It's the Straw that Broke the Camel's Back

Sometimes life is just too complicated.  It's like everyone else has the rules to the game and I don't know if we're playing Red Rover or Kickball.  Obama care, the government shut down, poverty, work, common core curriculum....it seems like everyone has an idea about what is RIGHT!

I'll tell you what is wrong....yep, these are all my value judgements.  No, I'm not taking on the big woes like world hunger, sex trafficking, or cancer.  Those are complete blogs onto themselves.  I'm talking about things in my little corner of the world.  Things that get under my skin.... 

1.  Coca-Cola in a baby's bottle

2.  Healthy food which is too expensive to buy

3.  ER being used as a family doctor

4.  Ingrown toenails

5.  Wasps, hornets, yellow jackets, and scorpions

6.  Motorcycles that drive on the middle of the white dashed line  passing cars on the Interstate

7.  Knee pain

8.  Not talking or reading to your children in a positive tone

9.  Paper cuts

10.  Tailgating (and I'm not talking an event before a sports activity)

11.  Black and white tv shows that have had color added

12.   A bad hair dye job

13.  Ties that are tied too short

14. 1/8 of an inch of milk in the bottom of the milk carton

15.  Cars pulling out in front of me and turning in a block…and not using turn signals.


None of these are in the category of nuclear war or cancer.   AND I accept it.

My Nativity Scene

Joseph got misplaced.  He dipped.  No, really.  I bought a holy family, and, in the sealed box....the unopened box, there was a Mary, a crib, a baby Jesus, and a........beggar.  No Joseph.  No lie.

So, what do I do?  I try and find a new Joseph.  One that matches this family. But, you see, the family is usually sold as a set.  It's not as easy as it sounds.

BUT, my "set" really wasn't a set....it was just like life.  Sometimes the family just doesn't come in the regular set.

I did find a Joseph on E-bay.  Ordered him.....and I believe he's happy he's got a new home-- I can tell.  Mary's happy, too.

What makes a family? Sometimes it's those people who are "blood-related."  Sometimes family is heart- related.  And sometimes our family is life-related.

It's time to celebrate our own family....however it looks.  Why?  Because, we are family!

Thanks for All the Giving

Bill wrote the best column of his entire life the Thanksgiving of 2003.  He put into words how all of us felt after Mike's death.

Sometimes the four of us weep.  Sometimes we laugh.  But we never forget Mike and all of the kindness you have shown our family.  God's love shines through the pain and His steady love has kept us moving forward.

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A wise person told me "you can look back, just don't stare."  I try to heed those words on a daily basis.  

I wish I could stop talking and writing about Mike, but I just can't.  We miss him, and love him, and cherish those memories.  Mike's physical life stopped on August 16, 2003....but I can't stop thinking about him.  I watch his friends get married, have kids, go on adventures, and I enjoy each and every one vicariously.

Life is good!  Thank you!

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Thanks for All the Giving

From The Macon Telegraph

By Bill Weaver, The Macon Telegraph

WARNER ROBINS (Nov. 26, 2003) – Twenty years ago, as we prepared to sit down to Thanksgiving dinner, we did so with a 10-month-old baby asleep in his crib. His name was William Michael, but we called him Mike.

He was the second of our three children. After missing that first feast because he was too little, he had never missed another one. Until this year. Mike, a college student also working two part-time jobs, won’t be with us. He was shot and killed in August.

The three months since his death have been the worst of our lives. They’ve been filled by sorrow and anger, emptiness, and longings for the way things were. How suddenly we went from a wonderfully happy family to the depths of despair.

The climb from that hole has been a slow one. Negligible at first, but steady. Now three months later, the wound has begun to heal. We don’t cry as often, nor sleep quite so little. We can smile again, and go to work again. We can see Mike’s friends again, and now we can actually find the words to speak to them.

Every year around the Thanksgiving table we pause before we eat and ask everyone to say a little something about what they’re thankful for. For a few moments last week, it occurred to me that given what we’ve been through lately, this might be a bad year for speeches.

But it won’t be. Without the support of family and friends, we’d still be deep in that hole. All the cards. All the calls. All the visits. All the hugs. All the flowers. All the tears. All the offers of “if there’s anything I can do.” And, of course, all the prayers.

We’ve written many thank yous, with many more left to write. But try as we might to find just the right words to express just the right sentiments, we often fail. Some things just defy an adequate expression of appreciation.

Like the letter from a former boss, now 88 years old, typed with trembling hands. “My Parkinson disease is exacting an increasing toll,” he wrote after expressing his condolences. “Except for the computer I wouldn’t be able to have written communication. My long hand is non-existent. My signature on this letter, for example, is a rubber stamp of several years standing.” But despite his troubles, he finished that letter.

Like the ladies who hijacked our house when they heard the news. They cleaned, they straightened, they catered. They took care of us, and all who came to visit. My sister drove in quickly from Charlotte, anticipating that since she was the first relative on the scene she’d be expected to organize the confusion. Too late. “Who’s in charge?” she asked the ladies. “Nobody, really,” one of them said. They just did what needed doing. How do you adequately thank friends for that kind of concern?

Like the high school classmates who sent cards, even though we haven’t seen them in 35 years. Like the fraternity brother who called just last week, explaining he hadn’t called earlier because he didn’t think he could speak — he and his wife nearly lost their own son to drug addiction. Like the lady who brought Flintstones vitamins, explaining that when her daughter was sick — before she died — the vitamins were prescribed by a doctor because they helped the daughter keep her strength, so the mother had prescribed them for us.

How do you adequately thank a few school janitors for scraping together a few of their precious dollars for a memorial to a boy they hardly knew? Or the electrical workers who removed their hard hats when our funeral procession passed by? Or Mike’s baseball buddies who made car stickers in the color and shape of his old baseball cap? How do you adequately tell those hundreds of other people who said something nice, did something simple, or just gave us a kind thought, that no handshake went unfelt, no hug unappreciated, no word unheard.

We can’t reach them all, but we hope they know that by giving us those gentle tugs of encouragement, giving us a few moments of their time, they helped pull us through. They are proof that even in times of great sorrow, it is easy to be thankful.

So, despite the tears we’ll shed for the son or brother we’ll miss at this year’s table, we’ll be ready for our little speech. It’ll be about our thanks for all the giving.

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Our Mille-- Granddog Extraordinaire!

Mille is a beagle.  She's son, Dan's, dog.  But, she's really not a dog.  She's more of a diva.

I worry when we keep her that she's going to get the scent of a forest creature and be gone with the wind.  I've read too many stories of beagles getting a whiff of something and persuing the smell with joyful abbandon.  I don't want this girl to run away.  But I love to see her run.
Mille will play ball until the ball thrower is done.  She's a joyful dog who is so loyal to her man.

Notice the chewy bone that she's guarding from Raggs and Pawley.  Her head is on a down pillow.....resting in the family room on the sofa.....breaking all of the family rules.  

Mille listens to Dan.  She's the best behaved dog in the family.  We love her.  

Granddogs are lots like grandkids.  If we can't spoil her a little, who can?

