know the one--it can withstand being under water or dropped from a thousand feet and claims to keep your iPhone safe and sound against anything and everything.  

I guess it actually has to be on the phone though.  I had taken it off because I was not able to hear or be heard.  Now, I must admit I also had that same problem of not being heard with the Otterbox; but, nevertheless, I was just seeing if it made a difference.

Well, I quickly put the water-logged phone in a bag of rice and waited until my daughter woke up.  She, being savvy about cameras and phones and computers, asked when I had backed it up.  "Recently?" she asked.  "Uh, no, not recently.  More like in never," I sheepishly admitted. 

She looked astonished and kinda rolled her eyes or laughed or did one of those things that young people do when you show how stupid you are about electronics.  Well, then she plugged it into the computer in hopes of at least saving the 10,043 pictures (mostly of grandson, of course) that filled my phone's camera roll app.   

After a few hours, the pictures were all backed up and saved on the computer.  Whew!  That was a relief.

I hated that I was going to have to go to the phone store and admit what had happened.  Well, mostly.  I did have a fleeting thought of getting to upgrade!  A new 5 version iPhone.  Ahhh.  How nice...but back to reality...expensive.

But miracle of miracles, I unplugged the phone from the computer late in the day, and behold--all the messages of the day popped up.  Then all the other apps popped up.  Everything was working!  YAY!  

Except the phone itself.  No way to make a call.  So back to the daughter.  She took the sim card out--dried it off a little--put it back in and called me.  

IT WORKED.   I could talk on the phone, get my messages and emails, take pictures, and even play my games.  All is well!  Who needs sleep anyway?

(Now, you know as well as I that none of these mishaps would have happened if I had not been sleep deprived.  I would never do such silly, crazy things.  You know me.  So there.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it--thank you very much.)

But I do hope I don't have any more sleepless nights in Little Rock.

All Through the House, Not a Creature Was Stirring except...

It's 2:00 a.m.  The husband is sleeping soundly in the bed.  The dog is comfy in his bed.  There is that rhythmic heavy breathing from the husband or the dog.  I'm not sure which.  Nevertheless, I wish I were a part of that melody.  But no.  It isn't happening for me tonight. 

It's been quite awhile since I have had such a night.  But tonight my legs are jumping, kicking, and being a total nuisance.  I haven't missed this one bit. 

It is so frustrating to go to bed and then have this cruel trick played on you.  You do all the prep work to go to bed--jammies on, the face cleaned, the teeth brushed, the creams applied--all routine.  Then you snuggle under the covers, start to drift off to sleep as planned and then it happens...a twinge in the legs begins.  Don't think about it, I admonish.  Keep thinking about that cozy bed.  Relax.  Go to sleep.  Count backwards. 

Shortly there is another twinge, then another, and then they become more than a twinge--they kick like a pony; they move like pedaling a bike; they cause my whole body to jump; and they refuse to let me ignore them.  I can't keep the legs still. 

After fighting it and realizing that sleep is not coming, I get up and take a hot bath.  That usually relaxes me so much that I am able to stumble back to bed and finally go to sleep.  

But not tonight.  So I do the only thing left to do to get relief--I walk.  And walk.  And walk.  The path is rather short--down the hall, through the living room, through the dining room, through the kitchen, back to the hall, and over and over I go.   So why tonight?  Why does my RLS kick in so dramatically now?  Not sure.  (Maybe the mojitos??  Naw, surely not.  It was a celebration for Memorial Day.  And it was only one and half.)  Like I said, this hasn't happened in a long time, thank goodness.  But it certainly messes up my plans for tomorrow--I have a feeling that when I do get to sleep, I won't feel like getting up early and finishing the cleaning for my out of town daughters to come.

But then again, I'm sure that the ingrained Strother attitude of getting everything done will kick in with or without sleep.   I can almost bet on it.

Wow!  It's really getting late (or early).  It is now 4:15 a.m.  You know, I actually may see the first  wagon load of day being pulled across the sky this morning.  I would prefer to be asleep.  Oh well.

My head is nodding again.  My legs seem to have calmed down.  Maybe it's time.  I hope.   See you when the sun comes up.    

Good night.  (I hope.)

PS--I guess my brain was foggier than I thought.  I didn't push the "publish" button before going to bed (and BTW--the rest of the nighttime hours were spent not sleeping either.  Good news though--I did get a lot of work done.  Bad news--my brain is still foggy!)