What I did over my Summer Vacation, I mean, my December Day Off.

It's DISH Network, they want to know if we want to upgrade our service?

I decided to take yesterday off of work to read the new Oakhurst Leaflet, wait for Christmas cards to arrive and get my energy up to watch Glee.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that our neighborhood newsletter had increased its font size and not so surprised that the first holiday greeting card delivered to our black metal mailbox was from our favorite gay-boys. And of course Glee did not disappoint - Doc. B. even liked it (but don't say I told you).

In between waiting for the leaflet and mail carriers to arrive, I figured I’d also take care of some other binn-ness.

My first e-mail, at 6:00 am, was to the local computer repair guy.  I asked him if he could please come apply the automated external defibrillator to my lil’ old Sony Vaio in an effort to revive it from its frozen state.  Given the fact that temps were in the 20’s with a wind chill in the teens, I wasn’t all that hopeful that he could revive the poor thing.  After all, it is a 4 year old baby and laptop PC’s of that age don’t usually enjoy life that long.

Then off to my favorite gym – Core Body .  I did a secret alone time 45 minute spin class*, of my own creation, including the below iPhone play list that I hooked into the overhead speaker system and dared anyone to make me turn it off:

Blue on Black – Kenny Wayne Shepherd

Low Rider – Barry White

Sun Rising – The Beloved/Chilled Spirit

I Gotta Feeling- The Black Eye Peas

Everywhere I go- The Call

She Sells Sanctuary – The Cult

Are We Ourselves – The Fixx

Jump – Madonna

Shut Your Eyes – Snow Patrol

Closer – Ne-Yo

*Bonus Points - Weight Watchers now counts a 45 minute spin class as 8, count 'em 8, activity points!  Not that I know anything about Weight Watchers or anything.

As I’m leaving the gym, Computer Repair Guy calls to tell me he’ll be over at 11:30.  So I decided to go home, get cleaned up and add s’more items to my to do list.  

Next, I directed my Ford Ranger (‘cause it’s too dang cold to ride my bike) to the Decatur USPS with mom’s L’Oreal lipstick that she left while visiting a few weeks ago – I’m splurging to mail it back to her…because she’s worth it.

Then on to the CVS to use up my medical spending account money on over-the-counter standards (Aleve, Tylenol, Zyrtec, Neosporin, Epsom salts, Percocet and Oxycontin – well, not those last two unfortunately).  Can you believe that next year’s medical spending account, to which I contribute my own fairly hard-earned money, will only reimburse me for OTC items if I have a prescription?  That’s so STUPID!  Like I'm going to ask my gynecologist to write me a script for Nyquil?  Guess I’ll drop my annual deduction in half and hope that I don’t need a root canal or bifocals – thank goodness for the large print in the Oakhurst Leaflet to help the latter!

The CVS clerk checked me out (well, she didn't really check ME out, just my items). She was in awe of my CardStar iPhone application on which she was able to scan my rewards card bar code, AND she was also in awe of my $80.00 worth of drugs.  Okay, I added some red licorice to the bill – maybe it's reimbursable?  After all, it is medically necessary to combat depression and prevent any possibility of some resulting suicidal ideation.

Computer repair guy shows up right on queue and resolves the problem for a measly 50 bucks – LOVE HIM!  He tells me I can put off replacing my laptop until I’m ready to give in and buy a Mac – and in the meantime, he’ll keep coming by and fixing the PC (‘cause when I buy the Mac, he says I won’t need him anymore).

Last on the list was my quarterly call to Dish Network to find out what they’re billing me for that they shouldn’t be.  And when I say me I mean Doc. B. because of course I had to lie to DISH about my identity again.  Can I just tell you that it was the most pleasant customer service call Doc. B. has had in quite some time?  Brittany, clearly not sitting in an Indian call center, clearly sitting in a Georgia, USA call center, handled all of Doc. B.'s concerns and even acknowledged Doc. B. for being a long-time customer.

Question:  What is it called if you are talking about yourself, but not really you, in the third person?  Third person once removed?  Remind me to e-mail Grammar Girl to find out.

Off to Glee I went, rear end fitting perfectly in the love pit sofa butt print.  And since I was in the music mood after Glee, I HAD to watch some of Celtic Woman: The Greatest Journey on Georgia Public Broadcasting.

Sweet Dreams?

