Zen master among the marigolds......

Or do you think he's a Chinese fisherman? I'm not sure, but his original home was more fitting than the marigolds he finds himself sitting in now. He came with a bonsai tree I bought J for Father's Day when he was working in MO. We were staying (in the 5th wheel) in St. Paul -- the old part. Part of the Lewis Clark trail was steps away from the RV park we were staying in and evey day after J left for work I'd walk the trail to downtown St. Paul. And most every day I'd come back with packages containing things I'd picked up on my wanderings through town. One of my best finds was the St. Louis Bread Co. I'd wait until the tourist lunch crowd had left and then I'd stop in to refresh before hiking back to the 5th wheel. I had never seen so many bagel and cream cheese choices. Not to mention the soup and sandwiches.

Anywho....Father's Day found us stranded in St. Paul with only son #1 close by -- which was most unusal (to be away from the kids on F's Day and to be close to son #1 who was well into his wandering around the country by that time.) I had no idea what to get J for F's Day until I spotted the little Oriental figure sitting under a bonsai tree in a flower shop owned by the nicest gay guys. They had gotten in a few bonsai plants especially for Father's Day and they helped me pick out the perfect figure along with the perfect miniature tree.

I was impressed with their honesty. I asked them if the tree would last long, given my living conditions, and they said probably not. Actually, the tree lasted much longer than I counted on but not as long as the little Oriental fellow. He now sits just outside my back door and brings back many memories. Memories of St. Paul. Memories of being close to son #1 for a while and going to Blueberry Hill to listen to some excellent music and then spending his birthday watching Chicken Run in a lovely little theater in a lovely building -- whose name I can't remember. Memories of sitting outside a little cafe next door to the flower shop sipping coffee with the flower shop owners because they insisted on updates on how the plant and the little Oriental dude were doing. I'm pretty sure their main purpose was talking to me about New Orleans -- a place they were fascinated with. Fine with me. I enjoyed the company and the coffee.

Thinking back, I cried a lot in Missoui. I cried listening to the Flying Neutrinos sing I'd Rather be in Louisiana. I cried driving down the interstate when we passed highway signs with New Orleans written on them, marking the lane that would take me home. I cried when son #1 told me he wasn't ready to settle down and buy the house his St. Louis fiancee was ready for. I cried saying goodbye to her. I cried when his (then)fiancee told me the story of how her single working mother would drop this precious child off at the St. Louis Zoo on summer days when babysittes couldn't be afforded telling her child how to stay unnoticed and how if she felt threatened to join up with one of the ever-present summer school groups of children touring the zoo.

Yes. Thinking back, St. Louis was a topsey turvey ride for me.

I had a dream......

I love dream catchers and may buy one from this site to add to my small collection, but....back to the dream.

This morning, after waking up as J. left for work and then falling back asleep I had a disturbing dream. About son #3. He and I were in a house I didn't recognize and he wanted me to drive him to a friend's house (a boy who actually lived across the street from us years ago) to play some kind of game. I asked son #3 why he didn't walk because the friend's house was only a couple of doors down (I remember counting how far away) and the friend usually walked up to our house. But then I noticed son #3 was loaded down with metal tool chests (the kind J. stores his metal wargaming figures in). I knew these chests were heavy so I decided since it wasn't far to drive son #3.

Okay. We're in the car and son #3 is driving. He's going down a big long hill. Going down the hill fast. I'm saying SLOW DOWN! He doesn't. As we zoom past a stop sign I panic and start screaming, STOP! PUT ON THE BREAKS! Son #3's face is terrified -- like he's frozen. I think he's pressing the brake but the car doesn't seem to be slowing down.

Now we're heading down hill toward a line of stopped cars and our car does seem to be slowing down but before we can stop we're rear ended. Next we're out of the car (no one hurt) and I notice other people with their license and proof of insurance out so I reach in the glove compartment for mine. And guess what? It's not there. Nope. I realize J. took the papers out to do something and didn't return them. I think I found proof of ownership/bill of sale/whatever that is. But no insurance. And it's J's fault. I then realize that I have a Louisiana license the car has Florida tags (don't ask -- this part's true).

I wake up really pissed at J.