Holier Than Thou

I can list my personal sins quicker than anyone.

If you think I'm perfect, you need to look at my side of the garage.  Bill's side is neat and tidy.  Mine, well mine, is creative.  It's free form.  It's exciting.  It's full of wonder. However, my car is not in there. There's not room.

I'd like to live in Martha Stewart's world-- minus the prison term.  I'd love to have the right ingredients to make a chowder with homemade bread croutons.   My challenge comes with looking in the frig and seeing a bottle of ketchup and a block of cheese.....and 15 containers of salad dressing.  No bread.  No fresh milk.  No ingredients for chowder. (FYI-- Andy Galloway makes some of the best soup in the universe.)

I just can't get it together.  I can get the house clean.  No food.  I can get the pantry full.  Dirty pets.  I can get the porch clean.  The laundry's not done.  I can fix supper.  No bread.  I can have clean sheets. The floor needs vacuumed.

Folks.  I. Just. Don't. Get. It.

My car has gas.  The inside of the car is dirty.  My hair is clean.  My eyebrows are shaggy.  My shoes don't have holes.  My slacks are too short.  I feel thin.  I can't find clothes to buy.  I feel fat.  I see thousands of cute outfits.

It is a Erin Weaver Law of Life.  Close, but no cigar.  I am not upset.  I just talk about it.

I meet women and men who want to live in the photoshopped world of advertising.  I want to live in a semi-clean environment with a happy cast of supporting characters.

But, the crazy thing is I'm content.  I laugh at myself on a regular basis.  I want to be a better person.  I want to be task driven.....but I'm happy writing about my faults and giggling that I'm doing okay.  I look at the clouds, smell the roses, and watch the birds on a regular basis.   AND I am going to clean my side of the garage, one of these days.

I think I'll knit instead of cleaning my side of the garage.

A Taste of Heaven

Oh, my.  I really don't need anymore food that I love.....

BUT

I am eating the best hot dip that I have had in a long, long time.  It's so good, I know I want to eat it on a regular basis.  This is the type of food you schedule-- "I am sorry I can not attend your wedding.  It is the day for me to eat my Buffalo Chicken Dip."

My Brother Dan's Buffalo Chicken Dip

Chop up the meat off of one rotisserie chicken.
Pour lots of Frank's Real Hot Sauce on top of it.  LOTS
Add an 8 oz. Block of cream cheese.
Throw on some blue cheese dressing.
Take a good sized chunk (1/3 of a cup) of Maytag Blue Cheese.....crumble it up.....stir it all together.
Add some shredded mozzarella cheese.
Stir it up.

Heat and Eat.

It makes a good-sized crock pot full.  (Note:  It is addictive.)

Enjoy.

Yes, I have been eating this with Pita Crackers and celery sticks all day long.

And maybe I have been eating this with a spoon, too.

Make New Friends, But Keep the Old

Make new friends, but keep the old.

One is silver, and the other gold.

Skip this, gang.

Let's move straight to the platinum ones.

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I grew up next door to where my dad was born.  My family moved to the "big house" the year I left for college.  I love State Center.  I started kindergarten with most of the same people with whom I graduated from high school.  The book "Dick and Jane" could have been set in State Center.  I know the "Spot and Fluff" that lived in almost every home.  State Center is where my roots run deep.  Real, real deep.

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Last weekend was delightful.  Patty Wilkening Tresemer, her husband, Ray, and their son,Tom, came to watch the Iowa game on Saturday.  State Center South was taking place at Bluebird Hill.

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Patty grew up one block from my house.  I could see their kitchen window from our house.  She has two sisters, Daria (who was the Maid of Honor in our wedding) and Ginny.  I spent part of almost every day at the Wilkening home.  Patty and Ray wound up living in Centerville, Iowa while Bill and I lived there in the late seventies, early eighties.  Ray and Bill became fast friends.  Bill and I loved their baby daughter Megan and the Tresemers were there when Molly was born.

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What's the blog all about today?  It's about enjoying your past and embracing the present.  Ray is one of the funniest humans alive.  (His Christmas letter usually has me in tears from laughing so hard.)  He's also an outstanding physical therapist and an avid Iowa Hawkeye Fan.  Patty is an RN and she's a school nurse.  We debate everything from head lice to choral music.

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I don't have to explain who I am to these people.  They like me for just being me.  We laugh and laugh. We've been through grade school, catechism, marriages, births, deaths, first communions, pig roasts, tailgates, bar-b-q's, football games, wrestling meets, confirmations, college, cars, bats (the "Oh my God, I've got a bat in the house", leave my husband sleeping in bed, and drive to Ray and Patty's without waking Bill up-- "Let him deal with the bat!" said the eight months pregnant Erin), tornadoes, root cellars, basements, bird watching, steaks, riding on the hood of a car which is being pulled behind another car, waterskiing with the rope held between your teeth--the type of friends who love your kids and you love their kids.  The platinum sort of friends that are rare and a valuable part of who we are in our heart.

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So, Saturday was a piece of the past, the joy of the present, and a glimpse of the future.....all rolled into one!

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Pirate Flags and Good Night Moon

So, I don't think most pirates fly flags.  I think they're sneaky.

They want you to think they're something or someone else.  They are NOT going to go around flying a flag announcing, "Hey, I'm a pirate."

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People who talk about the "stupidity" of children fly their own type of flag.

Big ANNOUNCEMENT:

If a child has less experiences, they won't know as much as others who have had more experiences.

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Teachers are paid to help students learn.  Sometimes a teacher gets a child that just needs some facilitation.  Sometimes you get an empty vessel and you need a pitcher to fill it.  However, the teacher sometimes needs a snow shovel to fill the vessel.  And frankly, I've had folks that have needed a steam shovel, a back hoe, and a caterpillar bulldozer....and it wasn't enough.  If you haven't taught school, I resent your critique of teachers.

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Parents don't keep their best students at home.

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The news for this week is that the "successful" child has heard 30 million words before entering school.  30 million.

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I have an idea.  (Or as Mary Michael says, "I have an I.D."

When the soon-to-be new parent(s) is(are) taking the required car seat course, I propose the instructor gives them the "read everyday to your child" pep talk.  AND maybe we should give every parent a copy of the children's book "Good Night Moon" and tell the parents they have to read it 232,559 times aloud to their child before the child enters Pre-K.  [Note:  There are 129 words in the book.  30,000,000 divided by 129 = 232, 559  (I ROUNDED UP.)]

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I want students to learn.  I want teachers to teach.  But I also want our boys and girls ready to learn.  So, moms and dads out in the Blogosphere, get your books and start reading.  Fly the flag that says, "Successful."

Let's ALL Worry About Our Make-Up

It's funny when I intentionally put on make-up like eye shadow.  I think that I look like I have make-up on.  I obviously must be playing grown up.  But that's just me-- I love how people look who really enhance their beauty with carefully applied make-up.  That just isn't one of my strengths!  That zombie look is easy for me to achieve.

hahahahahahahah

It's always bizarre when I hear women talking about other people who DON'T wear make-up.

Folks, welcome to 2013.  Don't impose your values on me.

