The Sympathy Card

　
 Living in a sleepy little town has it's moments, when you happen to be the only shop in town. Well, the only full service, flowers to crafts, that is. A few antiques spattered about and paper products. Hanging around the shop waiting for business can be a tiresome way to spend the day, so whenever a customer comes in ringing the bell on the door, you jump to attention with, How can I help you? Mostly they just want to browse, and you get back to the boring task you had been working on before the bell woke you up.
Now, most days would go along like this, with friends and neighbors dropping by to see what was new, and just a bit of nosey too. The bell just jingling with each hand that opened the door. So mostly, you would just lean back in the doorway to peek at who had come in, while still sitting on your stool. Friends would join you in the work room in the back, or a possible customer would walk around the creaky old floors admiring all the wares. They were mostly tourists, that had taken the ferry over and found that other than a restaurant, there was little else to spend any time on here. So they would look around, and look around some more, and sometimes buy a few things. The days that you had a big sale or two were wonderful, and you bought lunch for everybody!

Most of the days went by pretty much the same, until the day...
My friend, and partners husband came crashing into the shop! His face was red from the hurry he was in, and he was out of breath. We just knew that something terrible had happened. Our thoughts went straight to, someone had gotten hurt on the farm they owned. We stood stock still, waiting for the news, not moving a muscle.
He was yelling, and it was so loud we couldn't understand what he was saying. Finally he told us to hurry up and get some sympathy flowers done and take them to the home of a friend. The man had just died and they were going to take his body up to the mountains for burial. He finally calmed down, after getting this conveyed to us. Now, being a very small business, in a very small town, this was an unusual request on so short a notice. We went to the cooler to see if we even had enough flowers on hand. He wanted a full basket sent, and he was adamant about it. Well, as luck would have it we did have enough, and we set about getting it done. He stood over us the whole time telling us to hurry.

Somehow I just couldn't see what the big hurry was, the guy wasn't going anywhere that fast. I did all that I could to hurry though, with him under my feet and checking each flower that went in the basket,leaning over my shoulder. He wanted the card to be special too. Sympathy cards were actually pretty much one way, sympathy. There just wasn't much you could do to change that. So, handing him a card and telling him to write anything he thought appropriate, I continued working as rapidly as I could.

Finally we have it made to his satisfaction and we reach over to hand it to him. He backs up, and tells us to deliver it. We do not deliver. He heads out the door, yelling at his wife to hurry up! Fine, we lock the shop and head to the house of the man that had died, with this big basket of flowers and a sympathy card stuck in the front of it.
Pulling into the driveway it seemed strange that there weren't any cars there. You would have thought that by now, the family would have gathered, and they were a large family at that. We go to the door and his daughter answers it, good, we know her.

My friend smiles and we sit the flowers on the porch between us, she begins to tell the daughter how sorry we were to hear about her father. She says thank you, she appreciates it and proceeds to tell us that he might come home tomorrow. My friend shifts from one foot to the other while I stand there mute. What did she say, I ask myself? She continues, they think it's heart, but he will be fine. Well, at this, my friend has a strange sound coming from her throat, kind of a gurgle, no words, just that kind of drowning sound.
No words were coming out of her mouth however, and as I continued to stand still as mouse, my mind raced! What do we do? How do we fix this? We are caught in this mire of a really bad situation,and sinking rapidly. How do we get out of this? My brain is frozen, which isn't as bad as my friends voice, at least it is quiet! She is mumbling something under her breath, that even I can't understand, and her eyes are darting all around her, as if planning an escape. 

Suddenly, I know what to do! I bend my knees and slowly get down low enough to reach the card, without even bending forward, I'm short. I have it! It's in my hand, I pull it out of the foam it is stuck in, and hide it behind my back. My friend was considerably taller than me and could never have pulled this off without a giant bending of her frame. I never stopped looking at the daughter the whole time. Her eyes follow me down and back up, she sees my hand cover the card and pull it out, and she never stopped talking, watching everything I do.
My friend is now looking down behind my back, realizing I have the card there, she begins to laugh, and smile. She quickly tells the daughter goodbye and we leave, almost running, actually we did run, with the flowers still sitting on the porch and the daughter waving at us, and wondering I'm sure, what in the world was going on.

As soon as I pull out of the drive and onto the pavement, my friend screams, I am going to kill him! Now, I knew what she was saying, but no one else could have understood those guttural sounds, words sounding like a whale rising out of the ocean and blowing water to the sky! She was so mad, she had to blow her nose. I, being me, began to laugh, in uncontrollable seizures of laughter. I did this for the rest of the ride back to the shop, tears running down my face, and my friend stewing and burning, anxious to get her hands on her husband.
Now I wasn't allowed to witness the two of them when she got home, but I have always had a very vivid picture of how it went for him. Poor man!

The friend did die, fifteen years later.
To this day, I can still the eyes of my friend as she realizes, eyes almost sinking back into her head, that the guy didn't die that day, and we have delivered, funeral flowers for the family.
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

So, How Does Your Garden Grow

　

Having grown up on a farm, where my grandfather raised vegetables to sell, I have had a lifetime to learn how to garden. Yes, my age precedes my knowledge however. Just when we think we "know it all" along comes that simple little word. oops!

Well, around here most of the days are filled with that simple little word, and we are used to the oops happening quite often. Having learned how to not spend too much time or energy on them, life goes along quite nicely...most of the time.

