Tuesday, December 21, 2010

My Life is a Country Song

Yesterday was the first day of Christmas Vacation 2010. The grandkids arrived bright and early in the morning. I was in eager anticipation of the day we would share.

Then it began.

I always get these bright ideas of what to do with the kids in order to keep them busy. On today's agenda was making Christmas ornaments. The grandkids love crafting, and so do I. One of the ornaments we were  going to make together required pictures. Of course we had to take some fresh ones.

Both B and Rach found the Santa hats that are normally atop the statues of lions just outside my front door. I believe everyone should participate in the season, and the welcoming lions look extra festive with their Santa hats perched over their frozen wavy manes. Between the hurricane force winds, and blizzards lately, I decided a few nights ago I needed to bring the hats indoors. Frankly, I was surprised the lions still sported the hats for this long. Usually, the neighborhood hoodlums like to steal the festive hats by now just for kicks. Maybe the blizzard last night swept the little buggars off to visit the land of Oz. I know I had my ruby slippers on when I clicked them together three times and chanted, "I think I can, I think I can." We can only hope.

Back to the hats and the grandkids. Once the kids spied the hats on the sideboard, BINGO, the photo shoot was on. It was a bit difficult for me to get good pictures of Brenden because he does not like to have his photo taken. He typically makes all kinds of weird faces as he skips, dances, whirls then hides his whole face under the hat. No skin off my teeth buddy. You will be the one to reap the rewards a little bit later in life. I did manage to get a few good snapshots. I tricked him into telling me a story, and I was able to capture some good angles.


Rachel was a bit easier. She took only a little prodding. After a few initial shy moments, she took to striking poses like as if she were auditioning to be the next model on Project Runway.


With the photo shoot behind us, I headed to the computer so I could order the prints online. This is where I believe we entered an alternate universe.

The next two hours were filled with a weird series of events. I managed to get the pictures downloaded from the camera card then onto the computer. I even was able to get them uploaded to my Picasa Web albums. I sent a few invites to friends and family to view the little cuties. I always include my daughter because she gets a bit nervous with me at the helm. Poor thing was stuck at work, and we were having all the fun. I had just pushed the send button, when things went black on the computer. Dun, dun, dun.
 
I tried everything to get my internet connection back. Nothing worked. I decided we needed to lock and  load ourselves into the car in order to get on down to Walmart. I was in a hurry to have our prints so we could proceed to the ornament making phase of today's activities. I was positively twitching with excitement.

I told Phyllie of my computer woes, asked her to check out the connection, but in the meantime we needed to get our pictures. 

After getting on the snow gear, the kids and I braved the icy roads. We arrived at our local Walmart in record time considering the snow plows had not yet gotten to our side of town. No worries.

I made a bee line to the photo-mart inside the store dragging the grandchildren in tow. I refused several requests to "get me this, or that." I was a woman on a mission. When I located the proper equipment terminal, I was even able to find the correct hole to put my stick into despite the bewildering array of options. One child sat on the stool with me, whilst another occupied himself by twirling like a dervish immediately behind us. Despite numerous attempts, he was unable to pin down the little old blue haired lady trying to scan her old family photos into her own prompter.

Yes, I am the grandma who only kinda has control of her brood. I think the intervening years between having my own children and taking care of the grandkids have not been kind to my multitasking prowess. I don't sweat the small stuff anymore. My rules for being out in public follow the KISS model. One, stay within eye shot. Two, don't steal anything, and I DO check pockets before leaving any store. Three, try not to get run over in the parking lot. I do not wish to incur my daughter's wrath if I happen to return a smushed child to her at the end of the day. It is a good day when the rules are followed.

Somehow I manage to figure out how to order the chosen photos we need for our project. The processing was a snap. Inside of ten minutes we were back on the road again.

When we got home, time sped up to mach ten.