Remember that lipstick from the 1060's called Tangerine?  Oooooooooo, it was the rage in junior high. Bad idea:  it's not cool on a sixty year old.  It would look more natural if I went around wearing those parafin lips.

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It's not the make-up on the outside that we need to worry about-- it's the "MAKE UP" on the inside that we need focus on.

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Someone asked me if I had a big head now that I worked "downtown."  "No, I don't think I do," I replied.  "I am consistently amazed at how hard some people work.  I am also amazed at those who think they are owed a paycheck for not doing anything throughout the system." NOTE:  I am beginning to know who you are.

If I start acting like a know-it-all, please knock me up the side of the head with a Bible.

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As I have been moving throughout the county,  I have intentionally NOT worn my name badge.  I want all of us to be treated equally.  I don't want special privileges.  I want to hear the tone of voice adults use with each other and with their students.  I want to hear the students' tone when talking to the teachers.

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I was asked in a very snotty tone with a sneer, "What exactly are you doing at our school?"  The person then turned their back on me.

"I'm the kindness police, " I sweetly said.

The person turned quickly back around as I was putting on my badge.

Shazam!  Behavior modification at it's finest!


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The big question is the definition of "help".  For those of you that have worked with me before, you have heard me use the phrase, "I want to help everyone be successful."  For some of us, it might be changing seats on the bus.  For some, it might be getting off the bus.  For others, it might be learning how to drive the bus.  Some folks don't even know there is a bus-- God bless their little hearts.

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It's the make-up inside of us.  Values, hopes, dreams, beliefs, work ethic...... It's not the make-up on the outside of us!

Proverbs 10:4

A slack hand causes poverty, but the hand of the diligent makes rich.

2 Thessalonians 3:10
For even when we were with you, we gave you this rule: "The one who is unwilling to work shall not eat." 

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Pretty is as pretty does, as granny used to say!  

Assistant Principals' Lives are Measured in Dog Years

Work is work.  I like it.  I like solving problems.

I've been working a little over two months.  (Sing a chorus of "Back in the Saddle Again.")  The days fly by.  The nights fly by.  I enjoy listening to WDEN as I drive into town.  I am happy.  Change is in the air.  We're working on the work.  Noses to the ground.  Shoulders to the grindstone.

I've met hundreds of great teachers and thousands of terrific students.

Most days it's like being an assistant principal on steroids.

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Currently, I talk to lots of people with problems.  Most of it is in the communication between people.  There are very few absolutes in my line of work.  Education is not for the faint of heart.

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Most of my crazy, funny stories come from my stint as an assistant principal.  Now, that's a job that should be measured in dog years on the salary scale!

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Ten Years Ago-- Circa 2003

Friday night.  I'm finally home.  The phone rings.

I answer.

Mother of wronged child states in her best Law and Order Voice, "I am an attorney. My child has been wrongly accused of smoking a cigarette.  She would never do this.  She told me so.  She said you are out to get her. Why did you call me and tell me that she was smoking, Dr. Weaver?  She has told me repeatedly that she was not smoking.  Why are you so unfair?  Why did you make it up?"  Woooo, she was ramped up.

"Ma'am, I saw her.  I saw her with my own two eyes."

"Dr. Weaver, she says she was not smoking."

"Well," I began.  "Ask her if she was holding a lit cigarette out in back of the vocational building and if she had smoke coming out of her mouth when I saw her.  She was either smoking or she was on fire."

LONG, LONG, LONG pause of the other end of the telephone conversation as mom and daughter discuss the semantics of the phrase "smoking a cigarette".

Words sweet as honey then greeted me from my formerly irate attorney mom, "Dr. Weaver, I hope you have a nice evening.  Thank you so much for dealing with my lying child.  I will be taking care of this at my end.  Please accept my apologies for acting like a fool."

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Slam Dunk

Being Responsible is not All It's Cracked Up To Be.

I watch what I put on Facebook and in my blog.  I'm usually pretty truthful but sometimes I need to clean up my act.

I just have to lay it on the line at times.

AND sometimes I need to tape my mouth with duct tape....or duck tape as my little friends called it.  I would use the zebra striped "DUCK" tape.

However-- whoop, whoop, Happy Hump Day!

I love Wednesdays!

Pre-Dempsey-- They'll Leave the Light on for Me

I'm innately friendly.  I like people.  I like little people.  I like older adults.  I visit.

(When I was in junior high and high school I worked in a nursing home feeding people supper.  I learned to carry on a conversation with people who couldn't talk.  I would move from patient to patient feeding them supper and visiting up a storm.   It has been said I could talk to a lamp and have a great time.)

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Remember, I'm growing my wavy hair to give to a group who makes wigs for cancer patients....it's getting long and wild.  Free-flowing hair-- wildly blowing hair-- hair that looks like the long gray haired guy in the Oakridge Boys.  I might look like a witch-- scratch that, I really have a very easy time looking like a witch.

Remember, I have another bad knee.  My left knee is getting better after a bout of "dog pulling woman down the front steps while having a sprained knee, i.e. taking painful knees to the next level."  I am still limping like Tiny Tim in a Christmas carol.   Aspercream is my new favorite beauty product.

Remember, I love to walk to Jeannene's restaurant to have a vegetable plate and have twenty minutes of quiet time. It's in downtown Macon.  It's about a block from where I work but it's worth the pain and the agony of walking.  Yes, I love their chocolate pie.

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I have a hitch in my giddy-up.

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So, I'm moving slowly, limping back from a nice lunch with my hair blowing wildly in the winds of September when I was stopped by a street lady.

"Say, dearie, did you used to live at the Dempsey Hotel?"

"No, Ma'am," I replied.  "But I'm about ready to move in."

"Well, we'd love to have you."

"Thank you.  You're so sweet to me."


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The Dempsey is a beautiful, old hotel in downtown Macon.  It was converted into 194 apartments for the elderly, those on government assistance and the disabled.

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I guess I fit two out of the three categories.

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And, I can't take any tube socks.  Right, Carol?

A Little Recess is Good for ALL of US

I think play is underrated.  It scares me how many children never get to go outside and run amuck.  I enjoyed that part of my childhood.  Running amock is something I still do quite well.

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We have students so entrenched in school.  So focused.  So stressed.  I liked the parts of school that would be considered frivolous today-- I always loved coloring leaves the fall colors of red, orange, and yellow.  There's probably not a standard that matches that activity.

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"Go outside and get some of this energy used up."  I remember all of my teachers telling that to our class.  We had a short recess at 10:00, after lunch, and at 2:00.  "Time to get back to work."

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I am watchful when I'm keeping Mary Michael and Sally.  Bugs, hidden perils, unyielding ground, steep steps, bath water, stove, dogs, cats, running in the house.  I sure don't want them hurting themselves. Sharp pencils, running with sticks, fire, glass, poison ivy-- I am on Red Alert when the girls are here.