On this particular year, I had decided to expand my garden a good bit. I had a whole new place dug up for it. Now, not being one to actually love pulling weeds, and such, I had a great idea! I would cover the entire thing with plastic. This would keep all the weeds and unwanted plant like materials out of my garden. My husband thought this was an ok idea, but he didn't want to pull any weeds before we put the plastic down. He was sure that it would keep all the weeds from coming through. Well, I didn't care for that idea so much, but we proceeded to put the plastic over the entire garden.
As we laid it down and stood back to admire how lovely it worked, the wind came up, as if to say, Aha! Got 'cha! The lovely black plastic took off with the wind, playing along up and down and twisting into a tight rope. We ran around trying to find an end that we could grab hold of, oh no, not today, said the wind. The plastic laughed at us, lifting itself higher off the ground and turning a pirouette, as pretty as if it had taken dancing class before we arrived. My husband was winded and thoroughly disgusted at this point, telling me that he had been right and this was a bad idea.

Ha! I would show him, as I continued to jump in the air to catch it between my clumsy fingers. Finally, I get hold of an end and drag it with me to the pile of cinder blocks piled not too far away. I grab the blocks and begin to trap the plastic beast under them. Now I've got you my pretty...oh but you will try to fly won't you? My husband proceeded to help haul the blocks over to the plastic as we inched it along over the garden spot. Completing the task and standing again like humans, not bent over the now, rolling like a sea of plastic, we looked at out work. Looking at each other, and trying to catch our breath, we start to laugh. It had taken an hour to get this far, and we still had to find another, better way to hold it down.

We decide to take a break and get a cup of coffee to ponder the problem. Now, you must have figured out by now, that as this was my idea, and not my husbands, I would have to make it work, with no help in that direction from him. Suddenly, I remember my best friend, duck tape. Yes, we have been friends for many years, and held hands through many a walk, talk, fix, repair and so and on.
My son had left a box of welding rods in my truck, and I grabbed them too. Bending the rods into a U shape, I am set to go. I crawl along the edge of that black plastic and duck tape it, then poke my rod through it and stick it in the ground.

My husband, being a man, stood back and frowned, telling me that it would never work. Of course not, it was too simple to work, in a man's world of thinking. Well, my motto is, try it, it can't hurt..too much. My pride would certainly take a dip into the old well of, I wish he hadn't seen me do this if it didn't work, but too late now. Anyway, after I had made my way down one whole side and the wind seemed to be trying to pry it up without success, my husband begins to help. Finally, we have tied down the whole garden in black plastic and duck tape. I stand back proudly and look up at the wind, how do you like me now wind, I cry out.

Ha ha, it tries to answer with another whip of stronger wind, but is defied, it's fight to maintain it's power is gone. I have won.

Well, needless to say the garden was planted, with much crawling around on that plastic. Hallelujah! No dirt ground into my knees, and even my shoes were clean. This was a miracle I thought, as I watched my lovely plants began to grow day by day. As they grew, I would cut the plastic a little further away from the base of each plant to give it plenty of room to grow. This was the best laid plan I had ever come up with.
I took so much joy from that garden, as I watered it and fertilized it, making sure to pull any little blade of grass that would dare to sneak in around the plants. My garden grew more lovely every day.

The tomato's had reached up to the sky, and were as tall as me, with hundreds of little tomatoes hanging from their branches. Now, as with all things great, something has to interfere, oh no, not my husband...yet. Little bugs were sucking the life out of my beautiful plants, we would have to spray the plants in order to save them from the horde of lively bugs. My husband agreed to take care of this for me, he would be much better at it than me he said, and I felt so loved. He proceeded to spray the entire garden as I went happily off on my lawn mower, riding in the sun and feeling content as it warmed me.

Later in the day, as I was preparing dinner, my husband came in the door and stood still. The look on his face was beginning to scare me, I was sure one of the animals had died, or god forbid, someone. He looked down at his feet and said he had some bad news...bad, bad news. I wait, standing still and feeling as though the news will be really bad, I get ready to cry, I like to be prepared for this sort of thing.
Finally he tells me to walk outside. Oh no! He has wrecked the truck! He is going to show me some big bent up part of the truck. He takes me by the hand and leads me to the garden....I stop, dead in my tracks, about 20 feet from it.

My giant, beautiful tomato plants had curled and bent almost to the ground, each leaf turned brown on the edges. They were dying right before my eyes. How in the world...they were just wonderful this morning...I look at my husband, and he takes a step back, putting his hands up in defense of what might be swinging his way. He apologizes, over and over, saying it wasn't his fault. He couldn't have done anything to them. They bent further as we stood and watched. I walk slowly over to the garden, and go all the way to the end. Every single plant was in a state of dying. It was the most pitiful sight I had ever witnessed, not my husband, the garden. Oh, but he would be in the same state shortly too. My wrath was building in my brain, as I felt myself shudder. I would have to stay calm and take hold of my true emotions, or I would soon be attending a funeral for sure. I do calm down in a few moments, however my hands continued to clench and unclench, with no control on my part to stop them. My husband was watching my hands closely now, ready to run if need be.

As I stood with tears running down my face, (I knew that would get him) I very quietly ask, "Did you wash the sprayer first?" He screamed at the top of his voice,"Yes! Of course I did!"
I look over at the huge sprayer by the porch. "How about the hose?" I asked, even lower than before. He begins to shake, and tremble..."I thought I did." The sprayer had been used for weed killer on the fences.
He hangs his head down and begins to take the blame for the tragedy before us. Of course, after every other word, he says,"All that money! Gone!" As I watch him wring his hands and shake his head, seeing how much misery he is in, I begin to feel a little better. Yes I do. He had murdered my entire garden, and I wanted him to suffer! I wanted him to cry like a girl!
Well, I walked over to the water hose and began to wash those plants. It didn't do any good though, they were gone! Shrunken to a pitiful brown, unrecognizable weed, of no use at all.

Now, the moral of this story is, always know how to do everything you really need to get done yourself , feel sorry for no one, especially the one that murders your garden. Oh, and at least make the doer of the deed, suffer for a good long while, like every time you put a tomato on his plate, and smile.

