tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59981640906630888802024-02-20T15:56:19.784-05:00The WoodswomanThe memories, hopes, adventures, cooking and drama of one woman's life safari .... there really was an Owl standing in the freezer.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-29763037590886953712015-03-08T13:58:00.000-04:002015-03-08T14:36:25.823-04:00Blue Skies, Sunshine and Headed for the Pond January 29th ... Right Shoulder Rotator Cuff Surgery .... yep, that's correct. Well prepared for a period of hellish pain, as of March 8th, have had no pain and taken no pain pills. For this I am deeply greatly. To those who have suffered grievously, I can only imagine and wish you relief soon. However, as I'm right handed strapped in a cumbersome sling have found myself unable to do anything to pass the time except sit, watching the weather/snow and T.V. whether recorded series, movies, whatever or go to therapy [passive] 3x's a week for an hour. Even considered attempting to paint left handed with a palette knife. Trouble is eating left handed resulting with most spilled and resorting to sandwiches..... kept dreaming of a plate of spaghetti with any sauce or a bowl of mussels. Painting ... hahahahaha. O.K., 6 weeks into 52. Apparently, the older we are the longer the recovery process. What a surprise. So, as these 10 digits work, thought I'd share some time now that I've finally gotten out of my head and quit feeling sorry of myself. <br />
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While I was "in my head" ....who said, "reflection is good for the soul?" Trust me, isolation will certainly provide ample time to address all aspect of a life should one really care to look. After long examination, the finding are mixed with satisfaction, frustration, failure, sadness and the quandary of "how do I fix this". What we are as opposed as to how we are perceived can be drastically opposite. Perception is a shallow image and frequently false denying the possibility of a genuine relationship. What's that song .... "See Me". The trouble with this is the time requirement and a vested interest to actually share and know. Right ..... see?! ..... being friends shouldn't be this hard. We are the culprit .... shame on us ...... just accept and hope you are accepted equally without an agenda or ulterior motive. No need to divide and conquer when the truth is, there can be more than one equally. Wow, move on. <br />
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So left with few devises, am considering options. There are 12 days til Spring. For a gardener, it's the harbinger of dirt therapy, starting tomato seeds inside .... oh, come on .... this is trying to the soul. At this moment, seems all that's left is to grab a book, sit by the pond no longer frozen over, watch the fish as the parade of hikers pass enjoying this 60 degree day. Would light a fire in the new fire pit ..... no logs .... whatever, there are blue skies and sunshine to be absorbed. Enough already!<br />
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Tea ... a fresh pot of tea .... perhaps we could commiserate ..... what do you say? game? .... Shoot, it's just one more of life's adventures...... right?? Headed for the pond ........<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-16036545306558347132013-03-19T17:29:00.001-04:002013-03-19T17:29:51.476-04:00Renovation Journey - The Look Back<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Six weeks to the day, the Potato Cellar Studio/storage was completed on March 6th. That left almost 3 months to clear out 46 years of accumulated "stuff" from the house. June 6th ..... contract with October 1 completion date agreed on and signed .... the deconstruction began with the resonating staccato sounds of a jack hammer the very next morning. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">One year plus 2 weeks later, I'm here to confess this has been the most torturous experience of my entire life and frequently unable to express myself in coherent ladylike terms. Those of you who remodel in stages amaze me with your resilience and resolve. In the euphoria of renovation [rebuild] enthusiasm, totally accepted the unrealistic completion dating. Of course, we will have Thanksgiving and Christmas at home. Are you beginning to feel a knot of doubt and anxiety in the pit of your stomach? RIGHT!! Well, I'm getting ahead of the story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">The roof over the original living room and kitchen was raised to bring the entire roof to the same elevation. Should this be part of your plan, beware of monsoons ..... apparently they strike without warning. Also, should the contractor say, "3 days is all it takes to remove and replace your roof", check with the weather service first to determine which 3 days are dry. We looked like a Katrina victim .... blue tarp and all. Now tarps can take on a life of their own depending on how water is collecting. Yep, water moves down hill .... so, through the floor into the family room downstairs with stored furniture, paintings .... oh, you know, the good stuff so it would be safe. This was mid July.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">According to the dictionary, Contractor is one who supervises the day to day work; organizes sub contractors; keeps construction on schedule. There were days and weeks when no one was even on the property. Yet, there were days when 6 guys seem to have nothing specific to accomplish. Finally, roof, insulation, walls, things appeared to be on some track and moving forward. Doors, windows and shingle siding arrived. For the second time, water is standing in the living room on the new flooring. By mid September, the metal roof was finally finished .... bet you thought that had been completed back in July .... right?! Yes, we had schedules and revised schedules and little work. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">A rainy October 1 with the shingles beginning to slowly creep up the outside walls. Kitchen cabinets arrive. Stone masons arrive. Bath tile and plumbing fixtures arrive. One would think that since he is now in the penalty phase of this event, work would be a whirlwind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">It was my simple impression that we had plans to be followed. Unfortunately, it appeared folks were making stuff up as they went along..... putting dark stain on wood that was to be pickled, for instance. All the walls were yellow. That's a lovely color just not the warm Egg Shell I had chosen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">It's November, double penalty phase, Thanksgiving did not happen in the wonderful new kitchen and gathering room. One needs ovens, gas eyes, refrigerator etc. etc. and maybe some furniture. Stone masons still at it .... the rock work really does look good. To say I was irritable, frustrated and generally beside myself, is being generous. Finally my ultimatum .... "I'm coming home December 15th, get it done NOW!!!!!". There was no Christmas tree or any decoration but was sleeping in my own bed in my own bedroom. Stone masons have completed everything except the little water fall. Came home to discover a monstrosity that looks contrived instead of more natural and fitting to the surroundings. You know, organic. Just another example of not following the plans. At this point, nothing is a surprise....... and they are so proud of themselves they are taking pictures. Boxes that had been store in the Potato Cellar were being returned to the house to be emptied very, very slowly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">January brought attention to the garage with new wall work, garage doors, openers; as well as, gutters, an additional small water heater to service the new kitchen, and more painters, plumbers and electricians. February brought a landscaping nightmare ..... well, of course. Working half days it was really slow going. Then he gets a burr under his blanket, jerks all the plants out throws them, bare rooted, into the plastic pots and into his truck tearing off down the road loosing a bale of pine straw in the road which he never collected. 