How the dream went from son to father is something I didn't realize until I was writing it.

Now....enough about me and my dreams. To make amends for this b-o-r-i-n-g post here's a link to what I'll be listening to as I vacuum all these floors waiting for me. I love the Flying Neutrinos. Don't you think Ingrid Lucia sounds a lot like Billie Holiday? Enjoy!

There's something about a man wearing a shirt with this logo......

that causes some people to go off on him. At least that's what a friend of mine told me. Her husband works at Exxon. He told her he now changes shirts (after work) before going in most places. Here's why. On a recent trip to Wal*Mart (after work -- still sporting his Exxon uniform -- before the I've got to stop wearing this uniform thing) no less than two women scolded him for high gas prices.

Okay. He's not personally responsible for our high gas prices and I'm sure those ladies realize that. At least I hope so. I mean....living in Exxon country, as we do, you can't help hearing how keeping the refineries up and running actually help keep prices down. Remember the aftermath of Katrina and Rita? And according to seekingalpha.com Exxon paid $27.9 billion in taxes (41.4% tax rate). I can't vouch for that tax number but does that really have anything to do with the price of a gallon of gas. Probably so, but....

Everyone has their own ways to deal with learning to accept these high gas prices. Down this way we sometimes point at Exxon with the attitude of -- we welcomed your high paying jobs with open arms allowed you to rape and pillage our land and we get no respect (aka price break)? Okay. We know that one's ridiculous but we still try. And we also join in when the question's asked -- our country's in Iraq for what? Certainly not lower gas prices.

I know those are juvenile reactions but....frustration doesn't often bring out the best in people. I do feel sorry for those wearing the Exxon logo these days tho.

Update: My daughter is fast learning the ways of corporate America. After the lab she works in lost a worker (he quit), and while her coworker was preparing to leave for vacation (leaving only A. and her boss), the office brass set a deadline for a formula apparently no one but them (the office brass) knew was needed. Yes indeedy. After sitting on the project for who knows how long, causing the company waiting for results to demand results, A. was told to come up with a formula in two weeks. Nothing ever changes does it?

Well, being the overly responsible person she is, she has a workable formula for them. Now the company contracting her lab is going to take it and figure out how to tweak it so they can save money. So if you have outdoors furniture (and other stuff also I think) you want to keep rust free(er) -- help is on the way. And A. will have played a part in this. ....I don't understand a thing she does, but I'm proud of her anyway. Pay back for me buying those chemistry sets through the years (per her request) instead of Barbie paraphernalia.

To add to the mundane-ness of this post....J. played with his band last weekend. I just heard the almost hour-long CD someone recorded. Sad how pumped up a group of grow-up (supposedly) professional men can get when they hear people screaming in the audience. Hasn't he been there done that?

They're here!

The LSU National Championship six packs.

I couldn't find any pictures on google images (and why the hell not!) so you'll have to make do with my out-of-focus pictures from my camera. My daughter says I don't hold still long enough after snappin, clickin, pushin (whatever you call it) the button. Maybe. Some come out fine others -- not so much.

Anywho....the championship six packs were the first thing I saw as I trudged into Target yesterday. Front and center. Right smack dab inside the entrance. (Wonder why?) Brightened my shopping mood, I'll tell ya.




The eye of the tiger. (I know you can't see it, but....trust me. It's there.)




This shows our the team's schedule. It also shows our the team's two overtime losses -- which, as everyone knows equals only one full loss (since they were in o.t.) ....Don't question me about how 2 can equal 1. We call that Miles Math. It's what our coach (Coach Miles -- the man from Michigan -- the man who wears the funny hat -- the man we insist we love even though privately many of us think he's out of his ever loving mind!) To finish that sentence....that's what Coach Miles told the press -- 2 o.t. losses really equal one full loss. ???? Whatever. It worked.




For some reason I felt compelled to snap a picture of me holding a bottle. Have you ever tried to take a picture of your own self? I don't know how many I had to delete until I snapped one that wasn't freaky -- even to me.

So, now, am I supposed to drink these?

I have tomatoes!

