Monday, October 17, 2011

Whazzup.

So much going on and I suddenly feel the urge to write about it all. First off, the daughter is getting married a week from Saturday, all the plans are in order, everything paid for, guests invited, all is set. I do not remember if I post photos of the where-abouts of the wedding. I need to go back and check..but it is a lovely historical park with antique buildings and we are pleased. the reception to follow is at a banquet hall and we will have a DJ and light show and all the trimmings and foods. Its a wonderful thing.

The worst thing that has happened in my absence...I lost my darling dog, Abby. I have grieved and grieved. I'm still grieving..she was my best kid! A puppy is in our immediate future and I will try to keep up with photos, etc.

,
Most of you know there was NOT a grandbaby born, after all, a year or so ago..but there is a little one due on or about April 20th. Everything is going well. It is not my daughter's, but my son's and his long time girlfriend, Kimmie.


Bless all of you, my darling friends.


Abby, mommy will love you forever...

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Caylee's Law

What To Say to a Depressed Dog.

(from the May 2011 Atlantic Magazine; 'What's your Problem?' column, by Jeffrey Goldberg.)

question;
I recently had my dog neutered, and I swear he's mad at me. Before the neutering, he was the friendliest dog in the world. Now he keeps his distance and gives me, if I'm not mistaken, disapproving looks. How do I mitigate his anger?
B.C, Toronto, Canada



answer:
Dear B.C.,
You should explain to him, in a firm but empathetic tone, that his castration will reduce occurrences of undesirable sexually dimorphic behavior and testosterone-induced inflammation of the prostate, and will contribute other ancillary health benefits. Tell him you are confident that he will, in time, come to accept and even appreciate his new anatomy. Make it clear that he is not alone, and that he should continue to be honest and direct with you about his emotions. and if all this fails, remind him that he's a fucking dog.


Thursday, June 2, 2011

Turtles By My Toes

Who was it who said, "I'm back!!!"? I think it was Jack Nicholson in that horror film, whatzitsname..Anyway, good, bad or indifferent, I AM BACK!!

My blog will henceforth be known as LIZARD IN MY SHOE, TURTLE BY MY TOE. And this is why...first, I have been a busy little mama..planning a wedding, work hours increased, trying to read through a six volume series of books, trying to get enough sleep on which to function with any sort of accomplishment. Lotsa, lotsa stuff going on. But in the mornings, at the crack of dawn, I relax outside with a cup of coffee, a few slices of tomato and a bunch of wild turtles.

It started with a drought, a deep long, thirsty, earth cracking, grass killing drought. We noticed a box turtle lopping along, looking for a drink. We got out the hose, held it up to his beak and lo and behold, he drank. A lot. After a couple of days a second turtle showed up and we helped him quench his thirst, too. Then I, forever the mama to the world, decided they were hungry. i started with chunk of cantelope. He cautiously eyed it but hunger won out and he stretched his neck and took a bite of it from my fingers. That was the last of the melon so I switched to tomatoes; the little guy was in ecstasy. He mauwed that mater.

Okay, now here's the thing...he must have been able to communicate to his turtle homeboys because I now have four wild turtles crawling up my patio and to my green wicker rocker where I sit, tomato slices in a dish on my lap. They take turns stretching necks and eating out of my hand. Proof?? Photos, of course!







And last, my grass is not faring well but my plants are loving it!

Thursday, April 7, 2011

I'm in my private garden

Oh, you all are such wonderful and loyal friends. Trust me, I'm not gone for good. I'm simply taking time to revamp in my only little emotional garden.
I'll know I'm ready to 're-appear' when I begin to pick the flowers there..shouldnt be long..Ive begun to smell them already.

Thank you, my loves.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Our Week's Weather; or why I live in the South.

Feb 16, 2011
Dothan Weather Forecast (AL)




Clear


Humidity: 93%
Wind Speed: 3mph E
Barometer: 1027 mb
Dewpoint: 43°F
Heat Index: 45°F
Wind Chill: 43°F
Sunrise: 5:19 am MST
Sunset: 4:31 pm MST
Moon: Full Moon


Long Term Forecast


WEDNESDAY High: 70°F
Low: 45°F PARTLY CLOUDY. HIGHS AROUND 70. PATCHY FOG IN THE MORNING. EAST WINDS AROUND 5 MPH SHIFTING TO THE SOUTHEAST IN THE AFTERNOON. OVERNIGHT: MOSTLY CLEAR. LOWS 43 TO 46. AREAS OF FOG AFTER MIDNIGHT. SOUTHEAST WINDS AROUND 5 MPH.