3 days later he's back replanting where he decides to put them. Finally with contractor and architects and the plan, he nods in agreement and they are jerked out and replanted. Have you ever wanted someone just out of your life. As I write this am waiting for contractor, architects and landscaper for a walk through to point out the unacceptable mess he has left. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">This house has been my home since 1949 except for 5 years of college and getting married. It would have been cheaper, simpler and quicker to have knocked it down and built new. BUT, the history of the house my father built .... my youth, my sons, our lives here ..... history can still be felt. Was it worth all of this? I love where I am ..... the enjoyment other people have had improving their home was lost under mountains of irritation, fury and frustration. However, it's almost done. Paintings are being hung, carpets cleaned, having friends for dinner .... the settling in has begun. Maybe this Summer, after a cooling off period, there will be a gathering of friends to celebrate our survival.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">So, there you are an abbreviated visit to the past year. Oh, and by the way, it's 5:30 p.m. and no one is here .... surprise, surprise! Communication is a fine thing .... only it has to be in both directions. Well, luck to all with home improvement intentions. You are a brave lot. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-8996277592792164912012-01-31T16:41:00.000-05:002012-01-31T16:41:58.833-05:00Renovation Journey - The Backhoe and ....<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">The unmistakable sound of a BIG, heavy truck changing gears and struggling up hill interrupted the perusal of my morning paper and fresh cup of tea. Oh, my word, the backhoe<em> </em>has arrived. It is beginning!!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Funny how it had just been conversational. Yes, of course, there are the conceptual plans; but, in the world of my mind, reality had not slipped into focus. WELL, that clanging banging sound is definitely real!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Apparently, the Potato Cellar walls were stones encased in a concrete sleeve. This is a really good thing. Those, cleaned up, will be usable in the up coming stone work. It is amazing the mess one man and his large "toy" can create. Remember when your boys were little and playing with Tonka Trucks in a sand pile? This man was, of course, much older; however, the expression on his face seemed, oh so, familiar. You know, almost gleeful, self-satisfied, truly enjoying the moment. He waves and smiles as I watch his progress. Reaching down, you work your fingers into the red clay. Retrieving a lump, fingers begin forming it into a ball. A war was fought on this soil .... young men and their fathers not always fighting together but against each other. That heart breaking time in our country's past .... they slept, ate and fought right here on this clay. AND, today we are disturbing that same ground. Wonder if there is such a thing as "soil memory". If so, it will recall .... a farm with fruit trees and cows .... my parents and my feet chasing dogs and horses .... our family and 2 boys feet, tepees, fireworks, years of cutting grass, badminton, horseshoes and croquette. Funny, the history of one plot of land. Well ..... well, here we are launching into a new adventure. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">At mid-afternoon, quiet ..... why is it quiet? He was gone leaving behind a very large 3 sided hole [on elevation]. The inspector must approve this tomorrow in order for the concrete to be poured ..... all before the RAIN returns!!!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times;">This is surreal ..... the Architect and Contractor arrive for a "talk" .... oh, my. In an effort to cut the cost, they have a list. Hummmmmm, we won't use materials that will diminish the appearance of the concept. That just will not happen! Apparently, many will opt for a cheapening look. The Architect appreciated that his concept was loved and not to be lessened. What an emotional day ..... I'm exhausted .... you'd think I'd done all the digging. When everyone had gone, poured a Single Malt over ice, sat down in my favorite chair, took a sip and toasted the BEGINNING, releasing a quiet sigh ... holy cow!!!!!! Does anyone out there actually care?</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-29001651062783119022012-01-19T18:45:00.000-05:002012-01-19T18:45:33.883-05:00Renovation Journey - January Weather - WaitingIt's a good thing patience is a strong point here. As previously mentioned, the Potato Cellar must be constructed first for storage purposes. Rain has presented itself at least 2 days per week the entire month. Just this morning, Contractor remarked, "Good thing we didn't rip the roof off the house". Well, anyone beginning this type of construction in January is "plum" out of their minds. Kinda makes one smile to themselves and think [but never said] "I told you so"! <br />
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Also, waiting to hear from the architects as their parting remark was "we'll see you next week". So far, not a word. These are the working plans; and if more time is needed, they must be dealing with an issue or two or three. So, take your time; and please, get it right. <br />
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As I write this, must admit the comfort of long time surroundings makes this someone realize there is a sense of dread.... not for the outcome but the actual process. This is the first time that thought has been allowed to bubble up to the surface. Finnegan [ gray tabby cat], Hooker [Basset Hound] and me; guess we'll grit our collective teeth and bear it. Yes, yes ..... it's an adventure .... boy, is it an adventure. So, we wait. Presently, waiting for the weather to cooperate. Waiting for the working plans. Waiting ................... waiting!<br />