Two days ago the kitchen sink backed up. It did not stop my maniacal cooking even though I am sick of washing dishes in the bathtub. I called the plumber first thing Monday the morning. Along with the clog which needed to be cleared, I knew we also needed another garbage disposal. When Phyllie and I went over the days itinerary, she willingly volunteered to do the errands while I stay with the grandchildren. While the children and I took photos, Phyllie took the packages to the post office, dropped another by UPS, bought the wine for the dish I was cooking for dinner, and went to Homo Depot to buy us another garbage disposal.

As the children and I walked in with our photo bounty, Phyllie arrived with the garbage disposal. I immediately noticed it was not like the one we had, but she also had all the extra piping needed to get this new one installed. Her face lit up like Tim the Toolman Taylor's did every time he discussed his motorized equipment.

"This thing will chew up a corn cob!!!!" she announced over the din of the children fighting about which movie they would watch first. I knew I should not have let her loose on Home Depot.

The dogs began barking from their kennels as if they were in danger of being left in purgatory for the rest of the day.

And before I could get my coat off, the doorbell rang.

I couldn't decide what to do first. I poked my nose out the door to tell the plumber to hold on because, "It's a bit dangerous at the moment. Hang on, will ya?" His face looked a more than a little bit apprehensive.

I scolded the children for fighting. I pulled out the oldest trick in the book, "If you can't decide which one to watch, I will take ALL of them away from you, and no one will watch ANYTHING. Got it?"

Silence. One blessed moment of silence.

Next, I headed into the bedroom to get the dogs out of their kennels. I shepherded them into the backyard. Knowing we had a visitor, the two stood vigil at the sliding glass door. Tito began his olympic style high jump moves, immediately impressing the plumber. "Boy that guy can jump, can't he?"

"Yes, now can we discuss the plumbing issue? Here is the new garbage disposal. Please check the drain and install this new one, Okay?"

"Hmmmm, well it is like this here. The one you bought doesn't match the one you already have. It's gonna take some changing the pipes down here."

I had a flashback to the conversation with the secretary of the plumbing company earlier that morning. "It's a flat $75 per hour."

"Phyllie, come over here and listen to this. Please explain what you were telling me to Phyllis."

She listens none too patiently. "So what's the problem? Get 'er dun!!!" Phyl can't figure out why the plumber was hesitating about installing her wood chipper.

"Okay. Here, let me draw you a picture explaining what I need to do."

We look at each other, shrug our shoulders, and simultaneously announce, "We don't need a picture. You are the professional. Just make it work."

Roger The Plumber goes to work dismantling the old plumbing job under the sink, all the while mumbling something softly to himself. I think I know what he was saying. Crazy bitches.

He doesn't know the half of it.

Just as he was lying prone under the sink, with various pieces of pipe scattered about, Rachel announces she is hungry. "I want some Raviolios, please."

"Me too," chimes in Brenden.

Of course. Right away. Thankfully, the plumber was gracious enough to leave his legs spread strategically enough apart so I could tip toe between them in order to get the necessary supplies out of the cupboard. I finally get the cans opened, microwaved, and placed on the table.

"Come and get it."

"Thanks grandma. Can I have some juice please? And can I have some milk please?"

Sure thing.

I  deftly fill the cups. I even naively think I get the spill proof lids on correctly. Then I discover otherwise. As I tip toe between the plumber's splayed out legs and awkwardly placed the cups down on the kitchen table, the contents of both immediately splash across the kitchen table.

"Holy shit. I give up. I give up." I am in full meltdown.

The grandkids faces are frozen in fear. Phyl, who was eating her own sandwich safely in the living room, comes to the rescue.

"Here, let me help. Stand back, I can do this."

I head off to get towels. She quickly rescues the laptop which was foolishly left on the table. In seconds flat she has the table cleared. The children are in shock.

The plumber announces sheepishly, "I need that other part, could I possibly retrieve it for him?"

"It's out in the garage. Give me a second, please."

I turned to head back into the garage to retrieve the box which had the missing part the plumber needed when the phone rings.

