Sunday Scribblings

Writing

I never was a good student. During grammar school I had the misfortune of having two exceptional and amazing scholars in my class and try as I may, I never could get the best of them. Since the class size was only 12 students and for the most part remained so for the eight years, I believe this microcosm twisted my view of the real world. Therefore, I never gave much effort to excel. In my small private high school (once again, I was one student in a class of only 120) I found myself thrust among four Merit Scholarship Finalists. I was already well on the path that if I could not be Top Dog (though back then, Top Cat would be more apropos)then I was not going to try very hard.

Home work was completed during Home Room and study hall. If I had not studied enough for a History or Social Studies class, I faked an illness. I had to have an algebra tutor. I copied my Latin assignments from my BFF Laura. In other words, I was a nightmare for teachers. Not that different from the majority of my classmates.

There are certain moments of High School I remember. Tiny vignettes of people and place. Smoking in the bathroom, skipping classes and getting caught, detention class after school, riding the bus to downtown where I would have to ride the Greyhound Bus the last 12 miles home, being on a panel with Jose discussing transcendental philosophy, Latin class with Father S. who drove a Hot Rod and was very handsome and all of us girls shook our heads at the waste, the nun who was the librarian we called Rat, decorating homeroom doors, having the biggest crush in the history of crushes on the Dog.

The most vivid still holds certain emotions that are stirred. In Junior Year I found myself in a creative writing class. For perhaps the first and only time in the four years of my high school experience, I gave it my all. I was inspired by something that has happened to someone I knew that summer. I took his reality and experience and gave it the voice of a 12 year old girl.

Mrs. F sat at her desk and began to read the best of our efforts. She read two of them and paused before beginning the third and final. The best of the best.

I began to hear my words being read aloud by someone else. "It happened this summer, when the days were becoming so hot the tar was bubbling on the road......"

I was terrified and shamed for some unexplained reason. In my totally freaked out state I tried to glance around the class room. Mrs. F. had every ones attention. Hanging on her words, my words. And at the end, my pal Bonnie was crying.

Crying.

"I'm going to be a writer" I vowed to myself.

Thirty some odd years later I sit here at my key board and wonder if....if I had pursued a writing career. If I had taken my life a little bit seriously, not a lot, just a little and talked to someone. Maybe someone then would have directed me towards journalism.

Instead, here I sit, still slightly terrified at people reading what I write.

How I Spent My Summer

There definitely is something different in the air. Perhaps it is the softening of the light. The shorter days. The magnificent sunsets. The children standing on the corner across the street from our home waiting on the bus. The familiar sound from oh so long ago, "BUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS". No relief from the heat yet, but the cooler mornings hint of things to come.

The past three months have flown by and I remember them as a blur of activity. The last month I spent an enormous amount of time at my parents house helping out with things. Routine is the word of the day, every day in my Mothers home. When it was 2pm, it was nap time and subsequently quiet time for all.

One afternoon found me without a book. Now that is actually an oxymoronic statement seeing that I was in my mothers house. She is a retired librarian and the house is loaded with books. Yet, I found myself insistent on finding a biography of Beryl Markham she was reported as having. What a chore as I scoured all the book cases in the house twice and could not lay my hand on it.



"The garage!" I though in inspired desperation.

I did not find the book, but I did find stashed on the bottom shelf of her storage area (left side!!) a large box of old National Geographic.

I am addicted. I have read a multitude of them almost cover to cover except for the bug stuff, it does not interest me. The very first one I picked up was dated late 1970's and was explaining the cyclic nature of weather. It seems that we were on the end of a very cold 50 years! Amazing stuff.

I have read the 1953 issue (amazingly an unadorned black and white cover with a gold border) about the first men to set foot on the top of Mt. Everest, Sir Edmund Hillary and a local from Napal named Tanzeng Norgay. It was fascinating stuff and furthered my passion for reading ALL OF THEM!

Sunken treasure outside Bermuda (1964), Saudi Arabia (1966), Robert Redford (1976) retracing the footsteps of Butch Cassidy over the west and meeting the real Butch's sister! Could St. Brenden have discovered the Americas 600 years before anyone else in a boat made from hides? Well, some Irishmen reenacted the route and by God the answer would be yes! New Orleans (1971) still recovering from Hurricane Camille in the area and at that time an alarm was spoken about the Ninth Ward. Eskimo's in Canada.

When I was a kid my Mom received two magazines in the mail, Time and National Geographic. I recall turning the pages and being in awe of all the natural beauty in the world. I vividly remember an article about a 17 year old kid making a solo journey around the world in a sail boat. I remember a cat as his only companion.

Oh the places you'll go!

This summer found me in Sweden, Norway, Egypt, Ireland, Morocco, Saudi Arabia, Chile, Bermuda and many more.

And I never left my Mom's living room.

And that's how I spent my summer.

Beauty of the Bounty

I am really stoked today. Lot's of good things happening.

The best thing being that I have finally cracked the CSA club and gained admission! CSA stand for Community Suppported Agriculture and in a nutshell, you pay in advance for a weekly share of the bounty!

I could not locate a CSA in Ft Wayne. That does not mean one does not exist, it means I could not hunt it down.

On Wednesday I will receive my first "box". I can not wait!

The $59,000 Car

At least it was 20 years ago. Our new addition to the fleet.

Joe's new toy.

The Sonata is mine, all mine!!

Fascinating Stuff

So, I was visiting with my Aunt yesterday, the one with the fractured pelvis. Thankfully, she was recovered and healed enough to return to her apartment in downtown Lexington.

We are sitting in her small living room just getting settled when she asks me, "So what have you been doing lately that is fascinating?"

Why this questions takes me by surprise I don't know, but it did. Maybe because there is nothing fascinating I am doing lately!!

The image that leaped into my mind were my adopted rose bushes, the 21 damn bushes I have been trying to keep alive this horrid, torrid, breathless, over powering, arid summer. I have now have had roses thrust upon me three times from three different gardens. Some may say roses are easy to grow, but take it from me, they are not. I have fooled around with them all summer long. Through Japanese beetles, black spot, yellow leaves, under watering, over watering, dead heading and cutting back. Now as I am entering into the end of the summer I breath a sigh of relief.

Next year I will begin in April and not mid-June!

Look at my poor garden gloves. These are my third pair of the summer - granted I have tended two gardens, one here and the other in Ft. Wayne - I realize I need to spend more on garden gloves.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

I reminisce about the sleep of my childhood. Those nights that began with such difficulty not wanting to end an adventurous action packed day. Tossing and turning punching the pillow creating day dreams that would ease into sleep, my boyfriend would be Sugarfoot or Dr. Kildare. They would be older but would see the potential blossom of sultriness that lay ahead.

Then the sleep of the dead.

I can't buy a night of uninterrupted sleep. Well, maybe I could, maybe I should.

Awake at 2am and then the worrying begins....

My parents

My daughter

Finances

Job situation

IRS

Cancer

My husbands job situation ...........


Sleep returns in time but is once again interrupted around 4am and the worries and anxieties begin again.

Where are those "day dreams" that transfer to night dreams? I can't conjure up a one.

Where is Sugarfoot when you need him?

You Wanna Ramble

Ahhhh, another photo from the past. This is the brood (sans Omega, she must have been an infant at the time). What I have found the most interesting about these photo's is how I remember all these dresses! This was a white number, lace overlay, with scalloped edges and had tiny blue ribbons around the neck line. I loved it and at the time of this wearing, I was growing out of it! Look at those shoes, I loved them too. I was not allowed high heels and these flats were so cute. I believe I tried to die them pink and ruined them.