I rarely remember my dreams. But last night’s was so vivid, it stuck with me most of the day. Here’s how it went:

I was driving the 4-Runner, Doc. B. was in the passenger seat. It was dusk and chilly. We slowly maneuvered the car into the back alley; the distance of 6 houses on our right and three on our left. I could see the light of the television in one home – the University of Georgia vs. Georgia Tech football game. We turned the car lights to dim so as not to draw too much attention. Once we got to Mrs. K’s section of the back alley, we could go no further – there were compost bins in our way.

We stopped there and quietly slipped out of the beat-up leather seats, leaving the doors ajar as we made our way to the back of the car. Doc. B. put on a pair of work gloves and I asked if there was a pair for me. We opened the back door hatch and tugged at a crinkly blue plastic tarp. It was so heavy we had to work together to slide its contents to the back of the SUV. Its contents? A heavy, dirty, damp female body. So heavy, it was like an awkward chunk of cement that took all of our intellect and might to move it out, onto the ground and to its final resting place.

I woke up smiling. Why? Because this was a replay of the prior evenings events. No, we didn’t literally take a body out of our car. But we did purchase a cement Buddha (Kwan Yin) statue that I’m guessing weighs over 200 pounds. And we did transport it in our 4-Runner to the back alley where we placed it, at dusk, with great difficulty, on the site of our dearly departed 100+ year old oak tree.

She looks good, huh?

You've Got Something on your Face

Last weekend, right before we were to go to a rather large holiday shindig, I scraped my chin. Well, not really my chin, more like that area between your lip and your chin. Okay, it’s actually just below the right corner of my lip and closely resembles a cold sore the size of a dime that’s been placed in one of those coin crushers at the county fair. You know, flattened out into the shape of a deflated football. The category of deflated your ego suffers when you’re even the slightest bit vain and have a big cold sore-like defect on your face.


I asked Doc. B. if it was conspicuous and I got the old “oh, no one will notice”. Yeah, right. I tried to cover it up with some five-year old waterproof Lancôme that I bought at the Hilton Head mall to match my skin color after lounging in a deck chair from 10am to 2pm for a week. That cosmetics lady behind the counter really knew she had a sucker when she was able to talk me into purchasing a shade that wouldn’t match as soon as my tan faded and I returned to the fluorescent lighting of my cubicle. Anyway, the darker-than-my-skin-color makeup just made the scrape look like a bruise. So I washed my face, told myself it wasn’t that bad (which it really wasn’t yet) and went on to the party. No one said anything about it, people did not treat me like a leper (it really is spelled with only one “P”, I had to look it up) and the wine rep in attendance kept filling my glass. So I figured I was okay.

By Monday morning, the scrape was an eye-catching scab, but off to work I went anyway. I decided a minor facial blemish was not how I wanted to end my 5 year and 8 month record of never having called in sick. By 4:00pm, only one co-worker (besides Mrs. T.) had asked about it. People traipsed in and out of my cube all day with their eyes either averted, staring directly at the blemish, or trying with great effort to look directly into my eyes.

I just hope these same co-workers will at least tell me when my zipper is down.

It's An End of a Decade

Mom and Dad, affectionately known as M & D came to visit last weekend. They brought with them a sense of calm that only people retired for 20 years can know. They also tried to bring us some homemade jam but the TSA confiscated it - could have been used to spread all over their stale Delta bread before they blew up the plane - gotta be careful. I didn’t ask M&D if they had succumbed to the full body cavity search at Detroit Metro; I’ll have to follow up on that.

One thing that did make it through the TSA pat-down and the metal detector was my 1980 High School Yearbook. I was a sophomore at Marshall High School that year and I must confess that I was not a stellar student. I played basketball. That’s what I did…period. So it was a bit surprising to discover that my 1980 yearbook editors included some incredible political commentary that would have been way over my head at the time, and probably still is. But before I get into that, let me quote some of the profound inscriptions of my classmates (signatures removed to protect the sappy, corny and trite writings of 16 year olds – grammatical errors and misspellings included):

To one of the sweetest girls I know. Good luck in basketball for the rest of the season and also good luck in the future.

Just remember that when we go out to football games and get hit in the head with a bottle, we believe in organized sports. Get bent. Oh well, gotta go, your a real sweetie and I love ya.