Just like a Ninja, I snapped up the ringing phone, saw it was my daughter, and grumpily answered it.

"Hey mom. I have a something I need to talk about."

"Well, in the last 15 minutes I ..." and I listed off the events. "You better make it quick."

"Okay. Sounds like you have your hands full. I will call you later."

Smart girl.

It was on my way back to the kitchen chaos when it hit me. I could hear Trace Adkins singing, "You're Gonna Miss This" country song playing in my head.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igm2iGvo-us

Though not all the lyrics were particularly applicable at that moment, the stanza about the plumber was dead on.

That was when I realized I was livin' large. It was that exact moment when time stood still. I mentally stopped the insanity, if only for a tiny second, and just took in the scene. I sighed in a deep breath then started laughing like I was insane idiot. After my stomach started to hurt, I calmly announced, "I gotta write this down. This is good stuff man, good stuff."

Once the bumper car ride of life stopped, there was a strange, even eerie calm which came over everyone. Even the house refused to make a noise.

The excess tidal wave of fluid was mopped. The children happily slathered Raviolios all over their faces, some even made it into their stomachs. The plumber plumbed. Phyllie finished her sandwich, and I got out the computer and began searching YouTube for Trace.

Brenden then offered the best comment of the day as he ate his lunch. He calmly uttered to no one in particular, "That's why we call her Crazy Grandma." 

"I am going to make myself some lunch. I have not eaten anything yet this morning, and I am a raving bitch. Sorry. Hey, can I get you a soda or something?"

Roger The Plumber pointed to his stomach and said, "Does it look like I have missed many meals? No thanks. You go on ahead and make yourself some lunch. I will just get this job done for you, Ma'am."

I warmed up a bowl of soup, found the song on YouTube, and got it going for inspiration. The children were swabbed for any remnants of spaghetti sauce before being shuttled off to watch their mutually agreed upon video. Phyllie took to her favorite easy chair for her afternoon nap. Snoring quickly ensued.

And I began this post.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Another Conversation Overheard

Many of you already know I pick up my grandchildren from school two days per week. I look forward to seeing them, and am always ready for what might come out of their mouths on the way home from school.

Today was a gem.

Rachel is 4 ("not 4 1/2" per brother)
Brenden IS officially 6 1/2.

We have our pleasantries first. "How was school? What did you do? How was lunch? Here's your snack."

We are several blocks away from school. Rach has completed her peanut butter snack bar with the always predictable explanation "I can't have peanut butter in class 'cause someone is llergic. I love peanut butter."

"I know Rach. That is why I bring them for you to have after school."

"Well, I CAN. No one is ALlergic in my class (B is always correcting his sister's pronunciation). But today I had to eat half of my sandwich outside."

"Why is that, B?" Hmmmm I wondered.

"Dunno." End of conversation. I decide to let it drop.

Quiet for a few blocks.

Rachel begins rustling around in her book bag pulling out something I can't see.

Not really whispering, but quietly she says to her brother, "I sneeked this into school today."

I immediately scan the rear view to no avail.

"What?" B has that no nonsense sound to his voice.

"This." I still can't see what she is talking about "A ball. I sneeked it in my bag. The teacho didn't see it. Yesterday, a boy in my class brought a ball like this to school. He had it in his pocket. He brought it out on the playground and the teacho didn't see it." he he he he "So today, I brought this and the teacho didn't see it either."

Outraged, B announces loud and firm, "I am a police. I am a school police!"

"So?" Rachel shrugs.

"No really, I am a police. Who brought the ball to school yesterday? Was it (name inaudible)?"

"No."

"Was it (again name inaudible)?"

"No."

"Who was it then? I am a school police!" B's voice is getting louder, and I can only imagine him holding a spotlight shining right in her eyes old school style. I start to giggle uncontrollably. I am desperate not to let them see me. I feign looking out my left window while sneaking a peek in my rear view mirror at the two sitting in their booster seats behind me. I have my right hand firmly planted over my mouth.