We were on vaca and were visiting relatives in NYC and area. This is taken in front of Grandma's house in the Bronx. It was a small house and I marvel that my Mom shared a room with her two sisters. They slept in the same bed. My Aunt M. says my Mom's feet were always in her face! When we spent the night we were allowed to "camp out" on the screened front porch. I remember vividly watching a black and white movie about a Mummy and being scared to death all night long.

Sweet memories.

We are on vaca for the next eight days. We are going to Cincinnati for a few days, catch a Red's game, visit the Aquarium, revisit all the old haunts on the Kentucky Side.

That is if I go. I have been spending a lot of time at Mom's house helping out, spending the night. This all has been brought on by my Aunt who lives very close by, falling and fracturing her pelvic bone. Mom is trying to take care of Dad and Auntie M. It is too much for her and us kids are trying to relieve some of the stress.

Bridget and I have taken her wedding dress to a consignment shop and they have given it the place of honor in the display window. I drove by the other day and the sun was causing the tiny jewels in the tulle skirt to sparkle. I teared up.

I have started to look for a job and had an interview the other day. He was a professional head hunter for this company. Wow. I was not prepared and as usual, was way too honest. But, practice will make perfect or at least help me realize that I have to get better at putting a spin on the truth.

I'm really thinking that I may not pursue another stressful job, but seek something totally different. Go in a different direction.

I died my hair ....again.... this time a less dramatic shade of dark brown. It looks great, (thank you Gayle). I was early for the interview and spent a few minutes in Barnes and Noble. Before heading off I stopped in the bathroom and when I looked in the mirror I thought, "Wow...you look great!" Nice feeling.

Bought my first Moleskine journal. I went to several of the larger bookstores but they were not to be found! I finally located on at a small independent book store on Bardstown Road. It is now tucked in my purse and at ready.

My yard is a wreck. My house is a wreck. I borrowed my brothers car over the week-end and upon returning it my nephew took me home. I invited him in for the tour and as I was leading him around I saw the house through his eyes. My God!! I need to mow the lawn, even though we have had little rain, it has an unkempt look. But, the roses are in bloom and look stunning.

As I said, just a ramble.

"Across the Milky Way..."

Sitting at Omega's kitchen table Sunday morning, a cup of java at near and a donut in the other hand leisurely reading the Lexington Herald Leader (love that paper) and coming across the printing of the top ten books of all time, submitted by us! the readers.

I shuddered at some of the books on the list. Yuck. But one mans Yuck is another favorite.

So here is my Yuck list.... (after number one, in no particular order)

1) To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. I have read this book over and over and never tire of it. Wonderful read, wonderful story, wonderful characters and a life lesson that all on the face of the earth need to be reminded of every so often.

2) Prodigal Summer, Barbara Kingsolver. Made me want to return to school and study biology even though I was terrible at it the first two times...(sort of). Three stories intertwined in the same area of the Appalachian mountains.

3) The Magic Bus: An American Odyssey - Douglas Brinkley. Made me want to go out and discover America on a literary tour and write about it. Darn, already been done.

4) Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand. When I read this in High School I realized I had a brain if I could understand and enjoy a book of this scope and magnitude. It made me seek out thick books. The thicker the better.

5) Any Human Heart - Wm Boyd. This book was suggested to me by a friend I met at AOL-J-Land (who has since disappeared ) because it was a study in one mans life. Wonderful wonderful wonderful. I cried at the end for a long time.

6) The Story of Live Dolls - My all time favorite book as a child that I would check out of the library over and over and dream and wish and pray that my dolls would come to life.

7) Into the West - Berly Markham. A companion to Out of Africa only in the sense that both were written by women in Africa at the same time, seemingly in love with the same man, and knew each other. A absolutely stunning book. Prose at its best.

8) Under the Tuscan Sun - Frances Mayes. This book opened my eyes to the wonder genre of travel writing. I read it a long time ago, way before the movie. I looked forward to watching to movie on DVD and when I finally got my hands on it I could not go beyond the first 20 minutes as it was such a detour from the book. Anyway, I loved the book and it set me off on an insatiable quest to read all nonfiction travelogue books about Italy. Thank you Frances.

9) The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafron. 500 pages that I could not put down! A sheer delight of a story, plot, characters, and story telling. I did not want this book to end even though I rushed through the final chapters to the conclusion of one of the best stories I have ever read!

10) Travels with Fortune - Christina Dodwell - This book began my love affair with all books African thus kicking open the door about a zillion African books. This lady, (English)when she was a tender 20 something (late 60's early 70's), went to Africa and boated down the Congo with another English girl. When her traveling buddy decided to return home and get married..Christina forged ahead on a horse named Fortune! She was alone with a tent and a horse! Unbelievable and wonderful.

I could never have a top ten list and not include Gone with the Wind, which I did. I love that book too, but have included most books I have recently read or totally impacted my reading habits.

Any one else got a top ten best book list?

P.S. - Seabiscuit by Laura Hillenbrand -

I'm not a Very Good Blogger Anymore

In preparing for the family reunion the other weekend I put together many photo albums bursting with pictures that spanned 10 decades. I ran across many snap shots that I had never seen before like the one above. It was one of a group of three shots. As I examined it searching for some hint of who the heck it could be the realization that it was my Dad's mother caused me to gasp out loud. She is the demure long haired nymph with the cap on the left. I flipped the photo over and sure enough, "Molly, 1920".

She is so lovely.

I've written about "Nana" before.

It seems I've written about everything "before". I am running out of stuff and my life is so boring right now there is nothing worth documenting on these pages.

I get up in the morning and every day seems like a Saturday. This whole summer seems like a Saturday that never ends! At first it was very cool and a lot of fun. Now I am in total alarm at how I have wiled away the summer and still, still have unpacked boxes in the garage.

I realize with a reluctant flash of self awareness, (because the Irish are impervious to analysis)(which always reminds me of the time a therapist told me I was one of the most totally "un-aware of self" personalities she had ever encountered...?), that I need to find a job so that my life resumes a type of sorely needed rhythm.

So, until I emerge from this fog, all I got are pictures of the past.

Circa 1970

I really shouldn't title this post "circa" because I know exactly it is July 1970. My two brothers are on their way to NYC (this use to be they way you boarded a plane!!) to meet up with my Auntie M. and then on their way to Europe for two weeks. One week in Paris, the second in London.

I was to go. I was invited.

I said, "No thanks, I'd rather spend this summer with my friends."

Do I remember a thing from my summer of 1970? Actually I do. It is the summer I went hog wild and ran with Susie. I spent the summer riding around in her black Bug, neither of us with a license. (hence my header, because I loved that Black Beetle and the adventures that went with it).....

Yet, I think I made a big mistake. Looking at this picture I envy those two kids who hold those memories of theatre in London and standing in front of the masterpieces of the Louvre. I wonder if my life would have been changed. I wonder if I would have developed a different perspective of the world. Would I have realized, that summer, that I lived in a small fish bowl and the world was a large ocean with possibilities that boggle my small town mind.

Instead, I insulated myself in the dramas of a 17 year old readying herself to be a senior in High School.

I missed out on the chance of a life time.

I traded it for a handful of memories and experiences that molded my life. It could have been a different set of experiences.

If I had to do it all over again (knowing what I know today) I would be in that picture with my brothers getting ready to board that plane. I would have been the one in a dress...a very short dress.

Dial "M" for Mom

Last night my phone rang around 830pm. It was my daughter B. just wanting to talk. I knew this phone call would come sooner or later on Sunday, as the rent is due. And...blah blah blah, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

And it was in the middle of Big Brother. Now, I don't know if I love or hate Evil Dick. I think I love him. And I know that I think Eric is kind of squirrely but I guess you would have to be to go along with the crazy twist CBS thought up for this season to keep us watching. With all that being said, I use to hate Jen but now I feel like everyone in the house has a bee up their bonnet for her just because she is different. And kind of ....dare I say it...real.