THURSDAY High: 74°F
Low: 46°F MOSTLY SUNNY. HIGHS AROUND 74. AREAS OF FOG IN THE MORNING. SOUTH WINDS AROUND 10 MPH. OVERNIGHT: MOSTLY CLEAR. LOWS AROUND 46. SOUTH WINDS AROUND 5 MPH.


FRIDAY High: 76°F
Low: 49°F MOSTLY SUNNY. HIGHS AROUND 76. SOUTHWEST WINDS 5 TO 10 MPH. OVERNIGHT: PARTLY CLOUDY. LOWS AROUND 49.


SATURDAY High: 76°F
Low: 50°F PARTLY CLOUDY. HIGHS AROUND 76. OVERNIGHT: PARTLY CLOUDY. LOWS AROUND 50.


SUNDAY High: 74°F
Low: 52°F PARTLY CLOUDY. HIGHS AROUND 74. OVERNIGHT: PARTLY CLOUDY. LOWS AROUND 52.


MONDAY High: 76°F
Low: 56°F PARTLY CLOUDY. HIGHS 74 TO 77. OVERNIGHT: MOSTLY CLOUDY WITH A 20 PERCENT CHANCE OF SHOWERS. LOWS AROUND 56.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

JOIE DE VIVRE (or how beej is about to get her groove back.)

I need to get my act together. I've fallen into a rut of work, cooking, laundry, sleep and a few other basic life doings. I'm losing my joie de vivre and I don't like that one bit.

First a bit of bad news...we've lost our male lizard. He passed away earlier this week. I'd like to think that he died of a broken heart after his companion, Lucky, died not too long ago. But that idea might come from the romantic in me.

Now, the good news; my daughter Shannon is engaged to be married. it 'happened' a week ago today. I glanced out my window just in time to see her boyfriend, Clint, hold her hands as he went down on one knee. I saw him slip a ring on her finger and then lift her up into his arms and twirl her.

The happy couple:





Friday, January 21, 2011

XOXO

Guys, I got all the emails and read all the posts here (Stagg and Candy, I love you and will be writing to you this weekend.))I have recently recovered from walking pnuemonia and I know life is heading toward an even keel when I've begun to start thinking about topics for this blog again!

Thank you all for sticking with me. It's been one hell of a last few months but you can't keep me down for long! :)

xoxo

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Lucky

Yesterday we buried our female lizard. I noticed last week that her spine was protruding and she had stopped eating. I knew, at over eight years of age, that she was failing. I did not want to deal with this and hoped that she was having a simple minor set back. This was not to be the case.

These two lizards were not our first. Our first bearded dragon was stolen from the place we boarded him while we were on vacation. He belonged to our son who was a child at the time. This lizard was a giant of his species and very pretty (as lizards go.)
We came home from a week at Virginia Beach to a phone call telling us that someone had entered their lizard room, took our lizard from his cage, stuffed it under their jacket and run out the door. Of course, we were a devastated.

The store replaced the stolen lizard and John purchased another to keep it company. These two were a mere half inch in length and were adorable. We called them 'our babies.'

We had them sexed and found out we had a male and a female and sure enough, within the next couple of years, she became loaded with eggs. I read up on them and filled a little five gallon tank with dirt, added a bit of water and formed a cave. I placed her in there and she backed into the cave and laid a dozen eggs.

I made an incubator and carefully spooned out each egg and laid it in the incubator, all the while my female lizard protectively watching. (anyone who thinks reptiles do not have maternal instincts is just plain wrong; this little mama was nervous and did not leave her perch from where she watched everything I did with her eggs.

In her lifetime, she laid five 'clutches' of eggs, each between 12 and 14 eggs but somehow I never mastered the proper formula of humidity/temperature etc, and none of the eggs ever hatched.

