Cool Hand Luke, My Hero

One time, I was placed in time out-- at 58 years old.  Someone in authority thought that if I was placed "in the box" long enough, I'd break.  No way!  She sat me in front of a window,  told me to stay there and she left.  I enjoyed my four hours of sitting in a chair.  It was a sunshiny day and I just laughed at the gall of that woman-- I was right, I had the e-mails to prove it, and I would not be bullied...I would still be sitting in that chair if she hadn't have caved in.  I kept thinking of Cool Hand Luke.  If he believed it, he wouldn't give in.  This can be a very good trait OR a very bad trait.
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Carr: Them clothes got laundry numbers on them. You remember your number and always wear the ones that has your number. Any man forgets his number spends a night in the box. These here spoons you keep with you. Any man loses his spoon spends a night in the box. There's no playing grab-ass or fighting in the building. You got a grudge against another man, you fight him Saturday afternoon. Any man playing grab-ass or fighting in the building spends a night in the box. First bell's at five minutes of eight when you will get in your bunk. Last bell is at eight. Any man not in his bunk at eight spends the night in the box. There is no smoking in the prone position in bed. To smoke you must have both legs over the side of your bunk. Any man caught smoking in the prone position in bed... spends a night in the box. You get two sheets. Every Saturday, you put the clean sheet on the top... the top sheet on the bottom... and the bottom sheet you turn in to the laundry boy. Any man turns in the wrong sheet spends a night in the box. No one'll sit in the bunks with dirty pants on. Any man with dirty pants on sitting on the bunks spends a night in the box. Any man don't bring back his empty pop bottle spends a night in the box. Any man loud talking spends a night in the box. You got questions, you come to me. I'm Carr, the floor walker. I'm responsible for order in here. Any man don't keep order spends a night in... 
Luke: ...the box. 
Carr: I hope you ain't going to be a hard case. 
Luke: [Smiles, shakes head] . 
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I am hard headed and soft hearted.  You tell me a weasel ate your chicken, I'll cry right beside you.  You try to cajole me into doing something I don't believe, I'll dig in and you'll never get me to agree.


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[Why he was cutting the heads off parking meters] 
Luke: Small town, not much to do in the evenin'. 
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Some people just don't learn to read their e-mails or trust their employees.  Bad, bad, bad!

CYA does not mean putting a blanket on your donkey.

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Learn to enjoy the box.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph Pray for Us"

As a Roman Catholic, I was raised with lots of dogma that really isn't related to any organized religion-- I realized this as an adult.  Some of it was instigated by being a member of a large, Irish Catholic family.  Throw in a bunch of Norwegian Lutherans and a smattering of Methodists and my  religious upbringing is as electric as....as.....ANY of us.

I used to be terrified of thunder and lightening.  My Aunt Francis was directly responsible for this.  Aunt Fanny, the oldest of my father's 14 brothers and sisters, would run through my Grandmother's house splashing us with holy water and chanting, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, pray for us!"  I never remember this activity during the day, but I vividly remember being wakened from a sound sleep by a face full of water and her prayers being louder than the thunder.  Maybe I wasn't scared of the storms, maybe I was scared of Aunt Fanny?

During Lent, the children of our parish would meet for mass once per week before school.  I liked going because of the donut, the homemade hot cocoa, and the glass of HiC orange drink that were served after the 7:30 a.m. mass.  That sugar high was amazing.  After the breakfast we all walked the four blocks to school.

For two weeks each summer, the our church in State Center partnered with the Catholic Church in Rhodes and imported nuns to give us an uber-dose of church.  The nuns would pile out of cars with their long back habits swishing silently and their long rosaries giving out a warning sound that they were coming our way.  They were graceful, holy, and brides of Christ.  Do NOT MESS WITH NUNS.

