Woe is Me

I found via Sunday Scribblings this really cool web site called Dreamergirl. Absolutely stunning. Well, I was so inspired by the beauty that I thought I would join in on a postcard exchange.

I should have known better.

Now I am trying to teach myself how to make a creative and pretty postcard that will convey what Autumn means to me.

As I approached my glue sprayed canvas with my carefully cut out carnivorous looking flower that i was going to attach to replace the girls head, (I am working with Halloween theme on this card) I dropped it and it landed on a spot I definitely did not want! About a quarter off the card!!

Dang it.

So I just slapped on a deranged looking Tin Man and then sat back in horror at the image I had created. I slapped on another head....and now she looked like she had been beheaded!!

So I added some pretty words and took some aspirin.


This is hard work!


I will not be sending out this card!! But, it is my favorite so far!

A Rose By Any Other Name

Thanks to Sunday Scribblings I have realized that in four years of pounding out posts, "Entries", essays, confessions, reports, travel experiences, memories shaded by time, and the occassional rant...there just isn't much I have not written about before.

From October 9, 2003.....

My name is Mary Theresa. My Mom named me in advance because it was her dream for me to become a Nun. Mary was never really truly mine. At the Catholic High School I attended there was Mary Anne, Mary Ellen, Mary Alice, Mary Beth, Mary Jane, Mary, Mary, Mary and Mary. You could yell "MARY" in the hallway and half the girls would turn to answer.

Why couldn't I have had my own personalized name? Exclusive to me, giving me a different sense and significance of self. And to others!

In my day dreams, I named myself dramatic, romantic monikers.

I named my daughter, Bridget...Theresa. Bridget conjures up images of sexy French girls even though its actually the female patron saint of Ireland. Not to mention the name of my Great Grandmother.

I was stumped when Bridget was born, so certain she was going to be a male. 23 years ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, you were not given the opportunity of knowing in advance the sex of your child. It was "PUSH, PUSH, PUSH.....its a GIRL!" I was so surprised. The entire last six months of carrying her, she had squirmed, kicked, and wiggled around so much I knew she was a boy.

My Mom named Bridget. I was clueless and half heartedly came up with Nicole. My mother balked and said "That's not an Irish name." And so, she became Bridget after a woman born in the 1800's.

No mistake was made, for she is most certainly a Bridget. Even the name rolls off the tongue and tickles the lips. It can be drawn out as in, "Brrrrrriiiidggggettttt..." or short and harsh "Bidgt". I like the way there are numerous ways to spell Bridget, therefore giving her the latitude to change her mood and/or her sense of self with the spelling.

I was one of six children. My moniker has always been "The oldest", and when my sisters were born, "The oldest girl". Now as my parents age, I still am the oldest and introduced as, "My oldest daughter". I never had a nick name like some other Mary's I knew. No Mollie or Missy or Sissy for me...just plain, Nun-like Mary.

I love the Internet for the wonderful pleasure of naming myself and giving myself great nicknames like HighwayStar, Drama Queen and AlphaWoman.

Yet, a rose by any other name.......

First the eyes, then the knees, then....the mind!

Several years ago I was sprawled out on the floor of my living room reading a street map of Cincinnati and cursing. Muttering, "When did they start making these maps so small???!!" as I struggled to read the streets and make sense of a city, that quite frankly, didn't. It was with great reluctance and total denial that I began to suspect that my eyes were going!!

I had always been so vain about my good eyesight!

That was then. I did eventually go to an eye doctor and receive a pair of bona fide reading glasses. A couple of years later, my sister neglected to toss my suitcase in her car as she was taking me to the airport and ran over it! My first pair was greatly impaired.

It took me YEARS to return to the eye doctor and get another prescription. I had become hooked on the $1 glasses you could obtain from the Dollar Store. When you run them over with the car you think, "what the hell."

I actually got two pairs, one for reading and one for long distance. Because, now I needed bifocals.

Say it ain't so!!

The long distance pair I lost when we moved from Central KY to NE Indiana. They just never showed up at the new house. The reading glasses were always a thorn in my side as the lenses kept popping out of the frame! They were the smudgiest pair of glasses in the entire history of eye glass wear. Last year one of the arms broke. On occasion I will pop the lens back in, hook it over one ear, balance it on the bridge of my nose and see the way the Doc thought I should see.

Otherwise, it was those $1 glasses by the gross which I always got mixed up with Joe's who when ever he put a pair of mine on would say, "You really are blind, aren't you?"

This is how I found myself standing in the middle of a huge assembly line eye glass sweat shop looking around with my blurred vision for a sign that would lead me in the right direction.

