Family

Family / Life in Madison — No Comments
7
Sep 10

Musing on an open apology to my neighbors.

 

Yesterday was a holiday. 

My daughter started calling her friends at 9:01 a.m. Following my edict of no calls until after nine.

Can Lilly come over? Can Sally come over? Can  insert name  come over? 

When the calls don’t yeild results, it then comes time to go knock on doors.

“Can we see if Tom and Will want to play?”

“Yes, but promise me you will bring them back here and not stay over there.”

“Yes ma’am.”

There probably wasn’t a “ma’am” but when writing this I heard it in my head. It sounds so much better.

Off my daughter and son went on bike and scooter,  shoeless.

They never returned.

Continue reading →

Family / Life in Madison — 3 Comments
5
Aug 10

First Day of School.

Things were on schedule the first day to get out the door on time. Then I remembered to take a picture.

Isn’t that covered in the How To Be a Parent With No Regrets Handbook?

Always photograph your child on the first day of school.

Here are the two little ones before we hopped in the car.

Joe picked this location and wanted to be hugging the little tree.  (A little fir that miraculously escaped death this summer from the heat after looking as if he had been singed by some ferocious forest fire.)

Two things are evident in this picture. They genuinely seem happy about school starting and they dressed themselves. Don’t they devote an entire chapter on that in the How To Be a Parent With No Regrets Handbook?

Notice the beach chairs. I have yet to put them in the garage after returning from the beach this weekend. Laziness? Could be…but more likely a silent statement that even though school might be in session on the calendar, I refuse to give in on summer yet. I’ll show them. (Who, I’m not exactly sure. Not like I can stop the earth from tilting on it’s axis away from the sun – but I can still protest.)

Then here is our 16 year old leaving yesterday morning.

He has that racing-away-from-the-paparazzi look.

I clearly told him to wait for me to get my camera. At that point, he started to run.

So there you have it…Snap away while you can.

Another school year has begun.

Next year I’ll try the sports action mode on my camera.

I show him.

Family / Golf — No Comments
1
Jul 10

Miracle Miles Putt-Putt Golf Tournament. I lose…again.

Every year my husband’s family gathers at the beach for a week. That’s not so unusual for a family to gather at the beach.  But every year this crew holds a putt-putt golf tournament for the coveted Miracle Miles Cup.

Picture a dented challis. Don’t have a picture of it for it is still in Charleston. Last year’s winner didn’t bring it.  Guess he thought it wasn’t going anywhere so why bother.

I won a long time ago…and had it in my grasp a few years ago. Only to choke it to a violent death with pitiful putting.

The winner’s name is engraved on the cup and the prize gets to reside with winner all year long….

You see, there are these two guys, the two Jims, who assume they are going to take the cup home every year.

Once the play started, I did okay. Lots of two putts and in…then like always there were holes I tanked…and my chance to take the cup back to Madtown faded away.

This year not unlike years in past, the cup went to a dark horse. Papa Jack. My father-in-law. And if I couldn’t win…Yay for Papa.

I’ve decided on a new strategy for next year.

Learn to golf. (Novel idea, I know.)

Some dear brave friends promise they can teach me to play on a public course  — and not do any injury to myself or others.

We’ll see.

Fore now, I only have myself to blame.

Because I really, really stink.

Family / Fishing — 6 Comments
28
Jun 10

Oh, what a tangled mess we have….Or the maddest I have ever been at my son ~ and he with me.

My son.  Late yesterday he asked me to watch him take his bait out. He fishes for sharks. Last week he caught a tiger, bull and two black tips.

He ferries his bait 400 yards out in the Gulf on a kayak. The only thing I ask is that he let someone know when he is taking the bait out. What we could do for him bobbing out there if something happened I’m not sure — but at least we would know he was bobbing out there in his life jacket.  

I thought I was on watch duty — not watch the line duty.  

Turned out he wanted me to hold the line with my hand as the boat when out. That way the drag doesn’t have to be so tight. Tight drag means it’s hard to pull out. Okay — this is what happened.  

The minute I let my hand up  thinking I was set to lose a digit with the razor-sharp line…. 

I saw this and knew that he was going to kill me.

the line started zipping up in the reel and there is absolutely nothing you can do, except look at your 16 year-old who was 200 yards out in the Gulf and know you don’t want to be anywhere near when he saw this on the sand.  

So I left.  

Marching up to the house and waited for him to come in and see it.  

He was going to be furious because he is like me.  

 Most important point lost in all the fury….I didn’t volunteer for line duty.  