 I still remember having to memorize the Baltimore Catechism-- lots and lots of Baltimore Catechism.  But, my Biblical knowledge is limited to what I have learned as an adult from my own readings and friends.  I love the Proverbs.  I love Corinthians.  (But, I can still "do" the Baltimore Catechism at the drop of a hat.)  The Bible was read to us daily-- and I wasn't paying attention.  (No, for many of the years I watched a mink wrap that one of our wealthy parishioners wore that had the little mink heads attached.  It captured my imagination.  It looked like they were biting each other's tails.  I waited for them to wake up and bite her neck in a million places. This kept me busy for years.)

Back to "Summer Sister School"-- I also remember a sister (nun or as I heard the older boys saying "don't get none") getting after another one of my classmate so severely that I got sick to my stomach and wouldn't go back to "Sister School".  I refused.  My stomach hurt.  My mother took me to Dr. Sokol....my stomach hurt.  It was the year of my first communion and I took to the bed.  I had two weeks to get my act together and get religion.  I was staying in the bed.  No way was I going back to that land of milk and honey.

Father Heimerman, our parish priest and neighbor, made a home visit to find out what was wrong with me.  He was a good priest.  His mother was his housekeeper and they had two exotic Siamese cats.  I thought he was dandy.  He was very quiet when he asked me what was the matter.  I ratted out the nun.  I told him how mean she was to a child that had special needs....he quietly said, "The nuns scare me, too."

He told me I wouldn't have to get near them that year.  He heard my first confession.  He told me what to do for that special day.  And I don't know what he told the nuns about me-- but they gave me wide berth that summer.  And I made my first communion on time.

So, here comes Good Friday.  God gave his only son so that the rest of us could have eternal life.  Today always brings a solemnity to my soul that's rarely found on the other 364 days of the year.  God made little children so the rest of us can aspire to the faith they so sweetly hold in their hearts.  I hope I live the 10 commandments by my actions.  I want to make the world a better place for all of us.  God Bless and Happy Easter.  "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, pray for us."

Therapy Dogs

Lucky Malloy (from Des Moines, IA) and Buddy Roe Stafford (from Macon, GA) and are official therapy dogs.  They are good-natured dogs who love people and are very well behaved.  (For example, they cannot eat off the floor because of medicine that could have been dropped.  Imagine a dog that can walk down a hall littered with tempting treats and NOT eat any of them).  Buddy Roe visited the nursing home this week and Lucky works with children with special needs most weeks.  These two dogs radiate love.  They are the creme de la creme of pets.

Just having a pet to love makes people feel better-- and the animals loved being loved.  My dog loves me.

But, on the other hand, Raggs is not on the fast track to being a therapy dog.  However, my pup brings me great joy.  Raggs is a silly boy.  He's full of fun.  This morning he didn't want to get out of bed....too chilly.  He would like me to fix scrambled eggs for him for every meal-- with a side of bacon.  Dog food is, well, for dogs.  A choice treat for him is raiding the litter box!

Another dog that I admire is Russ....or UGA IX.  During football season, Russ is my therapy dog.  I can be having a so-so day and watching Russ just makes me smile.  Russ seems like one of "us".  He's not completely white, but he's completely dog.  I like how he flops on top of his ice.  I laugh when he rolls on his back.  Russ seems to have a good balance of being a nationally known mascot and being a pet.  I love how he kept being the substitute UGA for so long, he was given a shot at the big job.

Be it dog or dawg-  animals love their masters and bring unconditional love to many by just being, dogs!  

I'm Looking for a Job-- I need to be gainfully employed

I have loved being retired.  I have had a year of doing NOTHING.  Oh, I do things....I just do things that no one notices.  I need to find something to do that is productive.  I wonder if I could get hired to do any of the things I do well.  I have made a list my talents to parlay into my own WalMart of success:

1.  Listen to confessions.  I'm not a priest, but I'd be an active listener. AND I wouldn't probably tell unless it was really juicy and then I might put it on Facebook.  But, maybe not.  People tell me things.  I don't usually judge.  I might giggle, but I don't judge.

2.  Cook.  I wouldn't be as heart healthy as I should be.  Remember, I am the one with a BMI like a carton of ice cream.

3.  Knitter-- I "live" to knit.  I can knit and purl.  I can't read a pattern.  Scarves and the idiot's dishrag are my specialties.