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Let me tell you about the time I:

1.  Played with matches

2.  Petted strange dogs

3.  Created a bug zoo

4.  Raced to see how fast I could ride my bike down a hill

5.  Climbed a tree and hung out over a highway to see what was on the tops of semi trucks

6.  Tried to see if we could shoot a neighbor with a bee bee gun (we could and did)

7.  Watched a Kindergarten friend fall off the top of the slide and break his arm (the teacher was right-- do not stand up on that platform) (the teacher did get more credibility in my 5 year old eyes)

8.  Rode a mean Shetland pony all around Colo, Iowa with a friend, Deb Liston, for  $5.00 per day

9.  Took my clamp on roller skates to school for recess-- we all skated

10.  Left Kindergarten and walked home by myself because I was tired of her (the teacher) bossing people around.   That was not a good idea.

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Obviously, I wasn't the easiest child with whom to deal, but I don't think I was horrid.  I might have been challenging.  I could also read upside down and made sure I knew everything on the teacher's desk-- everyday.  I could have been a spy.  I still could be a spy if my eyesight was better.

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So, I'm hear to tell you that we all need to run a little more, laugh a little more, love a little more, and learn a little more.  School is serious business....but our children need to the benefit of all of our knowledge....and that knowledge includes knowing that "play is a child's work and work can be their play."  Instruction can have depth of focus and still be fun-- I learned most of my physics content from my bike accidents, my biology by my collections of crazy outside stuff, and my chemistry by cooking with Daria.

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I am not on my high horse tonight.....I am still thinking about that mean little Shetland pony.  That was $5.00 well spent.  Right, Deb?

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Those side effects-- boredom, apathy, a selfish me me me world.  Playgrounds teach the negotiation skills, agility, and strength of character.  A pick up kick ball game creates sequential thinking, analytical reasoning, and evaluation of fellow team members.

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So, it might be worth your while to take a recess, folks.  We're "grown up" but it wouldn't hurt any of us to "go outside" and "get rid of some of that energy".  It's time to get along and compromise.  Grow and love.  Take time to watch the clouds and smell the flowers.  Me, I'm going to find a Shetland pony to love!

Starry, starry morning!

Raggs and I were up at the usual time-- zero dark thirty.  We had to go outside in the crisp morning air.

Fall was there-- we felt it.

The stars sparkled.

O O O O O O O Opossum

I always wandered why possum was spelled with an O.....opossum.  I learned last night.

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Norman and Biggles, our big farm cats, were howling on the back porch last night.  "My goodness, " I thought.  "I bet they want a can of cat food.  I bet they're parched.  I bet they're hungry.  They know I'm home.  I'll give them a treat."

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I flung open the back door, turned on the light, and there, in the middle of the bowl of dried cat food was the biggest possum I've ever seen....about one yard away from me.  The only one more scared than me was the possum.  That possum ran off the side of the porch ten feet off the ground.

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"O O O O O O O O O O .......possum," I wailed.

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Opossum.  I rest my case.

Coming.....to your city......Game Day

I look forward to college football.  I love going to THE University of Georgia and seeing the Bulldogs play between the hedges.  I enjoy watching Iowa State (my alma mater) and the University of Iowa (Bill's alma mater).  I like watching the  SEC....but

One of my favorite shows on tv is "Game Day."  I love listening to the banter between the guys as they talk about football, coaches, players, places, trophies, awards, fans.....

And when Lee Corso makes the final prediction and plops that mascot on his head....I just grin and my week is automatically better.

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Lee had four live chickens and a Leprechaun hat on his head at the end of the show today.   That man is crazy.  (Mark Harmon was also on as the Guest picker....that was a nice touch.)

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Georgia won and I enjoyed every minute of the game.

Funny end to a great day!  It's time for some caramel cake.

Art and Erin

Howard Finster is my favorite artist.  No one else is even close.  Well, maybe Van Gogh...but he wasn't my kind of artist.  I love Howard!

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Howard is from the primitive/ naive style.  He was a self-taught, preacher/artist.

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I get wild hairs and I want to throw caution to the wind and buy one of his angels on e-bay....".Dear Bill, Please forgive me.  I just did this.  Ooops." (I won't do this, I won't do this.)

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What I love about his art is that he wanted to convey a message through his art.....and he often added words to his art so that the consumer didn't have to think about why he created it.

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Howard believed in taking the "left overs" and making something beautiful.  From souls to statues, this man had it going on.

I want to see the possibilities in everyday life to make the world a little prettier, a little kinder, a little more loving, and a lot more fun.

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Proverbs 17:17

Is it a want or a need?

Bill shops with a list.  He keeps a running list of needed items.  When he goes to the store, he gets what he needs.  He comes home.

I graze.  I look.  I think.  I also have a list....but I'm not sure where I put it.  I keep a small notebook in my purse for phrases.  I keep a journal.  I keep receipts.  But when I shop....I look.  And dream.  And I don't need to spend one penny.

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Looking at how items are displayed is as much of the experience as actually buying something.  I really don't need anything, but I love looking how people in charge of displays group items.  

Don't get me wrong-- if I'm going by a yard sale and something catches my eye....I'm there.  I don't like paying full price for ANYTHING....but I try not to buy just to buy.

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I hunted for the refrigerator that I love (and still do) for ten years.   When I found it, I knew it.

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I listened to Susie Orman talk about wants and needs.  If we need something, we buy it.  If you want something, you need to think about it before buying it automatically.

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Things I buy automatically if they are on sale (a really, really, really good sale):

Lamps that give out great light

Sheep (not alive)

Oak chairs

Pretty yarn

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Things I buy because I have no self control:

Fresh magazines (Gun and Garden-- a new favorite)

Clothes that would look cute on my 94 year old mama

Linen clothes that aren't scratchy

Hand cream that smells so good I could eat it

Nesting dolls

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Bill's lists are legendary.  He's a stickler for sticking to his list.  One time when we were first married I sent him to the store to buy 2 lbs. ham.  I meant 2 pounds of hamburger.  He came home with the sweetest little two pound ham I'd ever seen.  "It was really hard finding a ham that little," he stated.  I learned lots about me and about him that day.

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God Bless Us Both.

That Gives Me a Pain in the Middle of My Forehead

Life slaps reality up the side of my head on a regular basis.

Like trying on a pair of jeans that are so tight, your head hurts.

"That's the way they're supposed to fit!" giggles the young girl helping me.

"No, not at my age, " I reply.  "People my age get strokes from pants this tight."

"Really?" she looks at me with wide-eyed innocence.  "I didn't know that."

"It's true.  Tight jeans are a leading cause of death in people my age and unwanted pregnancy in people your age."

"Really?"

Sometimes it's like shooting fish in a barrel.

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Get Out Your Sharpie!

Maudlin....my last post was maudlin.  I don't want you to feel sorry for me and/or my family.  I read in a book on grieving that the question is:  Would you rather not have the grief or have not had that person in your life?

Easy.  20 years with Mike was/is with the pain.

So, this week, all of us, need to get ready for Weaver's Weekend.  How do we do that?  Easy-- get out your imaginary marker....your Sharpie, shall we say......and start laying claim to living.

What are you "fixin" to get ready to do?  Is it tell someone you love them?  Is it cleaning your closet?  Is it reading that book you've been meaning to get around to reading?  Is it having the oil changed?

