State Center, Iowa-- “Snow place like home for the holidays!”

I grew up in Lake Wobegon.  Yes, Garrison Keillor talks about his mystical Minnesota town of Lake Wobegon....but if you listen to that radio program, you're listening to a man describe the State Center, IOWA.  "Where all the men are good looking, the women are strong, and the children are above average.”  Daria Wilkening Chestnut and I read the book by the same name and agreed, Lake Wobegon was State Center-- we just didn’t have a lake!

Most of us that grew up in the 1950's and 1960's had it pretty good.  We had a small town where everyone knew everyone.  You had to get over any spat that you had with a classmate....there were only two sections of each class and most of us that started kindergarten together graduated from high school together.  If you held a grudge, you wouldn't have many friends in a short amount of time-- and you were probably related to them anyway!

There were “Sock Hops” at the community hall after most home football and basketball games.  There was snake dance after the pep rally that was held the Thursday night before the Homecoming football game.  We brought our clamp on roller skates to school and played “7-Up” with a large rubber ball during recess.  It was a time of Red Rover, Red Light Green Light and Freeze Tag.

State Center had approximate 1,000 inhabitants (counting the cats and dogs).  It was a town where I walked to school at 5 years old and walked home for lunch.  I was envious of the county kids who got to eat hot lunch.  So, why am I waxing poetic about my hometown?

State Center has most of their utilities underground and they have their own power plant.  (Unique, huh?)  I have heard today that they are expecting a BIG SNOW storm.  But they have electricity!  People are watching the snow blow, trying to get ahead of the next drift by getting out their snow blowers, and either loving or loathing the first large snow of the season.  I miss the snow!

An active group of adults (they're my around my age and younger) (I almost said young people....) came together with a dream and started to fix up the downtown.  It looks beautiful.  They see potential in each other and in our town.  It is a “can-do” community.

The concept of small town life is true in my heart.  I grew up with some wonderful people and we have really stayed in each other’s lives via social media.  We celebrate the good times and the not so good times.  Be it a classmate’s untimely death, the birth of a new grandchild, or a strange colored squirrel eating out of a bird feeder, Central Iowa is in my heart.

So, I am missing my momma, my brothers, my childhood, and the snow today.  Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of you!  May the year 2016 bring you joy and peace!

Ready, Set, There She Is

The Miss America pageant is a night when I want to have thighs without cellulite.  Shoot, I’d love a waist, too, while I’m wishing for physical enhancements.  Molly and I had a wonderful evening watching the pageant last night-- we cheered at the television when Miss Georgia was announced as the winner.  What a night!

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The candidates have sparkly teeth, shiny hair, and a bounce to their step.  Really?  I love it.  I love it.  I love it.  Those girls are talented, pretty, and determined.  I once visited with a former contestant that said she had run seven miles per day, watched everything she ate, practiced her talent, and made the scholarship quest a full time job.  The day after she didn’t win, she slept late and ordered a pizza.  She said it was her own type of consolation prize.

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Hoo-ah

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I could answer some of the interview questions but I'd have to pass on strutting my stuff in high heels.  Gosh, talk about knees hurting!  I'd need a cane, a walker, or maybe a sherpa to carry me around the stage.

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And those flowing dresses!  I'd have to sit down and scoot down the steps on my bottom...high heels and long dresses just aren't meant for me to wear together.

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As the old Southern saying goes, “The higher the hair; the closer to God.”

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Swim wear?  I'd like to see them swim.  I'd like to see them swim in a lake and then prance around.  No heels, flip flops would be the finishing touch.   AND maybe they could carry three beach chairs and a cooler.  Now, that could garner some points.

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I love it.  I love it.  I love it.  I enjoy the glamour, the styles, the talent, and the entire production.  I loved the tape of Bert Parks singing "There she is...." even though he's dead.    I consider him synonymous with the program.

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Miss Georgia on Saturday....Miss America on Sunday.

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The point.  It's work to look that good.  Congratulations to Betty Cantrell!  I have heard nothing except positive facts about what a hard worker you are.   May you have an amazing year representing our country!

Teaching School is not for Sissies

MY RANT FOR THE SECOND WEEK OF SCHOOL

Teaching is one of the most rewarding careers in the world-- if you like children.  Teaching is so easy when it it going right....AND nothing is harder when it's going wrong.

I gag when people tell me how teachers should teach.  I have this little devil in me that would love to give the “Knowledgeable One” 25 first graders and see if they could get them lined up for lunch...bathroom, hands washed, lunch boxes picked up, lunch money if they need it....you teachers know the drill.  Most uninitiated folks would crumble in eight minutes or less.

There is nothing sweeter than watching Early Childhood teachers during the first weeks of school.  They are MAGICAL.  These are teachers who can open milk cartons, dry tears, teach procedures, get the kids to eat something and eat their own lunch SIMULTANEOUSLY.  Personally, they are my rock stars in the Woodstock of school. MAGICAL!  No Lie.

Really, I've been told numerous times, "I've been to school for (fill in the blank with number of years)
and I have never heard of this.”  That’s because the good old days might not have been so good.

Rambling Thoughts:
1.  We don’t use chalkboards because of the dust...computers don’t like dust.
2.  Supplies....it’s just like home....the pencils walk off when we aren’t looking.
3.  My child doesn’t have a textbook to bring home....that’s because we use more than one resource for teaching standards...we have a variety of materials for your child to use.  Drill and kill just doesn’t work.  In Georgia there are textbooks online.    
4.  Widipedia is not a good source to use in a reference paper.
5.  Learning how to learn is very important.
6.  Getting along with others is very important, too.