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A positive countenance is presented to the world at large; but it's scary out here by myself. What in the world was I thinking???? Cold feet? No, not that; but, maybe fear and trepidation because the decisions are all mine for a major, MAJOR, project. Maybe it's time for something stronger than a pot of tea. Maybe a double Glenfidich; maybe 2 and calm down. What do ya think?? Yes?? Yes!! Catch up with you when the waiting is over or maybe before. Note a bit of ambivalence here??Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-50997441289096257752012-01-11T15:30:00.000-05:002012-01-11T15:30:39.514-05:00, Kitchen Renovation - The Journey - Appliances 101Isn't it funny how we are so easily led by commercial advertisement. Wolf, Sub Zero, Thermador, Kitchen Aide, Jenn-Aire, Frigidaire, Electrolux, GE, Whirlpool, Maytag ....... where in the world does one begin, much less know what they really need .... let alone want. High end versus low end and everything in between. With that in mind, we are forever told "do the home work" ... so considered my needs and began asking questions. Of course, the poor fella, that was being drug back and forth among the stoves etc. for 3 hours, was grateful when he heard "thank you for your time" and was left alone to consider the whirlwind that exited. <br />
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You know, comparison shopping isn't easy.My word, the Jenn-Aire has a computer program for almost everything. That's great but don't want to give up so much control. Every one had something the other didn't. I am a cook [not a chef]. So,here is my bottom line at the moment: Wolf 6 eye counter top or Electrolux .... the main difference for me, the Wolf simmered on all eyes and the Electrolux only one one. But, big selling point for me, Electrolux will start with out power and we loose power alot [yes, there will be a generator .... but what if something debilitates it .... it isn't a perfect world]. Ovens; have decided on Wolf doubles simply because the functions fulfill house needs [I'm not a beginner ... have even catered for up to 300] and am determined to have 2 full sized ovens. Their racks are tremendous and slid completely out of the ovens [big selling point if you are 5'3" and 71]. In the Microwave world, new concept for me ..... a drawer [Sharp] .... no more counter top or under a cabinet. Dishwasher, the quietest and "cleaningest" turns out to be a Bosch. <br />
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Refrigeration wasn't a big issue; just wanted reliable with minimal problems. Have a GE and am sick of replacing ice makers. So, have found Scotsman makes one that has large cubes [actually, little hats] that don't melt immediately. As for food stuffs, there will be plenty of room for a full box refrigerator and full box freezer. The Electrolux has everything needed. Yes, yes, Sub Zero's are great; but, for my money I don't keep lettuce and apples together to create gasses. My apples stay on the counter in a bowl. Gimmick features just slay me.<br />
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Am down to vent /hood. Everyone seems enamored with big bulky hoods; yet again I'm swimming against the stream. So am continuing to struggle. No, don't say down draft. Too many issues not liked. The eyes at the back of the cook surface, nearest the vents, are hotter than should be due to the draw of air. That's not good.<br />
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So there you are .... best advice from this corner .... know your cooking skills and what you really need. Be wary of gimmicks that break. Repairs are expensive and who actually will be doing them. This is the last kitchen I will ever have and ovens were the first item considered. Granted I can prepare a banquet on anything from an open log fire, or cast iron camp ovens over charcoal, to an in home kitchen with ovens that are not true heat. It will be such a pleasure to have decent equipment at long last. The goal here was to find trouble free, good to great appliances that were with in the budget. No money has changed hands as yet .... the mind is open and welcomes findings. Probably need some more "hands on" time in the stores.<br />
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Sat down with Architect and Contractor to view the educated guess numbers. Who knew patterned concrete was sooooo expensive. Fine, wanted organic stone work in the first place. Don't you just love the elegantly rustic feel of Tuscany? Oh, my .... yep, caught me dreaming.<br />
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O.K. ........ We will see working plans next week. Weather is lousy at present. Bet the first nail is months away. Still waiting on the footings for the "potato cellar". Good thing I'm patient..... right? Right. I need a fresh pot of tea and watch the rain. Hope your project, if started, is going well...... Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-78876316122340783702012-01-05T12:51:00.001-05:002012-01-05T14:53:33.661-05:00Kitchen Renovation - The Journey - IntroO.K., here we go stepping off that frightening and uncertain precipice, laughingly, referred to as the renovation or the kitchen I've deserved for 40 years. Fortified with a lunch of Cannelloni Carni and a crisp white wine, let's get a few things behind us [as though you really cared]. Sharing this journey may help the multitude of us lost in the morass of creation within the confines of an older home .... mountain rancher [first section built 1949, completed 1952]. <br />
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The driving August rain and muddy red clay dampened moving day, 1949; my parents had built the house. And, except for 5 years during college, it has been my home. You see, my husband and I bought it from my parents, as Mitchell [husband] loved it. Parents had moved to NC while I was in school and rented the house. At one point Mitchell suggested we update the kitchen, but not increase it's size ...... so nothing occurred. Rediscovering and defining myself over the past 12 years since his sudden death, finally feel the time has come for my kitchen. <br />
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For years, refined my wishful drawing until everything was worked into the space that included enclosing a deck that more than doubled the working space. Summer 2011 took the plunge and found a contractor. Following his recommendation, an architect was brought on board. He was so enthusiastic we were excited to see his vision of the possibilities. To say the least, disappointment was the kindest description of our reaction. He had actually simply redrawn my sketches on a computer program. AND, had omitted the number one need .... an elevator. He never returned to talk about issues; allowing the contractor to deal with my frustrations. So time drags past into Fall. Then miracle of miracles, a neighbor mentions an acquaintance who is an artist/architect that might be able to relate to my issues and sense of style. Happiness is a team of architects that actually listen, then translate it into something you never dream could possibly be yours. Would have moved into those drawing immediately..... they gave me my home in spades. Now all we have to do is ..... well, put it together. But first, there is the issue of the "potato cellar" storage/studio.<br />