Bottom line:  We're not assured of anything.  None of us.  Not a one of us has the rights to the world of "Ozzie and Harriet."

Do your best at what you love.

Love those that bring out your best.

Enjoy the day-to-day activities of life.

Praise God from whom all BLESSINGS flow.

Some of our burdens are Blessings; some of Blessings are burdens.

Learn....never stop learning.

Think.  Do.   Laugh.

Live.  Life.  Love.

Ten Years plus One Day

Friday, August 16, 2013

I had a sweet yellow kitty, Daisy, that had a litter of kittens in my closet.  One was born stillborn.  Daisy licked and licked that kitten trying to revive it.  She didn't give up.  I had to remove the kitten so she would redirect her energies to the other kittens.  Later my mom sent me a little stuffed animal kitten.  Years after Daisy lost her baby, I'd find her licking that stuffed kitten trying to revive it.

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After our son, Mike, died, I understood Daisy's behavior.  She didn't want to lose her precious baby.  I would have still been licking.

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This is a tough week.  I am weepy.

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Training in Perry, Georgia.....rainy day, focus on the future, I can look back but I just can't stare.  Driving by Josh Giles' (Mike's pledge dad in the Kappa Alpha Order) homeplace this morning, I saw the biggest hawk I have ever seen sitting in the rain waiting for me.  Mike keeps me in his heart and knows when I need that extra message of love.....like today.

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Work has been a good deviation this week.  Shirley and I stay busy. Steve and I stay busy.  Armetrice and I stay busy.  It is a thinking job.

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I think.  I don't know.  I just don't know, why Mike?

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Friday........A knock on the door late in the afternoon.  Jennifer Moody Rice was there with flowers and a box of chocolate.  Jennifer is one of the Moody girls--the best babysitting family in the universe!  Jennifer was our kids' major babysitter during their growing up years while I was in graduate school.  What memories we have together....just what we needed.  Jennifer, Molly, Mike, and Dan......learning how to drive, sort socks, Moody Mush.  LAUGHTER!  Laura, Susan, Jennifer, and Catherine, the entire family babysat for us-- Harmon and Sarah Moody -- you raised fine women.

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A box of individual cheesecakes delivered to our front door?    Oh MY GOSH!  Chocolate and vanilla.  Mike would have loved them.  I had to eat one by myself....who are they from?......no name on them.....my guess....Rachel, Adam, and Stephen.....our angels on earth.

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Dan might come home.  We need each other's company a little more on August 16 than we care to admit.  It's just tangible proof that our hurt is still our hurt and Mike is still our family.

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Dan walked in the front door....just what we needed....AND he got to see Jennifer.  Those two immediately start in on who gets the flying pig lamp when Bill and I go to the great beyond.....some things never change.....the four of us LOVED it.  Writing names on the bottom of items with a Sharpie so the treasure is not put in the yard sale someday?  Really?   Howling with laughter one minute......memories of Mike and tears the next.  Trash to treasures-- such is life.  Things aren't really important and we know that--the people and relationships are!  I should write my name on Jennifer's foot....with a Sharpie.

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A long note from Susan Moody Jackson retelling a sweet story of Mike when he was a toddler.  He was a busy little boy and such a love.  This unknown story is a new treasure for my heart....it is written with a Sharpie on my soul.  Now, that's something to cherish.  

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Ten years and it seems like yesterday Mike was kissing me good night and telling me he'd be careful on his trip back to Milledgeville to start working at Loco's.

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Saturday, August 17, 2013

A rainy day in Georgia-- sleepy pets....laundry.....tuna casserole.... Georgia public tv......Orange is the New Black......mending Dan's shirt......laughing with Bill and Dan......talking to Molly......year eleven  has begun.

No, I Haven't Lost My Mind

After being gone an entire summer, there is a distinct smell evident to all teachers as they enter the doors of a school.  It's the smell of school.  Waxed floors, shining desks, windows sparkling..... there's a hush as you make your way down the hall to your classroom.

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My first day back always started a few weeks before the actual start of school.  I loved walking into a school when the morning sun was rising over the cornfields of Milford Elementary.  I can see the dust mites dancing in the sunshine as I climbed the two flights of stairs to my room.

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Plans were made...changed....made again.  Plans?  Plans.

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So, I thought I had retired.  I hadn't.  I preached to my Central kids to "do the right thing, at the right time, for the right reason" almost every time I made morning and afternoon announcements.   Dr. Steve Smith asked me to serve my community and become a Deputy Superintendent.  What other answer was there than yes?

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The first four days are behind me and the year stretches in front of me.  The boys, girls, and I started on the same day.  Monday was just as exciting as the first day I walked into the State Center, Iowa Elementary School at age 5 in 1956.  Many years later, I know I made the right decision....I love being an educator.  

Erin Therese Malloy, Age 5, Brown and Pink Dress, Kindergarten

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I've visited nine schools this week.  Shhhhhhh, it's what I love the best!  Watching a great teacher teach is like watching a ballet...a good teacher makes you want to stand up a little straighter, be a little braver, and conduct yourself in a manner to make all of your former teachers proud of who you have become.

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I've delved into the number of students in the classrooms.  I've talked to teachers, principals, and parents.  I've listened to vendors, been put on committees, been invited to meetings, conversed with those passionate about education, and I have enjoyed a cup of coffee or two thinking about the concept of school.  These four days have flown.

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Welcome Home, Erin

Detasseling Corn or Why I Went to College

There are pivotal moments in a person's life.

Detasseling corn was one of mine.

This simple job caused me to start paying attention in high school.

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Detasseling corn has two steps.  You just walk down a row of corn and pull the tassel out of the top of the corn stalk.  Then you drop it on the ground. No, we didn't have machines that cut off the tops of the stalks.  We just didn't find the ones left behind.  We pulled out every tassel that our crew leader told us to pull out.  We were helping man make the seed corn he wanted.  And friends, there are lots of corn stalks in one row of corn.

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Walking fields...wet and cool in the morning....

Grabbing the tassels of our rows as fast as possible

Sweating buckets by noon

Riding the machines...grabbing the tassels of our rows as fast as possible

Finding really weird bugs (gross, huge bugs)

Getting food poisoning.....salami sandwich in the sun

Itching corn stalks....everywhere

Making new friends

Laughing

Paying for new store bought school clothes

.50 per hour

1.00 per hour on Sunday

Two shifts-- morning and afternoon

Hard work, bleeding hands, great tan.....

No sunscreen....it was baby oil and iodine!

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I did not want to do this for the rest of my life....

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I knew from the first day of detasselling that Erin Therese Malloy was designed to work with her head, not her hands.

I didn't like bug bites, or the cuts, or the itchy leaves.  AND back to the bugs, I really didn't like the bugs.

But, the money was great, the friends were terrific and I learned lots about me!

Weiner's Wiener

My 2 cents worth.

If this man takes pictures of himself and shares it with women, does he show enough sense to run one of the major cities of the world?

I don't think so.

Who would take him seriously?

I heard someone say he was disrepectful towards women....FLASH-- he is disrespectful toward himself.