You have stayed the same sweetheart that you were in kindergarten when I played with dolls and you played with trucks. I know you’ll stay uncorrupted if you come to MYF more often and participate in the friendship circle.
You are a wild and crazy chick who I have not known very long but I like ya just the same. Take it easy or any way you can. Good luck! Get wild! Party Harty!

And my personal favorite…I think you’re a real sweet girl and I would like to get to know you a lot better! I hope you feel the same!

In the back of the yearbook was a page called “It’s an end of a decade.” It talked about the 70’s beginning in the midst of the furor and turmoil of the Vietnam War and how the 70’s were also a decade of rights – equal, gay, voting and drinking. Names like Anita Bryant, Jimmy Carter and Patricia Hearst were included in this commentary along with Watergate, the Guyana People’s Temple and inflation.

It’s hard to believe we’re coming to the end of yet another decade. It seems like not so long ago that we were stocking our basements full of bottled water, spam, wine and Twinkies and partying like it was 1999.

I wonder what the next decade will bring? Hard tellin’

Love ya, mean it, don’t go changin’ just to please me. Stay sweet and good luck in the future. You’re the best and all the best people know it.

An Upper Porch With a View

So I'm coming home from the vet, with sub-cutaneous fluids for our 22 year old kitten, and I can't pull the Ford Ranger into the driveway.  Two cop cars were blocking my path.  Now, we love our city of Decatur Po-Po, and we don't mind an inconvenience in order to stop a speeding out-of-towner, but I never did figure out why a woman with six children, including one on crutches, was pulled over.  Maybe she forgot to get her emissions inspection.  Those children give off some fumes I'm sure.

So this type of activity, combined with MARTA bus number 86 going back and forth every ten minutes, is reason number 12 for adding a screened in BACK porch to a house that already has an upper AND lower front porch.  To discover reasons 1 - 11, please come visit!  Mom and Dad, you are first on the list!

Hood Ponderings

To apiculture or not to apiculture? That bee the question.

Our neighbor, Mrs. K., already has chickens. She’s back up to six again after multiple accidental deaths and dismembeerments (aren’t there insurance policies for this sort of thing?). And if you’ve kept up with the Blue Mailbox, you are well aware of the chicken tragedy I experienced last year. Well, now that Mrs. K. has the chicken thing down, she wants to add beekeeping to her repertoire…and she wants us to bee a part of it. She says our backyard would bee the perfect spot. And if not in our backyard, then the site of our recently deceased 100+ year old oak tree, in the back alley, would also bee ideal.

This apiary question comes just as a Georgia man was attacked by a swarm of Africanized Beees – beetter known as Killer Bees.The poor guy was just out working in his yard and accidently disturbeed their hive. He was stung over 100 times and later died.

At this point you might bee asking yourself “what’s the decision? ‘Not to bee’ seems pretty obvious, right?” Well, I’d bee pretty much with you if it weren’t for the whole crime scene around here. See, all of us neighbors that back up to the alley don’t have dogs to ward off criminals. Sure, we have chickens, cats, babies, children, prickly plants, power tools and water features…but no mean dogs to scare away the undesirables. And when the local Bee-P puts up a hand-made sign that pepper spray is sold at their establishment, I’m thinking “Beeware of Killer Bees” makes a way beeter sign than “Beeware of Dog”. Heck, maybee just the sign would work…we don’t actually have to start an apiary.

Decision made. No Bees.

On Becoming My Mother

It's been happening for a long time, becoming my mother that is.  It started for me at a very early age.  For example, we both know how to rock an outfit, especially if dresses and skirts are involved.

And we both know how sit in a car in a lady-like fashion (I call shotgun!)

Recently, however, the fact that I'm becoming my mother has hit an all time high (or low?).  You guessed it, I'm finding Kleenex in all of my sweater pockets.  This has been both a pleasant surprise and an annoyance so I'm looking for my sweet mom to offer any suggestions she might have up her sleeve (which is where I anticipate finding Kleenex within the next 2-3 years if not sooner).

The pleasant surprise happened yesterday.  I was serving on my last day of jury duty in what was an unforgettable, life-changing experience for me and my 5 fellow jurors.  It was a lose-lose situation for the defendant and the State.  We all teared up in the deliberation room at the conclusion of the trial - even the men.  I was so glad to be able to reach into my sweater pocket and find a tissue waiting for me.