Anyway, I am in the middle of BB and I tell Bridget I will call her back. The aggravation can wait.

I honestly thought she would call me back (as usual).

But she didn't.

Around 945pm the phone rings, I glance at caller ID, it's her.

"Hello" I say in the most drone voice I can muster, and immediately I felt bad knowing the kid is having a hard time and it's hard for her to ask me to help her out and answering the phone in that tone of voice would hurt her feelings.

There was a long hesitation on the other end and finally, "Hello...." A male voice...."I know this is going to sound crazy, but I am at the Magnolia Bar at 2nd and Magnolia, I went outside to smoke a cigarette and saw this phone in the middle of the road."

"It's my daughter's phone! I bet it flew off the top of her car!"

"So, I thought I would call and try and get it returned."

I said something like, "That is so kind of you."

He said, "I guess I could mail it to her, or someone could ...."

"Where are you again, 4th and Magnolia?"

"Second and Magnolia, at the Mag Bar."

"Would it be safe to leave it at the bar until I can get it tomorrow?"

He yells, "Hey Mike, can I leave this phone behind the bar until tomorrow?....he says sure, it will be okay."

"What is your name?"

"Ben."

"Ben, you are an angel. I don't know how to thank you enough."

"You're welcome. I was stationed in the Navy in San Diego and lost my phone. Some person found it and called my Mom in Louisville and mailed it to her. So, I saw this phone in the the road and thought....hell, it's time to pay it forward."

Like a dummy, I did not ask him for his last name nor phone number so Bridget could thank him.

She is going to go talk to Mike and see if she can connect with him that way.

And by the way......yes she did need to talk to me about an advance for her rent....I KNEW IT!!

Dear Anonymous

What happened to my veil of anonymity?

Isn't the Internet suppose to be so huge that you can be virtually lost forever in here?

One of my friends (hi Gayle!) told me that he husband thought I was taking big risks by revealing so much about myself on this blog.

I draw the line at totally blurting out my real name!!

MM, you are going to have to send me your e-mail address. Mine is in the "about me" section.

I remember you but I'm trying to remember who your close friends were (besides Doug), but I know that we attended the same parties hosted by Don Fawn (did I spell that right?) at Wildcat Bay during those endless summers of the mid-70's. (didn't every body?).

ALWAYS WITH THE DRAMA

This is the week-end we have been anticipating for months. The big Family Reuion to celebrate my Mom's 80th birthday (a month early, but who cares)(She calls it her Un-Birthday Party).

I have been pouring over family photographs to put together a montage for the event tomorrow. I think they came out fairly well. There were literally thousands and thousands of photo's to choose from. In addition to the two picture boards, we have assembled several photo albums.

A beautiful life expressed in pictures.

But, this gathering of relatives from far and wide is not without its share of difficulties.

My Aunt arrived a week early to "help out". It has been ..... there is not way to say anything delicate about the upheaval in my Mom's home since her arrival. Thank God, my brother from NYC also is in my parents home, so perhaps it is not as bad as it first appears.

Yet, there is plenty of drama. My Aunt is at the age where she holds nothing back when she has an opinion.

And she is very prone to throwing people under the bus.

Yesterday it was my turn, and when I arrived at the homestead to continue with the various odds and ends associated with getting a 2000 sq. foot house in order to receive 50+ relatives and friends, an eerie silence greeted me.

The Angel (Dad's care taker) was hanging laundry on the clothes line in the back yard. Immediately I knew something was afoot because she always will run to greet me. I entered the house from the garage and my Mother was sitting at the kitchen table in a trance like posture, going through "papers".

"Aunt M. is in the bedroom, she has been ill all night. Go see if she is alright."

"Okay, as soon as I haul in all this stuff."

"M. landed into "The Angel" this morning about the bathroom. She said that you said she should be cleaning it daily." (Ooooppppps, yes I did and I had purchased a very easy, light sponge mop that would make swabbing the deck several times a day simple and efficient....). "She was vicious in her attack on "The Angel". She said that with her nursing back ground, she should know how to clean a bathroom. "The Angel" has been crying all morning. She loves Aunt M. and has taken this very hard."

OMG.

The day before I had about been asphyxiated throwing Clorox on the bathroom floor trying to rid the small area of the smell that accompanies my fathers infirmity. I thought I was going to die. My eyes were watering and I was breathing the fumes as I furiously scrubbed the tiles. I thought I was harming my lungs and worried about it rest of the day. (my family has a tremendously long history of horror stories involving lung mishaps). Then Joe reminded me of the time in Cancun after the hurricane when he dumped a bucket of bleach on his head thinking it was water. He assured me that if he could survive that I would survive my small (in comparison)brush with danger.

I hugged The Angel and just mumbled that I heard her heart had been broken. "She's old" is all she said as she entered the house.

Anyway, things shifted yesterday for The Angel. More about her at another time.

When she left for the day, Aunt M emerged from the bed room feeling much better and she and I began to go through the multitude of photographs and she seemed happy. She tried to engage me in conversation about The Angel and what had transpired that morning.....I just blew it off. I will have to mend the bridges with The Angel next week.

But, the truth is the truth. That bathroom needs to be cleaned several times a day!

Today is Bridget's birthday and I have offered to buy her a new outfit for the party tomorrow. So far, she has not called me yet to commence shopping. How unlike her!!

Family arriving to the Louisville airport all day long!

Party Alert Tonight.

Family...Stronger than Dirt

My daughter came across the river for a visit yesterday and brought her laundry. All 200 pounds of it. She left around midnight and I got up around 3am and am finishing it up for her...I am on the third load.

When I say it was a mountain of laundry, I do not exaggerate. She defended herself by saying she hates a laundry mat, that the laundry room in her last apartment was nasty, that she spent $15 at the laundry mat because those dryers eat money!

Naturally it reminds me of me when I was that age. I hated the laundry mat too, and I swear, I would go through every item of clothing I owned before making the long trek to the washers and dryers. I thought I had hit the big time when ever I was able to live in an apartment that included a W&D.

We also dyed her hair. I should have examined the box a little bit closer when I picked it up as a surprise for her today. It is not disastrous or anything, but it looks nothing like the picture on the box. She looks great though despite the mess up.

My kitchen is torn up, my detergent is low, my water bill will be high....but the day is priceless.

If I were a Tourist Visiting the Bluegrass...

If I were to spend one day in Central Kentucky I would be certain to hook up with a Horse Farm Tour Company. Central Kentucky is the heart of the Thoroughbred Industry and if one is lucky enough to visit this piece of heaven on earth, having a tour guide to take you to places the average Joe is not allowed is a must.

I believe they are several hours long and will take you to the farms, a trip through downtown, and a stop at Keeneland.

If you decide to do the tour on your own, you have to go to the Keeneland Horse Track. It is so beautiful, it will stay with you forever and every other horse track will pale in comparison. I believe there are horses there year round training in early morning, when the heat is low. I know the kitchen and gift shop are open year round. You may even catch some horse sales in the summer. Racing is only in April and October, the season being only three weeks each.

If you do not want to stray far from I-75, you can hop off at the Kentucky Horse Park expect to stay all day taking in all the exhibits and checking out all the activities. Man-O-War is buried there and a magnificent statue of the Greatest Horse that ever raced graces his grave. Lot's of horse activities going on there all the time, horse shows, jumping competition, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

If you are adventurous and want to see the second most famous industry in Kentucky, you can take tours of the Bourbon Distilleries in the area, Wild Turkey, Four Roses, Buffalo Trace, Woodford Reserve, Jim Beam, Heaven Hill, and the crème de la crème of all bourbons, Markers Mark.