Well, there was lots of groaning and moaning. How he’d  just lost $100 worth of line. How his grandfather and 11 year old cousin have no trouble doing  this.  

Volunteering to undo the line, I spied a yellow sandcastle mold. This was going to show him, that you don’t give up and that no matter how terrible things…..  

This was HORRIBLE.  

This is how far I got. I was so cotton-picken insane that when I took this picture my ugly-@*@- feet were in it and…  

 I didn’t even care.  

There the line sits just like that 12 hours later.  

My son hasn’t talked to me much. He still has other fishing reels, but this was his super-duper Stratocaster – PennSenator something or other.  

Wish there was a tidy resolution to this fish tale but none as yet.  

Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to …. do something we should never have been asked to do in the first place.  

So there.

Life in Madison / Marriage — No Comments
16
Jun 10

It had to be done.

My husband and I disagree on lots of things, but one issue comes along every two or three years. 

The smilax screen on our porch that must be killed — so a new green, beautiful screen can take it’s place. 

This should be done every April, but my husband hates the thought of it. We live on a very busy street and part of his enjoyment of being on the porch is tied to the smilex that weaves it’s way through the decade’s old rusty iron screen. 

There is only one problem with this. After a year or so, the deep down smilax gets strangled by the other vines and dies. 

Leaving brown ugly dead. 

Here’s our marital conflict. My husband would rather have brown, ugly, dead cover than no cover. 

I (though not usually a slave to aesthetics) can’t stand the dead leaves. 

Every two years or so when I can’t take it anymore I cut, hack, get scratched and scraped to the max and strip it bare ~ so beautiful new green vines can cling on the rusty iron. 

Yesterday was D-Day after dear hubby drove off.  (This is what he gets for leaving me alone with the children all day.) 

 

I kept pulling and cutting and finally…. 

All done.

 

We got a great rain last night so hopefully that smilex up early this morning eager to climb. 

Sometime you got to do dirty work when hubby’s gone. He’ll thank me. 

Maybe not tonight, but he will. 

June 15 ~ the day the hedge came down. Let’s see how long it takes. 

Wonder if he’ll speak to me before then?

Everyday Heroes / Family / Life in Madison — 3 Comments
31
May 10

Memorial Day… I’m a Farmer, Darn it! And the Parade of Motorcyles.

 

My zucchini

 

The motorcycles had already passed by the house for another year.

I wanted a wee sprig of mint for my iced tea. Out to the garden I tromped.

As I went out past the zucchini, I looked under the mammoth leaves to see if anything was growing. This was a little hard after my raging garden disappointment yesterday with the radishes.

Holy Garden Shiska! 

Look what I harvested in the next three minutes.

I had no idea all that growing was going on underneath that canopy of green. What a difference a day makes. So I can’t grow radishes…but I can grow the heck out of a squash seed.

So now we get to add zucchini to our Memorial Day menu. 

A life lesson to never give up. No matter how bleak things appear. You never know what good is growing right under your nose — that remains hidden for the moment.

Now for my second attempt into vlogging.

Along with seeing the first firefly, the passing of the motorcycles on their way to Madison’s Town Park means summer officially arrived.

Neighbor Jud Knight was having cup of coffee with us on the porch when we heard the telltale roar coming down Main Street.

Here’s some video. I need to get better about  SHUTTING UP!

Let’s all remember those all who gave the ultimate gift for our freedom.

Peace be to their families and loved ones this day.

Everyone be sure to have a hotdog (and some zucchini) with me.

Columns / Family / Latest Newspaper Column — No Comments
7
May 10

“If you think about, anything could befall a baby butter bean.”

 

“When my daughter was born, my mother became the smartest woman in the world.”  Continue reading →

Family / Fishing — 2 Comments
28
Apr 10

Just around for a moment to say, “Hi.”

Look who came up for breakfast this morning. Well, I guess he thought he had breakfast then it really wasn’t.

I asked my son – twice — the name of the lure he used.

“It was a Zara Spook.”

“It was a top water lure. He inhaled it.”

Poor guy.

I’m feeling sorry for a five pound bass, who is back swimming away.

I hate to be really  hungry. How terrible to be voraciously hungry and your Chick-fil-A biscuit snatched from your mouth. And to make things worse, a giant metal hook rammed into your cheek. They say fish don’t feel these things. How can they be so sure?

I did hold him while my son went to get his scale.

“Just put your hand over the teeth and grab him there.”

Bass have teeth?