4.  Music listener-- I like it all....satellite radio was made for me.  During college football season I prefer sports radio.

5.  Tic picker-outer -- seasonal work....my fingernails work as well as tweezers.  I also do a complementary (to the animal, person, or tic as I am destroying it after I extract it completely from its victim) play by play free of charge.

6.  Reader -- I have eclectic taste.  I am a fast and accurate reader.  The characters become my friends.

7.  Writer....more for like the Star or the National Inquirer.  When I was writing my dissertation, my major professor asked me if I wanted to write a dissertation or a romance novel.  I think my pause before answering was the straw that broke our relationship.

8.  Antique looker (not buyer-- I like to look, look, look)

9.  Hair grower--  I can do this one in my sleep.

10.  Sleeper-- see number 9.  I love clean sheets, cool pillows, and  a good night's sleep.

11.  Coffee drinker.-- Kona, Columbia, Folgers, 8 o'clock, Starbucks...yum.  No sugar.  No cream.  A mug of the java and I am on cloud nine.  I love the Kruig.  I only drink coffee until noon and then I switch to unsweet ice tea.

12.  Crossword puzzle doer-- blue pen.  Poor speller.  Great dictionary skills.

13.  Vacation planner-- just ask anyone who has traveled with me.  Life is a highway, I want to drive it all night long.  Not really, I never drive at night.  I like to stop and sleep.

14.  Theater goer-- I am prone to enjoying any theatre.  From "Kiss Me, Kate" to "Rent", "Twelve Angry Men" to "All About Opal", I enjoy the live performers, musicals are made for me....I can't wait to see my next show.  I saw "Million Dollar Quartet" at the Fox Sunday night.  Heaven, pure heaven!

15.  Bird Watcher-- Binoculars, bird book, warm sun, comfortable chair....I'm set.  Next level of this sport is....creek at the beach, dock across the marsh, binoculars, bird book, warm sun, ice tea, screened porch with ceiling fan slowly rotating and  resting in a wicker recliner.

16.  Yoga doer -- Yoga is great.  It doesn't matter where or when.  I wish Miss Sandra taught senior yoga every day of the week.

17.  Sea Shell picker-upper-- see number 18 and take it to heart.  It's fun beach-combing for almost anything except used needles, old underwear, and jelly fish.  

18.  Shark tooth hunter without the shark attached-- The hours that I've spent roaming the beaches of South Carolina looking for shark's teeth can never be recovered or matched.  It is fantastic.  I love the beach, the sun, the hunt, the quest, the zip lock bags to store the teeth in, the competition.

19.  Iced tea drinker-- Sun tea.  Unsweet for me.  Tall glass.  No lemon.  Simple syrup for those sweet tea drinkers (I don't want them having grainy tea.)  For the porch, when visiting with friends and family, a must.  A Must!  Icy, fresh brewed....summer in a glass.

20.  Pet petter-- Don't pet the wet stuff and don't sweat the petty stuff.  Raggs. Pawley.  Jack.  Mille.  Charlie.  Norman.  Mr. Biggles.  Annie.  Lucky. I do enjoy the animals that I know.

What's next for me?  Something.  I know.  Is going.  To happen.

Mr. Snake or Spring is in the Air

Spring Time in a High School--

A knock at my office door--  a very laid back teacher appeared in the door. She was bright red in the face.   In tow, she had one of her ninth grade boys.  To me she stated, "You're not going to believe this."  To the boy, "Tell Dr. Weaver what happened during Drop Everything and Read."  To me, "I'm washing my hands of this."  To the young man, "I'm going to call your mother and tell her to ask you what you did at school today."  To me, "I don't ever want him darkening my door."  To him, "Good bye, Good luck."  To me, "You're going to earn your pay today."

WHOA!  The teacher thrust a "write up" into my hands and walked off.

I read the discipline referral.  I am paraphrasing it's contents:


The ninth grade boy had asked a ninth grade girl if she wanted to look at his one-eyed "Mr. Snake."  The boy told the girl that he kept "Mr. Snake" in his pants.  The girl knew exactly what he was talking about and she had gone and told the teacher immediately.  The boy was still laughing at the teacher and the girl and wouldn't stop talking about Mr. Snake.