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Yes, that was "potato cellar". It was dug in the late 1800's, early 1900's for storage of root crops and firm fruits. You see, this property had been part of a farm; we have the potato cellar and a cistern to store rain water. Therefore, to utilize it properly, the bottom [in ground into elevation] floor will store yard equipment.The above ground floor will be used for storage during construction; then later, a pottery studio. This has, as yet, not been created due to Christmas ..... so am patiently waiting.<br />
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Your eyes have probably rolled back into your head at this point but yesterday actually spent a few hours learning about "new age" kitchen equipment. Drove home exhausted with overload. After a decent nights sleep, reviewed cooking 101. Boy, things sure have changed. The options considered were to buy the best ovens [Wolf], gas counter cook top [probably Electrolux 6 burner that will ignite with out power and comparable to Wolf], Bosch dishwasher, Scotsman ice maker, a refrigerator and a freezer [undetermined, as yet].<br />
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Time for the cramped 1950's pine paneled galley kitchen go away allowing that space to become the dining room, the north facing deck becomes my painting/writing studio with lots of windows. If you can see it, the "new" construction will be in the opposite direction; building south from the front wall of the existing house at the present kitchen door.<br />
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Bet I lost most of you with the second paragraph; but those who stayed and are in the midst of, are starting or are considering this activity, we could have a fresh pot of tea, get acquainted and share thoughts on this journey. I'm told misery loves company or the journey is the joy. So here's to us all where ever we are in the mix ....... I am soooooo ready!!!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-41018203382529594452011-10-31T13:06:00.000-04:002011-10-31T13:06:53.353-04:00Stiff Brushes and Rusty FingersSo, met that fork in the middle of the road and made an unexpected detour from the norm running headlong into the past. So, what were your plans 40+ years ago? Not complaining, BUT, 180 degrees about describes the path and out of that comfort zone.<br />
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August was an eye opener returning to a painting class with no confidence and questionable skills. Just signing up for the 2 day workshop required an extreme amount of pressure and persistence on the part of a friend. There you are in way over your head ... just looking at every one's work. Gave the instructor 2 assessments she could give ...1] "That's nice" meaning it's not going to get better, just go home and garden, cook or read. 2] "You need to keep painting". Brought the unfinished canvases home and stared at them for days thinking of the "you definitely need to keep painting". Not sure they will ever be any different .... something to remember that feeling of frustration, rusty skills and most of all "I've missed this". Then the absurd occurs, overload of 4 and 6 weeks classes with a weekend sculpture workshop just because "it'll be FUN". Exhausted, pooped, worn out!!!! Obviously, thinking was not part of the equation. Having survived and with a more reasonable plan, am moving forward and learning techniques from the best artist/instructors ..... people actually teaching rather than leaving the student to eventually figure it out on their on. <br />
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Embarking on another reinvention; actually, this has been a rediscovery. Like writing, one can get lost in moving paint around a canvas or words around a page. Odd how long it takes us to learn and truly accept a few important lessons ..... 1] It isn't a competition; and this was a major struggling point generating envy. 2] The word TALENT is qualitative and should be allocated to Mozart, Bach, Chopin; perhaps we should use skilled, studied, technique. We worry too much wondering if we have talent rather than can this skill/technique be applied. Sure did take a long time for this to sink in and be understood much less accepted. Shame on me!!<br />
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Ah, well, appears there is a need to paint everyday ... practice, practice, practice ..... the only solution for the improvement of any skill. And there is still a piano that hasn't been touched for the past 11 years.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-13631502229203953162011-07-23T20:35:00.000-04:002011-07-23T20:35:23.425-04:00Liar! Liar!Liar! liar!<br />
Pants on fire.<br />
You tightened the noose.<br />
Please let us loose<br />
for completed idea<br />
<span style="color: cyan;">Before I die</span>, dear!<br />
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O.K., extremely bad poetry seemed my only recourse .... pleased with yourself?!? We're allowed 15 whole words ... REALLY? I suspect you were and are looking over your shoulder.You must agree this was evil.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-42559669856465020272011-07-16T09:35:00.000-04:002011-07-16T09:35:25.395-04:00Plugs and GraphiteHere we are again in handcuffs. Do the rest of you wonder who put a burr under Jenny's blanket and rubbed her the wrong way?? Now on the other hand, thank you all for your encouraging and funny comments this last week. To write well enough to entertain and keep the reader hooked is nice. Now with the ascribed miserly <strong>25</strong> words, here goes Saturday Centus ............. fill in the enoumous blanks.<br />
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Ultra light graphite doubled throbbing against the "really nice" bass digging deeper. Impatient to slip on down the bank, "PLEASE, lip it; <span style="color: cyan;">I'm not getting any younger</span> here."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-64668105414875144112011-07-10T09:10:00.003-04:002011-07-10T10:14:21.474-04:00Milk, Eggs, Bread AND .....Hurry .... HURRY! We don't have time to dawdle, COME ON!! Our list is really really long!!!! Racing up one aisle and down the next, shopping with preteen boys in tow is like herding cats. O.K., o.k., if you will promise to stay in this department for 10 minutes and not cause a problem, I can get most of these things. PROMISE, boys!! "We're not babies, MOM." "I'll be right back." <br />