Carlos Danger?  It's enough to make me join the Libertarian Party.

Someone take his phone away from him- NOW!

Shoes News Part Deux

Remember how I said I was going to get some athletic shoes that actually fit.  I did.  They do.  And it's a brand new world.


They are comfortable.

They have arch support.

AND they are quite colorful.  I know why kids get excited about new shoes.  You can jump higher and run faster. Really.

It has been interesting to see the reactions of those who
1.  Know me
2.  Are just meeting me
3.  Are under age 5

The arch support is magnificent.  The breathability is superb.  And I can walk, run, and almost leap tall buildings with a single bound.  These shoes bring a spring to my step because they are so comfortable.

My favorite comment was made by an elderly man at a Farmer's Market, "Are you one of those old hippies?"  he asked.

"Why, yes, I am," I answered.  "That's why I love wearing these shoes."

"I thought so, " he muttered, shook his head, and walked away.

I wouldn't care if these shoes were striped like a zebra.  Hint for a happy life:  Find shoes that fit.  They're out there if you take time to find them.  Just like people.....take time to find friends that fit.  They're out there if you take time to find them.

HIgh School Schedules

It's the middle of July.  Vacations.  Trips.  Picnics.

Schedule changes.  

DO NOT tell me that high schools don't have schedules completed.  High schools have schedules completed-- just not the ones the students want.

BECAUSE:

1.  I need to change my gym class from first period.  I don't want to sweat so early in the day.  

2.  I gotta get out of ______'s class.  She's a skank.

3.  That teacher is too hard. 

4.  This teacher is too easy (I've never personally heard this this.)

5.  She's creepy-- she gives tests every week.  She said that if we didn't want to learn something to leave right now.  

6. I need to get in _______'s class-- he's hot. (Well, FYI, that schedule will never be changed.)

7. I can't be in this room.  Its air conditioning smells.

8.  That woman picks her chin whiskers and grosses me out...I need to change this.   

9.  I need to be in Delta company-- I didn't understand this one at first until I learned about rank, loyalty, and tradition in JROTC....I moved this child.  

10.  I read the syllabus and I can't do this.  Too much reading.  Too much writing.  But I still need to take AP History.  Does anyone else teach it?  They all use the same syllabus?  I'll take anything else. Could I substitute weight lifting for history?  Are you sure I can't do this?

11.  Do I have to play an instrument to be in Band IV?  I love the people in that class.  

12.  I heard that if you take _________ third block, you can skip and go to Krystal?  Is this true?   (Not any more.)

13.  What's the easiest thing to take where you don't have to work?

14.  My mom says I can take French II without taking French I.  She took French in high school.

15.  I need a class where I get to leave campus.  Do you have anything where I don't have to come to school?

16.  Nah, I don't go to this school.  I go to _________________.  I'm just waiting for my homeboy.


School is a world onto itself....a magical world.  I walk past the bins of crayons and paper.  I watch parents buying school clothes.  I hear parents excitedly talk about the beginning of the school year and in the back of my head, I hear, "Hey, Dr. Weaver!  I gotta get my schedule changed."

Erin Weaver, Age 18, Senior in High School.  She told her guidance counsellor that she couldn't take history, she had to take Art IV.  She also said she couldn't take math, she had to take Home Ec IV.  She was a scamp.

Sting, stang, STUNG?

"How did I get stung again by one of those stupid wasps?" I thought last Sunday afternoon....but it wasn't a wasp when I looked down. It was a scorpion!!!!?  Oh, ICK.  Now, this is a bug of a different color!

I was cleaning the back porch for the annual hanging of the hummingbird feeders.  I wanted it clean so I'd get a 100 when the hummingbird health department came by for the inspection.  There were lots of leaves and cat hair...the table was dusty.....I was sweeping and really making progress when I stepped on a pile of leaves.  I like my hummingbirds happy....

Ouch.  Oh, OUCH!

Dang it!
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"Bill!"

Bill and I discuss every family emergency like it's happening to someone else.  "Hey, Bill, I stepped on a scorpion and it stung me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep.  I saw it.  I killed it."

"Well, what do we do, Dr. Weaver?"  (He always elevates me to a medical doctor whenever something happens.)

I had no idea.

We tried calling our regular doctor.

Not home.

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SOOOOOOOO....we called "Ask a Nurse."

"You've been stung by a what?"......she ramped it up from 0-60 pretty darn fast.  She wasn't comforting.

The panic was thick in her voice. "Is your throat swelling shut?  Is your tongue thick?"

At this point I wanted to say, "Nahhhh, asfkdlj;aefroietroah theowitoisfaoefeklah."  She wasn't the type to joke around though.  She was hyperventilating.

So I said, "No."

"Are you allergic to anything?" She was still pretty excited.

"Yep, demerol."

"YOU must go to an urgent care center or an Emergency Room....Now!  Put ice on your foot."  (She obviously had not attended the class on "Don't let the patient hear the panic in your voice "....this lady was panting and I could hear the fear in her voice.)

"Okey-dokey," I said.

Bill had been standing there listening.  "Let's go."

"No, I need a little make-up and a fresh shirt."

We were off.  I wasn't going all sweaty looking. 

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 Coliseum ER

"We don't get many scorpion stings.  We'll fast track you."

Zip zip zip.

In a room.
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The PA said that scorpions in Georgia aren't poisonous.

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My doctor called later in the week to see how I was.

"Fine. No problems."

"I had forgotten that we had scorpions in Georgia," he stated.  "But the last scorpion bite was Mike.  It was the summer he and Alec were tearing down that building for me.  Mike was playing with the scorpion and the it stung him."

That was the earlier in the summer before he was killed....ten years ago.  August 16, 2003.

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I keep experiencing the circle of life.  Say what you will, but that bite was like Mike sending me a sign that he was there with me.  Call me silly, but my children wouldn't let their momma worry.  They know not a day goes by without me thinking about them.  I pick up the phone and tell Molly and Dan I love them.

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Or a child sends a scorpion bite to his momma to tell her he misses and loves her.  

'Til Death Do Us Part

I rarely cry at weddings.  Scratch that, I can't remember ever crying at a wedding-- until Saturday night.

Theresa Nottingham and Philip Walsh were married in front of those people who love and cherish them.  It was an intimate, touching ceremony.  AND I cried.  It reminded me of a surreal experience-- a cloud of love and happiness. AND I was there!

At one point, the minister had Theresa and Phil, turn and look at the the people assembled to support them.  I sniffed.   The vows.....from their hearts....from their souls.  I teared up.  AND then I thought of Theresa's childhood....I cried.

Theresa and Molly "car- pooled" forever.  I used to crack up when Grace would cruise up the driveway delivering her precious cargo--those little girls strapped in the back seat.  The Nottingham black lab, Rosie, always rode in the front seat next to Grace.   Yes, it was safer.  But it always looked like Rosie had called "Shotgun" and the girls had to ride in the back.

