Ya wanna' know...

...the best job I ever had?

It's being a grandparent.  Easy-peasy.

Not just because I get to spend fun time with my grandkids and the old joke...'When I'm done I can send them home'.  But because they are each unique, interesting, funny, quick, easy and....well I could probably go on for quite some time.

Let's see how many grandchildren do I have?  Two plus three, plus three, plus seven I think that adds up to fifteen.  What made this relatively easy is we are a blended family and children add up very quickly.  As for great grandchildren (yes, they are arriving) I've some of them, too. So far there are three plus three plus one.  Please don't ask me to tell you how old they are and when their birthdays are...I don't remember ages, and as for birth-dates I rely on facebook and my date calendar to remind me of those.

Shoot I'm lucky to remember all their names.

I've been on field trips, shopping trips, vacations, sleep-overs and eating out excursions.  I've bought school supplies, DVD's, clothes, presents and food, lots, and lots, and lots of foooooood.  I've been to museums, malls and craft supply stores.  There have been picnics, parties and times we've just hung out.

We play games, rent movies and sometimes we're just plain silly.  Of late we play miniature golf on my patio and hide and seek with my Oregon Duck and Beaver.  One granddaughter helps me clean house; and a grandson who helps out with my 'land' and plants. I tell ya' there is no end in sight.

Before I moved to my new place, when the seven grandkids showed up we took turns on where and what we would have for lunch.  The two favorites were a taco place and a pizza place.  Now, with a lot of the young-ins' grown eating out does not cost as much as it used to. Still there are a few burger places close by and there is also pizza that magically shows up at my door from time to time.  Mostly though, now we like the sit down, waiter /waitress places to eat.

I think what I like the most about being a grand parent is that all these kids keep me young, laughing and full of fun.  I love surprising them by saying something colorful or slightly naughty just to keep them on their toes and get that Grandmaaaaa response.  Oh, and they teach me stuff, lots of stuff. I'm learning about their professions, their families, their educations, their plans and dreams for the future. They have principles, know politics, can discuss current events and have concerns about the future not just the United States but the World. They are wonderful, each and every one.

But, and here's the best part, when at the end of the day I get tired...well, heavens to Betsy...look at that...the clock says it's time for a certain somebody, or somebodies to go home.  HERE COMES MOM. I don't have to bathe anybody...well, except for me, get anybody ready for bed...well, except for me or have to think about getting up in the morning and getting somebody ready for school.  I'm telling ya, if you're not a grandparent yet when that time comes, you're gonna' love it.

It's the best job I ever had.

This is July?

Last summer July came in sweltering.  I was still in my old place and had fans going 'around the clock'.  I had wet hand towels on my forehead and stomach every time I sat or lie down; and wore as few pieces of clothing as possible so I would not get arrested when I walked outside.  That's the thing about heat, once you are naked, you're naked. However, in the cold you can bundle up and bundle up until all you can do is roll yourself around the house like one of those big exercise balls.

This July (so far) is just the opposite.  There have been morning clouds and a chill in the air.  I even considered putting on my 'thermals' this morning.  Now, ain't that just redickullous?  I confess I like this July better.  The older I get the less I like the extremes in temperatures and I tend to envy everyone who has winter and summer homes.  If I could have my druthers I would travel to somewhere 'tropical' every six or so months.  I envision seeing myself wintering in places like Hawaii, Australia or perhaps some exotic Pacific Island where I can munch local fruit and eat lots of fish.  Then in the summer I would return to home base and grow my own vegetables, sip Jim Beam on my patio and watch the world go by.

Yep, my muu-muus would really get a work out.  And, speaking of them I wore one to Happy Hour last Friday, unfortunately, I discovered I'm going to have to wear a slip under them because, the fabric 'stuck' to the back of my legs every time I stood up...which was a bit embarrassing.  It sure was comfortable though and that made up for those 'uncomfortable' moments, guess it's true sometimes you have to make adjustments when trying something new.  Shoot, I wear dresses and skirts so infrequently I'm lucky I discovered I still own a slip.  I actually found two, one white and one black. Hmmm, I wonder how old they are?

But, I digress.

This morning when I first awoke the sky was blue and sunny; I decided to do my morning devotions and Bible study on the patio.  As I sat, the sun disappeared and clouds rolled in, lots and lots of clouds.  The temperature dropped. Dang it!  It got so chilly I had to go back into the house.  What the heck is going on?  Stupid weather. Or, maybe it's me.  I keep expecting summer to be summer, winter to be winter and all the other parts of the year to be what they are also supposed to be.  Instead it seems each year gets more and more peculiar.  I suspect it all has something to do with Global Warming.  There, I actually said those dreaded words.  And, yes I do believe in Global Warming. Have you recently checked the rate at which the ice is melting at both poles?  Poor polar bears, poor, poor polar bears....and penguins, too.  If I get discombobulated with the weather fluctuations, imagine how the animals must feel.  Geeze.