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"Would the mother of Brad, Josh and Cooper please come to aisle 17", blasted through the store giving her a start. Skidding to a stop "BOYS! What ARE you doing ??!!??" "Letting the tarantulas play together." "<span style="color: cyan;">And the sign reads</span> WHAT?" "But we didn't put our hands in the tank. We turned them over!"Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-3983733060814132872011-07-03T11:37:00.000-04:002011-07-03T11:37:18.682-04:00That Starry Starry NightThrough the window, a deep, dark, velvet blue sky seemed filled with luminescent twinkling stars. Their light reflecting in the water of the bay. A breeze slipped out of the north creating a pleated ruffle across the surface. Fields of grass waved and bobbed in the insistent currents. The thunderous booming persisted. He sat there in the darkness awed by the spectacle wondering "How did I come to be here?" and "How will this end ?" "How long can we survive such barbaric violence?"<br />
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Picking up the pen, looked out the window again in the perdawn hours ..... the booming star burst flashes lite up the darkened sky and the waving Stars and Stripes, he wrote ... "<span style="color: cyan;">Oh,say can you see </span> ........... " <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-60548686991789397222011-06-25T13:57:00.001-04:002011-06-25T13:58:17.408-04:00Really, are you kidding??When your evil mind takes hold and limit me to such confinememts .... you get what you get!!!! Saturday Centus in 62 words .... meany!!!!! Let me loose!!!!!!!!!<br />
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All my life fighting kinky curly hair. Yes, yes ..... those with straight want curly and well .... Humidity is the culprit. You can actually feel "it" moving up your neck and then "Frizzzzzzaaaaa"!! Every product known to man had been tried. NOW there is you and and sleek managable hair. NO FRIZ!! I unabashedly love love love you dear dear <strong><span style="color: cyan;">dear John</span></strong> Frieda!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-76975549111660208332011-06-21T18:43:00.000-04:002011-06-21T18:43:41.318-04:00Garden of DiscoveryIt had been a laborious 7 years realizing the garden before her, bringing a smile. Enjoying her morning tea on the secreted bench against the stone wall, she allowed a memory to surface. He had been a "grass" man. Well trimmed and mowed green lawns without obstructions were his goal. However, January 22, 2000, the day before their 35th wedding anniversary that had all changed without warning.<br />
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Pull the covers over her head and hide .... how can this be .... cannot tolerate being in this bed, this room .... he had layed next to her .... touched her .... loved her .... held her .... kissed her .... whispered with her. All of this NEVER to happen again. The touch of his hand on hers or the arm casually thrown across and drawing her close in the middle of the night. Paint, rearrange the furniture, then she could return to that bed. Perhaps, sleeping in the middle of the king size bed would work. Everyone said "give it time" ... time to what ... not hurt .... her heart not to squeeze.<br />
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When she'd always been someones daughter, next a wife, then a mother, that person she was intending to be was left far behind as she became all the pieces required to achieve the present goals and other's needs: mate, housekeeper, cook, laundress, chauffeur, accountant, judge, friend, doctor, receptionist, secretary, event planner, controller of all things .... and on and on and on. The sudden realization that without notification she have, essentially, been fired. O.K., not fired but what? NO more need for breakfast or anything. <br />
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So, now what? The first few years are numbingly painful. No one feels comfortable with what to say or not, for fear of upsetting her. What "they" don't realize is skirting the subject makes her want to go home. The inevitable finally happens .... many ole "friends"/acquaintances [couples] drop her from the invitation list. A few are persistant ... we are going to the concert, no is not an acceptable answer.Then there was the cruise,; when everything about her said NO, she heard herself saying yes.<br />
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Just about the time she thinks the worse has happened, lightening strikes .... literally. Well, of course, why not. What was that about control .... we have NONE!!!! So, there it is, plain as the nose on your face, take a tac, any tac ....DO SOMETHING! Repairs complete, just need to address the porch and the yard.<br />
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He said it so casually it almost was lost in the conversation .... "that will be $10,000 for the stone porch and walk"."Well, I'll get back to you." Was he out of his mind?. At that moment, she made a conscious decision. Grass - Garden - Grass - Garden ..... oh, and I can create the stone work with "my boulders". Work began in earnest in 2003. The hidden artist began to creep into the conscious with a vision. Today, look at this ..... the only thing lacking are birdhouses for the garden friends. Funny, she is creating one of a kind nesting at the pottery studio.<br />
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So, the bench against the stone wall for morning tea .... in the garden..... with the birds, squirrels, and fish ... you bet fish .... she put in a small 70 gallon pond for Magellan and Galileo. Still finding, trying on. traveling, catering, writing, fishing. OH, AND, the newest .... adopting a toss away puppy .... haven't told Finnegan [10 year old green eyed, grey tabby cat]. Her life had been based on deep, abiding, accepting love..... somethings never change. However, the artist has crept into every aspect of her life .... she was going to be an artist!!!! It only took 11 years ... one would think she was slow ..... well, it did take 7 years to create the garden. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-38823181542707287862011-06-20T20:04:00.004-04:002011-06-20T20:13:00.188-04:00Stone Circles - Part II<span style="background-color: yellow; color: purple;">Dear Jenny and Saturday Centus contributors,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="color: purple;">Please forgive my affrontery; I just wanted to see where this would go. Still have a few problems with comments. Ames .... Holy Cow, Wow!!!</span> <span style="color: purple;">and several others. Jeff, guess I could just pick up the phone .... thank you for this one. And so, my contribution ..... #26, I think.</span></span><br />
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<br />
Lowering himself to the ground, sat cross legged in front of her in the sweltering afternoon. From his trickle soaked shirt, he drew something from the pocket extending an open hand. Finnegan, looking for another ear scratch, nuzzled his fingers. Little Sister, fully awake now, puzzled over the object. "Remember the stories we read about the people long, long ago in Europe when there were Mammoths and Cave Bears?" "Ayla?" "Right, well, what do you see?" Pulling the cat up into her lap, they all stared as she turned it over in her hand, "It looks kinda like a horse scratched <span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="color: purple;"><em><strong>within the </strong></em><span style="color: purple;"><em><strong>stone</strong></em></span></span><span style="color: black;">.</span></span><span style="color: #f4cccc;"> Oh, Father, where did you find this?" </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-69343797110890448832011-06-16T16:41:00.000-04:002011-06-16T16:41:31.243-04:00The Water Lily War<strike><strike></strike></strike><br />