Aren't they cute? It's not quite time to break open the Blue Plate and start up the breadmaker for tomato sandwiches, but (fingers crossed) maybe it won't be long. If I can just keep the bugs, birds, and squirrels from getting to them before I do....

Last summer, in New York City, when I saw all the yummy fresh bread choices everywhere I looked, I knew I'd be missing them (and the city) this summer. Sniff!

Shrimp Angels

In my last post I admitted that I just might lean to tacky in some things. If

This

or

This

doesn't prove it....this post sure as hell will.

Here are my shrimp angels. I bought them at one of Gulf Shore's Shrimp Fests. Yes. I paid money for them. Sad, isn't it? Actually....I think shrimp angels were a result of the artist's leftover clay. Or maybe one of his kids was messing around? Whatever it was I thought they were ugly enough to be cute. Sad, isn't it?

And, yes. I have a blue one too. Disturbing. I know.

My roses are blooming......

and my bud vases (all two of them) are full, so....this is what I had handy for two roses whose blooms are fading -- fast. Why is it that their smell seems to be strongest as they are wilting? I don't know but these two roses smelled so good I just couldn't toss them out.

Now, I have some beautifully perfect roses and rose buds in my bud vases so I wondered last night why it was I kept gazing at these particular roses and smiling. Then I realized why. They are really tacky sitting there in their empty Corona bottle (Corona light at that) but I find them so pleasing. In the past, J. has labeled some of my choices as tacky. (Like the bottle top earrings I wanted at a fleamarket. I mean, come on now, who could pass up Coke bottle-top earrings? I'm just asking....)

I guess last night proved it. I am a tacky person with tacky taste. Now that that's settled, guess I'll go to the fridge and empty another Corona bottle for more wilting roses.

If I lived on the moon......

I think I would enjoy this (click to view) as much as I enjoy sunsets here on earth.

What a beautiful home we have.

My new shoes......

They aren't here yet but they look so comfortable. They are two-toned -- olive and pistachio. Do you think they are too young for me? I didn't think about it until I sent a picture to A. and in her reply she used some adjectives that made me wonder. I think Sex and the City was mentioned. Now I'm worried.

Highway Robbery......

That's what the text A. sent me Friday said -- Highway robbery. Of course that revved up my imagination because I knew she was on a road trip to Delaware. Had she been help up, I wondered? Was she in the process of being held up and managed to sneak a cry for help to me? Who do you report something like this to? As soon as those thoughts flashed through my mind I realized how ridiculous they (probably) were. And it turned out to be true when her second text came through soon after. She was referring to tolls.

It seems she and her friends were quite surprised by all the tolls they were having to pay on their way from North Carolina to Delaware. $4 here. $4 there. $4 everywhere. (Or so it seemed to them.) She said some nice guy in Baltimore paid the toll for them. They were impressed with Maryland. But their trip eventually turned into a comedy of errors -- especially the Washington D.C. part.

The Delaware part went well. They should have stayed there for the night instead of heading to D.C. They had planned on leaving Delaware after attending a concert, staying the night in D.C., sightseeing the following day, going to a baseball game that afternoon, and heading home that evening. They did say Washington D.C. was lovely at night but their experience at the hotel was less than lovely. They got a full refund and left soon after they arrived. Verdict: Washington D.C.'s a nice place to visit (for a day trip), not a nice place to stay the night. I'm just saying that was what happened on their first experience. They might try it another time and have no problems.

Today son #1 calls to say he has a piece of fabric from the Hindenburg and wants to know if it's worth anything. ???? I'm supposed to know the answer to that? I got on ebay and told him -- maybe. He and some friends have been hired to clean out the garage of a man who died. The man was a packrat. The man's family wanted nothing to do with him or his stuff. They just want someone to get rid of the stuff. So....son #1 and his friends are hoping they will find a hidden treasure. Maybe.

It seems the rest of my family has had an interesting weekend. Me? Not so much. A friend is going through a really bad time. Something no one can do anything about except to be there for him. And, since he's far, far away from me, I can't be there. He does have others who are with him and that's good. It's been an odd weekend for me because off and on every day I would look at the clock and think about what he'd be doing or getting ready to do. It was as if I was there -- in an odd sort of way. Going through it with him. When I talked to him during the weekend and heard the changes his voice went through I could see him. I felt him.

