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.