<div>Magellan and Galileo reside in a 70 gallon fresh water world plunked is a terrace just about a foot above the garden floor. A visitor inquired "Is that a Spring feeding the pond?" What a complement .... roots and log with water spilling down contrived to look natural .... what a complement!! Of course, the fish don't know it isn't a natural pond in a meadow or the woods.There they are hiding, darting here and there, lazily wandering about nosing the surface; and for whatever reason, feel the need to toss out onto the garden floor whatever water lily they are given to decorate their space. This phenomenon occurs every time the plant is submerged. Whether alone or together, the roots are gnawed to a nub, then vigorously ejected unceremoniously.<br />
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In the beginning, there was concern that night creatures [Raccoons, Opossums or whatever] were attempting to raid their home. As there has been no loss of life, apparently the two captives have decided to clean house no matter how persistent the decorator. Sitting back watching, they skim the surface for mosquito larvae making bubbles then with a flip of the tail sounding to the bottom to circle the up ended log. From time to time, a toad comes for a visit. However, the birds are the true entertainment. The water catches in the cupped out hollows as it runs down the log to drop into the pond below. These hollows allow the birds to fling water about as they bath daily. Hopping up and back down the run they sip as though looking for the right taste. Funny how time seems to rest itself in the garden's life not wanting to intrude but wishing to linger. Squirrels and chipmunks scurry to refresh themselves before digging for last years buried walnut or scavenge the cast seeds from under the feeders. Butterflies visiting the pond certainly give "themselves" a thrill with thoughts of a snack. Instead, they settle on the wet log to revitalize.<br />
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This little ecosystem definitely has a life and mind of it's own; but, the ideas of water lilies blooming in the shallow corner creeps into the overall plan. Wonder if "they" have forgotten. Wonder if it might be different this time. Wonder if ....... soon, really soon .... White Water Lilies ... now that would be nice. Ah ha, the challenge begins again. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-7432819263232521042011-06-13T11:59:00.017-04:002011-06-13T16:26:15.008-04:00Stone CirclesThey're called Rifle Pits, others insist they'd been built by the Cherokee, even De Soto was suspect. Stones stacked in circles. Oddly, only four circles and none found elsewhere. Why would Rebel Soldiers build here when the Union Troops were further east. And, there were plenty of boulders to hid and shoot from behind. Then there are the breastwork, walls coming from and going to .... nowhere.<br /><br />Cool stones penetrated the thin cotton blouse. Leaning back, watched the sunlight leave a mottled patterns across the litter of dried leaves. The smells of summer are sweet. Finnegan, the green eyed gray tabby, patted at a black beetle waiting for the attempted escape. Harmonious insect humming filled the woods. How easy to drift 100 years before today and be lost in the remembering. They curled up together, the girl and the cat, lazy eyes slidding shut.<br /><br />Dreams of painted warriors, soldiers in blue, others grey danced through the shifting fog. The afternoon slipped aimlessly away. A crunching sound in the leaves roused them. Scratching the cat's ear he said, "Scoot over sister girl for your tired father." Stretching she asked,"Did you find out when?""Oh, sweetie, the wall was built long ago. But, LOOK what I found!"Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-14676706525455012112011-06-07T16:25:00.019-04:002011-06-07T17:49:23.208-04:00Muscadine Squirrel HuntThrowing the door open to the early morning coolness, two startled squirrels leaped back onto the old wild grape vine wrapped among the pine limbs. Little beggars are overly brave and daring. Watching their antics while enjoying Irish Oat and Barry's tea, recalled a warm September afternoon under ancient Muscadine vines during Squirrel Season on Watts Bar Lake.<br /><br />Well, it was hunting season, you see, and we had to go hunting. Actually, if we weren't fishing it had to be hunting season .... any hunting season would do. So, September was the beginning with Dove and Squirrel. The morning Dove harvest had been cleaned and refrigerated; mid-afternoon seemed to be a good time for Squirrels.<br /><br />Scrapping back the leaves and settling into the rich black loam, backed against a Cedar tree. This looked good. Two Oaks, laden with acorns, were in front and Muscadine vines interlaced a canopy everywhere. Mother Nature's arbor was full and ripening. The leafy carpet was littered with the very ripe to the over ripe wine colored balls.<br /><br />Before long the taste testing and entertainment began. Tom, Dick and Harry, for lack of better names, were on their way to regain possession of their treasure trove. One warm sweet juicy ball would only be followed by another and another. The ones that had begun to split open beckoned irresistibly to the three marauders. In short order, Tom fell off the tree he was attempting to climb. Harry, while chasing Dick across a limb, free fell into the leafy carpet. And Dick, not to be outdone, attempted a forward somersault onto a limb landing in a heap against an Oak root. This had been preceded by a lot of cavorting, attempted jumps, swinging from limbs, running into, and generally falling over. All was done with a truly fussing attitude.<br /><br />Who knew that fruit could ripen to a highly intoxicating fermentation point all on it's own. Well, duh, liquid, sugar, sun ..... Oh, sure you did ..... well, I do too, now. The truth is a fierce pounding behind the eyes caused a brief nap to occur. When one is awakened by someone kicking your boot, the tendency is to recoil in fear while raising your rifle [22, that is]. He was such a smarty, he jumped behind the tree congratulating me for the three fat squirrels. Picking them up by their hind legs must have had the same effect as kicking my boots. Three bodies began to squirm and fuss resulting in their being launched back into the trees. "Holy Cow, what was that?" Choked with laughter, the events were shared AND so were the Muscadines. "Drunk Squirrels?" "REALLY! I swear!"Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-46732180226239214362011-06-05T09:00:00.005-04:002011-06-05T09:17:51.335-04:00The End ...YEA!!!!Oh, Saturday Centus .... for some reason am unable to leave a comment to most of you. It isn't that I'm disinterested or unimpressed, it has to be computer imps. So please accept my apology. And counting several times to stay within our confines ..... my 27 word offering<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />It was a start stop, off on, love hate affair for years. Now decide! No problem! I choose Fiber Optics. Goodbye COMCAST .... that's THE END of that.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-34188606937972452112011-06-01T18:01:00.019-04:002011-06-02T13:02:38.672-04:00AlphabetShe was a Southern girl several generations deep, with an appreciation for old silver and "good" china. They weren't wealthy; Daddy had always said,"we're comfortable" ..... and that distinction was cavernous in the 1950's. All the same, her family was able to afford a "good" formal education through college. Mother made certain she appreciated the "finer things in life":oh, you know, linen, lace, kid gloves, how to sit, drink a proper cup of tea, polite conversation ..... social etiquette. The warm months were dotted with Teas and the cold months were occasional dances.<br /><br />She married the man she passionately loved; not the one preferred by Daddy. Chestnut braids flying as she whirled to face Daddy,"I'll marry for love or not at all." She could be willful and stubborn, if pushed. That passion produced four sons: Adam, Bradley, Conner, Douglas. Abegail and Colin enjoyed life together with their sons resulting in a tight supportive family. Then that cold Friday the Highway Patrol Officers arrived about 4 in the afternoon to heartbreaking news. A young man on a motorcycle had swirved to miss a dog and the on coming car. Attempting to avoid the cyclist, Colin ran off the road, lost control, hitting a tree at 55 miles an hour. After 35 years of magic, her life would never be the same.<br /><br />How does one fill the emptness .... need to make money, but how .... we're told pride goeth before a fall .... well, there's always cooking .... she was a good cook .... actually, she was a really good creative cook but no professional training. "Oh, Lord, help", was her constant and silent prayer.<br /><br />Lunch with a close friend was a turning point. She wanted to host a big party to introduce some new neighbors. "Abegail, would you do the food? I'd pay!" "Are you serious, I've never done that before." Lexie countered "Of course you have. Think of all the parties you and Colin have given. It's only about 100; that would be a snap for you .... oh, please, please PLEASE!" And there it was, her future. First there were quiet dinners, a few artist and wedding receptions using her sons to serve. Then she had to hire help .... more help to serve and help to cook having outgrown her kitchen at home. The 2 boys became managers in the front and back of the house, and 2 in cooking schools. She opened a bistro stlye restaurant in an upscale neighborhood using linen tablecloths and napkins, "good" china and "old" silver. Come and join the group for high tea or a grand dinner, it's called Alphabet.......... oh, you know, for the boys.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-80059019547624763812011-05-31T16:32:00.012-04:002011-05-31T18:26:31.774-04:00Cicada Time ... yuck!Sounds of summer arrived in spring with the pulsating cacophony of cicada hordes. Red eyed winged 2 inch long insects with no useful purpose other than to breed and die. Arriving in late April their deafening den overpowers all other sounds right into June. Apparently there are two cycles .... a 7 year and a 14 year. They should be a feast for the birds ..... as of this moment, that has not been witnessed.<br /><br />Maybe fish would enjoy this treat. Alas, this is on the side of a mountain not a river bank. Now that would be a vision as one might topple into the water from an overhanging limb. From below, a 4 pound Bass would spy the ripples, then the red eyes and think YUM as it charges the surface breaking the stillness in a gigantic leap. The rising greenish silver sides and tail flail sending sprays of water back and forth in every direction as the bucket of a mouth inhales the "bug" and the contortions cease sliding back into the water. What if that had been on the end of your 4 pound Spyder Wire line. That could have been a world class tussle ..... head shaking, digging for deep water, a stump or overhanging rock. Makes your fingers tingle just the thought of the bowed ultra light rod, line straining through the guides, giving and taking back, keeping the head up ...... holy cow, this could take awhile. Then from the comotion there would be multiple Bass moving in for dinner..... WOW! [Just a little flight of imagination, wishful thinking or past experience remembered]. <br /><br />Funny, briefly the mind was filled with the sound of gills rattling, water splashing and blood pounding in the ears; rather than the racket outside. Maybe it's time to repair the trailer tires and head to the river. Oh, right, we were talking about the obnoxious CICADAS. Perhaps I perpare for the quiet little Mayflies ...... put new line on the fly rod. Yep, that's a good idea!!!!! Want to go fishing????Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-91133783154003628122011-05-30T10:40:00.019-04:002011-05-30T12:21:07.804-04:00Noble Inhertance and Superman's RewardEntering into the barn, the sweet scent of straw and hay, plus the sound of crunched grain pervaded her senses. The drumming clatter of rain on the metal roof made this the most perfect place. As she strode down the hallway passing each door, the nickers grew more insistent. Those magnificent bobbing heads emerged to greet and receive the honey dipped slices of expected apples they hadn't tasted for months. It was a long time since Spring Break. <br /><br />She had trained them for Dressage and Stadium Jumping, the monster black Friesian [Noble Inheritance] and the sleek liver chestnut crossed bred Welsh Cob/Thoroughbred [Superman's Reward]. Dad had taught her from the age of 3 or 4 everything she knew about horses. The memory of his leaving was dim .... a Chief aboard the Franklin in the Pacific Theater WWII .... the picture above the two stalls was his burning ship.<br /><br />The rain had stopped; the hall filled with "Noble Inheritance" and "Superman's Reward". Brushed, loved, saddled, three heads turned at the sound of the baritone voice. "Did you think you would ride both at the same time?" Her laughter caused both "Noble and "Re" to nicker tossing their mane and heads. She had spent hours working out their names. As they were descended from Medieval War Horses, synonyms of the legacy of heroes seemed appropriate. "No, Dad [her biggest hero] ..... thought you might go with us; afterall, it is Memorial Day."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-18935753807317654612011-05-14T20:49:00.017-04:002011-05-15T09:22:30.231-04:00It Really HappenedTo Saturday Centus .... April 27th a day of serious tornadoes assailed the Chattanooga, TN area beginning at 8 a.m. and finally ending by 9 p.m. Unlike so many loosing , literally, everything; lost power [thank goodness for generators] and comcast [phone, internet, tv]. Power was restored by Sunday and comcast took 2 weeks to get us back on line. I must say, having participated here only a few weeks, this challenge I missed most. So, hello ..... again and my 100 word offering of It Really Happened.