　
　
　
　
　
　

　

　
　
　
　
　
　

　

　

　

　
　
　

　

　

　

　

Always Drive A Truck

　Series: How do you like me now?
　

You know, after becoming an adult and having your own home and two kids, it brings a woman's self esteem down to an unaccountable measure of humbleness to move back in at home. Oh sure, that measure of "safeness" is there to act a as net, while you tell your brain that everything will be o k. Your brain just laughs at you and you cower in your car, as your mother yells out the door for you to pick up extra groceries on your way home from work. Ya think?

Since when do you need to be told to buy groceries. You are doing all you can to make it easy on everyone. Rush home from work to cook dinner, do homework with the kids and laundry. Laundry. Amazing how, now there is more laundry than you ever had when you weren't working. Never mind, it has to get done. There always seems to be a load in the washer, and a load in the dryer when you get there, with a load in your arms. Hmmm...who's could it be? Yes, mom liked the way I do laundry, because she didn't have to do it anymore, leaving it for me was her way of telling me, how much she loved the way I folded her clothes, and put them away for her.

Being appreciative for allowing us a place to land for awhile, I tried to do all that I could to make things work for everybody, but sometimes it just became overwhelming. Well, you got the groceries and dinner got made, and the dishes are done. What else has to be done before the end of the day? Oh yea, the kids need poster board for a school project,due the next morning. Gotta run out to the drug store and pick that up right after dinner, in time for them to get it done before bedtime. Guess who gets to help with the project? Yes, I'm artistic you know, so my help is always counted on for such things, usually way into the night, after they have gone to bed.
Okay, you got it all done and now you can just sit and watch T.V. for awhile, before bath time for the kids. You walk over and cut the T.V. on. There is no such thing at this time, as a remote. You cut the thing on and it stays blank, nothing happens at all. The black screen stares back at you with your own reflection. You check the plug and it's in. Laying your hand on the top of the T.V. to see the buttons better, you feel something wet and almost sticky. Slowly you move your hand further behind it and find something else, wet and ugly feeling. It feels like a worm, and you jerk your hand back and wipe it on your pants. So help me, true! I always go to the pants when there is a foreign object on my hands, I guess feeling that it's safer there, than on my hand.

Leaning over the top, you peer at the back of the T.V. It seems to have been used as a bucket for someone to throw up in!! Being a mother, you sniff it, not too close though. Hmm..no smell...
KIDS!!!!! You call to your two beloved children, who for some unknown reason have stayed in their room tonight, instead of flopping in front of the T.V., as soon as they can get there. No wonder you got first dibs on the channel of choice. But, where is your mom? She is usually right in here after dinner too, dozing and watchingT.V. Hmm..this picture is off too..I wait, arms folded across my body, and my face as stern as it can get.

All three of them came down the steps, s l o w l y, holding onto the wall, as if for protection. They really didn't want to come all the way in the room, as that would put them within my reach. Hearing the tone of my call, they knew they were in deep trouble, and stopped just beyond me, as if planning a quick get away.
All of them. And there was no question they all knew why I had called them. The youngest of the three fessed up right away. He had put his bowl of chicken noodle soup on top of the T.V. to change the channel and it had fallen over and directly into the back of it. He was hoping it would dry up before I got home and he would never have to fess up. But, so goes the folly of hope, by children that have made a goof. The soup had run into all the tiny cracks that work as vents. Now, I know that he never intended to pour soup into the T.V., but nevertheless, it was too late now to change where you placed the soup.

Now, upset would be the nicest description I can put in print, but suffice it to say, I was not a happy camper. They were quiet, with their heads down, the fear still with them.
There was no way to get the soup out of there, the T.V. was done, time to bury it. I didn't mind so much, I was an avid reader, and I thought it might teach the boys to get interested in other things, you know, use their time wisely, like studying, uh huh. They were outdoor boys, and for some time they played outside most of the time. But on rainy days, they missed the T.V. So sad, but the lesson was quite well learned.
After a period of time, I decided that they did deserve to have a T.V. back again. My mom missed it too. I was trying to find my own way of doing things, without any help. I have to admit, I was pretty darn good at it too, most of the time. Being careful with money was not a new way of life for me, so I had a little put away. There was an ad in the paper for a T.V. that was reasonable.
I grabbed mom and the kids and headed to the store. The sales people were so nice and managed to get it in the trunk of my car. It was in a box, so it wouldn't get damaged on the way home. How nice!  Yes, I was doing ok on my own, taking care of the boys and mom and myself. I got a T.V. in the trunk of my Mazda.
We got home and moved the furniture around to fit the new T.V. Everything was ready and we went outside to the car. Now, I say car, and it was, a very small car. A very small car. When I tried to get my hands around the box, I couldn't get it to budge. It was squished into the sides, tighter that if it had been manufactured as part of the vehicle. I struggled and pushed and tried everything I could think of. It was stuck tight! I began to sweat, and my arms hurt from pulling on that cumbersome box, which was now beginning to look ragged.
I had to get it out! Not so that we could enjoy it, I was beyond any notion of ever enjoying anything again, but so it wouldn't get stolen. I had to go to work the next morning, and park in a deck, this giant box could not stay sticking out of the back of my car, and I would never watch T.V. again if it got stolen.
I sat on the bench in the dark, and contemplated what I could do. I tried again, to no avail. I just didn't have the umph to move it. Oh, did I forget to say, that this was an old fashioned console type. You know, all the wood surrounding it, and it created a piece of furniture? Yes, that's it, the big one, I was so proud.
It was getting later and later and I had made no progress with it. Finally, I called my brother, I hated making that call. It was late and he didn't live close by. I almost hung up the phone before he answered. I was so embarrassed, that I couldn't take care of this by myself. I was truly humbled and at his mercy. I had started it, and couldn't finish it. I hated being in that position.
Now, I'm not saying he was happy at the thought of getting dressed and coming back out into the night to lift a stuck T.V., but he did. Together we managed to get it in the house. Actually, he pulled it once, and it was out. His 6 foot height helped I think. I of course thanked him, but it sounded so lame, even to me. I just had to think of something I could do to repay him. He asked for nothing, except, to never do that again! Oh, not a problem, I never intend to buy anything else for the rest of my life!
To this day, I still regret not being able to take care of things all by my self that night. I have fought a few more battles along the way, won some, lost some. But I learned the best lesson of all, always drive a truck!