Teachers want to impart knowledge.  They want children to take school somewhat seriously.  They don't want to be called, "B*^&h."  Or, "B" or "Bee atch."  And then they sure don't want to hear a parent saying, "My child wouldn't say that.”  (Okay, I did really enjoy showing this hateful mother a video tape of her child doing exactly what the mother had told me he would never do.  In fact, I showed it to her twice.)

Do you really think that teachers want children to be disrespectful?  Common courtesy goes a long way in life.

Fighting with parents is not high on a teacher's lists of "things that I enjoy."  In fact, most teachers dread listening to a parent rant about their child.  Teachers want your children to hand in their homework, study, and do well.  I've met very few teachers who enjoyed putting an F on a report card.(Now, for the record, I do think my high school chemistry teacher liked it.  He put my F in red and stated that he had saved the world from me becoming a nurse.  That was low.  IN BRIGHT RED!)

So, listen to your children.....but listen to the teacher, too.

God gave us two ears, two eyes, and one mouth.  In old Erin’s little world that means:  1.  Listen twice as hard, 2.  Read the information twice, and then 3.  Only talk about half as much as we actually do.

And to my teacher friends out there:  Parents don’t keep the good kids at home.

And Let Perpetual Light Shine Upon All of Us

Mom’s urn was a metal.  I’d never really thought about urns until we were faced with the task of picking one out.  Brother Dan thought that this one would appeal to her.  As usual, he was right.

Now, back to the diggers.  After about ten minutes of digging, Brother Jim asked, “Is this deep enough?”

Dean shook his head, “No, only if I stand on her and push her down about a foot.”

I started writing this conversation down.  You never know when you might need this information.

“Erin, bring the urn over.  The hole is deep enough.”

“Wait a minute, I’m writing all this down.  I don’t want to forget anything.”

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Things I learned:

1.  A hole needs to be fairly deep....even for an urn.

2.  Packing tape works well for lowering an urn into the ground.  Take a big long piece, loop it around the urn, and it will act as a means of helping the urn descend into the grave in a sacred manner.  We didn’t do this.

3.  God loves fools and my family.

4.  Lay plywood down before digging a hole and put the dirt on the plywood.  Then when you fill in the hole, the ground around the grave doesn’t look nasty.  The finished grave will look much nicer.

5.  Sprinkle a little grass seed on the dirt to get the grave looking good.

6.  Mom and Dad did a good job with raising the three of us.  We knew that Mom was in heaven and that this burial could be a family story for the rest of our days.  We appreciated every minute of it!

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Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.


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PS.  God, thank you for my parents.  They prepared me to live, love, and laugh....usually all at the same time!

My family in approximately 1958.

Part Two....I can dig it, He can dig it, She can dig it, We can dig It, They can dig it.....Can you dig it, Baby?

As Jim was walking towards a home near the cemetery, the nice man, Dean, who was in charge of getting the grave dug, drove up in his pick-up.

“Everything, okay?”  he asked.

“Say, we have a little problem,” stated brother Jim.  “The grave has been filled in....and we haven’t buried Mom yet.”

“Nah,” said Dean.

“No, we’ve got her right here, “ stated brother Dan.

Dean continued to shake his head from left to right.  At that point I knew we needed a visual aid.

I held up the urn.

The nice young man started beating his head on his steering wheel.  “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes, “ stated the entire group.

Immediately, Dean was on the phone with the young man who had filled in the grave.  We heard muffled parts of the conversation....”Didn’t I tell you to make sure the urn was in there?”  “Didn’t I tell you to feel the urn with your shovel before you started filling in the hole?”  “What were you thinking....no, I take that back....you weren’t thinking at all, were you?"

(I started really laughing.....really, really laughing.  That kind of laughing that is never good.  Never appropriate.  Never kind.  Never ceasing.)

“Do you have a shovel?” stated brother Dan.  “We can do this by hand."

Within minutes, plywood had been placed around the grave....and the three men, Jim, Dan, and Dean started redigging the grave together.  AND the guy who had filled in the grave by mistake,  well, he was critiquing the digging.

Me?  Well, I was taking pictures and laughing.

To Be Continued......Part Three....It takes a village!

What’s Wrong with this Picture? Part I

Don’t judge....and it’s nobody’s fault.  The stars were in alignment for a atypical, funny, wonderful burial.  Yep....laughter, love, joy, mud, dirt and my family.  I can’t imagine my life in any other way.  Look for the silver lining in any cloud-- you’ll see it and appreciate the wonders of our universe.  To piggyback on one of my favorite county songs, “God is great, Beer is good, and People are Crazy!”
and damn it, Momma’s burial fit right in with the crazy.

Mom passed away in January.  We knew then that we wanted a nice Iowa SUMMER day for the internment of her ashes.  My brothers and I spent the spring getting the gravestone reworked and we set a date of June 27 for her burial.  It was going to be simple.  Sweet.  Personal.  Mom and Dad would be together after 45 years apart.

The immediate family planned to meet in State Center for a 9 a.m. ceremony.  (That time was crazy in the first place--we were coming from various places and the logistics would have given Eisenhower a migraine.)  I didn’t get to State Center until 10 and I had Mom riding shotgun with me (Momma loved riding in the front seat of the 4-Runner.  Even at 90 years old, she could still hop right in.)  Jim’s clan wouldn’t be arriving until noonish so our plans were changing moment by moment.