But being the good mom, I rustled up enough courage to put my hand in his mouth and hang on. That was one big mouth. Looking down into it, his poor gills sucked in and out. I didn’t feel that sorry for him then… concentrating so hard on not freaking out and dropping him.

 After weigh in, he swam away. Into our lives for a moment, then a swish of a tale and gone.

I remember when that 16 year old was two catching his first bass with me.

With a swish of a tale…so much has passed.

My hands still smell like him (the fish I mean). But I guess that will leave me too.

Family / Running — No Comments
20
Apr 10

Inside a runner’s mind….the marathon.

They ran the Boston Marathon yesterday.

In the spirit of that historic event, I  interviewed an up-and-coming runner who might one day aspire to run through the streets of Beantown. A simple guy sharing his thoughts about running his first marathon this January at Disney World.

Why did you decide to train for the marathon?

Runner: You patted my stomach and said, “Belly, belly, belly. And I thought we’d have togetherness time….which we did not. Which you promised.”

Interviewer: For the record, I never promised anything. I probably did tap your mid-section.

How did you train for the grueling 26.2 mile journey of a lifetime?

Runner: I decided there was no shame in walking. Heavy on the treadmill. I built up to two 18 mile walks.

Any tips for training to “walk” the grueling 26.2 journey of a lifetime?

Runner: If you are walking more than an hour, hide Clif Bars in bushes. Or you can refrain from marital relations for two days before your long walk — which I was unwilling to do.

Interviewer: Are you kidding me? You hid Clif bars on Dixie Highway. Who would take them? A turtle? Maybe a mouse might drag it to their little nest to feed their broad of 10,000 babies. You hid a Clif Bar on Dixie. Good Grief.

Runner: Yes. I always put them up high.

Interviewer: And I’m married to you.

What did it feel like to cross the  finish line?

Runner: Shame. I finished 23 minutes behind Donald Duck. And an hour and a half behind my wife.

You jest. There was no shame. Where to you keep the coveted Mickey Mouse medal?

Runner: In a drawer, wrapped in toliet paper.

Any parting thoughts?

Runner: Never again.

Interviewer: Oh no. You are not serious.

Runner: I lost two toenails and the last shred of my dignity.

Interviewer: I’m proud of you.

Runner: You need to go wash Joe’s hair and bring me my food.

Okay then.  I guess the interview’s over. But I’m not giving up hope. For Boston or that my dear hubby will indeed do another marathon.

Well, I guess I might qualify for Boston — like when I’m 80.

Family / Food / Puppy Diaries — No Comments
16
Apr 10

Chicken Breasts. Once again the Lord works in most mysterious ways.

I vowed to prepare my clan healthy meals.

Looking over the selection of boneless, skinless chicken breasts, I wondered… since when do they fill them with gold  pellets?

But thankfully the nice man in the Ingles meat department pointed me to some that were on sale.  I bought two packs. Googling “easy chicken recipes”, I found a great one on a web site with “mom” in the title. (The title of the web site not the recipe.)

I bought all four ingredients. And was ready to cook. Then life got in the way and the chicken sat in the fridge — for two days.

Did I say our puppy ran into a car on Monday night?

No. I haven’t blogged that our dog was hit because it was traumatic. I am into denying any drama that might try to navigate into my life these days.

Pulling up to our house 8 p.m. on Monday night, I see my husband carrying the dog. 

“Tebow’s been hit. I think his leg is broken.”

Life’s funny. You are so tired and holding it together. Then your daughter disobeys and takes the dog into a neighbor’s yard to visit with their dog — takes Tebow off his lease. Then the other dog chases Tebow across his rightful territory into a car being backed out my our dear animal-loving neighbor.

Collision.

That’s when I arrived on the scene and we made an appointment to go to a emergency animal clinic. Then our wonderful vet called.

He asked me lots of questions,

“Is he alert?”

“No,  I think I’m going into shock. Should I wrap myself in blankets?”

 ”The dog? Is he alert?”

“Oh. His tail is flopping all over the place like normal. He still has that stupid grin. But looks like he had a mini stroke on his left front leg.”

The more we talked I could tell that our Tebow probably just got his bell rung by some Kentucky defensive end. The next morning, I hobbled more leaving bed than he did getting out of his crate.

“Labs are tough,” the vet had said.

His little tummy was puny four days later, so the vet suggested I feed him chicken and rice. There was a reason I bought that chicken.

It’s always something in life. Dogs running into cars.

 I’m glad labs are tough.  

No. I’m glad the Lord made labs tough so I don’t have to be.

.

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