She had an endearing..at least to me..feature of an underbite. Sometimes she had difficulty holding on to a wiggling cricket and had to be helped getting it into her mouth and down her throat. She was worth the effort it took to help her; I truly loved her.

This breed of lizards is from Australia, gets to be over a foot in length and are known as the felines of the lizard world. They are slow moving, calm, and bond with their owners. She was always interested when we turned on her light in the morning, and watched us with curiosity.

The male seems to be grieving. I hope he doesn't waste away, missing his mate.

I cried when she died, but also I was glad we had her for so long. I know she had a good life and she earned her name..
Lucky.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

The Gift

This is what I've decided: Folks just have too much time on their hands. I came to this conclusion because I am, of late, just way too busy to fret over life's BIG questions or to worry about what other people are doing wrong.

Both of my kids have moved back home, which is fine. I work retail in a little bookstore which is in the tail end of a busy Christmas shopping frenzy. I am busy, way too busy, to do much else other than work, cook, shop for my own family and friends and keep this house running somewhat smoothly.

In all this I think I have stumbled upon a little truism about life; if you spend any serious amount of time fretting over much of anything, then you are not busy enough just living.

I fall into bed each night too exhausted to do as much as open a book to read a bit. And I fall into that bed really early, sometimes before 7pm.

Every now and then, life hands me a little reward, like yesterday. In fact it happened twice to me yesterday. First, our local tv weatherman, Vernon Connor (no relation to me), stopped in the store.




"Hey Beej,"he said. "Watch the 10 o'clock news tonight. I'm going to pull on my ear like Carol Burnett used to do, to give you a little greeting over the air."



Rest assured, I was deep into la-la land by 10pm, but I am confident that while I was asleep, Vernon Connor was tugging at his ear lobe. I missed it but I know thousands of folks witnessed it.

The other little reward truly touched my heart. An elderly gentleman approached me at the store.

"Can you do a favor for me?" he asked. "There's a little lady back in the kids' books section. She's pushing a stroller and has five other little kids with her..."

He reached out his hand and gave me five $20 bills.

"Can you give this to her and tell her Santa says Merry Christmas?"

"Of course I can." and off I went.

She wasn't difficult to find. Pregnant and pushing a stroller, she was surrounded by five other little ones. They were all extraordinarily well behaved. I gave her 'Santa's' message and she protested. I assured her the gentleman had left the store and she meekly took the cash. she was, of course, unbelievably touched.

Of course, she was touched, but so was I. It was a gift for me, too, to witness this.

This is Christmas. This is the spirit that was intended. This is the selfless thought behind the gesture of giving, the gesture of caring, the many gestures of loving.

Yes, I believe there is a Santa after all.


Thursday, December 2, 2010

The Day

Here it is after 5pm on my day off and I have accomplished NOTHING. In fact I did something I very rarely do; I stayed in my robe until mid afternoon. It was relaxing, of course, but I feel like I've wasted the entire day.

The doctor's visit; First, I lost six lbs in the past week which left me a bit bewildered because I've been eating like a horse, including a wonderful Thanksgiving day meal. But the doctor was amazed at how much better I looked even though he kept me on restricted work for another week. He gave me a refill for pain meds because my left arm is very sore and he told me my teeth, which still hurt, can take a few more weeks to 'settle.' After I left, I went right back to work.

We've been in the throes of a cold snap. I am not used to cold weather but
living in south Alabama, winter will come and go in a matter of weeks and then we should be blessed with another typically beautiful early Spring.

Right now, all is peaceful in our household. John is playing wii with our son and our daughter is making chicken fettuccini alfredo (my recipe, of course!)

Life is one big roller coaster.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Follow Up

It has been a week since my fall. I have a doctor's appointment this morning to see what residual damage is still lurking. My left arm is so sore that it keeps me awake at night. My eye teeth still hurt. The swelling on my upper lip has subsided quite a bit (or as my daughter so eloquently stated, I "don't look like Marge Simpson now, but more like Elvis Presley and his sneer.")

This has been a lesson that despite what happens, life goes on. Unless we die. But then it still goes on for those who outlive us.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Always An Event About To Happen.