Another fabulous place of interest and not to be missed is the Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill. It is outside Lexington, going down a most beautiful country highway about 30 miles out into God's Country on the Kentucky River. The village has pretty much been restored to its original simple beauty. Local artisans are on hand creating furniture, candles, glass, brooms (there is nothing that can compare to a Shaker broom) and other items of interest in the Shaker way. The food is beyond delicious at the restaurant (I use to be a waitress there after my first year in college and I gained 10 pounds on the corn bread, lemon pie, and squash casserole). It is a step back in time.

Since you are close, you may as well go see Old Ft. Harrod . When we were kids and our cousins would visit us from the North, we would always include a trip to the Fort. Why? Because they would enact Indian fights!!! I'm not certain if they still do this, but when I was kid, it was soooooo cool.

There is also Fort Boonesboro, made famous by the long running tv program in the 1960's...Daniel Boone!

Me? I would include a trip to the Lexington Cemetery because it is the most breathtaking landscaped place of rest in the area. Spectacular!



I would go to the Arboretum because I love it.

I would go to the downtown library and head downstairs to the Friends of the Library Book Cellar.

If I had the time, I would head to the Irish Acres Antique House located at Nonesuch in an old school house. I would have lunch there.

If I felt like it, I would head to Ashland, Henry Clay's home and tour the gardens and the mansion.

Then I would head to Hall's on the River for catfish and hot banana peppers.

And the trip would not be complete with out visiting the Joseph-Beth Booksellers at Lexington Green. This bookstore has grown over the years, but still maintains its unique style of presenting books .... friendly. There may be a zillion Borders and another zillion Barnes and Nobles, but first there was Jo-Beth and no one has been able to copy it yet.

I'd exhausted by now, and if I were younger I'd be ready to hit the night life. Maybe a movie at the last movie theater standing in downtown, The Kentucky Theater to see if the Troubadour Series was on and if not, to catch a movie.

Then after that, I would have a night cap at Cheapside Bar and Grill and maybe listen to some music and have a snack.

I'd be exhausted by now and have to be carried to the car.

"HOME IS A PLACE YOU GROW UP WANTING TO LEAVE,

..... and grow old wanting to get back to”
John Ed Pearce quote

Yesterday I went "home" to visit with Mom and Dad and help get the house in order for the big family reunion next month to celebrate my Mom's 80th birthday. Before heading to the house, I took a trip into Lexington because....I miss it.



Now I did not really "grow-up" in Lexington, though it was the big city we always went to for serious shopping. The Sears store use to be in downtown Lex and that was usually a destination. As was the Stewards, Wool Worth's, Wennekers Shoes , Wolfe Wiles. There were numerous movie theatres in downtown, and the McCory's, the music shop, the record shop, the bakery, art shop. You get the idea, this was the pre-Mall period.

Since I was sent to the Catholic High in Lexington (and not allowed to go to school with all my friends!)I went to the downtown area every afternoon to catch the Greyhound Bus for the ride home every afternoon for several years. I spent a lot of time hanging out downtown.

When I return, especially after this several year absence, the feeling of peace that comes over me is surprising. I think it is the most beautiful place on the face of the earth. All is right with the world. All the planets are aligned. All the little marbles are nestled in the holes.

The Malls did arrive in Lexington and the stores fled to survive.
Yet, what remained survived and today the downtown area is vibrant and always a destination for me when given the chance. I visit my favorite bookstore, the Friends of the Library Cellar, where books are donated in droves, as well as discarded library books. Years (and years) ago I felt this store was my private treasure, but now a days, every body knows and goes. Still, I can lay my hands on most everything. Yesterday I ran across "West with the Night" by Beryl Markham. I read this book earlier this year from the public library in Ft Wayne and I have to confess, I was tempted to not return it, claim I lost it, and pay the penalty. Now for $2.50 she is mine.

I timed it so I would arrive when the farmer Market would be in full swing. What started as a handful of local farmers and vendors on the intersection of Vine and Limestone has grown to two solid city blocks.

I went for the flowers.

SIDEWAYS IN INDIANA

Would you believe that Southern Indiana has a thriving, vibrant Wine Industry? According to the small winery we found, the land mimics the fertile French wine country as well as climate. Who would have thought! The very first ever winery in the United States, back when we were a colony, was in Indiana. Amazing. I checked her history and by-God, it was almost true. The very first winery was around Lexington, Ky and was a dismal failure. The gent moved the operation to Southern Indiana and using a local grape established the first "successful" winery and we are all better for it some 200 years later.

Joe and I decided that we would do our own trail of Wine this week. There are about 20 wineries within one hour of us, so off we went.

Finding Hubers in Starlight was a cinch, since it is only 20 minutes away from us. Look at those fabulous bottles. Once I got home and looked at the photograph did I realize how it the bottle resembles a star lit night! We bought a bottle of Peach Schnapps at Hubers and a bag (or two) of local produce and forged on to Hardinsburg, because it was the furthers out and I thought we would work our way back.

Naturally I brought along no directions, just a list of addresses and a mapquest map that loosely sketched out the area. I had a fleeting thought of grabbing my trusty Indiana Map (it saved my life numerous times in NE Indiana in my tenure up there), but I have no idea where it is now.

And I thought, like an innocent nincompoop, we have the Garmen.

Hardinsburg is only about 20 miles from Hubers in Starlight. Since I was the co-pilot, one of my jobs was to put the coordinates (aka addresses) in the garmen and then just follow the directions.

You would think that is easy. And in some ways, yes that is easy. Easy if you are on a superhighway and only have to get off at Exit 114 and go .........."end point two miles and turn left, turn left, turn left....recalculating"....... She always wants you to turn onto a one way street the wrong way, or on the on ramp to some highway also the wrong way, or to turn into the town dump because she thinks she knows some short cut obviously the indigenous Indians who first settles this area told her about.

I hate that bitch.

Joe mercifully turned off her power of speech (he has her powered up in an English accent, I guess being bossed around by someone with a slightly foreign accent is more acceptable than the regular computer generated vocals).

Unbeknowest to me, and I do believe he forgot, he also had the option of "avoid all highways" turned on.

It made for an interesting drive.

As I was waving the box around to try and reconnect with the satellite feed (we were deep in hilly country) we missed a turn and she had to recalculate. Not so bad, as we came upon one highway that was a straight stretch to the second winery. But, with all the drama of trying to reconnect, trying to figure out the "big picture" with the Garmin, I lost focus on where we were headed and was surprised as anyone when we passed the Corydon signs and continued on ending up crisscrossing the three streets that make up Hardinsburg looking for the winery road, with Joe supplying the musical accompaniment to the tune of "Deliverance".

It was closed! Dang it.

Back to Corydon to that winery. Back the way we came, though Joe insisted that I fire up that silly Garmin again and follow her route rather than just wing it with the map! We had nowhere to be, we had no time table and so I went along with this foolishness.

Man what a ride. At the time, it was unestablished that Joe had the "avoid major highways" function turned on. We went down, down, down into the country, off the divided two lane highways onto the unlined two lanes, off of those onto the single lane roads, and at times gravel roads. We even landed in a small rail road crossing type township and did a rubber band curve and headed back the way we came on the other side of the rail road track.

All in all, we panicked and then we found a major intersection and headed into town for the comfort and security of civilization. We found the information center with relative ease, she handed us a map of the county and highlighted the path to the Turtle Run Winery.

As it always happens, when we had emerged from the wilds of Southern Indiana, we were about 1/2 mile from the winery if we had just continued to follow that damn Garmen's instructions.