But, we knew everything was cool.  Dan and Kim had visited the cemetery on their way into town that morning and had even taken pictures of the grave.  It was deep and very nicely dug.  We were
good to go.  Jim had fastened a macrame structure for lowering the urn into the ground.  On point!  We met at the family home and at noon we left for the burial.

Our small caravan drove to the cemetery in our birth order.  It was a beautiful Iowa day.  The wind was gently blowing.  The sun was shining brightly.  Flowers were blooming.  We were together for Mom’s send off.

As I drove into the cemetery, I marveled at the lot we had chosen when my dad had passed away in 1970.  You can see our home from that site.  It just made me feel good.  Everything was just perfect.  (Note:  Whenever this feeling passes your way, we afraid.  Be very afraid.)

I got out of the car, picked up the urn, and walked to the grave.

Oops.  No empty hole.  It had been filled in.

“Houston, we have a problem!”

As Dan, Kim, Jim, Jody, Erin, Charlie, and Annie walked towards the grave, I stated, “The hole has been filled in.”  Everyone doubted me....they all came, looked and stated, “The hole has been filled.”

One brother asked the group, “Anyone got a shovel?”

To Be Continued

Poison Ivy comes a Creeping Around

Late at night,
When you’re sleeping
Poison ivy comes a creeping
A-a-round.


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I never knew the words of this song until Mike (at age 7) sang them to me.

I had never paid attention to those details.  I had always just la-de-da’d through this part of the song.

The adage that the devil is in the details is so, so true.

It’s the "measure twice, cut once" times in life that we need to remember this.

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Some days, I feel like I’m slugging through jello....some days, I’m on point.  Frankly, I love those days when I’m a hair off-kilter.  I love laughing at my foibles.  I don’t like giggling about other people, but I think I’m funny.

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Part of my problem is my “list”.  I’ve always got a list going on in my life.  I enjoy checking thinks off my list.  Like the day I needed to get to the bank....it was on my list and as Larry the Cable Guy says, “Get ‘er done."

I was on Zebulon Road and zipped into the bank to deposit some money.  “Ma’am, this isn’t your bank,” stated the little teller.

“I’m so sorry,” apologizing profusely. "I usually bank on the other side of town."

I drove immediately to the next bank.....nope, they, too, told me that I didn’t bank there.  Oops! Dang!  At that point I started paying attention.

Heck, the third times the charm, isn’t it?  On to the next bank.  This time, I looked at my check card, I looked at the bank front....they matched!  BINGO!

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Those “poison ivy” times make us who we are.  They are the rain on our parades.  The soufle that falls.  The chipped fingernail polish....but they are also the stories left to tell.  The people left to love.  The freak flags left to fly.  The stars left to wish upon.  I love the saying that many a good story starts with the phrase, “Hey, watch this!"

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The young woman had come for an interview.  She was delightful.  After knocking the interview out of the park, she was telling a story how her baby had been fussy before she had left him with her mother....she was so happy to have been on time.  YaDa, YaDa.  As she got up to leave, I noticed that most of her back was covered with dried baby throw-up.  She wasn’t aware that Junior had garped down her back.  Oops!  I hired her....but I never told her about how that baby throw up had endeared her to me.  “Poison Ivy."

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Late at night,
When you’re sleeping
Poison ivy comes a creeping
A-a-round.  

To Everything There is a Season

I read an interesting article today that stated that people created the idea of time.....

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So how old are you?

In my head, I am about 25.  In my right knee, I am about 90.

I have a 14 year old's sense of humor.

I have the appetite of a 40 year old farm hand at harvesting.

I have the metabolism of a sloth.

My feet are great-- maybe 20.

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So, what is age?

My hair is gray.  I have laugh lines and I have earned every wrinkle I own.

I am as soft-hearted as a 4 year old.

I can't get up from the floor gracefully-- I look like a rolling beach ball.

I adore my pets.... Like a 10 year old.

I have the same dreams, hopes, and aspirations as in years gone by but they have more texture.  My friends are my friends; they ignore my faults and celebrate each day.  We laugh more, talk more, are quiet more, and face our challenges with confidence that no one knows what the heck will happen.  You have to hang on, stick together, and be there for each other.

Brothers, Dan and Jim, and I have been perusing our family's past life.  It has been a study of time, energy, love, laughter, tears, joy, heart ache, and a pull-yourself up by the bootstrap existence.  We have learned that Grandma Malloy did talk (just not to us), relatives that were ill, love eternal between couples, and a deep sense of loyalty.  From Great-grandpa, Michael, who lived til he was 95 to the stillborn baby called Sister, our family mirrors what I've read in books. It wasn't easy but there was love.  The letters of support from each other kept the mail service busy....our family communicated its love for each other in visible ways on a daily basis.

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The three of us are 58 years older than in this picture.  But time has not diminished the love our family had for each other.  We've told stories of our father who passed away in 1970 and stories of our mother who passed away this January.  Looking at our smiling faces in this photograph show three children whose parents took the time to love them on a daily basis.  AND that we have learned those lessons on how to live and love with our families today.

Ecclesiastes 3:1
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

She’s Five

My little buddy, Mary Michael Patterson, turned five today.  She summed it up nicely.  “It uses up a whole hand, Nana!”  She flashed the five fingers at me and grinned.  I knew exactly what she meant.

Life for Mary Michael is pretty simple.  A great book at night, riding her bike, playing in water-- it’s good.  She’s a strawberry-eating little girl.  Mary Michael’s kind, thoughtful, and she wants to please.  She watches others carefully and frankly, that little girl doesn’t miss a beat.  I bet she’ll learn to read upside down like her Nana did so she can keep track of what’s going on in the world of adults.