The annoyance part came about a week ago when I forgot to empty out the contents of my pockets before doing the laundry.  I ended up with a couple of crispy one dollar bills and a dryer full of shredded tissue covering my clothes.

Oh well, I'd be happy to become even half of my beautiful mother.  I can live with the annoyances.

SIDE NOTE:  If any of you are voting in the DeKalb County elections this November, please consider voting for incumbent Alvin T. Wong.  He was unbelievable and amazing during my jury service.  Not only did he take care of us jurors like we were his very own children, but he made it a point to remember all of our names - first and last...not just the 6 of us that were selected for the trial but all 24 people who were on the original panel.  I don't know how he did it.  And, he gets bonus points for telling Kid Rock that community service following a Waffle House fight did not include his normal volunteer singing engagements!

Mosquito Protection Plan Almost Complete

We're off to the pool!  By this time next week the porch might be done!  Yeah!!!

Who Needs Rosetta Stone. Eat More Chinese.

Who Needs Rosetta Stone. Eat More Chinese

I Crave It!

Devil's Lunch

I don’t know why I found it odd to crack open a fortune cookie the other night only to find my future written in Spanish. I mean really, shouldn’t I find it odd to open a fortune cookie and find my future written in English? I went ahead and opened all of the cookies just to see what my Spanish fates were.

I now know how to say be all that you can be in Spanish – sea todo que usted puede ser. I can only guess that the Army had something to do with this – some subliminal plan to recruit Spanish-speaking fighters - but I can’t prove it. Just like the guy on the MARTA train last week who couldn’t prove to a fellow passenger that the U. S. Military had something to do with AIDS. He said he was “working on it”. Hopefully he’ll be on my train again soon with an answer. I hate it when I eavesdrop on a conversation but then don’t get to hear the whole story.

I also now know how to say the universe is the limit – el universe es el limite. This, I’m confident is a Walt Disney conspiracy. It’s way too similar to Buzz Lightyear’s famous Toy Story quote – To infinity and beyond! Wait, was that Pixar or Disney? Are they the same?  Either way, it’s a conspiracy.

The other photos are just random pictures I’ve been holding on the iPhone until I found a good place to blog about them. I guess this is as good as any.

The lower left pic is one of my favorites. The cafeteria at work must save these culinary classics signs because I’ve been certain, on several occasions, that I’ve missed my opportunity to snap a photo of this gastronomic goodie – Craved Corn Beef. It must be good if it’s craved – enough said.

And the receipt on the lower right came with the following comment from Ms. Betty, my favorite cafeteria cashier, as she weighed my salad ("vegetable 1"): "Honey, I’d have added another olive to that bowl." She laughed when I told her that instead I would go play three sixes in the Cash 3 lottery. I never did but always meant to check to see if I would have won.

Happy Labor Day everyone!

What a Difference a Month Makes

It's just a broken pot, not a broken heart

Last month I went to Michigan for my dad’s birthday and a family reunion. While there, my parents received the news that two of their friends, both of whom I’d met and liked, had been diagnosed with cancer. As of August 14th, they’re both gone. What a difference a month makes.

I’m hanging out at home with the kitty cats today, taking a break from the good gub’ment job I’m so friggin’ grateful to have but am not particularly loving at the moment. Doc B’s birthday is tomorrow so we took a couple of days off to honor that great moment in history, get some things done around the house, go to a concert tonight and just plain have some down time. That down time has allowed me to reflect on that “friggin’ gratefulness” that I’ve been feeling of late. The events of the past month have been a huge part of the thrust to keep reminding myself of how good I have it, even when I think it’s a bad day.

In addition to the tearfully sad aforementioned passings, what’s happened over the past month?

• I went to Baltimore unexpectedly for work and enjoyed a night of Maryland crab with newly met co-workers

• I vowed to lose the weight I gained while in Michigan and Baltimore and am already half way there

• Gay marriage laws in California were over-over-over-turned

• A dear friend has come out of the closet and introduced us to many of her dear friends

• A dear friend has come out of incarceration - don't get me started on the topic of our "justice" system as it relates to this dear friend please.

• A dear friend came to town for a sociology conference and brought the best dill pickles ever along with her good stories of the Christian Wrong.

• I have a lot of dear friends don’t I?

• Day-time temperatures have not dropped below the 80’s since I can remember

• The back "deck" we hated and put up with for the past ten years is gone but we still don't have a master bath (No master bath = Maddie is still on this planet - because that's her room!)