We had a great visit to the winery and the wine is fabulous. We purchased several bottles and headed home after a long day of adventure. Thanks to the map given us at the Information Center, we were about two miles from Interstate 64, and only 15 miles (give or take) from home.

Next time, I am taking the trusty Indiana map and to hell with Miss Garmen.

Shakespeare in the Park

Measure by Measure is not my favorite Shakespeare play. No, that would have to be Romeo and Juliet and I do not apologize for that. But when Joe said we could go out and do anything I wanted to do Saturday night, I immediately said, "Shakespeare!"

I sat on the bleachers later that evening, looking at the huge trees that surround the stage, surround us, and wondered exactly how much they had grown since the first time I was seated here, well over 30 years ago.

Odd, those little snippets of memory that remain lodged in our minds, those scrapbooks of still shots that make up a life. During the 1970's I see my brother and I driving up from Lexington to Louisville to meet up with my pal C. at Central park. I can see us sitting on grass left of the stage, on a red blanket.

I see myself during the 1980's dragging my daughter Bridget, who would have been five or six, to the plays. She typically was bored to distraction, but this particular play had sword fighting, and they fought not only on the stage but descended into the crowd and crossed swords in the aisle next to our seats. My feisty daughter jumped up and joined in the fight with an imaginary sword! I'll never forget the actor slightly turning his attention towards this tiny little girl with the blonde hair and swinging arms, smiling and nodding at her.

We were watching an interesting scene where a landlord from the village was accusing someone of running a house of ill repute when out of nowhere one of the local park residents entered the seating area yelling at the top of his lungs with a voice that rivaled the trained actors on stage.

"HUNGRY!!"

"HUNGRY!"

"HUNGRY!"

Over and over he repeated himself as he walked to the center of the seating area and plunked down on an empty bench surrounded by .....us.

"Us" who were frantically avoiding eye contact and acting as if nothing were strange and unusual. He was two rows in front of us, and several benches over.

"TELL BUSH A BUM IS HUNGRY!!!! TELL BUSH!!"

I began to wonder if he was going to stop the show or become violent. I worried for nothing, as he got up after 30 seconds into his soliloquy and began to leave the area. Still over powering the actors with this accusation and message to Bush, he stumbled and knocked over a bench. Those sitting behind the bench immediately leaped forward to catch it. It was the only recognition he received from any of us. He began to apologize to those closest, "Sorry, sorry".

As he righted the bench then righted himself he continued his departure, my attitude of alarm gave way to sorrow. I had no money on me, and neither did Joe. I wanted to reach out and shake his hand and palm him a few dollars, but I had nothing.

"BUSH, BUM, HUNGRY" he chanted as he left the area and began to walk back into the recesses of the park, two wary security personnel of the Shakespeare production following him at a respectable distance as he circled the stage. He faded away into the evening, traces of his accusations lingering lightly in the cool night.

My attention focused on the stage production again. As soon as it was intermission, we left.

I had such a heavy heart.

It seemed there was more drama and emotion in the audience than on the stage that evening. At least for me.

Silent Summer

What is the coolest thing about not working is ...not working. I spend countless hours surfing the net (does anyone say that any more?) and watching Netflix movies, and generally doing nothing. It's great.

I have a feeling it is not going to last much longer as I am beginning to feel guilty about it. Until then, I shall continue to waste time.

My most recent time waster began this morning when I wandered out to the 21 rose bushes to dead head them and discovered in the several days I have not tended to them the dreaded Japanese Beetles have come calling.

It is so gross! I began collecting them in a jar to pulverize them and then spray their diluted remains back on the plants. The damage is beyond trying Organic Gardening recommendations that I read 20 years ago and it stuck with me until this moment when I can use it.

But first, I rushed out and purchased a bag of bug killer which I shall use and feel terrible about it. But, I will force myself in the name of the Roses, those poor defenseless innocent roses.

I'm going to do the bug solution on the back bush that they seem to find as delicious as a French Restaurant in Paris.

You Had to Be There

So family seems to be my big theme this summer. Spending the long long week end in Norris Lake was just the beginning. This has been followed by spending the 4th of July with the Joe family.

If I were an artist I'd include a map that would show you how we got to the 50 acre farm that Joe's brother and SIL recently purchased and renovated. Instead, I'll just drive you down there with a mental picture. You head out of town and dive right into horse country heading down towards Kentucky River on a two lane country road. Around five miles or there abouts, you begin the descent into the Palisades. Deep gorges, wet springs gushing down limestone, dark holes that could be caves, and the limestone cliffs that jump out at you as you steer the curvy tight road down...down....down into the lush river area. You have to drive on guard, animals are everywhere, deer, turkey buzzards, raccoons and the occasional loose dog. Then, back up the Palisades until you stumble across an even smaller road where you make a left and once again begin to head down, past the 7 Spring Creek crossroad, up a hill and by-God, you're there!

What's great is you have actually arrived at the end of the earth! And in such a place, you can do just about anything you want to do. We chose to strap the babies in very large ATV's and drive all over the farms ridges looking for deer! The children love it. I wish you could see how adorable the most adorable grand child in the world looked throwing kisses at us as she took off with Grandpa (hahahahah). (I can't get over him being a Grandpa...don't ask what that makes me!)

At the ends of the earth there was a grand fireworks display taking place on the other side of the hill. We climbed to a great spot on our hill to watch the celebration.

I am not kidding when I tell you we are in the middle of no where. I had a great time with my head thrown back watching the sky and being able to pick out satellites traveling across the universe and shooting stars. The night sky is so beautiful when you are not distracted by city lights.

This fire work action went on forever. So long, the children became tired and wanted to return to the house and the refrigerator that was loaded up with Popsicles.

We adults said things to each other such as, "Should we make a beer run?" "Can you believe this?" "Ohhhhhhh.....ahhhhhhhhhhh". "Wow!" "This is the grand finale, it has to be!' "This is the grande finale." "This has got to be the grand finale" "Do you think this is the grand finale?" and finally, "What do you think?"...."I think Grand Finale."

It was hysterical and we laughed and behaved accordingly.

And when it really was finally The Grand Finale, we did not move for a long time, afraid to even think it could be, that if anyone actually said, "Grand Finale" out loud, another batch of explosives would be ignited.

It was so funny, but I guess you had to be there.

Dear Ringo,

Are you who I think you are?

Touch of Gray

I survived. To live another day.

You would think as much as I longed to come home, prayed for it, hoped and dreamed that once I got here (almost) I would have countless stories and anecdotes. And I do! But I seem rusty with the writing, like I feel rusty with the camera.

The best way to conquer a problem is to just tackle it. Right?

Do good fences make good neighbors? I am totally use to having a privacy fence. I am totally use to the kids who use to live next to me in FW banging on the door and asking permission to go into my back yard to retrieve a ball etc. etc. etc. The kid even asked if he could use the un-used bike in the shed. (of course I said yes and even wanted to leave it with him, but somewhere I have these grandiose ideas that I will exercise with it someday). Now I have a bunch of hooligans who run thorough my back yard as a cut through to the next street all day and half the night. Last night they were in my back yard doing God knows what, examining my jar of caught june bugs which I am going to pulverize and then dilute with water and spray all over the plants they are chewing up! WTF? Aren't kids suppose to be glued to their computers and X-box games? I opened the back door and said, "Do you all play back here?" maybe it was in a menacing voice, all I wanted was for them to ask permission and I would have said yes, instead they ran off!! A gang of about five of them, next door neighbor and his/her toadies ranging in age (and I guess) from four to twelve.

I wanted a privacy fence anyway, for the garden opportunity and I'll admit it, for the privacy!

To distract myself from the kids running through my back yard under the cloak of night, I decided to dye my hair since it's about five weeks and the roots are getting out of hand.