He said he'd rather I come see him later, when it's not so complicated. Even during this horrendous time in his life he's thinking of me. I love him deeply, and it's so comforting to know he loves me also. It is such a blessing to have frinds who are truly good people. He gave me strength this weekend. At a time when he needed the strength of others. I didn't think I could admire him more than I already did, but I was wrong.

Sheesh! It was a full weekend for many of those around me. I guess my job was just to be there.

My Crucifix Fish......

It's not the best picture but....if you look really close maybe you can see why it's called a crucifix fish. (Actually, I think it's the skeleton of a catfish.)

Anywho....On one of my morning beach walks last December the nicest lady (also a beach walker) came up to me and asked if I'd ever seen a crucifix fish. I told her I hadn't and she held out what you see in the above picture. She asked if I could see Jesus on the cross. I immediately saw what she was talking about. Then she shook the fish skeleton and said the rattle I heard was the noise of the gamblers at the foot of the cross. I thanked her and told her I couldn't wait to show it to my kids when they arrived. She said her kids thought it was weird. ....As it turned out, so did mine. Oh, well. I brought it home anyway and framed it. And no I haven't told my kids. They'd think that was really weird.

As I mentioned, I think it's a catfish skeleton left after the red tide made its way through the area and as the lady warned me -- they stink have a strong smell. She recommended soaking it in clorox water. After soaking and then sitting in the sun for months we'll see how long mine makes it inside -- encased in glass. I found out that the lady I'm talking about was/is a local who's able to walk the beach whenever she wants. Talk about a dream life!

She was dressed so nice -- a pink jogging suit, a pink visor, even pink nails and lipstick to match her outfit. I felt like Raggedy Ann. After giving me the fish skeleton crucifix fish she walked on by but came back three or four times to gift me with shells she'd picked up. So nice -- even if she did mention she collected coral so she was keeping the big piece of coral she found. She pointed out where she'd watched an octopus work it's way back into the water. Do you think you'd ever get tired of living a life like that? (Maybe having to put up with sand everywhere and in everything would eventually wear you down, but I think it'd take a while.)

One day I'm going to post pictures of the shells J. collected and the shells I collected. You know what they say about a picture being worth a thousand words? I think those pictures will speak volumes about our differences....

Flowers......

Since I don't have a green thumb I'm not sure what kind of flowers those are in the picture but they must be pretty hardy because they've been gloriously blooming in my yard yearly for a good long while. J.'s grandmom (who had a very green thumb) sent some blulbs home with us one year which we plopped in the ground in the easiest spot we could find. Beginner's luck I guess because they seem to like it there. I've been told they need to be thinned out. Ummmm.... Maybe so because this year I noticed a couple on the other side of the fence.

That's the problem with growing stuff down this way. If something likes it here -- watch out! It could overtake you. Like the Asian Jasmine sprouts I planted in my front flower beds -- which became knee-high and tried to crawl inside my windows. I had to search high and low to find someone willing to tackle that problem. It took multiple men and machines to dig it up.

Over the years when people have given us plants from their yards we've just kind of put them in the ground without much forethought (because we don't know what thoughts need thinking). Some of those plants survived in spite of us. Now when we walk around the yard and see those plants they bring back many memories. So cool.

Happy, Happy Birthday to son #3......

How the time flies! Son #3 always wore hats, helmets, pots, pan....you name it, on his head. We got used to it. When his oldest brother was going through Jump School during Airborne training son #3 routinely decorated his own face with his version of war paint -- my makeup (until I put it out of his reach), toothpaste, Magic Markers (his school was amused with the faint outlines that remained on his face for a few days -- I wasn't).




Above you can see how it all started. Son #1 being a big brother -- sharing his camo paint with his little brother!


Son #3 was fascinated with the military. I thought going to Fort Benning and witnessing his brother jumping out of a frickin' airplane would cure him. It didn't. I hoped hearing the stories of guys puking in their helmets before jumping, or freezing up and being pushed out would cure him. It didn't. It so happened that his older brother knew him better than I did. All it took was hearing that if he joined the Army he'd have to eat his veggies. That was it. The days of him sleeping in full combat gear were over.