They say bad things happen in threes. I guess my three bad things had stockpiled because they all came rushing unexpectedly into my life recently. First, my sister became ill and we almost lost her. Then, my 23 year old daughter became ill and was hospitalized. Lastly, I fell at the bookstore.

When I say I fell, I do not mean that I simply slipped and got knocked down on my bum. One of the kids who works at the store left a large plastic tote on a walkway, one I did not see until it was too late. I went over it, meeting the floor with my two eye teeth and face, just about knocking myself out. (It's debatable as to whether I actually did lose consciousness, tho I believe I did not.) I ended up with a fat lip which made me look in profile a lot like Marge Simpson.



Even if I did not lose consciousness, I did shake my brain and could not even gather my senses enough to call for help. After about five seconds, i was able to make a noise and folks came to my rescue and I was taken to the doctor.

After many many xrays, they determined that I had a cervical sprain and a couple loose teeth (they still hurt.) I have road rash on my face but I'm glad to say that the extreme swelling on my upper lip is beginning to go away.

I am sore. I feel foolish but I got back up on the saddle and went to the bookstore the next day, tho I did not need to do this.

My sister is recuperating as is my daughter. My pain is slowly lessening and all seems to be righting itself.

I am tired of being a event about to happen. But you know what? Thursday my family and I prepared the usual huge Thanksgiving dinner and sincerely expressed gratitude for all the good things in our life. Even tho this trio of bad events happened, we are so blessed that there were optimum outcomes all the way around.


Thursday, November 11, 2010

Paul the Arsonist (or, Why I love Vinnie.)

In my younger life, there were several milk toast men who had become enamored with me. They were all pleasant, sweet, compliant young men, men who would have tried to move the earth and the heavens if they believed it would have made me happy. Most SMART young women would have felt blessed with these Charles Bovary types. Not I. Not at all. I would have rather run into the abyss upon their exclamations of love. I preferred the passionate sort, the ones who exhibited a lust for life. The ones who made my father shudder.

My first 'luster for life' was a brooding teenage boy named Paul. Paul had that bad boy brooding look. In my fifteen year old mind, I thought he was beautiful. Troubled, sure, but nonetheless, beautiful.

Paul was a neighborhood boy. I had decided that my life legacy would be as a 'SAVIOR OF THE WORLD.' At least that was my excuse for going through a long period in my mid teens as being 'SAVIOR OF THE WORLD.' I would be akin to the saints, a lover of the unlovable, a healer of the troubled. And Paul was troubled.


Beej, Savior of the World.



I first felt affection for him after he was released from some juvenile institute to which he had been 'assigned' after he burned a couple of abandoned buildings to the ground. Yup. Paul was an arsonist. He was my first attempt at 'saving.' Of course, I did not save Paul. He eventually dissolved into a black hole of my feelings and I'm sure I moved on to my next venture as, 'SAVIOR OF THE WORLD.'




Having said all that, and probably revealing more to you about myself than I would ever want to reveal, I am using that story as an example of my basic nature to explain why I love Vincent Van Gogh as much as I do. If any person had ever lived a troubled life, it was Vincent. Of course his art expressed his 'lust for life' (which is, of course, the title of a book by Irving Stone about Van Gogh, a book I have just finished reading.) I love his art but it is the man behind the art that truly enthralls me.

Take his ear, or more accurately, his ear lobe. why did Vinnie lop off his ear lobe? Because an underage prostitute asked him for it! Now, that's passion! (I must tell you tho, that this hooker, upon unwrapping the paper holding the lobe, passed out cold on the foyer floor. It was this act of ultimate generosity that landed our dear artist in the insane asylum.)




I am not a fan of physical mutilation. I do not find that attractive. But it was the passion behind the act that captured my heart.

A lust for life is not the same as a love for life. We all love life, whether we want to admit it. it's the lust, the LUST for life that is so very attractive to me. It's a passion to feel all of life, to see colors brighter, to have the energy, both physically and emotionally, to go for the gusto.

Okay, maybe Van Gogh was more than passionate. He was a genius. Smart and passionate?