<div><br /></div><div>The air hung in riverlets against the skin as The Spindrift, a 22' Mako open sport fisherman, drifted in the flat, windless gulf stream. "Arrrr me maties" didn't stir a soul; after hours of trolling the broken weed lines, the only recourse was to head home. Changing the heading, she breezed through the deep blue. Only days before, the storm had brought the seas to 6' and 8" swells. Frigate birds wheeled and dropped. The ride had been a roller coaster into the feeding fish.</div><div><br /></div><div> The first outrigger bowed and the pin snapped. "Fish on!!" Then almost at the same time the second outrigger bent relentlessly. "Fish ..... really, BIG FISH on!!!!" Oh my word .... Bulls ... 2 huge bull Dolphins ... 55 to 60 lbs each .... a boat load of schoolies [5 to 8 lbs] is one thing but BULLS. They can hurt you once in the boat .... and we have two!!!! </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We had been sing/humming Gilligan's Island and the Brady Bunch; suddenly we broke into " Hush little baby don't you cry .................... " as we hurled ourselves onto the thrashing fish. The watch, we later found on the forward deck. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:8.31026px;"> </span></span></div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-61653933953504269572011-04-23T14:36:00.004-04:002011-04-23T15:11:51.998-04:00Opening Night<div>"Right, well, we may not be Ringling Brothers, BUT we have always been quality .... right??" The group of painted and costumed clowns sat looking up at the spectacle. Their exaggerated shoes patting together in an agitated manner.<br /><br />O.K., the boy arrived 10 months ago with no skills, no presence, nothing except a wish to be a flyer ... a trapeze artist ... he almost got a nose bleed every time he went up. BUT, there he was ... opening night.<br /><br />The wigged, red nosed clowns were intent. "Can you believe THAT'S his costume?" We'll never live this down!!!" "Wilbur, he's in white tights!" " You better look at yourself .... you've taken the Velveteen Rabbit to an all NEW LOW .... really !!!" </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-61836596895399482202011-04-20T10:13:00.013-04:002011-04-20T12:39:22.512-04:00Bathing Suit and the PreacherMother was ..... apparently, I have no idea who or what she really was. Regal, proper, willful, stubborn, exacting, with moments of pure insanity, Southern lady about covers the description. At the University of Alabama, her intentions of being a concert pianist ended with the sudden death of her father; then settled on Primary Education. She met and married daddy in 1938 .... these are the facts.<br /><br />Funny how you can live everyday for 18/19 years with these people and, actually, not know them except for little snippets of a glance. There was this one time when our pious minister dropped in, unexpectedly, for a visit.<br /><br />She loved to dig in the garden!!! That hot summer afternoon, to improve her tan while planting daylilies on a bare bank below the newly built house, she was wearing a 2 piece bathing suit..... very risque for the early 50's. Apparently, she had heard his car arrive cause she was clawing her way up the bank, like a cat, on her stomach. Looking up, she spied me in the windows on the way to answer the insistent knocking at the door. With desperation on her sweaty, dirt streaked face, lip reading and arm waving were emphatic ... "Don't let him in!!" Irrepressible laughter bubbled up, bursting out at that sight. It still brings a smile. My prim and proper mother was a total mess and her dignity had definitely slipped. Oh, my word, how was she going to avoid being caught. More determined knocking .... he was a tall, severe man with no sense of humor and not to be admitted! The last sight of mother, she was slipping around the corner of the house.<br /><br />Opening the front door gave full view of the stairway and hall, mother's only route to her bedroom. I could hear her in the downstairs bathroom washing up, but .... trapped. "Hello Mr. Kennedy, please come in!" Well, he had to move out of the door and that hall. Ushering him into the living room, he stood at the windows commenting on all the gardening opportunities. We stood nodding our heads in agreement with the vision of mother's recent mad scramble up that bank. "Yes, sir, we have a lot of grass to cut." Really don't believe he heard her bare foot fall on the stairs or the click of the bedroom door. Excusing myself,"I'll just find mother .... be right back." Never knew anyone could get dressed that quickly and actually appear cool and calm. She swirled into the room like Loretta Young making an entrance on screen [a very elegant actress of earlier times].<br /><br />When the insanity was over and Mr. Kennedy had departed, she looked around erupting into laughter and trying to talk at the same time. "I .... thought.... I .... was having .... a heart attack!!!!" "You let him .... in the house." "Are you .... crazy?" With tears streaming down our faces we had daddy near convulsions at dinner as we retold the events of that summer afternoon. <br /><br />Recently, heard many moments and times shared with her friends that opened a door into a life unknown to me. Could sink a putt from anywhere. Was great to have as a Bridge partner as she generally won. As a couple, they were the life of the party. Isn't that ashame to have missed seeing that part of our parents .... maybe you didn't.<br /><br />"I Remember Mama" was a t.v. show of the 70's or so and has been strolling through my thoughts the past few days. She slipped away peacefully last month 6 days shy of 98. You see, for the last 21 years, she has been .... figuratively .... patting her foot, sitting on go, just waiting to join daddy. She's gotten her wish and they're probably off together playing golf, again.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5998164090663088880.post-73432870100297904632011-04-10T16:29:00.009-04:002011-04-10T17:22:18.965-04:00Singing in the RainThere they were, Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds and Donald O'Connor. Their yellow slickers filling the screen .... "Singing in the rain, just singing in the rain, what a wonderful feeling" ..... the darken theater enhanced the mood .... "I'm happy again. The suns up above" ..... eyelids slid closed, thoughts drift to him. Was he right? How could he possibly know? He's not that attuned; o.k., smart. Oh, lawrd .... the pain ... THE PAIN! Funny when you're being wheeled on a gurney through halls of lights and doors open and close ... alone ... then all those people in white ... where is he? ... counting backwards ... Mother always said, "<strong>April Showers bring May flowers</strong>" .... baby shower, April 12th; born May 15th, Rose.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14393200020461156010noreply@blogger.com10