　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

A Dog's...Tale

 You know, when it comes to a wedding cake, the bigger it is, the more beautiful it is, most of the time. Well, back in the days of making wedding cakes as a little side business, to make some extra money, I began to love making them. Of course, you couldn't just make a wedding cake any old time, it was expensive! I was lucky and found through a teaching friend, that I could actually participate in competitions, so I did. I guess that was the beginning of my competitive spirit. Or at least, recognizing that I had one, and it was fierce!
The day that I got beat out of first place, by a pumpkin colored wedding cake, I knew that I had to find something else to compete in. This was just not the arena for me. I had produced a nice white, with mauve flowered cake. But! The leaves on my cake were considered by the judge, to not have enough color in them. The woman was insane. Now this I knew, from the horror on the onlookers faces at the competition. However the winner, the pumpkin girl, was quite satisfied and appeared as if she knew all along her cake would win. OK. I could never prove anything, nor at that time did I want to, but that was the last show I ever competed in. I had lots of cakes to do for real, and proceeded to do just that.


Friends of friends, and relatives always had somebody lined up for a cake. As a matter of fact, I had to limit myself finally, to only doing wedding cakes. I didn't have time for all the others, and I didn't enjoy them as much either. Soon after this, I also began teaching the art, and found that I enjoyed that equally as much, and I didn't have to clean up so much. Aha...the best of reasons!
All of us have funny stories to tell about our craft from time to time, and this one is probably the funniest, and yet, even more devastating than losing the competition.


I was making the cake for my brothers wedding, as well as all the other food. It was quite an undertaking, because the church was located so far away. The logistics of getting all the food there, and delivering this massive cake, had to be done in several trips, leaving me little time to actually get dressed too. Still, I managed to get dressed and begin to haul all the layers to the car. I had prepared the car ahead of time, with towels to hold the cake steady, so all I had to do was sit the heavy, yet delicate layers in their holders.
The cake had turned out quite pretty and I was proud of it, especially being it was for my youngest brother. I wanted their day to be special and everything run according to plan, including the cake, which stood alone on a table by itself. It had to have elegance and weight, to stand alone. Whenever something goes a little off schedule at a wedding, it seems that everything else follows it. So, I had planned everything out almost to the minute, even how long it would take to do my own hair. I was pleased with myself too, everything seemed to fall into place, just as I planned. Do you see it coming now? The chaotic falling apart of my plan? Yes, it all falls apart, with an unexpected turn of events.


As I ever so carefully, place the bottom layer, the largest and heaviest piece, gently into it's holder in the car, and I step back to check it's position, my whole plan falls apart and explodes in my face. My dog, had snuck around me and taken a giant bite out of the cake.
I stand there for a moment holding onto the car for support. My legs had gone weak and the dizzying explosion in my head became overpowering. I know that I should just pass out here and now, and not come to until after the wedding is over, however, I come to my senses and tell myself this was a dream and didn't actually happen, it was just the pressure beginning to catch up with me, and I was hallucinating. Of course, I smile and lean closer to see the beautiful cake sitting there in my car, with a giant bite out it! It was true. All the work, the planning and the timing, gone in an instant. There sitting underneath the car, is my dear dog, licking his lips and still enjoying the last little remnant of icing, stuck to his teeth. He's so proud, even a little smug I think.


I don't have time now to take care of the dog, oh but I want to....I really want to, as my tears have blinded me and I can't see how to get back in the door with the cake in my hands, as I am toting that heavy thing back in the house. I don't know why I'm taking it back in. What do you do with a cake that the dog has eaten a huge, giant, massive bite out of? Do you serve it to guests? What, I ask myself, do I do now, and how can I get there on time? I wondered if the other two layers would be enough, could I just leave this on the counter and somehow make a shorter cake look bigger? My brain wouldn't work, I was fried, with mascara running down my face and my hair gone completed askew, I couldn't think. I catch a glimpse of my self in the oven door, nice, I have icing in my hair, maybe I can use that to fix the cake, I think to myself.


As I stare at that icing in my hair, I get an idea....I can fix this! I jerk the mixer back out of the cupboard and begin to make more icing, a double batch. Taking my sharpest knife out of the drawer, I cut a huge chunk of that cake away, leaving no evidence of dog. Ugh! I cut away some more, just to be sure. I am alone, and no one can see my devious plan. Everyone else was already at the church and the phone was ringing, they wanted to know why I hadn't arrived yet. Holding the phone on my shoulder between my cheek, I assure them everything is fine, and I am leaving now. I hang up the phone and begin to pile icing into the cavity I had made in the cake, reminding me of stuffing a turkey, I begin to laugh, a mixture of laughter and tears runs down my face as I frantically look at the clock, and stuff faster.


Filling the decorating bag and matching all the decorations on the rest of the cake in record time, I repair the damage, quite expertly, I must say. I was satisfied with the repair and take the cake out to the car, making sure the dog was no where in sight. Running back in the house to repair me, I actually trip over the dumb dog and rip a beautiful tear in my hose, yes it was beautifully ruined, oh well, so goes my day. Well, now I am completely done. I have had it with this dog, laying at my feet and looking so apologetic. I smile. Yes, I smile at him and am suddenly completely calm. What a sweet dog to make the effort to calm me down. I pat him on the head, yes I do, and continue to the bathroom. After a few minutes I am on my way to the church. I cut the radio on it's highest volume and roll, hoping to not get a ticket.