I am turning into such a bitch.

My glasses would not be ready until hours later and I opted to pick them up the next morning.

When I get there, my glasses are not ready, they have to be sent out and will take two weeks.

"So much for the "same day" guarantee!" I quipped, with just enough edge that the poor customer service lady finally really looked me in the eye.

"Why the delay?"

"We have to send them out to get the gobbly gook stuff put on them so that you don't get the glare from the sun..." or something like that.

"I don't need it then, because I need those glasses to read." At this point, I needed those glasses immediately!!

OK, it will take 1/2 hour.

I came back three hours later and they could not find my glasses. Finally, the poor over worked Customer Service Lady came to grips with the situation and told me that in the process of making my glasses they had cracked one of the lenses and now would have to re-do them, take a seat and we will have them ready in a few minutes.

A good half hour later she called me over, away from the rest of the people in the large show- room/waiting room and told me my glasses could not be finished because the machine that puts a protective coating on the glass so I couldn't scratch them (do they have a coating for running them over?) has broken down.

I guess she thought I might blow.

All I could think about was when things went terribly wrong for me when I was working at The Beverage Company. And I took pity on her and told her I understood she was doing her job the best she could, and that it was the other people who were messing things up. I knew it took a lot of courage to give me the bad news and I had to give her a break.

For my acceptance of the situation and not causing a scene I got over 50 bucks knocked off the cost of the glasses and a free cleaning kit (14.99 retail).

And, the glasses are finally sitting on the bridge of my nose.

Not that much different from the $1 glasses, just cost 150 times more and I don't resemble a bug anymore.

1,000,000 to 1 odds

...Or I collect National Geographics and have an essay for Sunday Scribblings


I am a woman on a mission. I have been scoping out all the used bookstores in the area. There are not that many of them which is surprising, or not surprising depending on how you view things.

Since mentioning the National Geographic obsession a few entries ago, I googled the teenager who sailed around the world in the 1960's and found his name, Robin Lee Graham. It was exactly as I remembered, he was 16 years old in 1965 and took off in a very small sail boat from Hawaii with the intent of a solo voyage around the world. I decided to try and track down the NG that told the story, which I found was April 1969.

I went to a local Goodwill store that has hundreds of the NG's on hand, but not the April 1969. On a hunch, I started to scan the titles of the contents which are displayed on the magazine spine, each one having four stories. On October 1969 I saw "Voyage" and pulled it.

My hunch payed off! It was the last of a series of three written by Robin about his incredible feat which incidentally took approximately five years!! The other two NG's were the April 1969 and October 1968.

So, I have been on a mission to find them locally. I have hit practically every used bookstore in the area. Sadly, I have found out that no one carries National Geographic any longer! It's hit or miss.


Today found me at a small used book store in Lyndon. A bookstore that I use to visit and purchase books when I lived here in the 1980's. Which I lost no time telling the woman who owned the store! Obviously, this meant more to me than her. I wonder how people can stay in business, to run a sole proprietor store and be so unfriendly! I asked about NG's and she directed me to a paltry few stacked in a hidden cob webbed corner. "I'm looking for October 1968!" I said, with too much enthusiasm because her sarcastic "good luck" made me think I was perceived as a nutcase.

She did have two 1968's out of 10, neither of them October.

I ended up at a Goodwill Store off Shelbyville Road going through three large drop off canvas containers. What fun!! For 50 cents each, I found some really great books!

I knew there was another Goodwill pretty close and the day was still early and beautiful so I drove over and to my pleasant surprise there were four of these large three feet by three feet containers outside!

Going through them is like digging for gold. My feet practically left the ground to get to the bottom of the "barrel". I had developed a system of stacking them on the edge between two, and then as I got closer to the bottom to begin tossing them in the other bin.

I found more treasures at the second Goodwill. I had six more books stacked up! I had only worked through two of the four when I lazily began to toss books right and left in the third one.

About in the middle of the books, toys, encyclopedias, coloring books, notebooks, magazines, and stuffed animals I spotted the familiar yellow spine of a National Geographic.

I said to myself, "It's October 1968", and then laughed hysterically at myself as we all do at these insane thoughts.

I lifted it out.

October 1968.

I gasped and looked around for someone jump up and down with and dance in celebration!

There was no one.

I did a little jig anyway and high fived the air and laughed at that damn woman in Lyndon! "Good luck" she had sneered at me and look at me now!!

Naturally, my next stop was to buy a lottery ticket.

I'll let you know tomorrow.

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.