My hair has steadily been turning red under the sunlight and effects of previous dye jobs. Now, I have always had very very dark hair, chestnut brown my Mother called it. Not black, but almost. Irish hair. So I get a box of dark brown thinking it will be cool!

Holy S***. I have very light skin and naturally a reddish tan, exacerbated by the rash I encountered while spraying the 21 rose bushes with some sort of fungal black spot destroyer. I look like a washed up, washed out Irish bag woman.

After a great nights sleep (thanks to several slugs from the bottle of NyQuil placed strategically by the bed side) I wake up and walk out on a totally drenched carpet outside closet housing the water heater, water softener and air conditioner. Holy S*** again!

Joe has taken off for Central KY to meet up with the kids, while I wait for the plumber. He came and it is not the water that is causing the problem, its the AC. Somewhere in the corners of my mind, I knew it was the AC after the AC Incident in Miami (when the ceiling came down ....I should have had my money refunded, I forgot all about that!!)

Good thing, no charge from the Plumber for the call.

Cool.

He must have felt bad for me because of the hair.

Mommieeeeee......

I am sick sick sick. Which is kind of funny, because I was never once sick while living in NE IN. It was a joke that maybe only I got. When ever I wanted off early (which you always had to plead your case to the Big Guy) I'd just include that I have never had a sick day unlike my fellow co-workers who were sick all the time.

Some type of twisted irony is about.

I may have to go to an emergency treatment center tomorrow if I still do not feel better. I think I have walking pneumonia. Maybe a strep throat. We'll see.

As I lay in bed unable to sleep and watching endless CNN and KET programs dozing in and out of sleep I wished for my Mommy and the good old days.

If we were ill, feigned or real, we were confined to our bed room and in bed. This was yesteryear, when no room had a tv. computer or anything remotely entertaining except for the radio and books.

The menu for the invalid never varied, chicken noodle soup, crackers, and hot tea served with sugar and milk. Ginger ale for upset stomach. This was delivered to you on a tray, brought to you by a sibling or if it was a school day, your Mother. You'd sit up, prop pillows behind you, tuck your book away and balance the precarious tray on your lap.

If you were really sick, the fever kind, you had a bowl of ice water and alcohol beside the bed and a wash rag soaked and wrung out, placed across your forehead. To this day, nothing is as soothing to me as this old remedy to lower body temperature.

Doctors actually came to your house back then!! Old Doc Parrott, who was old when I was a kid, was the last of his kind. He looked like a parrott. He would come up to the bedroom, take his stethoscope out of his bag and listen to your chest, tap around on your back, check your eyes and ears and then announce your diagnosis.

He missed my brothers once, who had appendicitis, Doc Parrot called it a stomach virus. My brother ended going through a very rough time with that mis-diagnosis!

It was around that time Old Doc Parrrot retired.

When you stayed home from school, you were never alone. My sisters were much younger and constantly under foot when I was in High School. Yet, they made good servants taking care of my every need. Refilling my ginger ale, the ice-alcohol bowl, or just climbing in bed with me for company as I read fan magazines aloud to them.

I want my Mommieeeeeeeeeeee.

The Thing You Do

I just read this in the past 24 hours, "The way you do one thing is the way you do all things". I think the wording is incorrect but the thought is there.

I have given it a lot of thought since reading it. I have been out in the yard fighting back the weeds that have taken over the garden after years of neglect. It's meticulous work beginning with the tallest most obvious weeds, then working on the smaller more invasive kind that have spread entirely over the mulch their roots entrenched under the black ground cover hidden beneath.

Do I attack every chore, every job, every task with such methodical fervor?

I had someone helping me spruce up the house in Ft Wayne to ready it for market. They shall remain un-named. I noticed that when they did not enjoy a task they were assigned, they swept through the job as quickly as possible, regardless of the results. I found myself on the clean-up committee! The cement spread in the cracks in the driveway....I smoothed them over and made them presentable. I took the power washer and cleaned the house and driveway area after the Gutter Cleaning Incident.

I think back on many times when I had goal that I had to achieve and the work itself was mundane and mindless. How I would figure out a way to do it quickly and .... methodically....get it over with fast.

I think the gardening is Zen-like in the comfort and satisfaction it gives me.

The opportunity to allow my mind to explore while my fingers pull tiny weeds from an endless supply.

A little bit of this, a dash of that

Joe is off getting a hair cut, so I am able to stop going through the mountain of boxes in the garage. It was hard to look busy and focused for such a long period. Actually opening the boxes is a bit like the old Forrest Gump analogy about the box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get. Surprise, surprise! I finally found the top part of the blender. Thank God.

I also worked on the garden. A trip to the closest nursery netted me some 50% off terra cotta pots and one beautifully glazed Roman Blue pot. I have to go back, one pot was not discounted!

Tomorrow I take the daughter out job hunting. Hopefully we will find her something that will offer her benefits. Maybe a house-keeping gig. Maybe hotel work. Anything to help that child get off my payroll.

Speaking of payrolls, I did not receive the compensation due me for the vacation and personal days I did not take. That riles me. I hope I was not screwed out of them because I would have liked nothing better than to have not worked up until moving day. Well, almost. It certainly felt like it.

I love not having to go to work. I absolutely love it. The stress that I have learned to live with is gone. Kapoot! I noticed it while driving to Tennessee. I feel so much better. Not that I felt sick, or run down while I was working....just stressed about things. And its gone.

I wake up in the middle of the night and think, "I need to find a job!" then I roll over and go back to sleep.

It's great.

I have been thinking, just a little because I have so much to do at the moment with all those boxes in the garage and the job hunting support I am giving my daughter...I have been thinking that when I decide to go job hunting, I am going to do something I love.

I may even go back to school for a quick 9 month degree, could be even quicker since I have a BSBA already.........

And Omega is ready to hang up corporate life and become an entrepreneur. I should be doing research for "us". It would be so cool to run a business with her.

Just what type???

Life is very fun and interesting at the moment.

Me and my Monkey

I have to tell you the first time in four years of having an online journal and being separated from and distanced from the online community, I didn't care. I did not sweat trying to get on line with the dial up from the Lake House. I did not even think about it once. Not once.

Maybe I am cured.

Cured of what?

You know. I know you know. So, I guess for me, its four years. Suddenly that crevice is leaped over and life as it should be, maybe once was, resumes.

Blogging, or journaling (as we called it as AOL-J-landers) has been good for me. Actually it goes beyond good, it has made me a better person. Life, my life became an opportunity of circumstances to blog about. And so, I lived my life accordingly. I am, after all, the star of my Blog. I have to look good, be good. I could have been no-good and more than likely, certainly would have had a larger audience...yet, this is me, this is my life, my little piece of the world existence...and I have always been the good girl.

Well, most the time. There was that period from 1969 -1979.

Everybody's got something to hide except for me and my monkey.

Sweet relief.

BOOM BOOM (OUT GO THE LIGHTS)

Once again the clan gathers at the Lake House in Tennessee for a long-long weekend of family, friends, a birthday, water fights, Treasure Island, beer and coconut rum, charades, Napoleon Dynamite, sun, tubing, and sun screen. Did I mention beer and a ton of food and fun?

No fireworks. It rained on Saturday. The rain almost cancelled the tubing, but the kids toughed it out and tubed all over the lake. Sometimes in the rain.

But the rain cancelled out fireworks. Darn, the fireworks are the one of the best parts.

Kitsy-Boo and Trouble Maker were in charge of Treasure Island this year. They neglected to make arrangements ahead of time. This includes the making of a map, clues in the form of a pirate poem and of course, hide the pirate loot on Treasure Island.