I arrive at the church and helpers come out to help get the cake into the building. I very quietly tell the girl in charge of cutting the cake, to not cut at this particular spot, and began to tell her the tale of my dog story. She is amazed, because it all looked the same, you couldn't tell where the missing part of the cake began or left off. It was perfect and no one would know. I began to relax and enjoy myself, smiling at the outcome of the cake and taking a huge breath of relief.


My young son was in the wedding as the ring bearer. He was listening to my instructions about cutting the cake, and I realized I needed to warn him to not tell anyone anything he might have heard. He sweetly agreed and went back to the room where the men were dressing. He looked so cute in his little tux.


At the end of day, after the reception, my brother casually leaned over to me and asked which part of the cake did the dog eat? My eyes flew open and I put my hand to my mouth...how...MY SON! Yes, the sweet little boy, that had listened to my whole conversation, and agreed to not say anything, went straight to the groom and told him, the dog ate the cake!
Suffice it to say, we have had a great many laughs over this for many years, and as I prepared the cake for his daughters wedding recently, I laughed many times, as I thought of that "dog day" many years ago.
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

Maggie

 　
Sometimes you get to feel the love as soon as you meet someone. Other times, it might take awhile to get warmed up to someone. Well, on this day, during Indian Summer in Virginia, one of the special ones came into my families life, with an immediate love for everyone.

The day was mild, but there looked like a thunderstorm just might be brewing. I was visiting my son and his family, on his farm. We were all in the kitchen, and I think we were probably getting some lunch together. Well, that storm came on suddenly and unexpectedly too, with a bang.

To our surprise, bursting in the door came a black and white Border Collie, searching for cover from the storms violent crashes of thunder and lightening. She was wagging her tail as if asking for help, and she actually smiled at us. My little grandson and I immediately fell in love with her. She was so kind and allowed this little tyke to rub on her and hug her. I was concerned that he might hurt her as he tried with all his little might to walk around her, his balance not always steady. He loves animals so much, and did as a very young child, he would never purposely hurt her, but he fell a few times. The dog would only lower her eyes and gently moved herself away. She would lie very still, until he was far enough away that she could move without causing him to fall. Her caring was immediately noticed. Sometimes she would carefully pull her paws a bit closer to her body, protecting them from the little feet, that didn't know it would hurt her to stand on them.

She was an amazing creature, that seemed to have been sent to them for a purpose. I had fallen in love with the dog, and it seemed she had an immediate liking to me as well, a strange quandry for me, as I had decided quite a few years before that I didn't want another dog, it was too hard to lose them. However, I was ready, and a little excited to take this one home with me, after a very short meeting. They already had two dogs, and I was sure they wouldn't want to keep her. The dog would move from the child to me, even though others were loving on her too. She certainly had a soft, gentle spot for this little boy, with the loving smile and gentle ways. He would hold her face between his hands and talk to her. She would lower her beautiful brown eyes, as though understanding his sweet words and tiny voice.

The sight of this was truly a miracle to witness. A bond had formed as soon as this lovely dog had entered the house. She had a magical way of communicating to each person in the house, almost human, but especially to this small child. My husband would gladly have loaded her in the truck, and brought her home. I have upon occasion, in the wanderings through my mind, considered that she may have been reincarnated for a specific purpose, that little boy.
How unusual that a dog could read the minds of the people she had encountered today, and know that she was welcomed and needed.

Alas, we were not to be blessed with taking her home with us, she had captured the hearts of my son and his entire family. We didn't get to take her home with us, but she had found the perfect new home. No one came looking for her, and after a couple of weeks, they assumed that no one would. She had been officially adopted as part of the family. When she was left outside too long, she would come to the door and knock, not bark, just knock. Now, my grandson was still taking naps, he was not quite two yet. I always felt, that the polite knock at the door was for his benefit, she didn't want to disturb him, during nap time. She had an uncanny sense of things around her.
Not too very long after she had been adopted, my son ran into a person that asked about her. After a bit of conversation, they concluded that the dog belonged to her. My son was extremely disappointed and his heart just fell during their conversation, and he was ready to go get the dog for the woman. To his surprise, she offered to let them keep her. She told him that she just wouldn't stay at her house, and this time she assumed that the dog wouldn't be returning. The woman told him the dogs name and told him that she would drop off the papers sometime, and left the store. Leaving my son in total disbelief.

Now remember, I told you there was something magical about her. Maggie was her name, and she responded to it, as soon as my son got home and called to her.

Maggie became a beloved member of the family. She stayed close enough to keep an eye on the baby, and slept by his bed.

Maggie had a remarkable memory. She loved me just as she loved her family. I think it's because I was taking care of my grandson the very first day, and she felt the connection. Whenever my truck would pull down the driveway, she would be at the door waiting for someone to open it, and impatient that they were taking so long, because she knew it was me coming down the drive. Before I could get out of the truck, she was there to greet me, with loving arms. She would turn around in circles, to show me how happy she was to see me, and then pause to wait for me to come in the house. Maggie knew that I loved her in a very special way, and she expressed her love in a way, no other dog I've known, has ever done.

Maggie took care of her family for many years. Always close by, watching for any sign that meant danger. A remarkable, loving dog, that chose her family. Maggie never went astray, which is funny, considering she had been owned by another family some distance away, and had always run off. This is why I have always believed that she was sent to my sons family, to take care of them, and it was meant to be. She did her job well for many years. The day that she died was one of the hardest days of my life, and I have had many. We all lost a valuable friend that day and I still think of her often, as though she is still with us.
They have a new dog now, and my grandson loves her too, but I keep my distance, as if to prove that Maggie still lives there, in every corner and by his bed.