When I drove, it was the "picking up" of Theresa for Central that would make me laugh....she'd be coming down the driveway, putting on her boots, carrying breakfast, book bag slung over a shoulder, putting on makeup, laughing, finishing home work....the chatter of young girls.....the joy.  Molly and Theresa had talked the day before-- but it was as if everything was brand new.  The talk would be of classes, guys, cars, music....the talk would be continuous and the excitement of a new day would be in the air.

Memories--

Camping......Molly traveling with the Nottinghams to Lake Sinclair camping.  Sunburns!  Swimming!  Laughing!

Helping......Grace taking care of Molly while I finished my dissertation.  I really didn't worry about Molly that year.  Grace treated her as if she were one of her own.  But then, Grace and Bill have graciously opened their home to hundreds of people.  They have two biological daughters and dozens of children....who have stayed at their home, eaten their food, watched their tv, attended their tail gates, were listened to and loved as their own.

Screaming.....The "Tower of Terror" at Universal Studios!

Loving........When Mike passed away the Nottinghams were at our home as part of the family.  One of the few memories I have of that week is of Bill Nottingham trying to get me to eat some ribs....or just getting me to try a little of his homemade lemonade.  Grace guiding me out of the house to work in the yard to heal....just last year, I moved some deep purple plants she had transplanted with me nine years ago.  Grace was right.  Those plants helped me heal.  The Nottinghams were there after people went on with their lives....it's a forever type of family friendship between us.

Traveling.......Molly going to the mountains with the Nottinghams

Giving.......Theresa and Molly-- as young adults...one Christmas Molly was as poor as a church mouse and she had hand towels embroidered for her two roommates.....Theresa and a friend of hers named-- Brad.....the same guy as in "Molly's husband is named Brad."

Watching.....The cool apartment that required Theresa to get up in the morning and watch Molly walk to her car so that she would be safe.  (YIKES-- that place was great but scary!)

Giggling......Feathered door wreaths.

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The girls grown up.

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And Saturday night everything came flooding back to my soul--

Bill and Grace had created magic with the help of Lettie Nicole Events.  The attendants were so proud.  The couple was so much in love-- It was tangible.  The minister spoke from the heart-- it was like a cocoon of love and light. The laughter rang throughout the gallery-- great music, great food, great decorations, great dancing....great love.

So I cried.  I cried at the dresses, the flowers, the joy, the love, the place and the people....

I cried about the memories.  But, I think, I cried more about the memories that were being made that night and the future of memories which are to come.

Swimming suits don't come with sleeves, do they?

I think fat looks better with a little color.  Be it on the side of a steak or the side of my thick thigh.....I just need a little color to look more appealing.

No, I don't want to look like the older lady in "There's Something about Mary."  I want to look sun kissed.  Bronzed....someone who has been languishing on a desert island....drinking a Mai Tai while the exotic birds walk around the beach looking for crumbs from the croissants.  My hair will be coiffed and .....none of this is the truth.

Laying in the sun has always bored me.  I need a little activity.  When we're at the beach, I like to read, or watch the waves, or look for shark's teeth....my family and I set up chairs where the water meets the land.  We have our umbrellas and our funny stories.  We consider ourselves the original homeland security force.  I need a swim suit.

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BUT, I digress.....the point of this blog is about finding a swimming suit.  THIS is exactly why I can't find a swimming suit.

I've been looking.  I want something comfortable without looking like a wedding tent.  I want colorful without looking like a clown.  I want form fitting-- without it being my current form.

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Being a "Nanny" has taken me to the next stage of my life.  Mary Michael and Sally don't care if I have cellulite-- they want me to build sand castles and read.  They want to make cookies and play dolls.  We have tea parties and sleep overs.

Finding a swimming suit was easy.  I picked the brightest colored one I could find that fit me.  Mary Michael saw it and simply stated, "I like your pink swimming suit.  It's pretty."

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Ah, to see the world through the lens of a child has renewed my spirit.  I eat better so I have more energy.  I dress wilder because the girls like color.  And I build sand castles.....because I can!

Hoarding 101

Sentimentalist?  Historian?  Lazy?  Weirdo?  Hoarder?  Romantic?  Practical?  Thrifty?

I'm not sure how to describe my collections of things.  I'm cleaning another section of the garage today and I'm looking forward to the memories that I'll get to revisit.

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Can you just throw away a birthday card?  I think not.

Can you give a book away that brought so many good memories?  Nope.

I clean by thinking, "If I die, who would want this?"

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Many people look at an antique store and say, "No way."  I say, "Get out of my way."

I like the bizarre.  I like oak.  I like primitive paintings. I like china that a family has loved.  I love carved picture frames with oak leaves in the corners.  I like McCoy pottery.  I love an old dishtowel with embroidery.  An alphabet sampler gives me the her-bee jee-bees....if I can't buy it....I'll go home and recreate it.  My house is an eclectic mixture of Bill and I.  Oooooo, and I love an American flag.  Nesting dolls.  Candlesticks.

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I have saved one large storage bin of the drawings and school work for each of my children.  I like looking at their development and I love thinking about why I kept what I kept.

Molly, Mike, and Dan did lots of drawings and note writing.  I feel like an anthropologist observing the culture of our family when I reread their work.  I especially love it when they sign their last names to notes written to Bill and me.  I guess it could have been another Mike who left a note to put his jeans in the dryer so he could sleep a little longer in the morning.  But, I always figured out that notes left by Molly, Mike, or Dan....were from my Molly, Mike, or Dan.

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I love antique oak furniture.  I especially like oak library chairs.  I really love antique oak furniture that's a bargain.  The heavier the better.

So, I do stop by junk piles on the side of the road, or random yard sales, or seeing a great piece of furniture sitting on a porch....I will offer cash money for random items.

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So, am I a horder?  No.  But I could have tendencies.  Molly, Dan, and Jennifer Rice will go through my life....and they'll laugh.  But Jennifer gets first dibs on the nesting dolls.

Island Time

Last week was too much.  Too much laughter.  Too much food.  Too much sun.

I'd go back in a heartbeat.

Our extended family meets every other year at Pawleys Island, SC.  We rent a house.  AND we laugh.

People that want a vacation full of thrills and excitement wouldn't like this.  We go to the beach, to the kitchen, to the porch, to the beach, to the kitchen, and back to the beach....you get the idea we don't do anything except enjoy each other's company.  We play games, we visit, we read, we listen to music.

One morning I was picking up shark's teeth at the water's edge.  Mary Michael asked me what I was doing.   I told her.  With awe she announced, "Nana must be the shark tooth fairy."  I told her I was going to put that fact on my resume.  I think it has a nice ring to it.

Island life is a fluid existence.  Each family has one night to cook for the entire flock....breakfast and lunch are foraged in the bulging refrigerator.  Snacking starts at about 9:00 a.m.  15 people living in harmony and laughter....oh, it's fun.  

One crazy day I had fudge and wheat thins for lunch.  I didn't write it down for Weight Watchers.  I was embarrassed but it was a great combination.

It's a simple time full of joy.

No one is in charge.

Mary Michael pitched a hissy fit on the eve before we left for home.  She didn't want to leave "her" beach.  The rest of us felt the same way.  We just didn't act on how we were feeling or we would have been right there with her--howling at the super moon and dancing the dance of the waves.