Now, here's the thing.  When I first sat down to write it was my intention to be flowery and poetic about July, but it appears my fingers have run a-muck and have gone in the whole other direction. And, that is how it goes when an Old Woman Rambles. Let me try again.

July is gentle breezes, butterfly wings, bbq dinners, long twilight evenings July is........
......
......
I've not a clue.

Class Reunions

I have a cousin who writes a weekly column for her local paper.  This week she wrote about a friend who came back into town with her husband to attend his class reunion.  She, (the out of town-er) and my cousin got of group of their classmates together and went to lunch. While chatting they decided since their classmates were...were... 'passing-on' perhaps they should have an unscheduled reunion of their own. I guess whether they will or not was left up in the air.

My cousin mentioned in her article that their high school was no longer in existence so really "all they have left" is indeed their memories, (and hopefully their yearbooks, although today I think they are called annuals).

Anyhoooo, that got me to thinking that my old high school is also no longer a school.  I've forgotten what occupies the space today; I think it is some kind of office complex.  Here's what I do know. When the remodeling took place somebody from one of the graduating classes managed to get their hands on one of the teacher's classroom door and drug it home.  From what I understand she hung on to it until the year of her class reunion and then (of all things) she took the door along. Everyone was told to put their name on a slip of paper, there would be a door prize. As the evening progressed there was quite a bit of conversation about the door and the teacher to whom the door belonged and at the end of the evening there was a random drawing for the door prize and the prize was (of course)..the door. The winner became known as the  'keeper of the door' until the next reunion.

The number on the door is 210, and it's heavy oak.  It belonged to teacher Miss Sue Green, she was invited to the reunion to attend the 'keeper or the door' presentation.  According to the newspaper article, "Green expressed surprise to learn that the door from her class room was preserved."  The article goes on to say..."We told her that it was because all her students liked her so much and respected the things she did for us."  Apparently Miss Green "... gazed at us, and gave us a look that we'd seen many times. That look said...'oh, sure you did'."

However. Miss Green was indeed a teacher over and above other teachers.  She spoke softly but with great authority and she had the respect of each and every student.  She would stand outside her 150 pound oak door between every change of class, and never shut it until every student was no longer in the hall and where he/she was supposed to be when a new class began.  There was never misbehavior with Miss Green looking on.  My sister was the first in my family to have her as a teacher, I followed the next year, the first thing she asked was if I was Nancy's sister.  Uh-oh I thought, I've got some mighty big shoes to fill. Eventually the rest of my siblings attended one of her World Cultures Classes as well.  She taught for almost 50 years, had I not left my hometown my children probably would have attended her class as well.

Funny how life is, after I graduated I sent her a card and note every Christmas, and she responded in kind every year until I learned from a classmate she had passed away.  I'm sure she had a lot of students who did the same.  As the newspaper article ends, David Lester who had 'won the door' stated he was honored to keep the door because it represented more than just a door prize.  "It's amazing that it takes a person so long to appreciate what a teacher like Miss Green has done for her students.  I just wish we could have realized that fact when we were going to school."

If I had won that door, I'm not sure I would have given it up...I just hope the class that has the door is continuing the tradition and does so for as long as possible; but eventually I hope it is returned to the new high school with the door prize story attached and it is preserved for generations to come.  I think it would be a great honor for the school to be the final 'keeper of the door'.

Father's Day

Yesterday my Facebook age was loaded with all kinds of well wishes for all kinds of fathers, new ones, middle-aged ones and grandfather ones. They were all lovely and heart felt, I felt good for all those dads.

Later in the day one of my sisters called with an observation about our dad.  And, she asked a very profound question...what would I write about dad on Facebook? That got us to talking about dad and what we could remember about him.  Honestly, at first it didn't seem like much.

However, after we got talking turns out he was a great man, husband, father and provider.  He never lifted so much at a finger to us, never raised his voice or even come close to yelling at us and was ever present.  We recalled how he would sit after dinner in the dining-nook nose buried in the evening paper, Saturday Evening Post or the Reader's Digest.  He never joined in our 'after dinner chats' but we knew, HE KNEW exactly what we were talking about.

He was a great provider, even though his salary for the time was substantial, we were barely keeping up with 'the middle class'.  We had no credit cards...everything was paid by cash.  We kids would occasionally walk our house payment out to the private party that held our 'loan'.  We never even had so much as a checking account.  We didn't have a car until (if memory serves) I was in high school.  It was a big maroon Buick if I recall.

I'm not even sure dad took all the vacations that were allotted him, and he never....I mean never...took a sick day....EVER.  Although, I do remember we did drive all the way out to Indiana to visit his sister, my Aunt Cora one year.  Mostly he worked, and continued to build onto our house.  Did I mention he built it from the ground up?