They went into "town" on Friday and were gone from mid-morning til mid-afternoon. The loot was pathetic! A few rubber animals and a bunch of water balls, about the size of soft balls. These were hung in trees.

Now, the Treasure Hunt has morphed from the early years (we think this is the eight time we have gone down in nine years, we missed one year due to a wedding in the Lake House In Laws family)when it was called Dinosaur Island. Each year it has become bigger and more complicated. Omega's B-I-L made the most incredible map one year, complete with burnt edges and grimy from years floating on the Lake in a bottle to wash in the bay. It was detected by one sharp eyed adult and several kids piled into a canoe (with an adult) and retrieved the old bourbon bottle...(well, we are from Kentucky don't ya know). And they had to follow all the clues after boarding the boat and heading for Treasure Island!

Each year it becomes bigger and better.

One year a bottle of Sammy Hagar's tequila, Cabo Wabo was hidden as an adult "treasure" for the Birthday boy (it is my bro N's birthday, the day after the summer solstice)and one of the very young man-children found it and said, "oh stinky, just an old bottle!" and flung it away. My B-I-L K., who had purchased the delicious expensive elixir, screamed, "NOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and made a dive for it. Literally, he threw himself between the ground the the bottle and made an incredible catch.

I was not there to see it, but it is now legend.

This is the type of excitement that the kids are use to. After all these years, they stampede the dock, drag all the floatation devices into the water and immediately begin to ask about Treasure Island.

They waited patiently on the dock for their captain to arrive and once they cast off, the adventure was on!

They were back in less the 20 minutes, every face expressing the disappointment, but all good kids, not one word of dis-satisfaction was uttered. They showed us the loot from the pirate raid, the balls. Then they went to the house for lunch.

Omega looked at the pitiful pile of balls and said, "We can make a great game of this. We can make the kids get on the water trampoline and rafts. The adults can throw the balls at them. We can have one of them the target and have the others defend him. We will pick them off one by one until last man stands."

She did come up with something like that. Believe me.

When the kids returned we explained the game and into the water they went (after a good period of rest after lunch, trust me, there were a lot of Moms there). We practiced , then practiced some more. Suddenly, the game was on!

We threw the balls at them, they horded them, then a barrage of bullets with deadly aim made us scramble. The addition of butterfly nets made perfect ball retrievers. The game continued forever! Sides were swapped, some adults became helpers and went into the water and tossed balls to the kids on the floats and trampoline.

The TroubleMaker frolicked on the deck shaking his hiney at the kids, "You can't hit me, You can't hit me, You can't get me!" Boy did those kids love getting him.

Once we arrive down at Lake Norris we have an agenda. It includes Treasure Island. It includes the kids going tubing. It is celebrated with fireworks on Saturday night! And the much anticipated game of Charades.

We added another tradition this year, the Water Fight.

I swear, I never had so much fun! Well, not since I was a kid!


(a Pirate waiting patiently to go to Treasure Island)

Louisville 101

I still have 50 boxes to unpack, so I went out and paid a visit to the Antique dealer, Joe Ley. You have never seen anything like this place before in your life. It is fantastic. Full of everything you could possible desire. People come from far and wide to look through the loot housed in this three story building located on Market Street. Most notably, it is visited often by the folks from Hollywood looking for that certain something to adorn a set and make it perfect.


Since I am considering an outside living-type area, don't you think this would look grand?


I love this table. I did not check the price! maybe the next time. (like when I have a job).


I definitely need this in my garden.


The statues are spectacular. I could see they recently acquired the contents of a Catholic Church.


I would love these statues to adorn my front area!


This guy would give me a severe case of Clown-phobia.

Chirping with the Birdies

For the second morning in a row I am wide awake at 3am.

I have so much on my mind that I suppose a four to five hours sleep is okay as long as supplemented with a nap now and then. I have chosen to wear the mantle of worry not only during my waking hours but allowing it to slip into my slumber time. I naturally am worrying about money and being jobless. I am worried about the amount of boxes that lie in wait for me to open and spill their guts everywhere not certain where anything should go.

I worry about spending our small windfall of refunded closing costs on frivolous things because I have a hard time talking about financial matters with the now sole breadwinner.

His frivolous things. My wants are much more important such as hiring my brother, who has been doing this type of thing for over thirty years, to create bookshelves for the enormous front room. I am determined to not have my books confined to another storage building or the garage. He is not cheap. But I think I will get a family discount.

We need additional furniture. Actually I have been having a great time reading and looking through Architectural Digest and similar publications to broaden my ideas regarding decorating a home. The trend towards outdoor living space is intriguing! I mentioned to Joe that I was considering planting some trees (we have no shade in the back yard) and was met with....lets say, the reason I am not sleeping in a normal pattern is because it is times like these that you realize how polarized two people can be.

The house makes strange noises. I was awakened by some distinct roaring coming from the furnace and water heater closet. And their is a third large water containing looking thingie in there. It was the cause of the roaring. I have no idea what it is??

The garbage is supposedly collected in the morning, and needless to say, we have a mountain of garbage! No one has their garbage at the curb as of last night!! I am on garbage alert this morning. Me and the birdies.

I'll end out dragging it all to the edge of the driveway as soon as the light of day breaks and I can see the morning landscape of the neighborhood. Perhaps it is just less garbage attentive than what we are accustomed to. I do have a grass clipping problem here that has yet to be resolved. It will not be collected in plastic bags. I searched several Walmarts (the store I love to hate and hate to love)for paper recyclable bags...they don't have them.

"How do you get rid of your grass clippings in J-ville?" (I am the only person in the world who calls it J-ville).

"I live in Sellersberg."

I turned to the lady who had unsuspectingly rolled her cart towards the check out counter in lawn and garden, "Pardon me, but how do you rid yourself of your grass clippings?"

"I live in Floyds Knob." (damn it!!) "But when I lived in Jeffersonville, I had a compost behind the garage." (damn it!)

I'm going to have to dump all the bags of yard refuse into several cardboard boxes for the collection guys.

No wonder I can't sleep.

The house makes funny noises.

Mishaps & Miss Communications

The Grandbaby was sooooo cute. She was dancing for us, showing off her dancing shoes. She was chasing the dog and petting her, "Daug!" Throwing her tiny head back and laughing. Showing us her boo-boo's. Her plump little sandal clad legs with scabs on both knees. She showed us her "mean" face, which was a scrunched up adorable growling face.

She was precious pretending like she was holding a conversation on a cell phone. Ahh, there never was a cuter 19 month old.

Then she flung my phone on the tile floor and danced away.

My phone was dead. There was no reviving it. No matter how many times I turned it on and off, it did nothing but give me a feeble blink.

I headed to the Cingular store first thing this morning and checked out all the selections of newer phones, much newer than my two year old dinosaur! Incredible what those little power tools can do now. MP3 players, Internet, Blackjack, bluetooth, blackberry, miniature tv's...endless.

I chose a simple MotoRazr...gotta say "Hello Moto".

Why?

'Cause I have a grandbaby who is prone to flinging things.

As he was trying to see what could be salvaged from the trusty little Moto phone I began to tell him about Hurricane Wilma and being in Cancun trapped in a school house with a category four storm raging around us. 20 strangers thrown together by circumstance and karma. I told him how the next morning we found that my Motorola cell phone with Cingular service was the only phone that would work amidst the destruction and chaos.

I told him how our group was so diverse and international. That motorola phone called Denmark, England, Chicago, Switzerland, LA and Texas.

How that phone connected us to the outside world with whom Cancun was totally cut off from. How my Mom told us that CNN reported we were in the eye of the storm and had another night of the back side of Wilma!

I told him how my phone bill was about $300 bucks but it was worth every damn penny.

