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!  

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.  

What can I expect with 2 weeks of planning???  Oh, dear!

Sally

This week I visited my favorite yellow lab.  She has missed me, but really enjoys being in California.  I don't blame her! :)

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

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

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:

"clut·ter   [kluht-er] 

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:
 

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

 

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