• A screened-in porch is soon to be in place just in time for the nice weather

• My hair has been dyed twice and cut once

• The aura of my hair salon has significantly improved (thanks hair salon boss for getting rid of the crazy hair stylist that operated the booth next to my beloved Pam)

• My best buds Mr. and Mrs. T had their house broken into and robbed – thankfully they were not in their home at the time

• Two new babies were born (to my yoga teacher and to a fellow yogi)

• I went to see "Salt" with Tequila (who doesn’t love salt with their Tequila? Add Angelina Jolie to the combo and for sure, what's not to love?)

• A co-worker was in a car accident but is okay

• More people than ever think Obama’s a Muslim

• Millions are homeless in Pakistan because of the floods and I still don’t have a clue how many people are homeless in America on any given day

• BP continues to sop up oil and SP continues to sop up losses for the candidates she endorses

The list is much longer I'm certain.  Like I'm already forgetting to include that we're going to go see "Eat, Pray, Love" with Julia Roberts and Javier Bardem.  But I guess you have to draw the line somewhere.  Shoot, I didn't even mention Lindsay Lohan once in my list.  To all of you...I'm grateful to have you in my life - the old friends, the new ones, my immediate family and my extended family.  Thanks for making my days overwhelmingly good even when I think they're bad.

Mosquito Protection Plan in Progress

Porch progression photographs 

Yeah!  The work started on Tuesday, August 10th and the half hip roof is going up right now!  Only a couple of snags so far:
1. a potted shrub near the driveway got broken by a delivery truck,
2. a gutter downspout got dented by a dump truck
3. the City of Decatur Inspector initially failed the holes that were dug for the footings.  The reason? The dirt was too soft.  Hello!  We're in Georgia!  It's red clay!

After a soil engineer (who knew there was such a job?) used a static cone penetrometer (huh?) to determine that the ground was okay (and charged us of course), the work continued and it's been without a hitch since then.  It's a pleasure to have Small Carpenters at Large back at the ranch!

We Now Return to our Regularly Scheduled Programming

First Haircut!

From my first haircut with the Wright Beauty Academy of Battle Creek, Michigan (pictured above) to the one I had last night with Pam from Novi, Michigan (she says she’s from Union Lake, Michigan but whatever), some things never change.

This is exactly how I looked last night when Pam plopped a bean bag ashtray on the work station in front of me, stuck a roller (not a joint) in my hand to keep me occupied, and safety-pinned a towel around my formerly chubby (now double-chinned) neck to keep hair clippings (and now Ms. Clairol) off of my t-shirt.

The traveling crew from Wright Beauty Academy had their work "cut" out for them back then and Pam sure has been earning her money with me over the past ten years. Back at age one, it took a Ritz cracker to entertain me. Now it takes a combination of cheap wine, groaning humor delivered with a strong Michigan accent and salon drama.

Seriously, Pam does a great job with what she has to work with and whether she knows it or not, she’s like a part of my family (Pam, if you are reading this, Doc. B. and I send out hugs to you and your hubby on the passing of your beloved dog who had the same name as my beloved mother...).

And speaking of family, I just returned from a trip to Michigan to celebrate my dad’s 70th b-day and attend a family reunion (paternal grandmother's side of the gang). The entire week and a half there was just what I needed to regroup and recharge. Zingerman’s Deli in Ann Arbor, The Boyfriend at the Franke Center for Performing Arts (my mom played Hortense, the French Maid, in her senior high school production), the Welcome to my Garden Tour, a tour of all of my former Michigan residences, an olive burger at the Stage Coach, a meal at Winston’s, time at the Lake Cottage, a ride on the new boat to the Willows, Lake Michigan, time with Doc. B., and much overdue time with my sisters, brother, mom, dad, extended family and family friends. A special thanks to our best bud and pet/house sitter who made it easy to leave the kitties at home without worries (you know who you are but I haven’t thought up a nickname for you yet – help me out!)

Hope you are all finding ways to regroup and recharge in this summer heat and that you have a hair salon just like the one on Steel Magnolias!

I heart DISH

We interrupt this slide show to share a recent interchange with DISH network

I came home from work yesterday to an automated voicemail message from DISH Network that Doc. B. needed to update an about-to-expire credit card.