However, as most dads were from my generation, they were mostly figure heads, we weren't pals, we didn't hang out, and we didn't talk.  He didn't teach us to ride a bicycle or throw a ball.  But he built us one heck of a swing and allowed us to take a stick and put our initials in the concrete holding the posts in place.  He planted a garden every year so we had fresh vegetable all summer, and the rows of corn were great to hide in when we spent hours playing hide and seek til dusk.

My sister and I got quite melancholy talking about dad, and we both wish he had been more hands-on with us...although we both know that was not his fault.  Times have changed for the better of course, dads today change diapers, do laundry, wash dishes, coach sports teams, bring home pizza for dinner and much, much more.  I applaud and praise them.

However, now that I'm thinking about it, dad was really a fantastic guy.  He never cheated on my mom, never swore, seldom drank and worked hard...right up to the time he got Carcinoma of the Lungs.  Even to the end, he hung in.  My older sister and I were living in California at the time, and we made the journey cross country to be with family.  I remember when we finally arrived my sister and I went to the hospital to see him.  It was bad, he was in an oxygen tent and very weak, but he knew and recognized us.  We didn't stay long; he was in no condition for visitors.

We went to mom's and had dinner and were making plans to go back to the hospital when the phone rang.  It was the hospital saying dad had passed.  See what a good dad he was...he hung on until he knew we were all together...I think that's the best proof my dad was the greatest.

Happy belated Father's day.  Herbert Paul  1905-1962.

Writing exercise-unlikeable character

I went to visit Melissa yesterday; I took a present for the baby.  It had been a while since I'd seen her what with her having the baby and all. Oh, I had sooo much to tell her. But she pushed me out of the house before I had a chance to give the gift to her.

God, she angry.

She said I was egocentric.  Can you believe that?  She said without a doubt I'm the most self-centered person she had ever met.  Is it my fault I've always got sooo much going on in my life?  I thought she'd be thrilled when I told her about my new fitness and weight-loss program and mentioned she could afford to take off a few pounds herself since she had the baby.  We could share my membership and could get into shape together.

That's when she hit the ceiling, and started to cry.

I told her not to feel bad, most women have a weight problem after having a baby and that her weight gain was tiny, weenie compared to some women; she could get her figure back in 'no time'.  Now, wouldn't you think she'd been happy when I told her that?

She just kept sobbing, so I changed the subject and said I was thinking about moving downtown and had been looking into the recently constructed high rise called "The Elite on Front Street".  It would be perfect and within walking distance of my fantastic new job.  I was explaining the floor lay out, and telling about the security measures the complex had and how reasonable the rent was...when, POW, she hit me...actually slugged me right in the stomach.  She knocked the wind right out of me.

I asked her why she did that.

All she said was she didn't want to be friends anymore, that I was an
egotistical (insert expletives); which surprised me because Melissa never swears.  As she continued to push me toward the door I asked what the heck was wrong with her.

She just shook her head and said I would never understand.  Melissa said it was never about what I said, but rather what I didn't say.  Then she went on and on about how a real friend would have seen right away how upset she was, and would have asked what was wrong...but that the minute I walked in I started blabbering about me, me, me and never thinking to ask how she was, or what was new in her life or that she might have something important to say.

I laughed and told her that was because she never did have anything important to say, but there was ALWAYS something new going on in my life, and, frankly she was just an old 'stick in the mud' wife and mother.

Melissa turned ashen and looked as though she was going to slug me again, so I backed all the way to the door.  That's when she asked me to leave...she actually opened the door and pushed me out; mumbling something under her breath then loudly, slammed the door shut. I couldn't believe it she left me standing there on the porch with the baby present still in my hand.

I found out this morning through a mutual friend that Melissa's baby had died a week ago Tuesday.

Seriously, I can't believe she didn't tell me when I took the baby present over to her yesterday.

Shame on me!

For a couple of years I was quite diligent at going to the website called Lumosity and playing their mental/agility games to keep my grey matter moving forward.  When I first started my LPI (Lumosity Performance Index) was terrible, under a thousand if memory serves. My memory was terrible, my hand/eye coordination was worse, and some games I could not get 'a handle on' to save my soul.  So, for about two years I went to the site just about every day and played at least the required five games determined to get better mentally.

I gotta' tell ya' I got dang good at some of the games and by the time I had hit my two year milestone my LPI had shot up to 1188 and that I was at the 90% level for people my age group.  I occasionally let folks know how I was doing on Facebook without (I hope) sounding boastful, but wanted them to know I was increasing my mental capacity 'leaps and bounds' and they needn't worry I was ready for some kind of a home.