To my sweet girl as you begin your second hand:

Mary Michael, school starts this fall and you’re going to be meeting lots of new folks.  You’ll see the world through other’s eyes and I promise you, it’s a big adventure.  Honey, go places, do things, and help others.  By helping others, you’ll be helping yourself the most.  Use those values your parents have instilled in you.  Laugh with others!  Celebrate the good!

Remember, you want to leave the world a better place than how you have found it.  Do your homework.  Put your name on the top of your paper.  Color outside the lines occasionally.  AND don’t believe everything that people tell you.

(Nana will tell you about the Flim Flam Man when you’re a little older.)

You’re the apple of your Nana’s eye.

Love you,  miss you, Nana

Everyday is the First Day

Let's all try and put square pegs into round holes.

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AND let's keep doing this over and over and over.

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I have figured something out about myself.

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When God was passing out the table settling gene, He giggled and gave me the "sense to know that I don’t know squat about tablescaping” gene.  Tablescaping is what people do when they pretty up a table for a party.  My friends say, “Just go out in  your yard and cut some greenery...it will be lovely”  or the one year my sister-in-law, Janie, handed me cumquats to decorate the Thanksgiving turkey.  The cumquats were quickly taken from my hands by those who know my limitations.

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I just don’t get it.  The height, the colors, the theme....I cook.....I eat.....I don’t get the beautification part.  I’m as lost as last year’s Easter egg.  I might order a centerpiece.  I might put on a tablecloth.   I might put out the salt and pepper shakers, but let it be known, Martha Stewart has nothing to worry about.

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However,  I keep trying.  Today might be the day, because everyday is the first day of the rest of my life.

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ps...I was going to put a picture of the swan on the back porch table.  It was too embarrassing.  I had put a mosquito candle in the place where the bouquet of flowers are supposed to occupy.  Function over form!

The Hardest Week of the Year

I started my gig in the realm of “education” in 1973.  If I knew then, what I know now, I might not have gray hair.

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Everybody thinks they could teach school.  I’m not so sure.  On a good day, it is wonderful.  On a bad day, well, let’s say, it gives a person something more to pray about.  

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One day, this dad was sitting across from me (ripping me and my teachers a new one) about my inept ability to run a school.  It seemed that he would let his son off in the front of the school and, surprise, surprise (read that in a Gomer Pyle voice) his dear little boy was sneaking right out the back door and not going to class.  I have a lot of patience (or maybe a whole bunch of I don’t care) when I looked at him and asked, “Well, can you control your son?”  

“Why no,  I can’t,” he stated. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.” 

“I rest my case.  I have 1,100 teenagers here.  It’s spring.  They’re frisky." 

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I got pepper sprayed during the last week of school.  

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There are stories behind every story.  Some of it is not your business.

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The week before graduation, almost every high school principal hears some variation of  how Grandma got a ticket from Michigan, Montana, or Mongolia and couldn’t we just let the little darling grandchild walk across the stage and pretend to graduate?  SMH.  I don’t think so.  I really don’t think so.  

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Teachers and principals DON’T want students to fail.  But, I respect students enough to give them the grade they earn.  I am telling you that teachers usually don’t delight in writing down an F on a report card.  If I had a $1.00 for every student who asked me and wanted to turn in late work....I’d own an island off the coast of South Carolina.

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Late work-- to some teachers, it's according to the BOE policy.  Late work-- to some students, it’s according to the decade.  

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I heard tell of a teacher who refused to accept any late work.  One of his students had a sibling die.  The paper was late.  That teacher wouldn’t take it.

That same teacher called and wanted his own child’s work to be accepted late because he had been on a ski trip back in January with his church....it was May.  It wasn’t accepted.

Karma is a bitch, isn’t it?

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Teaching is not like playing work up.  Everyone just doesn’t progress at the same rate.  I’ve seen first year teachers who have a “with-it-ness” on the first day when they walk in the door.  I’ve also seen twenty year “veterans” who aren’t sure of themselves, their subject, their duties beyond the classroom or their aura of “duh.”  They reached their expiration date but they just don’t know it.

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My thoughts about testing would fill a Carnegie Library.

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I can truthfully say that retirement is sweet.  I saw a parent of two former students of mine at the grocery store today.  I loved hearing about their successes.  To everything there is a season....and this is the season for someone else.

Say Cheese! PLEASE!

This blog isn’t about me.  This is about you.  I love looking at your digital representations of reality--whip out that cell phone, fluff  your hair, suck in your stomach and take a selfie

AND

I’m not too proud to say-- I love seeing the pictures of your life.  Think of me as the grandma that is so, so proud of her kids....nothing better! 

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I like watching your families.....the hopes, the dreams, the aspirations, the frustrations, the successes, the challenges.  I’m your audience.  The old pictures of people I don’t know, the places I’ve never been, the weather you’re having-- it is fascinating.  I read your cut-lines, laugh at your cartoons, and  wish I had written your e-cards.  I giggle at your jokes, enjoy your smiles, and tenderly think of all of you.

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The month of May is my  “Black Friday" for photos.  The graduations, birthdays, Mother’s Day, summer vacations, "decorating of the graves", bad weather, good weather, flowers, gardens, ball games, honors’ nights....I’m there.  Your cars, your children, your children’s children, my grandchildren, your activities, the pets, the lonely pets, your meals.....get my drift?  I like looking.