"I am pre-school." Rachel announces triumphantly.

I give a snort.

B moves in for the kill. "I am NOT pre-school. I am school police."

"I know. I am PRE-school." Rachel has a little smile, kinda Mona Lisa like.

"Give me that ball." B tries to snatch it out of Rachel's hand.

Rach is sneering at her brother, and holding the ball just out of his reach.

I can't hold it any longer. Streams of tears are running down my face.  I can no longer control the spasms of laughter escaping my mouth.

B is not amused. "You need to stop, grandma."

"I am trying, B, I am trying." I managed to tell him through the gales of guffaws.

What makes this hysterical is that Brenden lords it over on his sister that he is the eldest at every opportunity he gets. This is one of the first times I have witnessed Rachel getting one over on her brother.

My rational mind wonders about whether Rachel will be a follower, doing other nefarious deeds as she makes her way through school. But I can't be bothered with that right now.

All I can say is,

"Let's hear it for the FOUR year old!" ....he he he

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Autumn, Baby!

 
Conceived in the dark of winter, nurtured in utero through spring, and sheltered from the hateful heat of summer, she came into the world on a lovely fall day.

Being born in the season of crisp mornings, warmly spicy afternoons replete with gently falling leaves, she was rained upon by buttery browns, sunshine yellows, and relishing reds. She felt secure. 

Autumn.
The world, for now, was at rest.

Yet the frantic wet of winter was on the horizon. She could see it in the dark clouds rushing the winds, swirling the colors, battering them, muting them. 
But she, being wrapped snugly in soft blankets, held close and warmed by her mother's milk, grew.

Her life mirrored the seasons. 
She, being born in the season of culmination, a child of the harvest, reaped much in her life.
Children, friends, husbands.

But it was only in the Autumn of her life where she came to be fully, luxuriantly colored herself. She quit listening to those who prescribed for her. She claimed her own path.

Soon, she could be seen running with reckless abandon, strewing the richly colored leaves behind her. Racing the winter wind. Daring it to catch her.

"I love you all. You are near and dear to me, but I too do count. Will you run with me?"
They could only watch from the sidelines.

She threw them kisses. 

She danced in the fluttering leaves of her imagination, gathering them about her in nicely rounded mounds. The fallen leaves of a lifetime.

She screamed into the world, "This is me! Take me as I am! All of you!" 

She stomped, she kicked, she trampled the autumn leaves until all was small and quiet again. 

She held herself close, wrapped herself in earthen browns, careened and cavorted in glorious golds, then arrived at her party dressed in her own charismatic crimson.



This is a Magpie Tale. Check out the other fabulous authors at:
http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/

Thanks, Willow, for another fabulous opportunity to write, and my FAV time of year. YEAH!!!!

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Retired

"She is retired now," lamented grandmother
to no one in particular,
 thinking she be alone.
Well, not quite alone,
with me, you see, in my secret little abode.

"You are sparkling, and shiny, and silvery. 
Your work well beyond. 
I no longer need your services,
but I long to keep you around.
Many a dark day,
you saw me through.
Your light 
burnishing bright.

I shall place you right here,
and dust you my dear.
 Your bond with me secure.
Our features still strong.
We both move along.
New faculty to be.
The flames in our hearts,
 say we will never part.
Now, 
We Just Get to BE!"


This is a Magpie tale. Check it out:
http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/

Thanks Willow.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Burlington Coat Factory

Today, I ventured into the Burlington Coat Factory Outlet store to see if I could find something new to wear to work next week. I am tired of what is hanging in my closet. This morning it took way too long to figure out what I would like to wear to work. I am weird that way. If I don't feel good putting something on in the morning, it taints my day.