I would not have been a good pioneer....those folks were tough as a boiled owl!

Imagine putting your family in a covered wagon, saying "Bye, I don't know if I'll ever see any of you again!" to your extended family, and then slowly starting the trek across the United States.

1.  Hungry?  CATCH some supper.  Eat some dried something.  Find water.  No candy bars.

2.  Personal hygiene?  There's creek-- use some sand.   We don't have Charmin....we don't even have a Sears' catalog.  Shampoo....scape some bar soap into some warm water....but first, go build the fire to heat the water.  Cook your own soap from lard.  Get the lard from the pig you butchered.  Raise the pig.  Dang....planning ahead is important.  No Pantene.  

3.  Traveling? Rand McNally didn't have my atlas done.  How the heck do you ford a creek let alone ford something like a river?  AND who crossed the Mississippi first?  No signs.  No Wendy's.  No Mickey D's!

4.  Inner Strength?  What do you mean there are fleas in the wagon?  What do you mean I have drive the oxen?  What do you mean there's no place to have a mani-pedi?  Oh, ick!  Flies, gnats, mosquitos, ticks, spiders....and the list goes on.  

5.  Critters?  See #4.  Where the deer and the antelope play....and the mice and the snakes....and the beavers and the wolves.  Buffalo....big, big buffalo.  

6.  Sleeping?  Can you imagine the sounds of the prairie?  From coyotes to owls....it would have been loud....with those spooky nature sounds that make you think they have come to eat you.  But, worry not, you probably smelled so ripe any animal in his right mind would say, "I'll pass."

7.  Entertainment?  I'm too tired to sing around the campfire and the satellite tv doesn't work.  WHOA!  I've got to sew your clothes-- but first I need to weave the cloth?  Get back, Jack.  

8.  Unknown stuff....this includes strangers, bears, famine, plague, Native Americans, big rivers.....you can put anything you want in this category.  

9.  Bug Bites? Fleas, flies, chiggers, spiders, ants, to name a few!  See #4....this one seems to be a favorite of mine.  

10. General Angst?  The unknown.

The prairie grasses waved higher than our ancestors' heads.  The forests were thick with trees and underbrush.   Game was plentiful.  Their futures ahead.....thousands of miles ahead.  The pioneers were bringing everything they needed including a mind set of "It can be done."  Tough folks-- yep, tough as boiled owls!

And we're not even going to talk about Donner Pass.

The Family Armadillo

The party had just started.  Music, food, fellowship....it was a celebration of love and family.

The woman came up to Bill and said, "Is that your family pet?"   She nodded towards the bottom of the kitchen steps.

The baby armadillo was standing there with that armadillo look on its face.

Bill didn't miss a beat, "Yes, it is."

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We don't own the armadillos.  They own us.

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The baby armadillos aren't scared of us.  They aren't scared of the dogs.  They aren't scared of the cats. They are clueless.

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The armadillos scare me when they jump in the air and run real fast.  Bill says they aren't going to come after me.

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I'm not sure of that fact.  They have shifty eyes.

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Catch and Release

I keep my mouth shut when it comes to hateful and mean trash talk.

No profit in it.

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But, I have a quality that I should parlay into a new career.

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I catch people....in lies, in embarrassing situations, and in inappropriate vignettes.

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I am like a magnet being drawn to people doing the wrong thing at the wrong time.

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You want to be sneaky.  Every hair on  my head stands up.

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You want to lie.  I promise I can see it in your eyes.

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You want to cut work or school.  I watch you drive off in the distance or meet  you face to face at the Krystal.

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In 1975 two other teachers and I were going to get tomatoes at a produce stand one day after work.  We found some wonderful tomatoes and we were excited about fixing our families bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches for supper.  We happened to find the husband of the driver of our car with another woman [sidebar: unbeknown to us he was doing the horizontal tango with her].  So, what do we do?  We follow them like a scene out of a movie.  Crazy, crazy, crazy behavior!  I was in the backseat thinking that this was probably not a good idea....but my friend was wild.  I think there might have been sparks shooting out of her ears.

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Our driver caught them.  Blocked their station wagon with her little car-- she hopped out and there was a scene out of a William Faulkner, Flannery O"Connor, Tennessee Williams novel all rolled into one.  It might be one of the most vivid discussions of marital harmony and bliss that I've ever seen.  The two of us left in the car had no idea what to do-- so we watched.  

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Our friend got back into the car.  Looked at us squarely in the eyes and asked in a lovely voice, "Are the tomatoes okay?  It seems like I've worked up an appetite."  She divorced him in a ugly, ugly, ugly divorce but we never heard her speak of that day again.

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Catch and release

Teaching vs. Preaching

Is there a difference between teaching and preaching?   I'm not sure.

Sometimes when I blog, I get a little preachy.  I really want people to think about what they are doing.  I'm not sure that I want to change them....except maybe to get them to think more.

I used to wonder why a child with a 27 cumulative average in biology would tell me they wanted to be a pediatrician.  I would talk to them about how a college decides who would be enrolled.  They were supposed to learn the biology in ninth grade, so they could learn more and more.  You really don't get do-overs as a doctor.  A 27 in biology doesn't cut it.  You have to learn 70 percent of the subject matter to get a passing grade.

Grades are such a touchy subject.  Let's say a student does nothing....I mean.....nothing.... during a semester.  I promise you at the end of the semester, a parent will call the principal and tell them that Betty Jo needs another chance to make up their 57.  They didn't know that missing tests, not handing in homework, and being an absolute jerk would be held against their child....

And if they're graduating.....they whine, "Grandma has already bought a plane ticket from Michigan."

So, what will we tell Grandma?

Tell her that Betty Jo has been screwing around and it caught up with her.  Take Granny to the S & S and have a good meal.  This is a life lesson.

See, the schools and the teachers HAVE been telling this to Betty Jo.  She thinks that they are blowing smoke.  She'll tell her momma and momma will make it right.

Well, here's where the preaching comes in.  You can talk about doing the right thing or you can do the right thing.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Rock, Paper, Scissors

Many times I think....how the heck did I wind up where I am?

Makes a person go......Hmmmmmmmmm......

Yes, I had goals.  Yes, I met my goals and set more....but sometimes....life just happens.

For example, Bill and I looked all over Macon for a house when we moved there in 1986.  We loved a house belonging to the guy that was going to take Bill's job in Milledgeville.....so we bought our home from.....the Telegraph.

I met a lady down the street that has become one of my best friends....ever.  We were supposed to be in each other's lives.  AND then we worked together.  And her dad worked with us at Georgia College.

But sometimes, I wake up and wonder, how did I get to 62?  Where did the time go?

Bill and I play the game "Rock, Paper, Scissors" -- we've been married since dirt was invented and we don't squabble over tasks....we gamble for the power to say, "You do it."

I am a lousy "Rock, Paper, Scissors" player.  I rarely win.  But, I keep plugging on.  I might win.  I might be able to fake him out.  But, he knows me so well....Bill watches me think and immediately knows what I'm going to pick...and then simultaneously he picks the winner.

I plug on in life.  How did I get here?