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This past week, I was relishing the pictures of a young man who got me off the sofa after Mike died...”My momma says I can get a ice cream cone if I can get you out of the house.” I was sad, but I wasn’t mean.  Yep, I got right up and went with him.  That was 11+ years ago.... Jason is going to the Air Force Academy.....but the other day, he was just starting to learn to read.  Where does the time go?  The pictures prove that time passes.

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Be it attending prom (the dresses today are just so pretty), having a new babies, hiking a trail in Norway, creating yummy cookies that are works of art, designing new gardens, loving old dogs, celebrating-(I have my “first” veterinarian!), I’m there right beside you.   Marriages, reorganization of life (one friend said that was a fancy way to say divorce), catching fish, dancing, attending things--concerts, Georgia Football, Lacrosse....there’s not enough time to mention everything enjoyable 'cause I like it all.

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AND, please,  keep those pictures coming!

Fight Club or Nah, That Ain't Going to Happen

Why would anyone want to physically fight?  You'd muss up your clothes, ruin your hair, and potentially damage a nail.

I guess I have never felt the angst to wail on another person.

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After watching the highlights of last night's fight.....no way would I want someone hitting me.  No way would I want someone wailing on me!

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TRUE STORY:

I was the head principal at Central.  I had an angry parent who was half my age and twice my size. She wanted me (?) to physically fight her in the front hall.

I turned her down quicker than you can say, "Oh, look, Dr. Weaver got her A^^ beat!"

Two hours later I received a call from the downtown Central Office of the Bibb County School system.  That same parent had called one of my many bosses and said that I was uncooperative.  Wah Wah Wah

I told my boss that indeed, the parent was partially right. I had been uncooperative.  I refused to fight her in the front hall.  I then stated that I had no chance of winning and thought professionally it would be black mark on my personal resume.

I received an very nice apology from my supervisor at that time.

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TRUE STORY:

Page 2

One year later, the same parent was arrested, charged, and found guilty of stabbing a person to death with a coat hanger.  I clipped the article from the newspaper.  I laminated the said article.  AND then I sent it to my supervisor with a sweet note.  "See, I told you I wouldn't have won."

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It was fun to hear the excitement about last night's fight though.

Going Quackers

I lead a normal life.

I try to follow all traffic rules.  I work at keeping the Ten Commandments.  I try to treat others as I want to be treated.  I think I want the life of June Cleever or maybe the Momma from the Waltons.  No such luck!

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I am having a quiet afternoon.......AFTER HAVING THE CRAZIEST MORNING I'VE HAD IN A LONG, LONG TIME!

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As a retired Nana, I was visiting Molly, Mary Michael, and Sally on this rainy Wednesday morning.  Molly went upstairs to take a shower and Sally and I were reading a book.  Mary Michael was watching Willie Wonka in the living room....Sally and I were curled up with Charlie, the brave Golden Retriever, in the kitchen in front of the big kitchen fireplace.

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Sally and I were talking about a picture that had a lake with three ducks swimming on it.

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"Wouldn't it be fun to have a pet duck in the house?" I innocently asked her.

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Within minutes I heard something falling down the chimney....a thud, thud, thud, thud, thud and something big came out  of the chimney within four feet of Sally and me.  Charlie jumped up, started  barking and chased it.  I was not making eye contact with whatever it was. (Even in times of emergency I thought about National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation when Snots chases the squirrel through the house.)  I threw Sally over my shoulder, grabbed Mary Michael with my free hand as we raced through the living room and fled for the second floor.  It was just like a tornado or fire drill...the reptilian part of my brain kicked in and I was getting the heck out of Dodge!   And I was taking my two bundles of responsibility with me.

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We charged into the master bedroom....I shut the door and secured the premises with an afghan blocking any entry under the door.  The three of us stood outside of the bathroom door and shouted at Molly.,.,...."There's a squirrel in the house.  Mommamamamamamamma. I am not going downstairs.  Help us all. Something fell out of the chimney.  "  We were a cacophony of crazy.  Then Charlie started barking at the bedroom door.  He didn't want to be left with the thing either.

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I don't do "things" in the house.  FYI

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We called Brad who was at work.  A simple plan was formulated.  We were to do something.

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Molly crept out of the bedroom door and peaked over the railing to the foyer.  "It's a big bird.  I see feathers."  (It's a bald eagle, I thought. Turkey vulture.  Condor.  Great horned owl. ) She came back.

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Molly went over to the window.  "It's too high, I can't jump out."   We looked at each other and howled with laughter.  Hey, welcome to our family.  If crap is happening and you don't know what to do....laugh.  "Okay, I'll sneak downstairs.  Open the door.  Go over to Mr. Lee's and hope that he's home.  He's a competitive hunter.  He can help." Molly left with Charlie right behind her.---down the stairs, out the front door--right into the pouring rain.   Mary Michael, Sally and I once again barricaded ourselves in the bedroom. "Good luck, Honey." I shouted through the closed door to the sounds of Molly's footsteps.

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Sally started to tell me about Mr. Lee's lawnmower.

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Within minutes Mr. Lee arrived with a net and captured the thing.  It was a female duck.  It was a hen.  Have you ever heard about a duck falling down a chimney?  I thought not.   We have adventures on Wednesdays.

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Time Hop is one of my favorite applications on my telephone.  One year ago today, I was in Boston Common-- riding on the mother duck from Make Way for Ducklings.    You're right-- I can't make this stuff up.  I am going quackers....and I am enjoying the trip.  