After 9/11 the obsession returned. He said it wasn't fair to leave the fight to others. He felt a responsibility to do something. He wasn't old enough to join but he went to see a Marine recruiter anyway. We were blessed in that, for some reason, the recruiter counciled him to stay in school. Even today he toys with the idea of joining up. He's changed his mind about the wisdom of this war we're (or at least our military's) in, but he still feels he should play his part since we're there.

I don't know why those are the thoughts that pop into my mind today. Jumping to the present....I'm loving the man son #3 is becoming. He's smart, kind-hearted, handsome, loyal, and best of all....he makes the best yeast rolls and cheese enchiladas I've tasted. I know his sister and the group he lives with have a fun-filled day planned (he dislikes being the center of attention so he'll hate every minute of it but bear it gracefully) so he'll have a good day. I wish him a lifetime of happy days.

Finding Waldo!

Yesterday when J. asked what I wanted to eat I almost blurted out "Ollie's!" While in NYC last summer I discovered Ollie's Noodle Shop on Broadway and fell in love with their chicken and broccoli. It was what I had for my last meal before coming home -- picked up on my way back to the apartment from mailing home my last batch of books at UPS.

I managed to find some pretty good food during my time in the city. On Fridays a group of us would try and traipse to a restaurant chosen by a NYer who lived for years in the Village (I think it was) but had recently moved to New Jersey to garden. I found that odd, but....to each his own. Can you garden in New Jersey? He was originally from TX so maybe that explains it?? He made some good choices (although we did have to soon put him on our budgets). I never made it to Harlem for soul food. A classmate (also living and teaching in New Jersey for years but originally from south Alabama -- what a small world) told me, in her opinion, that the food wasn't anything like what we consider soul food down in these parts. She said on her first trip to one of the best known soul food restaurants (I can't remember the name, I think it starts with an 'S') her excited friends would ask her after every bite, "Doesn't it taste just like home?"

So the facts that I was on a strict budget and severely time-limited (because there was always three papers to be written and hundreds of pages to be read -- not to mention lesson plans to be created) meant I had to make the most of what time I had to grab something to eat. I have nothing exciting to report. But, if you find yourself in the Amsterdam/Morningside Drive area near Teachers College (and money restricted) I can vouch for the Amsterdam Cafe, the hummus and the egg salad at the Apple Tree, and the little restaurant (whose name I can't remember) next door to the Apple Tree.

And, yes. That's my class picture. I guess you're never too old? Can you find me? (J. said it took him forever!) Not that we're standing in rows, but (as you're looking at the picture) I'm roughly in third row on the left. Need more hints? ;) Find the Oriental guy with glasses in the blue shirt (that's Phil who was in charge of the CEP where we did our student teaching. I wouldn't want his job.) I'm the one in the white tank top standing just over his shoulder. The gal behind his other shoulder? The gal with the navy shirt that has a hint of orange where it buttons? That's the gal from Alabama. Unfortunately She's a fan of that other university in Alabama. The one whose name doesn't cross my lips.

She and I would greet each other with "Roll Tide!" (from me, of course!) and "War Eagle!" from her (poor soul!) Come to think of it, she was one of the last ones I said goodbye to in NYC -- or rather said "Roll Tide!" to (and heard the "War Eagle!" from). Disney's right. It is a small world.

Oh, my!

Today I spent some time with a friend who is in the process of recreating her life -- her words. She has almost finished shedding her wandering hubby and she's ready for a new life -- her words. But for all her attempts her life seems to be telling her to slow down. Take it easy for a while. She's not listening too well.

The results of her latest effort sums it up. She thinks she wants to sell her house so she's looking at condos. While looking, she can't stand living in her home with so many memories but she can't seem to focus enough to know how she wants to change things around her. She just wants things changed -- now. So she hires a decorator and tells him to shake things up, make things entirely different. The results? Well, just imagine what might happen if you tell a creative hairdresser to just do anything you want -- i'm ready for a complete change.