I always have this issue about this time of year. I absolutely love summer, and with this week's weather hitting the mid 90's all week, I find it hard to believe it is Autumn already. I am told next week it will be in the high 60's. Such schizophrenic weather is usual for Reno. I started noticing the leaves changing about a week ago. The yellows, goldenrod's, and most spectacularly the burgundy's have started creeping over the formerly green trees.

Seeing those colors in my environment makes me want to wear them.

My summertime wardrobe is replete with fanciful colors. My favorite t-shirt this summer was a very bright pink, with a large brush swiped heart shaped graphic on the front. When I felt a little off, you could always see me wearing that shirt.

After work today, on this 95 degree Friday, I decided I wanted something new in my closet to choose from on the promised chilly fall morning come Monday. I was looking for some rich browns, or maybe a burgundy pair of pants. Comfort is number one with me. I went on the hunt.

When I entered the women's section, there was a very tall African-American woman wandering around the aisles with a cell phone held up so close to her face I thought she would eat it any moment. She was not shopping, only wandering around hollering at her not-to-be-seen shopping friend. I was not interested in whatever it was this woman was going on about, so I avoided her whenever I saw her coming down my aisle.

I foraged around the cluttered aisles. I found several prospective pairs of pants, three dresses, and a few blouses. When I finally get myself into a dressing room, groan, I want to do it all at ONE time.

I tentatively asked the clerk standing guard over the dressing rooms, "How many items can I bring in with me?"

"Ten, but if you but them back on the hangers, you can take all of 'em with you," the beautiful young clerk says with an earnest voice.

"It's a deal." I quickly grabbed all sixteen items and dashed  into the nearest dressing room. I had trouble passing through the door because my arms were so full of bounty. After I wrangled my way into the tiny space, I immediately shucked my own clothing. I tried not to look at my nearly naked self with all my lovely imperfections. I wanted to stay focused on checking out how these clothes might look and feel once they covered up my lumps, bumps and dimples. I worked at a fevered pace.

Fortunately, I was spared my usual intense scrutiny of myself because of what was going on just outside my dressing room door. I can't promise quotes I am about to relay are in actual sequential order, but each quote is REAL. I promise.

"Loquitia, what you doin' in there? Come on out here, girl." It's the woman I have been dodging for half an hour.

"Hang on, I gotta get these leggin's on. Lord this makes me look thick.What you think, you think this makes me look thick?" Apparently, it is the never before seen friend, and her name is Loquitia. I peer through the slats in my dressing room door to see her twirling around looking at herself in the mirror.

"Well, I would put a pair of socks with them, and a nice pair of boots. But you know me, that's how I would do it. You go on ahead and do whatever makes you feel good. You look white." The proclamation has been delivered by the woman with the phone who is sitting on a chair directly outside my dressing room door. 

Trot, trot, trot, back to her dressing room Loquitia goes.

"I gotta accep my friends on Facebook. I gotta accep my friends on Facebook. How in the worl can I do it on this phone? Girl, you hear me? EVERYONE could hear her. How do I accep my friends on this phone? Oh lord, looks like the battery is goin. GIRL I am gonna DIE if I can't accep these friends. Oh, I just got another friend request. I am up to 56 and I have only been on Facebook for two days! I just got out a couple a days ago. I been to the hairdresser, Peaches, you know Peaches, she the BEST. High, but she the best. I spent four hours in her chair. Oh lord, oh lord, the battery is goin'. What I gonna do? Hmmmm......" The woman with the phone commands all my attention now. I have dubbed her Facebook Lady. Her voice starts to quiver.

Next, I hear a lot of rustling going on.

I decide not to peek through the slats. It is difficult to pay attention to what I am trying on because I am being sucked into the drama just outside my dressing room door.

"There it is, GIRL how do I change this battery? Loquitia, Loquitia????" Facebook Lady's voice is getting tense.

"I need a shirt to go with these leggin's. Will you get me a shirt, please?" Loquitia pleads with the increasingly more and more frantic Facebook Lady.