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen or Anyone Else for that Matter

I was talking with Molly about the sleeping habits of the family the other day when our kids were young.  We weren't a real "regular" sort of group.  At anytime,  you could find one of us wandering like a nomad.  Seriously, 811 Winchester Circle had someone awake 24 hours per day most of the thirty years we lived there.  Bill would work late, I'd work early.....a child would be hungry....a dog would want out.  A cat fight would be going on in the bushes....Mike and I would be watching the Waltons in the middle of the night.  It was a house of expandable bedtimes.

At one point in our life, I nicknamed us the Wandering Weavers.

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My hee-bee-gee-bee's used to come regularly at about 2:00 a.m.  You might say that this is when I get the yips of life.

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In the middle of the night, my mind would race....foolish, foolish races!  Like a blast from the past, this week I woke up thinking about Mary Michael taking these "Milestone" tests.  FYI....she's not even in kindergarten.  Then, I wondered who would ask her to prom....or if she would ask someone.   Then I wondered if there would even be such things as prom....I hadn't been up in the middle of the night for a long, long time.  I don't want to start these crazy nights again...but this one journey into my mid-night ramblings brought back tons of memories.

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One night I thought about an employee of Bill's from another life .  We lived in another state at the time.  She woke up in the middle of the night and had to go to the bathroom.  She went in and my gosh....there was a big snake in the toilet bowl.  No lie!  I don't remember what she did.--why don't I remember what she did when she found the big snake?   Flash forward 35 years.  I got to thinking, could snakes crawl up and get in our toilet bowl?  Then I had to go to the bathroom.  Then I thought, what am I going to do if there's a snake in the toilet?  Then I thought, then I thought, then I thought....

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I have thought about tornadoes.  Tomatoes.  Money.  Toledo, Iowa.  Tortellini.  Italy.  Venice.  Water.  The creek.  Molly. Mike. Dan. Bill.  All of the other family members.  Bushes.  My childhood friends.  Their families.   State Center.  Work.  AND if the milk is sour.  You name it...I've probably had a worry about it.  Teenagers.  Murder trials.  Broken hearts.  Broken promises.

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"Turn it off!"  Easier said than done in the wee small hours of the morning.

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My mother's mother used to say to not waste time worrying about things you can do nothing about.  AND if you were worried about something you can change, you better change it.

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I'm fortunate.  My molehills aren't mountains right now.  I have been exercising more.  Eating better and therefore, sleeping better.  I'm trying to change those things I can change.  I love my family and friends.  "Good night, John Boy!"

Sardines in the Can

Last week on the Today Show Jeff Rossen did an investigative report on getting out of an airplane crash alive.  Hmph!  He did lots of things wrong they said.  Hey, he got out, didn't he?  That seems like a good start.

Remember:
1.  Don't open the door until the flight attendant tells you to
2.  Don't take your personal belongings
3.  Don't inflate your life vest while on the plane

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I watched a video on the evening news last night about exiting a plane in the case of an emergency.  The airlines were testing their seating arrangements and getting all of the people off the plane in 90 seconds or less. The president of the flight attendants was concerned because it is unrealistic.
No lie.  The people in the test DID NOT mirror the folks on our flight back from San Francisco on Monday.  We were packed on that plane like sardines.  We were the outliers that the flight attendants would be worried about....fat, old, infirm, and cynical.

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Have you ridden in a plane lately?  Hey, I'm not talking to you business folks.  You all get this.  I'm talking to the kiddos back in row 37.  Looking around our flight back from California at 11:00  p.m. we weren't spring chickens.  My gosh, we were a motley crew.
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1.  People on the video were climbing over seats.  Ha.  I couldn't stand up to get over the seat.  Old Erin needs to train for that event.  But, none of the people in front of me or in back of me would have been crawling over seats either.  Stuck!

2.  People in the video were taking turns.  Ha!  The flight attendant asked if we could please let the thirty people off the plane first who had connecting flights.  She had those poor souls raise their hands and the rest of us all nodded our heads, "Yes, we would do this." (At 11:00 p.m.  I wouldn't wish a delayed flight on anyone. )  However,  there were some jackals that forgot....five minutes, they forgot. (These are the same people who buy all their Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve and complain about lack of selection.)

3.   I watch the safety video.  I want to be a good passenger.  The flight attendants are so kind to me.  I really don't fly often enough to know the rules of the road (or the sky, as the case might be).  I do appreciate an extra cookie.  (That's why I can't reach my purse....too many cookies!)  Thank  you though!

4.  Don't take your personal belongings if you have to exit the plane in an emergency?  Ha!  That's a joke.... I didn't have room to bend over and get my purse.

5.  If I can't reach my purse, I sure as heck can't get to the life vest.  The three people in my row were like sardines in a can....and Bill's row was worse.

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Son Dan was flying back from Miami to Atlanta about a month ago.  The plane lost communication with .....everyone.  So, the flight attendant took Dan and another guy and taught them everything you might want to know about an "emergency landing" in about two minutes.  The theme was open the door  and get out--if something happened to the flight attendant-- grab them and go.   Dan said this landing was discerning....all types of emergency vehicles met their plane and Hartsfield had shut down all of the airspace except for their plane.  YIKES!  The plane landed and our family learned lots about how to slide down the slide if forced to evacuate a plane.

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So, if I am involved in a plane crash.... I think it's going to be a crap shoot.