So I called his mother.  I wanted her to know that he said he had a snake in his pants.  I'm a good citizen.  We couldn't have snakes at school.  She needed to know her son had been offering to show his one-eyed "Mr. Snake" to a little girl in his class.  Would she like some boy offering to show her daughter a one-eyed "Mr. Snake" during reading?  Would she like to talk to him now or when she came to pick him up?  She thanked me and said that she would talk to him when he got in the car.

(I must say that most mothers are gracious when they are apologizing for their children acting like fools.)

He wasn't laughing as I hung up the phone.   I hadn't said one thing to him yet.

"Are you going to be a herpetologist when you grow up?" I asked him.  He had no idea what I was talking about...not a clue.

I told him to look it up when he got home.

No, you can't make this stuff up.

Lots of Locks

I am growing my hair so I can look cool- NOT.  I am growing my hair so that someone can get a salt and pepper wig.

The gift of hair belongs to me.  I can grow hair by just thinking about it.  I usually have to go to the salon every three weeks.  At four weeks, I'm looking shaggy and at five weeks, I need a cut with a chain saw .

I have been letting my hair grow since October.  I know that young girls and teens are always giving their hair away.  But, it was suggested that someone might like to have a wig to match their hair.

Locks of Love doesn't take gray hair to make wigs....they sell the gray hair to pay for maintenance.  There are other organizations that take gray hair.  My hair is driving me crazy right now.  I haven't had long hair in many moons and it is strange.  Sally got a handful of it the other day and tears sprang to my eyes.

Why do I keep thinking of the long gray-haired singer in the Oakridge Boys every time I look in the mirror?

ELVIRA

Supper

Just tell me what to cook for supper....I like to cook.  I just don't like coming up with menus.  Just tell me what to cook....please.  Tell me what you want to eat.  I bet I'd like to eat that, too.

I am not a hunter/gatherer.  (That is a reference to a 4th grade social studies text from which I used to teach.  I continue to be happy that I don't have to go and find and or kill my dinner every night....the animals and plants in my little corner of the Earth are safe.)

What do you cook for supper?  Subway?  Krystals?  A roast with potatoes, carrots, and onions in the crock pot?  A frozen dinner?  A sandwich?  Kraft macaroni and cheese?  Chicken?  Broccoli?  Scrambled eggs?  Pancakes?  Do you keep certain ingredients around so you can always throw them together and have something wholesome to eat?  Does your family roam and graze or do you sit down and have a family meal?

I am not judging anyone.  I just want to know if all of the other 7 billion people in this world are as flumoxed as I am about the evening meal.  Do you double recipes and freeze one for the future?  Do you have your main meal at noon and an egg sandwich for supper?

Is handing Bill a jar of peanut butter and a spoon acceptable?

When the kids were growing up their favorite supper was Chicken Breast Strips (from a box in the frozen food section of the store) (with sweet and sour dipping sauce) and Lipton Stroganoff noodles.  They loved that.   They would ask for that whenever I said, "What do you want for supper?"  I knew that Betty Crocker would come get me and put me in Bad Mother Jail if I served that too often.  "Here, sweetheart, let's sprinkle a little more MSG on your plate.  I don't know if you have consumed enough additives today."

So, do you stop at the store every night and pick up your ingredients or are you like the people in the magazines and newspapers who make a list according to the food sales, and your coupons, and your dietary needs, and shop for the entire month, prep your food, create your meals, freeze your dinners, and then croquet a bedspread for your new neighbors while listening to a symphony?

At 5:00 p.m. I look and see what's in the refrigerator.  AND then ten minutes later I look again, like maybe the God of Foods blessed me with a secret delivery.

 "I can't remember when I bought these hot dogs.  We better eat them."

Bon Appetite.

Worry Gets You Nowhere

I have been thinking about life today.  I had my 62,000 mile check up at the doctor last week.  I think I did well on everything except my weight.  I am continually disappointed in my lack of self control and sheer gluttony I exhibit on a regular basis.  Oink oink...pass the pizza.