I figured this was an easy task and that I could gain a sense of accomplishment rather quickly. I got out my credit card and called the Dish 800 number. Another automated message recognized our home phone number and told me to press or say the number “one” if I was calling about the account associated with this phone number. I pressed the number one.

Alex answered, gave me his operator ID and asked "how can I help you?"

I tell him "I need to update the credit card information on our account."

He asks who he's speaking to and then tells me that because I’m not Doc. B. he can’t take my credit card information. I ask if he can see that I’m calling from the phone number associated with the account and he says yes.

And I say, "well what do you think, that I’ve broken into this house to pay the bills?"

He’s not amused and asks if he can talk to Doc. B. I tell him no ('cause Doc. B.'s not home from work yet). So I press on and suggest that he ask me any of the security questions that he might normally ask Doc. B. and I even went so far as to bet him that I could answer any question he wanted. He says he can’t do that because he’ll lose his job. So I ask to speak to his supervisor. Alex puts me on hold and eventually comes back to tell me that his supervisor is on another call and did I want to hold.

At this point, I realize that I’m not going to get anywhere and that I should have just said that I was Doc. B. or done the old "oh wait, here’s Doc. B. now" and then pretended to be Doc. B.

Alex ends the call by telling me that if I’m added as an authorized user, I can make updates on Doc. B.’s account. So I hang up and call right back. And in my most awful southern accent I pose as Doc. B (sorry Doc. B. – I know you don’t talk like this!)

Jacob answers the call this time and I tell him that I want to add an authorized user to my account. He tells me that should be no problem; he’ll just need some information from me as follows:

Jacob: "Ma'am, are you in front of your TV?"

Me: "Why no son I ain’t, you want me ta’ go all that way upstairs with my walker to look at the TV?"

Jacob: "I’m sorry ma’am, but yes."

I take my time, fake huffing and puffing all the way, as I tell him exactly what I’m doing. "Okay, I's at the first landing of the stairs…now I's at the second landing…okay, son, I's up here, now I gotsta' figure out where I put that dad gum remote…okay sweetie honey darlin', which button you want for me to mash?"

Jacob gets the information he needs and then asks if there's anything else he can do for me.

I tell him I'd like a new hip so that I don't have to use this walker anymore but he doesn't even chuckle, not even a little bit. So I tell him that all I really wanted to do in the first place was to update my credit card information. I tell him that my sugar mamma wants to pay all of my bills and that I have the credit card information ready whenever he is. He takes everything down without flinching. We complete our call and I hang up satisfied. What I thought would be a quick sense of accomplishment wasn't so quick, but I sure had fun.

So just FYI, it's okay with DISH Network if you give them someone else's credit card information, but don't even try to call up and pay someone else's bill for them.

Life in the Single Wide

Since I was being all hoity toity about living in Victorian villas and Arts and Crafts abodes, I thought it only right to admit that I also had my dose of mid-century, pre-fab, modern-for-the-times, static caravan, shabby chic, 12’x 60’, living spaces too. Yes, I lived in a trailer.

The first trailer, that I lived in (before birth) was, according to my mom, pink…inside and out. So you know my parents must have gotten a deal on it. Or wait, it was the 60’s so maybe they actually paid top dollar for its trendiness? And look what they’re eating here in the pink trailer: canned peaches, hamburger patties on white bread, and probably milk in those really cool drinking glasses that would no doubt be worth a fortune on eBay this very moment. But hey, there was a candle and gifts on the table – could this have been my parents' first Christmas dinner together? How cute!

Then there’s trailer number 2 where we lived when I was born. Look at the upgrades! For one, it’s not pink – they went with the classic white. Next, it looks like it’s on a corner lot – good call if there’s a kid on the way – fewer neighbors to hear all that baby crying and whining. And is that an attached garage? Who knew! Is that even allowed in trailer parks? I wonder if this is what piqued my dad’s interest in planning and zoning? Oh wait, he already had his degree in urban planning before moving into this trailer so I don't know what to blame.

So there. It’s not all glitz and glamour in my residences like you thought. And to keep us humble in our current home, we bought a double-wide for the cat.

And here's our beloved cat, all ready to open up his very own double wide - some things never change...

Memorial Day 2010

While Doc. B. has been fully immersed in war and her family’s service to our country (including a recent trip to Vietnam), I look back on what I know of my family history and there’s nothing, zilch, nada, zip.