I truly don't know if any other dog will ever take her place in my heart, but if it should, they would certainly be related to Maggie, or have a connection that would be heaven sent, as Maggie was.

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

An Island

The Chesapeake Bay, off the coast of Virginia is one of the most alluring places in the country. Historically speaking it is located between Virginia and Maryland. A small island sits in the middle of the bay, and is an attraction for tourist because of the remoteness and the crab and seafood dishes served up at the restaurants. I took this trip once believing that, after all these years, I should. I had heard of Tangier Island my whole life, being that, I traveled on foot, the somewhat same size island growing up. Hearing tales of what a wonderful place it was to visit all my life, I finally gave in to the feelings that I should go and see this place. It would seem to me that the two places would have to be similar, but I had never met anyone that could tell me if they were alike or not. If they were alike, it would mean that that it would be quiet and dull.

Dull is certainly not the correct word, tranquil and peaceful would describe my island. Few cars traveled the paved roads that summer folk and natives alike lived along. Some of the roads were actually hidden, by large native shrubbery, and summer folk wouldn't immediately know there was more to the island than it first seemed. We were considered summer folk. Traveling on foot, as my brother and I did, we managed to find the unseen places hidden throughout the island. Sometimes we were welcomed, and met many islanders that looked forward to our visits. Other times we were shouted at, and told to leave the property that we happened to be crossing without permission. We could run like the wind in those days, not forgotten, but never to be seen again.
We discovered that if we stayed in the water, at least one foot in it, no one could touch us, we were legal. We traveled this way most of the time, sometimes leaving the waters edge and taking a shorter way back home. That would mean taking a chance though, on someone discovering us cutting across their property. To tell the truth, most people knew that a couple of kids were just out exploring, finding shells or crabs or other interesting things that washed up on the beach. My brother was much better than me at finding things. One day he found a five dollar bill lying on the beach. A five dollar bill wasn't often in our hands, no matter where it came from, but this was a miracle. He seemed to be born with radar that way, he could spy the best shell first, every time too.

We knew every inch of that beach, whether it was high tide or low, we knew how far we could go, before we had to swim. Over the years, things changed some, but not much. The places we visited are beginning to blur in the memory somewhat, but the essence is still here with me. Walking the beach at night was a ritual, of sorts. We all changed into the most mosquito proof clothes we had, and met at the fire of the night spot. Mostly it was in front of our cottage, and I have wondered over the years, if my father made sure we had driftwood, just so the fire would stay close by. It never bothered us where it was located, there was always someone with a guitar sitting by it. Our curfew was never disclosed, being that the island was completely safe, and we were close by, even after our parents went to bed. Nothing could happen there on the island, it was safe and we never questioned how dark it got, the light from the bay kept us in sight. Standing on the edge of the warm water at night, as it lapped at our feet creating shadows our parents could see from the cottage, was a typical sight. The water would get so warm at night, we loved to feel it wash over our feet and ankles, but we didn't do a lot of night swimming, never was sure why. I guess the ritual of getting the boat out of the water before dark, prompted the lack of night swimming, the unknown....beneath.
Looking down in the water beneath you during the day and seeing a crab or jelly fish floating by, was really different than feeling a jellyfish at night, brush against your thigh. Phosphorous floating on top of the water would glisten along the shoreline every night, like tiny lights to walk by, and wash ashore with every wave, laying a sparkling blanket behind each wave.

My favorite movie, Jaws, had not been made at that time, but the thoughts were still there, of the big fish coming in to shore at night, stealthily patrolling the edge. Teenagers could always arrive at any conclusion that came to mind, in the dark of night. The fact that in those days, my Dad had been known to catch sharks too, so we knew they were there....beneath and unseen, cruising the water below.

Ghost stories around the fire was a typical scene on the beach at night too. It was always especially ghostly when the fire smoked a lot. My brother had discovered the use of pine needles for this, which were in plentiful supply a few yards from the fire. We could actually scare ourselves to death on any given Saturday night. Once this was accomplished, we retreated in to the "Shack". The Shack, was a very large porch, that was set behind the house, and separated by 5 whole feet. It was our hangout, when we couldn't find anything on the beach or elsewhere, to do. Since becoming a parent myself, I have truly appreciated that my parents had the foresight to keep that place for us, as we began to head into our teen years.
We played cards any time, day or night and sometimes there were so many people, someone had to wait for someone to lose, to get a turn to play. I remember there always being a "Slinky" out there, to play with mindlessly, while waiting their turn or waiting to put the boat in the water. We waited on numerous things during those years. What a silly little thing, that entertained for so many hours, in so many hands.

Several of us had boats during that wonderful time of life. To this day, I wonder in awe, that my father was able to provide us with this movie-like atmosphere to grow up in. An island to roam and the Bay to float on for hours. The cottage was located in front of three sandbars. We could take all the boats and anchor on the third sandbar for hours, far enough so that prying eyes couldn't see, and we felt as though we has our own little island. We were within sight, close enough to know we were safe. Swimming and sunbathing, we were able to create our own island, by tying all the boats together. We were all within a couple of years in age of each other, and created friendships among us that tied us together like the boats. My brother and I were always together here and at home too. Many hours were spent together with the same friends for many years, we were like twins.