My Addictions

1.   Crossword puzzles-- but I still can't get the New York Times Sunday done

2.   Butter

3.   Bleeding heart bushes

4.   Smelling babies after their bath

5.   Reading

6.   Playing with kittens

7.   Macho Ferns

8.   College Football

9.   Ecco shoes

10.  tv/Netflicks-- Nashville, The Good Wife, House of Cards

11.  Magazines-- Garden and Gun, People, and Entertainment Weekly

12.  Good coffee

13.  Laughing

14.  Pedicures

15.  Lime flavoring

16.  Gardenias

17.  Roses

18.  White Shoulder perfume

19.  Trollbeads

20.  Making a good list

Paddle Your Own Canoe

The older I get, the more I resent people who expound their knowledge (or lack of knowledge) on "any and every" subject.

Paddle your own canoe.

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I overheard some fool telling a perfectly happy person that the happy person had wasted their life.  (Obviously, the fool was so wise and knowledgeable he could see the big picture that none of the rest of us could see.)

Waste to one person is perfectly fine to another.

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You are not my mother.

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I am weary of those people who want something from nothing.

Life usually does not work this way.

The harder I work, the more I get.

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Waste, in general, drives me up a wall.

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Note:  Sometimes we don't know the entire story.  Sometimes, we know none of the true story.  Sometimes, the story we have been told is false.  Sometimes, there is no story whatsoever!

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Advice:  God gave us two ears and one mouth.  Listen twice as much as we talk.

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I remember my momma telling me that if I took care of myself, I'd have more than enough work to do.  She was right.  I don't ask many questions of other people.  It's not that I'm not interested; I just believe that if you want to tell me, you will.

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I am continuing to paddle.  

Yesterdays and Tomorrows

Everything today seems to be instantaneous.  Shazam…instant grits, instant pie shells,  instant weight loss, instant tea!

Instant is not all it's cracked up to be in my book.

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Do you remember listening to the radio waiting for your favorite song?

I had a small  transistor radio that fit nicely under my pillow.  I loved listening to the music before falling asleep to the strains of  "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry.”  (Hank Williams, senior)

I remember driving down Highway 30 going to Marshalltown and the Carpenters came on the radio singing...."Close to YOU."  Swoon.

My freshman year at Iowa State...the campus radio on a Friday night....a crazy, long, long song came on...."American Pie."  I needed to find out more about this Don McClean guy.

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Wolfman Jack was real.  Dick Youngs spun those songs on KIOA.  WHO was clear channel radio and you could also catch the bean prices at noon if you were listening.  KFJB had "Little Bohemia" at 6:00 p.m. and played polkas.  WLS from Chicago could be heard on a clear night all the way to Central Iowa.  Bill Elder was my morning friend when we moved to Macon.  I loved the radio...I still do.

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2015
So, this afternoon,  I was sitting and thinking about buying the songs that had been up for Song of the Year on the Grammies.  I was going to be hip.  I’d open I-tunes, buy the songs,  listen to the songs-- all in under five minutes!  I could make my own play lists....and those songs I longed to hear would be delivered to me instantaneously. Hmph!  Something just wasn't right.  WHOA!  Not so fast.

1966-
I would buy one 45 rpm each time I had an extra dollar.  I would catch a ride to Marshalltown (15 miles from State Center) with dad and pick out a record.  I loved buying a new record.  I would play it over and over.  AND over and over.  From the Beatles to "One Last Kiss", those records were part of me.  One record....one dollar.....one a week if I was lucky.

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Instant gratification isn't all it's cracked up to be.  Believe it or not, the chance of hearing a favorite song on the radio was fun.  It was the anticipation-- the excitement of hearing it-- calling a friend on the rotary phone and telling them to "turn on the radio, it's on"-- riding in the car listening to the songs of my life.  Being surprised when the song that you LOVED was loved by many.

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So, I know the tomorrows of my life must contain anticipation for me to be contented.  Knitting.  Thinking.  Cooking.  Laughing.   Planting.  AND I'm enjoying waiting on some of the things I've always wanted to do.  The day-to-day things that have seemed beyond my grasp are no more....my life has spread out and I'm loving the sunshine on my face.

Today, I planted three bleeding hearts roots/tubers/ rhizomes(?) and a handful of lily of the valley bulbs.  I have seeds to sow--the black-eyed Susans,  hollyhocks, and poppies.  I want to have a woodland garden....Jack in the Pulpits.....Money plants....Japanese lanterns.....a small rock garden.  (Food for the deer?)  It is the anticipation of looking at the seed catalogs and laughing at the idea of  my deer sending out formal announcements that the "Spring Mix” will be here soon--that makes me excited about my new plants.

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I like waiting on the good.  Sometimes it seems like I’m slow....no, it’s just that the process is just as much fun as the product for me.  So, hello tomorrow, I’m getting ready for you today.

Growing a Money Tree

I'm in search of the ellusive money tree.  In fact, if I see one, I'm going to get an entire grove.  It's foolish how calamities come in threes so, I'm getting ready.  For example, a few years ago in one week:

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1.  The washer.

Now, we figured it was 20 years old and it didn't fit the space allotted at the farm house....but....I thought it still washed well.  hahahahahah

When it quit for good, it wouldn't wash, it wouldn't spin, it barely drained.....Bill and I bought a new one.

I washed a load of clothes and they came out....brighter.  Cleaner.  Fresher.

I was.....embarrassed....embarrassed....embarrassed.

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2.  The HVAC.

We knew a burner was going out of the furnace.  Our friend, Mr. Starr, kept it going.

The air conditioning started blowing warm air.  Mr. Starr added freon.