Then, I kind of had a financial setback and I had to start doing without 'luxuries', and felt the hundred dollar annual fee was something I couldn't afford and gave up playing when the fee came due.  I also gave up brand name TP and other essentials.  Having money to pay taxes seemed much more important.  Heck, I knew how to be frugal...I grew up in a family that was 'aces' when it came to being frugal.  And so it went, until last year and I came into a little spending money.  Whoop, whoop.

So I was quite surprised last week, when out of the blue, I got an e-mail from Lumosity.  How nice they remembered me. Was this come kind of a sign?  On a whim I went to their website and they encouraged me to play some games for free. I did. I had forgotten how much fun they were.  They even allowed me to check my scores from ever so long ago. OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYYY!

My new scores were deplorable, in the almost two years I had not played my agility to play the games had plummeted almost 100 points. That was berry, berry skerry!  I worried, I fretted, I was working myself into a state; had I had a stroke?  Was there something wrong with me?  Was I OOOLLLDDD! Too old to play these games that at one time gave me so much pleasure...and how awful was it that there were some games I could not even remember how to play?

I've got to be honest...I really did get kind of scared.  I knew then and there I was going to rejoin Lumosity. And, I did. When I first started to play last week my scores were terrible...and they still are, but day by day the scores are inching upward one and two points a day.  At the end of my play Lumosity is very encouraging, telling me I was doing great and that playing every day was doing me good and...to keep at it and...to play at least three days a week. I intend to do better than that.

I'm keeping a good attitude with my daily improvement, and laugh at the stupid mistakes and errors I make.  I get to giggling pretty good sometimes, for instance one game gives you word prefixes and then gives you a time frame to build words...the prefix was phys...I could think of two words, then sat there like an idiot, giggling, as I watched the clock count down.  Shame on me.  Boy was I embarrassed and glad Muse and Frankie were already in bed and will never know that happened.

So, there you have it, I'm determined to take the mental 'mush' my grey matter is in at the moment and....start where I am, with what I have and make something of it...and not be satisfied.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

OH, MAN!

This morning I was sitting on the patio doing some studying when I began to hear mumbling in the living room.  The sounds were barely about whispers; of course I was curious and went to see what was going on.

Gasp!!!!!  Oh, the horror! I began to cough and sputter.

There was Muse standing in the center of the room surrounded by mismatched suitcases.

Me: (In great alarm.)  "Just where do you think you're going?"
Muse:  " 'I'm leaving on a Jet Plane.' " 'don't know when' " (or if) ' I'll be back again...' ", was her sing-song response.  "It seems you no long want or need me around."

I'm so shocked I swoon, almost fall, and then sink to my knees.

Me:  "Where's this coming from?"  I can't believe this is happening.  I find myself hugging her around her knees with what I hope is the most pitiful look I can muster.
Muse:  "May 25th."
Me: What?"
Muse:  May 25 is the last day you tried to write anything...well, except for quick blips on Facebook ...and how creative do those have to be?"

I'm having a hard time focusing, that date can't possibly be right. Surely I've written something since then.  I stand and head toward the office and my computer.

Muse:  "Don't bother to check, I know I'm right."

I don't know what to say. I'm in a state of panic. I hadn't deliberately been trying to ignore Muse and I had certainly had ideas and intended to write...where the heck had the time gone?  I realize the last week or so had been busy, but apparently in Muses mind any excuse I might use will certainly not be logical or important enough to justify I have not written something.  Yes, I had out of  town company for a long weekend, there was a holiday, and then my granddaughter came and spent the night but as far as Muse was concerned these excuses would not do; I could have, should have stayed up late at least once during that time to be creative.

"I was available at a moment's notice." Muse said with a hardy snort.

The thing was and is, there is even one more reason I seem not to have time to write, and to me this is a 'biggie'.  It's almost summer and I've no desire to be cooped up in the house...every...single...moment I can I want to be outside enjoying the birds, the warm air, the azure blue sky and the time spent with neighbors who happen to walk by.  Woe, woe, how can I get Muse to understand this?  I really, r-e-a-l-l-y fear if she leaves this time won't ever tappity tap on my window to let me know she has returned.

I can think of nothing more to do but plead for mercy and ask for a reprieve until yucky, bleak-y, cold, grey, damp, miserable weather returns.  I explain to her that as I grow older summers fly by more and more quickly and I don't want to waste one second of outdoor summer time.  It does not matter if it is early dawn and the golf course is getting its morning watering or midnight when I take the dog out for his final potty break.  "Summer is just too precious, as are you Muse, and I beg for your patience and understanding."

Muse, Frankie and I stand in silence for quite a while. Muse pondering, Frankie anticipating, me begging. Tick, tick, tick.  After what seems like hours Muse drags two of her suitcase back toward the bed room.

Me:  "Muse, I'll eventually make this up to you I promise.  Muse, thank you."
Muse:  "Yeah, yeah.......I know, I know."

I love that girl, and somehow, some way, I will gain back her trust.  I will, I promise-promise pinky swear.