"Does that mean I have to get up? Girl, my feet be hurtin'. Get yo own blouse. Now tell me how to change this battery. I will die if I can't get back on Facebook. I have so many friends. I love getting in touch with my friends. Mostly they be the ones I went to school with. Baby, you remember Baby? and what about Bubba Lou?" Facebook Lady seems to be talking to the dressing room clerk.

The young female dressing room clerk asks, "How long you been gone?"

Gone? Hmmmm. Now I am wondering where she has been.  California? Bermuda?

"Six years. I just got out a couple a days ago. They didn't have Facebook when I went up." Facebook Lady sounds positively jubilant.

Now I AM peeking out the slats of my dressing room door and simultaneously wiggling into a pair of jeans. I pray Facebook Lady doesn't see my wide open eyes.

"What you went up for?" The young clerk asks politely.

"Trafficking." Facebook Lady issues a flat statement. She never even looks at the clerk. All of Facebook Lady's attention is riveted on the phone.

Loquitia is apparently on her own. Facebook Lady has commandeered Loquitia's phone as well as her purse, and will hold it hostage until she gets the fresh battery. Facebook lady NEEDS to resume her frantic friend finding.

It is right about now that I have finished trying on all sixteen garments. Only two work. My typical ratio. I am faced with how to get all the perfectly-put-back-on-the-hanger items out of the tiny dressing room. I also am more than a bit leery of walking past Facebook Lady.

I admit I waited until she found the battery, and successfully placed it back in the phone before venturing out of my little cubby hole of a dressing room.

I gave Facebook Lady a nice smile as I walked past. She did not even notice me. She did get another friend request as I walked by.

"So and so told so and so I was out, now THEY want to be my friend. I remember that girl when I was in the first time. Lord she look like she doin drugs. That picture look like she be doin drugs again! Oh, she look bad. Loquitia do I want to be friends with her? Loquitia, you hear me? Loquitia I gotta be home in 30 minutes. They be monitoring me. I told them I was at Western Union. Now I gotta get home. Come on outta there now. I gotta be home in 30 minutes." Facebook Lady is pleading with Loquitia who has been mercifully silent.

I immediately handed  fourteen beautifully put back on the hanger items back to the dressing room clerk. I stashed my two items in the cart, and made a beeline for the checkout counter.

Here's the thing, I work with youth who are routinely in and out of kiddie jail, but seldom am I around folks who have just returned from THE BIG HOUSE. I kept asking myself, How would I act if I had been removed from society for six years? I still don't have any answers. I felt simultaneously sorry for Facebook Lady as well as being highly amused by her antics. I even felt a dash of fear wondering what would happen if she did not find a charged up battery in the bottom of Loquitia's purse.

Am I a bad person?

Really, all I wanted to do is find something new to wear to school on Monday. I did not walk out of Burlington with anything that remotely reminds me of fall. Nothing brown. Nothing orange. Nothing goldenrod. No pants of any kind.

I did come out of there with a great story. A slice of life.

Silently, I wish Facebook Lady the best of luck finding friends again. I hope she said NO to so and so who looked like she was doin' drugs again.

I still keep wondering how it would be to be locked away from society for six years then try to re-enter again with the fast paced, technology filled world we live in now.

Best of luck, Facebook Lady.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Ahhh Choooo, Pee Yew

"I can't," she said.
"I can't."
 
Just looking at it
makes my nose wrinkle.
 
"Don't you dare 
open that cap!"
 
Stay back.
Stay back.
 
I know you get a commission,
but not from me Sista.
Not from me.
 
"Ply your wares elsewhere
my dear."
 
Stay back.
Stay back.

This poem was inspired by the weekly prompt at http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/
Thanks Willow.


Saturday, September 4, 2010

Teacher


I heard I was supposed to give you an apple on our first day.
So here you go.
I hope you don't mind, but I got a little hungry
before class started.

Thanks Willow for such a great prompt, 
and so timely too!!!! 
This is something my students would do 
for sure!!!!