Now, Dad, I’m TOTALLY NOT downplaying your service in the National Guard. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have Mitt’s dad, Michigan Governor George Romney, call you to the 1967 Detroit riots to even attempt to “keep the peace.” 43 dead, almost 500 injured, over 7000 arrested, and 2000+ buildings burned. From what I understand, the whole thing started after a celebratory party for two returning Vietnam Vets. Willie Horton, after playing in a Detroit Tigers game, even tried to calm the crowds, but to no avail. I know my dad’s role was to transport prisoners from Detroit to the prison in Jackson, Michigan (how come prisons are always in Jackson?). I hope he was never in harm’s way, and if he was, he never described it as such.


But beyond my dad’s National Guard service, I don’t know that any of my family members served in a war/conflict. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it just seems curious to me. It’s for sure on my list of research items. If nothing else, perhaps it explains my distaste for conflict?

Go hug a Vet while you are eating your burger and chips! Hugs to you all!

It's in the Blood

Many of you have asked me about the "ubiquitous fruit crates" that I mentioned in a recent post. Well, the above picture about sums it up. This is a picture of my young father down on the farm, moving crates full of fruit (thus the term fruit crate). My Dad is a retired 36th generation fruit farmer (okay, maybe only like 6th generation or something like that). He retired at the ripe (get it, ripe, as in ripe fruit?) old age of (approximately) 21, when he got his college degree from Michigan State University (Go Spartans!). Okay, I guess I'm done with parentheticals this go around. Who knew he could drive a tractor? I guess I should have known given the fact that my quadruplet cousins were driving tractors by about the age of two.
Fruit crates are a part of my life. In our clan, they are considered high-end shelving units. I'm sure I had my stereo system, eight track player included, loaded onto a fruit crate stand at one time or another. And they made the perfect storage container for all of my albums and 45’s. When I moved to my college dormitory room, I loaded my life into fruit crates. And now in my adult life, fruit crates are on the workbench holding tools, in the basement holding emergency food rations, and in the shed holding lord knows what (that shed needs a good cleaning).

Fruit crates are obviously in my blood. I wonder what else is in my blood. Hmm…old homes.

My Dad had me stripping wallpaper in 100 year old Victorian houses since before I could walk.  His idea of a great weekend was climbing up a ladder to scrape exterior paint (he did one side of the house per year as I recall - I'm sure he'll correct me if I'm wrong).  And while Victorian homes are grand and beautiful and I grew up in one, my true love is the 1920’s Arts and Crafts era homes. We now live in one such home, and below is the house my mother grew up in. Guess it makes sense that old homes are also in my blood.

What’s in your blood?

Buddha Belly

"Love the whole world as a mother loves her only child." Quote from Buddha.

Clearly, I was my mother's only child at this point in my life.  The three children that came later were never this chunky!

Given this snapshot, one would think I'd have had my come to Buddha moment much earlier in life. I might as well have been the Buddha's child except for the enlightenment part that wasn't there then and ain't there now. And look, I'm already working toward half lotus before my first birthday!

All Buddha talk aside, I absolutely LOVE this picture of my mother and me.  Isn't it cool how I'm looking at her while she's looking at the camera.  There was no need for her to keep an eye on me because I certainly would have floated if I'd fallen out of the boat.  It was taken at my grandparents’ camp at Stoner Lake in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. It was the first of my many trips from the Midwest “back east”. My Mom tells me that during this trip, she and Dad went to the New York World’s Fair – and recently, they gifted me the tumblers they purchased while there (pictured below). Bet those glasses never had sangria in them until they came to Atlanta.

While Mom and Dad went to the fair, they entrusted their first born with my Mom’s parents in Delmar, New York. My Mom recalls leaving one of her now infamous "notes" (that were really pages and pages of instructions) in a stack of diapers so that my grandparents would know what the heck to do with this roly poly baby. I wonder if she was still writing out those long notes by the time my youngest sister arrived?  I think post-its were invented by then.

How about a couple of quotes from Buddha to wrap this up…

"When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky"

(The only time I remember tilting my head back and laughing at the sky was the day I realized how crazy everything was!)

"To keep the body in good health is a duty...otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear"

(Guess I better work on this – my belly is looking like the Buddha’s again. And who knows how often I can count my mind as being strong and clear other then when I’m deciding which bottle of wine to buy?)