Well, I did visit Tangier Island, well into my thirties, and not the least bit happy with the hour and half boat ride there. The ride itself would have been nice, but the boat was so loud, I got one those whopping headaches from it. I'm sure that it had something to do with my view of the day too. While being picturesque and offering great food, it didn't compare with my island. Not that it's the fault of Tangier at all, it just didn't have the memories that I will always associate with the word island. Therefore I spent the entire day searching for something that was never there in the first place. My memories.
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

It's Today Again

I know it's today again because I am sitting here in my office. The sun is shining today, through the window beside me, glaring through the shade.So I lift the shade, and let it shine in and flow over me. I'm sure that it wants to take a look at what my thoughts are today, because of the brightness coming through the window, as if leaning over my shoulder. The past several days, it hasn't come to pay a visit quite so much. I think I must be addicted to the sun, as I have a much higher function capability when it actually shines. On the days it seems to hide behind a cloud, or is so far away that the warmth is imperceptible, I seem to have a much lower function level, and seem to sit for longer periods of solitude. Could it be that I need the sun to show me the signs for the day? I think so. Summer seems to pass so quickly, yet winter lingers on and on, with dreary skies and a dampness, that clings to ever piece of sand. I long for the sand under my feet, burning on some days and just so wonderfully warm on others.
I think now, that the warmth is what I truly desire, feeling the damp in my bones, now in the elder years of this journey. Waning youth is remembered with long days walking through the warm sand and the splash of the sea on my legs. I still enjoy the clamoring waves against me, walking along the beach in no particular search of anything. Mindless wandering, as my being absorbs the sun and refreshes my soul.

Winter has it's own moments as well though. The snow is so beautiful, flowing down the hills and valleys of the farm. The black cattle stand out from afar, as little black dots, stark against the whiteness of the snow. The weather is calling for snow again, and I try to get my mind to think of the preparations that need to be made in case it should keep me behind the line. The line being the driveway, that reaches a half mile long. It turns and rides along the fence line, allowing the snow to drift up and over the fence, making it's own new hills. It keeps the inhabitants trapped behind the wall of snow, blocking any escape.
The footprints that mar the snow are the obvious prints of man, heading to the barn, to take care of the animals there. Man has no choice, but to trudge through the snow and take care the animals. They are helpless against the snow, and depend on man for food and shelter against it's coldness. The grass below it is lost to them, because they can't find a way to get through the mass, that covers it.

Yes, preparation will be the sign for today. A pot of soup that will last long enough to warm the soul when it warms the body. The sun will have to wait for me today, I have work to do, in preparation for the weather to come. The soul will have to wait for warmer days.

A Simple Little Boat Ride

Watermen bringing in the days catch..Blue Crabs

　

　
Whenever you are around water, such as a bay or river, you will find little coves and creeks that the casual viewer would never know about. Now these places have either deep or shallow water, as far as boating goes, so you have to know how to read the water. Of course, today there are plenty of devices to help you do that.

Well, back in the day, my mom decided to buy a boat for the family. Actually, it was mainly for my brother, he was the only one that would know how to take care of it and keep it running. I wasn't any help, other than to drive it to the cottage. Well, the day had come to pick it up and head to the cottage. I had never in my life pulled a trailer before. However, I figured, what's the big deal. I have ridden in the truck with a cattle trailer being pulled, many times. I could do this, piece of cake.

My mother was a bit more trepidatious about the trip though. She was a bundle of nerves and made me take the old roads to get there, instead of using the interstate. These were the roads that wind and twist and are so narrow, you have to ride the shoulder to pass another vehicle. She was scared, now that the deed was done, and we had no choice but to get it there. I wasn't scared, too stupid to be at that point. So, we take off for the cottage, with the boat behind the car. The winding route that we take is narrow and bumpy, but we do finally get there, unharmed and in good spirits. Of course everyone is anxious to get the boat in the water. The plan was, we would put the boat in the water, and mom would bring the trailer back. Now, that meant, she would get to have coffee, while I, would be riding in the boat. A fair trade off, in that I still love to go boating.
We pull into the boat ramp area and decide how we need to get set up. Great, except that this is now where I have to back down into the water. Not too close or I would hit the dock, not too far or the car wouldn't stop. Saw that happen one day, not a pretty site. So, I back slowly, closer in the water, not being able to see on the other side. They were guiding me, from the dock, while holding the ropes. We do manage after some time to get the boat in the water.
Oh, we were so excited! My brother gets it started and off we go, under the bridge and through...almost. We are stopped dead in the water, and right in the middle of the path that all other boats had to use. There was plenty of water, meaning it was deep enough, where were sitting, but if you went too far off to the left, it was shoal and we would run aground. So we paddled, and paddled, without much success, but a lot of work.
Paddling is hard work and you get nowhere fast. Finally we had gotten over into the shallow water and my brother and I got out of the boat and pushed her. Still trying to get it to start again, every now and them. Now, my youngest son at the time was sitting in the seat with a life preserver on, and had turned the color of Shrek. Totally green!! So it goes without saying, he was seasick and we weren't even moving! This could prove to be a messy boat ride, I thought, looking at the poor little thing, should we ever get it going.
Now this is back in the day, of certainly no cell phones. I have said many times, how did we ever get along without them?

After a whole lot of pushing that big heavy boat, I was tired, and a thought came to me, from back in the days when my older brother and I had our own boat. I asked my brother if he had pumped the bulb on the gas tank. The look on his face, as I remember it today, was priceless. He had not. Poor thing, he had worked so hard at being the man of the day, and forgotten a key component. We climbed back into the boat and he pumped it up. It started on the first turn of the key! Off we go, we are flying now, and his "look" had turned to joy and confidence.
Well, we all felt a little stupid at the mistake we had made in our hurry to have fun. But it sure has given us a good laugh for many years, every time we think of it, fondly. We spent the rest of the day playing in the boat. Now, my older brother and I had already had the pleasure of a boat in our day, but now it was my younger brother's turn, and he was as happy as could be, he was the Captain. He was quite good at it too. He wasn't old enough to drive a car, but he could sure drive a boat. The day was looking good.