Oh yes. Now that's the magical mix.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

The Potato Eaters

We have all seen Van Gogh's painting, 'Irises:'



and 'Starry Night:'



But this one is a bit different:



This is called 'The Potato Eaters' and was painted not long before his introduction to the Impressionists, the likes of Gauguin, Lautrec, Monet, Manet, Degas. This one was painted in dark hues, hues he used to capture the colors of the potatoes, the soil and the dismal life of the potato pickers whom he described as caught in the dregs of darkness, every bit as much as the coal miners he painted while living in the Borinage area of Belgium.

I have a special love for this painting because it was done prior to his move to Paris, prior to the influences of the artists he met there. This is pure, raw Van Gogh. These are the people he knew, and knew well. This particular family was not simply one he paid to pose. These were his closest friends, especially the young girl in the foreground. She was very close to him, close enough where, when she, at the age of seventeen, became pregnant, Vincent was almost forced to wed her under the priest's incorrect presumption that he was the father.

I wonder how different Van Gogh's art would have been had he wed this young thing and stayed in Nuenen. Would he, without the influence if the Impressionists, have continued to paint in dark hues and straight lines? Would the world have never known the beauty of the lightness of his colors?

Monday, October 25, 2010

On the Uptake

Ever since my sister became ill, I've been lax about both writing here and reading all my favorite blogs. I don't know why; I sort of feel like an inflated bag thats been popped. I seem to want to only wrap myself in the basic, little mundane things in life, working, cleaning, sleeping, reading etc. But it's time to come out of it. Jeanne's doing fine and should even be dismissed from rehab within the next week or two. The only things we can see that have been affected is her ability to walk (she needs a walker because her physical strength has been zapped, but she is improving every day.) And her memory is somewhat slow. Outside of that, she is doing remarkably well and I thank God each and every morning.

And with that having been said, I will again be a regular at your blogs. You can count on that.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Phone conversation with my son tonight. Please note..HE PHONED ME!


Me: "Hello?"
Son: "Hi, mom. Whatcha doing.I mean, are you cooking dinner tonight?"
Me: "No, honey. We had sandwiches about an hour ago."
Son: "Oh. Okay. well I can't talk right now. I'm driving."
Love you. Bye."
Me: "love you too."

Jeez.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

WORRY, worryworryworryworry

You just gotta love this commercial:

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Florida Caverns State Park

John and I both took this week off, originally to go to Melbourne, Florida on a house hunting venture. That venture has been put on hold until we can get the house here in Alabama spruced up adequately enough to put on the market, but we decided to still take the week's vacation and just do, well, whatever we want to do.

Today we went down across the border to Florida and on to Florida Caverns State Park, a two time National gold medal winner.

This is a 1300 acre state park whose main attraction is the caverns, but there is such an abundance of wildflowers and greenery that visitors come for a myriad of reasons, including the Blue Hole Natural Spring, where folks are also permitted to swim.

The cave's geological history began over 38 million years ago when the U.S southeast coastal plain was covered with water. Coral, shells and the like fell to the ocean's floor and as the water receded, this material was left behind and became limestone. Over the last million years, acidic water dissolved the limestone and create crevices large enough to walk through. And the caverns were slowly..very very slowly..born.

Over time, both pioneers and Native Americans..though during different periods..have lived around these caves. Lots of pottery shards dating back centuries and centuries have been unearthed, telling archaeologists the history of the local Chert tribe that lived there, letting us know their diet and their main occupation as farmers.

During the 1800's, the caves were used by the Confederate soldiers as a refuge from the Union soldiers. The Seminole Indians hid in these caverns as well, during the Seminole Wars, led by Andrew Jackson.

In the mid 1930s, the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) labored to clear the caverns of tons of rock and debris to open the caves' interior and to install lighting.

Here is a monument erected to honor the men of the CCC and what they did for the state parks:




Now, on to the caverns, themselves.


The scenic walk leading to the cavern entrance:



stalactites and stalagmites..living art:





It looks like this lady is touching the formation but she is not. To do so is highly forbidden because the oil on fingerprints left behind prevents limestone from adhering to it and causes it to 'die.'