The air condition started softly blowing warm air....Mr. Starr pronounced the time of death of the AC.  RIP air conditioning.  RIP furnace.

Bill and I had started discussing a trip to Ireland that year to celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary.  We're decided to just get a green air conditioner and drink a pint or two.  Hahahahahahahahahahaha

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Next:

You and I both know something else will be coming 'round the bend.  It's a fact of life.  It did and we kept going.

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One year, I was on a faculty that made a big (really big) money tree for a beloved teacher who was retiring.  We glued, sparkled, hung, strung, and had a great time creating this crazy masterpiece of tree, paint, plaster of paris, and.....money.  The art teacher had us fold the money into origami shapes and we hung these ornaments all over the tree.  Coins were glue-gunned  like blooms all over the bark.  It was a surprise, a masterpiece, and an inspiration.


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I ordered some Japanese money bush seeds from a catalog this winter.  My aunt used to grow these every year I was growing up.  I'm more excited about the memories of Aunt Helen drying her plants for beautiful winter arrangements than I am about planting these seeds.  It will take me three years to get these plants growing well enough to produce the flowers.

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I am heading to the yard. Money plant, here I come!

10 V's in the Sky

I have been trying to center myself with writing and research this week.  Yes, I have been working on my side of the garage, doing laundry and playing with the pets.  But, I've been working at the computer on some grant writing and some personal correspondence.   My head hasn't been in the clouds-- much

Yesterday, I was outside.  Looking up, I marveled at the clouds and the gentle spring breezes....then I spotted the first V of geese.  It's a thrill to see a V....I have to stop and watch the pattern of the geese working in concert with each other.  I never remember seeing those V's when I was growing up-- so I still love seeing them in the sky.   Then the next V....and the next.....I drove to the store....more V's, more geese.  I saw a total of 10 different V's today---

I saw the last V while standing in the middle of a parking lot admiring the "changing of the front goose".  One of my favorite leadership stories is how geese work together for the good of the flock.  I'm sharing the Legend of the Geese with all of you so that you know why it's important for us to work together.

I believe in individual rights.  I believe in people.  I believe in nature.  I believe in geese.
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The Legend of the Geese
When you see geese heading south for the winter (or north for the summer), flying along in a V-formation, you might be interested in knowing what scientists have discovered regarding why they fly that way...As each bird flaps its wings, it creates an uplift for the bird immediately following. By flying in a V-formation, the whole flock adds at least 71 percent greater flying range that if each bird flew on its own.

Basic Truth #1: People who share a common direction and sense of community can get where they are going quicker and easier because they are traveling on each other’s thrust.
Whenever a goose falls out of formation, it suddenly feels the drag and resistance of trying to go it alone and quickly gets back into formation to take advantage of the lifting power of the bird immediately in front of it.

Basic Truth #2: If we take a tip from the geese, we will stay in formation with those who are heading in the same way we are going.  When the lead goose gets tired, he rotates to the back and another goose flies point.

Basic Truth #3: It pays to take turns doing the hard jobs.
The geese honk from behind to encourage those up front to keep up their
speed.

Basic Truth #4: We respond to encouragement from others.
Finally, when a goose gets sick, or is wounded and falls out of formation, two geese fall out with him and follow him down to help and protect him. They stay with him until he is able to fly again or until he is dead, and then, they launch out on their own or with another formation to catch up with their group.

Basic Truth #5: If we follow the examples of the geese, we will stand by each other through difficulties and challenges.

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The only problem with all of this grandiose thinking is the amount of goose "stuff" that a flock of geese generates.  As a practical person, those geese can keep flying.  So I guess my Basic Truth #6 (that Erin will add) is:  Always beware of a situation that seems too good to be true.  There's probably a little goose poop somewhere.  But, with the help of your friends, you can get through most crap that's in your way.   

She's Lost Her Mind

Power corrupts.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

I worry about getting too big for my britches.....figuratively.  (Sidebar:  Wisecrack:  Literally, I am carrying a wide load.... too many "Oh, Henry" candy bars and too little exercise.....)

I have known down-to-earth folks that "lose their minds" when they get in a new situation.  I worry.  My doctorate is in common sense and I'm finding out that common sense isn't too common.

No, I'm not talking about my career.  I'm talking about being a Nana....or, as Mary Michael calls me, "Nanny!"  (Yes, like the goat.....I find it charming.)

MM is in a position of power.  I adore her.  Her every whim calls for my help, assistance, and understanding....or a resounding, "NO, we will not wipe our sticky hands on the cat."

She's four.  I'm 64.  This is a bad situation.

"Nanny, let's go upstairs and play cave."  (I have all the beds made.  Playing cave requires at least one bed to be stripped to the bones and a soft cave constructed out of the pillows, covers, blankets, sheets...you know, a soft cave.

This is different than "nest".....we drag all of the bedding to the middle of the floor and create a nest big enough for the two of us.

Or "house".....this requires the dining room chairs draped with blankets and sheets with an imaginary door.

Or "train"....we place the chairs in a line and we eat cookies and take trips.

Sally is starting to play more with me.  She loves lining up her baby dolls and taking care of them.  I have no problem playing dolls as long as she wants.  Sally is moving into the realm of toddler hood with far more caution and trepidation than MM did.

We read.  We laugh.  We eat.  We play.

I want to give my granddaughters a sense of wonder and delight.  I want them to chase the lightening bugs and look at the stars.  I want their childhood to be a childhood.  AND I am enjoying every minute of their being.