Suffice it to say she's not happy. She blames it on the decorator's style. Which is a tad bizarre. (I have a feeling potential buyers looking at her house aren't going to get it. Not the usual stuff you see in a house situated in a regular subdivision.) But it is different. And that's what she asked for. (note to self -- be careful what you ask for)

So she's sad. She says her surroundings make her sad. Isn't that the same thing she said before making the changes? Where's the a-ha moment here? I think she's running away from herself too fast to allow her true feelings to catch up with her. I wish I could do more.

Choosing your battles......

I don't toot my own horn (so to speak) very much, but....I've always seemed to be aware of the wisdom of choosing one's battles. I don't know if it was something I was taught, something I observed, or something that just came naturally, but I'm glad I had the knowledge before I had my children. Made life easier in that particular area.

I often worried if I was actually choosing to not make an issue of many things or if I was avoiding confrontation. Whichever it was it seems to have worked for me -- and others. I'm just not bugged by many things. If something does bug me -- I change it. Pronto!

Over a month ago I ordered some sage sticks/bundles to smudge (purify) my home. I've not tried smudging before but I've been intrigued by the idea for a while. So, I order and I wait and I wait and I wait and.... Nothing comes in the mail so I contact the business I ordered from. They suggested I give the tracking number to the post office for them to trace the package. Since the package wasn't insured I didn't think the post office would do anything so I wasn't sure what to do next.

After thinking about it (and trying everything I could think of) I decided to let it go and learn from it. Sure I felt aggravated (for a short time) but I realized there wasn't much I could control. No insurance = no refund. But....even though I accepted the situation I still had positive thoughts that some way things would work out. I just trusted the universe to handle things.

Imagine my surprise today when I opened an email from the business I'd ordered from telling me that my package had been returned to them -- stamped "insufficient address information." I have no idea why because the address was correct, but.... whatever. I was told they would reship or refund my money. I told them to reship (using the same address) and see if the package would make its way here.

So my package is on its way -- again. I did have to pay shipping (again) but, hey, what can you do?

Here's hoping.

The Mighty Mississippi......

Springtime. River risin'. Flood watch. Yep, it's that time of year when all eyes are on the Big Muddy -- and she's a-rising fast. But, no worries, they're telling us. At least no worries for Baton Rouge. It seems that this year we won't be able to drive the streets of downtown BR gazing at the ships floating down (or up) river -- high above street level -- high above the tops of our cars. Freaky.

One of our local weather men explained what all the hoopla's about. Official flood stage in BR is 35' and that's where the river is now. But....(and this is very important) our levees are around 48-49' feet high. They aren't sure?! Anywhoo....once the river reaches official flood stage the river traffic cops come out. The current's flowing so fast and there's so much boat traffic that river conditions are treacherous, hence the river PO-lice. All of us down here just kind of hope it won't rain too much more up north.

Favorite river joke: Will everyone in Minnesota please flush their toilets. People in Baton Rouge want a drink of water. Ewwwwwwww!

Basketball in North Carolina......

Basketball's big in NC. As big as football in the South I wonder? When J. was working in Fayetteville, NC (and son #3 and I were living in the 5th wheel in Clear Lake) during basketball season we couldn't walk into any of the Mom&Pop stores in Elizabethtown (the closest shopping) without seeing everyone gathered around a small tv set watching some basketball game. I hear that season basketball tickets (like season football tickets here) are disputed in divorces and wills. I can understand.

Anywhoo....last weekend A. text-ed me cheering that our Lady Tigers had advanced to the Elite Eight. I knew they were playing and was just going to check if the game was over (since I can't stand how basketball games can drag on and on and on and....) So, the Lady Tigers and North Carolina's women's basketball teams played last night in New Orleans. Lady Tigers won! Woo hoo! (I watched the last 3 minutes -- which lasted an hour and 1/2, I think....)

The point of all this is that A. told me everyone she works with and all their new friends and neighbors have told them that they must become basketball fans. She's trying. I asked her who she was going to pull for last night -- LSU or NC. She said LSU of course, but....if NC won she wouldn't be disappointed. Sheesh! I've lost son#1 to Oregon and now I'm in danger of losing my remaining three to basketball and NC.

Not sure who the Lady Tigers will be playing in the Final Four but -- Woo Hoo! LSU!