This is our guard, Paul. He's holding a lantern that was used by the CCC workers while clearing out the rocks and debris:



See that very handsome devil in the light blue shirt who has his arms crossed, the one in the left hand background? That is John:



The CCC workers realized that a reflector held behind the kerosene lamps increased the amount of light. They realized that their dinner bowls were of the right material to work as reflectors and so they permanently adhered these bowls to the ceiling of the caverns behind where they hung these lanterns. That circular object is one of those bowls:



See that big vertical formation on the right? Notice how it looks different? The path leads right by it and at that point, the walk becomes wet and slick. So many folks had lost their footing and instinctively reached out to grab it rather than fall, that it did indeed 'die.' This was the only formation we were permitted to touch:








This round ball is a natural formation that the CCC workers used as a directional tool when they lost their way. They knew that this ball sat just outside of the turn that led them to the exit:







These formations hanging from the ceiling are called 'sipping straws.' They are hollow and the water drips down from the inside, increasing their length over time:




After we were done with the tour, we headed down to our favorite eatery in that part of Florida, a scenic diner set on a big river. Here is the view from our seats, to show you the beautiful hanging Spanish moss which decorates a good many of the trees around here:





Tomorrow we plan on heading back down just across the state line to Florida, to attend a community days celebration and local art show in Graceville Florida.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

The Sisters

I have been gone for a little while, mostly because I just haven't been 'moved' to write anything due in large part to my desire to get my emotional feet on a strong foothold after going through the trauma of almost losing my sister. But I am feeling better now and so is she.

I talked to her about an hour ago. she sounded wonderful. I talk to her daily and today there seemed to be a marked improvement. I think I know why.

You would need to know Jeanne. Of the three of us girls, she was always the most rebellious. She still has that rebellious streak, much to my delight. She had heard someone she knows is also in the rehab so she, who now has trouble staying steady on her feet, sneaked down to her acquaintance's room to visit. Jeanne was happy to still have spunk . I asked her if she told anyone she was going there. She played dumb.

"I think i told someone. But maybe I forgot."

Yuh, right. You forgot. Sorta like when you were 14 and you 'forgot' mom didn't know you smoked, Jeanne. I still have a vivid memory of you sauntering into the backyard where mom and I were busy doing stuff.

"Hi momma." you said as you leaned against the clothes line pole and took a long drag off a cigarette. It took mom a few seconds to believe her eyes, less time for you to fling that cigarette and run like a bat out of hell around the side of the house, mom in hot pursuit. Whatever were you thinking, Jeanne? Did you think she was going to go inside to get you an ashtray?

You, the forever rebel, even in rehab.

Today Jeanne had therapy for her memory and her now limited small motor abilities. She played solitaire, not on the computer but with an honest to pete deck of cards. She's proud of herself, tho she said it was difficult to shuffle the cards. But she did it. I'm proud of her, too.

I like to call Jeanne the 'Oomph' sister. everything she does, everything she did as a kid, was done with a superb amount of 'Oomph.' A good example was the time as a kid she kicked her clogs off her feet. We've all done this with our footwear. However, with the additional Oomph, Jeanne's shoe went flying high into the air, hit the light fixture and broke it. No surprise. We all could have counted on that happening.

I've noticed another little thing about Jeanne since all this happened; She, who would complain whenever I or our other sister would let loose with a swear word, has developed a 'potty mouth.' Today, she dropped the phone while we were talking.

"Oh shit."

Wow, That took me a little aback. A few minutes later..
"Oh shit, I did it again."

Hmmm.

"Jeanne, why are you swearing?"

"I keep dropping the fucking phone."

"Jean! You are swearing! I don't think I've ever heard you say the F word before!"


"Well, guess what? I've been a closet curser for years!" She said.

"Well, back atcha." I said, " Fucking A!!!!!"

We both laughed.

"I love you, Beej."

"I love you, too, Jean-A-Bean."

It was a good conversation.


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@2


I've been writing about my one sister but there are actually three of us and we are all equally as close to one another. I'll write about my other sister eventually. She's had the most interesting life of all of us.








Saturday, October 9, 2010

Happy Birthday John Lennon

You would have been 70 years old today. That makes 30 years of music that the world lost with a single shot fired from the gun of a lunatic.

There is nothing we can do about that..nothing except to celebrate your birth because we may have lost years of music but for 40 years we had you among us, making a difference, teaching us that all we really need, is love.

Happy birthday John.

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