"You should tell them. That is an incredible story."

As I was gathering up my new phone and box and receipt for the rebate he picked up the old Motorola and smiling handed it to me.

"She's history, she needs to go home with you."

How true.

OVERWHELMED AND UNDERSTAFFED

I'm sitting amidst a thousand boxes (93 to be exact). Some have been opened and their contents liter every counter, every bit of floor space, every surface in sight. The front room is a dumping ground for the empties and the mountain of paper that was necessary to cushion all the "stuff".

As luck would have it, I did find the box with the birthday gift for Omega. I am not certain I want to part with it, but I guess that is what is going to make it an incredible gift. It's my vintage set of the 1979 Taylor and NG naughty animal coffee mugs. They have been hidden deep in my closet since Christmas 2005.....I think she will enjoy them.

I will travel to Central Kentucky with my other sister Kitsy-Boo and her brood for the fathers day celebration festivities at Mom's house. Joe will go on his motorcycle to have the mobility to go spend time with his children.

It feels so good to be able to hitch a ride with my Sis.

Other note worthy events....The Sirius Radio works perfect here! For the past several months I have been having a torrid e-mail relationship with the customer service department of the the satellite radio company. It had terrible reception in the last area I lived. They told me that I had to have it away from trees. I knew that was bull because we used it (my B-I-L's) at the Lake house last summer and that is the most tree concentrated place imaginable. Then they told me that I needed to move the antenna outside....blah blah blah. It works fantastic here.

That makes me very happy.

The back yard is so hot that I find I am moving my plants around the yard looking for respite from the unrelenting sun. Its like an oven...an open fire pit. All that concrete. Absolutely frying them. And the 90+ degrees does not help. The roses are looking puny. I cut back all the weeds...or at least what appeared to be weeds. I worried about that, all of 30 seconds, then decided that if they were not weeds then they would come back next spring and show me the flowers!

I believe neglect has about done them in for this summer, but who knows.

Gotta go cook my spinach souffle for the Fathers Day family gathering.

FAREWELL TO FORT WAYNE

Cherry Fritter & Coffee to go - $1.50.

A little hole in the wall bakery that sits behind the BP station on the main intersection. I avoid it because the cherry fritters are so delicious. I never knew such a sweet treat existed until I stumbled into this place one wintery morning. The last day here I happily gave in to the temptation knowing I will never have the opportunity to have one again.



When I was a very young child my favorite book in the whole world was "Story of Live Dolls". When the book was to be discarded due to age and destruction (some child colored the illustrations and some pages were torn) my Mom saved the book and gave it to me! Every time I drove past Dolly Heaven I thought about that book and smiled, not only about the beloved story but because my Mom is the greatest. I never went in. The last morning, it was very early and not open yet. I will regret that.



The lily's I planted last year are really turning into beauties this summer. Several of the perennials I planted last summer have yet to bloom. I am going to miss the yard and gardens. I truly am.

I was not prepared for the flood of tears that overtook me as I drove out of the neighborhood for the final time.

Something I have wanted to say for a long time...

......Now that's a River!!!

On the Belvedere looking across the Ohio River towards Indiana.

When Life Hands You Lemons - Make a Sour Face

I thought with the closing and the joy of moving back to the South...well, still technically a Hoosier, but only by one mile, things would be on the total upswing.

Wrong.

Someone is angry with me, and that makes me clean. Or drink. In this case, clean and drink. And thank God for small favors, one of the two appraisers for the house in Indiana came this afternoon while I was in the middle of a Pina Colada cleaning frenzy.

I think it went okay. I conveniently stood the the left of the missing pantry doors to draw his eyes away from the gaping hole. It worked. He remarked how beautiful the cupboards looked considering they are original. "A German Sister-in-Law and lemon oil. She convinced me of the necessity of rubbing them down yearly...it works!"

He took video. God, I hope some sharp eye doesn't notice the pantry. He went out into the back yard and included the landscaping and beautiful flower beds. One of the neighbors came over and put in a good word about the neighborhood.

Tomorrow the movers come to take us away. Forever.

So final, isn't it. Forever.

Before the Junk Arrives

or......My New House Sans furniture and furnishings



Back Yard needs attention


Still needs attention from the other angle


Kitchen with Pot Hanger


Even I know this is a horrendous color combination. The carpet has got to go.


When we first viewed the house there was a variation of the Mother Of Perpetual Help on the wall....I knew this house must be it regardless of the carpet.


The Family room sealed the deal ... or did the back yard? Maybe it was the enormous garage....I can't remember.

Retracing Footsteps

Or.....You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer

I am on the campus of the University of Louisville for the first time in nearly 17 years. I came seeking a computer and here I am. In the library I spent so many hours pre-computer days, seeking reference material for papers, studying and having group meetings for class assignments.

I thought I might have trouble finding my way around the school grounds, but it was not a problem. The Business School is right where it was before, 17 years ago a big new building, today it still it still is very modernistic with wonderful sculpture...red! I had forgotten.

I walked past many of the buildings I took classes in and remembered the rush to arrive on time, since I was one of new breed of "non-traditional" students that UofL catered to, allowing us to earn a degree while attending classes in the evening.

Nothing ground breaking now, but back then, it was catering to the needs of your customers. There were more students in the night classes than day classes back then.

And here I am, in the vicinity of the most embarrassing moment of my life (well, one of them at least) when I was wearing this new spaghetti strap red checkered summer dress with a large skirt that would let you spin round and round and you would look like a dancer. Or a nut case. Either way, the back of the dress was stuck in the back of my panties after a trip to the bathroom.

Hahhahahahah.

I can laugh now. I was mortified then.

All seems to be lined up for the closing tomorrow. I am breathing easy today.

RUSH to MOVEMENT

It would be difficult to write everything that has been happening since Friday. I am so stressed that it is ridiculous.

We are closing on our new home in Southern Indiana on Friday and it has been anything but exciting and exhilarating. It has been excruciatingly painful. In a few moments I must rush to my insurance guy and purchase home insurance through him because he is better priced than what the bank offered. I fought about the taxes in escrow!! They had estimated them at 50% higher than 2006 taxes. Then something very ugly showed up on my credit history that I had taken care of long long ago. Like seven years ago!! I am to go to an atty office tomorrow with proof that what the company is claiming is not right. Thank God I am a pack rat, for I have the original loan and loan papers along with payment history!! Yea me! But still, I have to prove I am innocent. Ridiculous, and I am hoping to see if I might have a case for harassment.

Wouldn't that be sweet! I could champion every person who ever got in over their head and struggled to do the right thing!

I am stressed about many more things.....

But I do not have time to tick them off here. I must go gather my hanging plants and take them South to their new home. I am a-feared (good old southern word) they will perish here if I leave them. I was lucky there were storms that came and watered them.

I woke up in the middle of the night last night and fretted about them being so far away with no one to look after them.

Off, off again.......

All the weary night-watchers

It's 3am.

I have been awake since an hour ago. Tossing and turning, mind aflame with niggling thoughts that persist in tickling my consciousness. Was my sub-consciousness when I was asleep. All those tiny little details, all those exercises that we allow ourselves to go through....that we will do it tomorrow, another time, always have time. Time is slipping away.

I am officially unemployed. Meaning that when I go into the office tomorrow, I will be a visitor. Arriving in a car I am renting. Driving past my faithful old company car. The one with the gas card tucked in the comforts and confines of the secret place, at attention, at alert for when a fill may be necessary. I miss you already. You reality smasher, keeping the effects of a corrupt government at bay, until this day, the day I must pull out my own cash to fill my gaping hole called a gas tank.

The trains wail softly in the night.

The rain falls intermittently.

All is quiet, except my brain.