I have been walking daily.  I have been going to the gym.  I have been eating more fruits, vegetables, and non-processed food.  My weight was up.  I could make a joke and say it's because I had fishing weights in my pockets but it's because I eat more than I burn.  Simple.

What you worry about rarely is what happens....it's the random crap that hits you right between the eyes and knocks your socks off.

I heard a man that was talking about how he lost weight.  He stated that to work off ONE M&M you would have to walk the length of a football field.  I figured out my problem right there-- I don't have a football field.

Lap Band-- I hear Lap Dance

Every time lap band surgery is advertised on television I hear-- Lap Dance.

Every time -- I hear that-- I laugh.

I suppose it's not funny to anyone else.

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It is a family story that has been told for over forty years.  I was sitting at the dining room table writing my essay to get into Iowa State University.  I innocently asked my dad, "How do you spell college?"  No, I will never live that down.  My brother, Dan, loves to ask me how to spell college.  (The word that I am the proudest for knowing how to spell is baccalaureate, just saying.)

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It's like saying to Bill, "I'm going to Yoga."  I have to think about that because what I really want to say  is, "I'm going to yogurt."

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For years I've referred to the refrigerator as the garage.

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Some of you may think I'm losing my mind.  Here's a new flash, I've been like this since December 4, 1950.

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I remember the day in graduate school when I couldn't figure out how to spell "was."

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In fourth grade Glenn Robinson helped me study my spelling words-- he couldn't figure out why I couldn't spell.  Lang-u-age.   Chic-ago.  That friend didn't want me to fail spelling and get an F on my report card.  Spelling has always been a mystery to me.  I hear so many sounds when I'm sounding out a word....I never had "Hooked on Phonics."

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When I started graduate school, I prayed to God for some way to pass my written comps and write my dissertation.  He gave me SPELL CHECK and Bill.  Thank you God for both!

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Some people would say I have specific learning disabilities.  I say I have different learning abilities.


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W-A-S

That Made My Eyes Water

I like visiting.  I love to sit on the porch and visit.  I like lounging in the family room visiting with friends.  Our home is made for people.  It is a place were visiting with friends is natural.

Two good friends and I were chatting....when the most God awful scent filled the room.  Man, the cat took a super crap in the litter box hidden behind the sofa.  (We had to put a box back there because the cat thinks that this is the best place in the entire house to go to the bathroom.)

(Jack was an outdoor cat for many years.  The move to the country has not been easy on her.  The two outdoor cats are pleasant.  Jack scoffs at them.  I really don't want to kill Mike's cat., but I might strangle it to death.  This cat keeps me humble.  I can't control Jack.)

For once in my life I was speechless.  It was the type of smell that literally takes your breath away.

God has a great sense of humor because I could hear him chuckling about this.  What do you do?

You clean up and keep going.  Just like in life.

Sometimes we get ourselves in stinky situations.  We just have to fess up.  Clean up.  AND keep going.

My friends were kind.  If I were them, I'd still be talking about that smell.

p.s.

Do you know the difference between humor and odor?  Humor is a shift of wit.

You May Call Me Audubon Jr.

Bird watching is a solitary sport.  As I've said before, I'm not much into running, jumping, and leaping over buildings with a single bound.  But I love my birds!  I am wicked with a pair of binoculars.  I can stand, watch and enjoy for much longer than I care to admit to the entire world.

I have a finch feeder that is continually full of gold finches, house finches, and purple finches.  I have four sets of cardinals that love my old platform feeder......and then I have my bluebirds.  I adore my bluebirds!

Bill has been building me bluebird houses so my birds can live in comfort and style.  He researched the requirements that would make a bluebird green with envy.  He built ballasts so the snakes, raccoons, and squirrels can't get into the nesting boxes.  He strategically placed the boxes all around the place so the bluebirds can have their own territory.

I bought some freeze dried mealworms.  The lady at the store told me I could grow my own.  Bluebirds love meal worms....and they love fresh meal worms.  It would be easier than raising swans. My next endeavor--don't you think?