We could pull the boat up on shore and anchor it to a tree in the yard for the day. At nightfall though, we had to take the boat out of the water, just in case a storm would suddenly form. We were prepared to take the boat back around the several miles to the boat ramp in plenty of time. We went in to have lunch and rest up a bit before having more fun. Taking my coffee and looking out the front window after lunch, I see clouds forming on the horizon. I didn't think too much of it, they would pass as usual. A few minutes later the sun disappeared, and the sky turned dark.

My brother and I looked at each other, and then out at the bay. It had already started to churn and whitecaps were forming on the waves. This was not good. We knew that we had to hurry and bring that boat around, and out of the water before it got any rougher. Several of our neighbors had lost boats in the past, leaving them on shore during a storm. Our mother, nervous Nellie that she was, decided I had to go with him, while she brought the car and trailer to the boat ramp, with my two kids. So, she didn't want anything to happen to my brother without me! I was not, I mean really not happy about this. After all, I was the official driver, what more must you ask of me, my children need a mother! Nothing worked, I was going with him. Not that I minded taking care of my brother, I just wasn't at all sure there was anything I could do, besides the fact I was scared out of my wits!

I looked out at that dark water with waves crahing against the shore, no sun in sight and I wanted to hide under the covers. My brother never showed any sign of fear. He knew he had a job to do, and went about it, the same way he does today. We started out not too bad, but the further we went, the higher the waves were, and the harder they hit us. With each rise of a wave, we had to come down, hard. We knew we had to take it slow, to keep the boat from breaking too hard against the waves, it was excruciating to go so slow, when we really wanted to hurry. The arduous task of guiding the boat into the waves correctly, so we wouldn't become awash, was achieved by my young brother with skill. The bend was in sight, that would take us to calmer seas, and it seemed to take forever to reach that bend. Finally, we rounded the bend and the waves were not as strong, and didn't hit us with quite so much vigor.

It was still rough water, but not nearly as bad, and we were able to get a little more speed up. Thankfully so, because it had started to rain and it pelted down hard as we struggled to see through it, constanly wiping our eyes . We finally reached the boat ramp, and there was Mom with the trailer. Mom was finally relieved as she saw us come under the bridge. When I got out of the boat and to the car, she slid over, so I could take over and back the trailer in the water. I began to get nervous now, about getting that boat on the trailer for the first time in this pouring down rain. My brother drove the boat onto the trailer, with a skill I had no idea he possessed. I was quite impressed, as I still am today. We strapped it down and headed back to the cottage to change, soaking the inside of the car as we went, with our drenched clothes.

The best cup of coffee I ever tasted, was when we got back and changed out of those wet cold clothes. Thankfully, the next day was beautiful, and we didn't have to fight the waves or the rain, as we rode along in the boat most of the day, stopping to fish for awhile. Somehow, the first day of the new boat, never repeated itself, it was quite enough for the rest of my life anyway!
The funny thing is, my little Shrek boy, has now grown into a man, and makes his living as a commercial waterman. Every day that the wind blows in a certain direction, I worry, and wait. He knows I'm watching the wind, and calls me as soon as he reaches shore. Sometimes he forgets to call if he gets busy, and I will call him. He answers with, I'm on shore. That's all I need to know, for now.
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

Our Turn

　
　

You know, this is the time of year that families get together for a traditional family meal. November, one month before Christmas. The air is crisp and the wind has taken to pulling the cap off your head, so you have to chase it down, before it hits the new mud puddle in the driveway. Yea, when you left the house, you were dreaming about, running! That's what's always on my mind, running for no reason at all. Right!I used to put a rope on my kid so he wouldn't run in the street. Why run, when you can just as easily tie a rope around him, while you sun in the lounge chair by the pool. Well, that actually calls for a very short rope, I know....it was simply a mistake, why do they keep harping on it? He just got a little wet when he fell in, I shortened the rope after that. Geez!

Anyway, back to the warm feelings of Thanksgiving. Yes, we all look forward to the food and the family coming to Grandma's house. The cousins and aunts and uncle's and kids. Yes, it warms my heart too, to think of going to Grandma's house. Twenty years ago!! Grandma is too old to do all that cooking and cleaning anymore, so every year now, we take turns. A different family member hosts the event, so that unlike poor Grandma, no one has the pressure of doing it all the time. We take turns.
 Thank goodness this year is my cousin Pat's turn. I am among the youngest, and the family is large enough that I may never have to have a turn. Or, at least by the time it is my turn, my kids will be grown enough to take over, I will have the flu. Oh, I will have the flu. I have counted up the numbers and the months and I know when I will have the flu. Ha! Next year! My kids will be 12 and 14 by then, and since it will be my turn next year, I am sending them to a summer camp for "Teens That Love To Cook". Of course they don't know that yet, and they won't find out until they are safely there. I figure they will forgive me by the time they need permission to get a driver's license. Although, I have so many uses planned for that, I need to begin a file now... It's gonna be a thick one............
 I digress again. I am so thankful...yes thankful... that this is not the year that my turn comes around. Oh, it's not that I can't cook, I could, if I really wanted to, I'm sure of it. The only thing stopping me is that endless row of fast food places at the end of my street. I bought this house thinking there was a park down there, (hehe) I could take the kids to and have wonderful afternoons, flying kites and running through the park. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the one hundred and twenty different restaurants and eateries at the end of my street. And....they all deliver! It's Christmas over and over, every day.....
There I go again, dreaming and running way off from the point I was making. That Thanksgiving is such a wonderful time of year...my phone is ringing...Hello...Oh yes, I'm fine... no, NO it's not my turn!! I counted! Wait! Wait..I haven't been feelin..are you there? Hello?????
 I slowly turn and look at the door, I think I should run away. My feet won't move, I am stuck in this spot. Can anyone hear me calling?? I'm dizzy and wobbly and I can't seem to think........
It's MY TURN??? !! How did this happen? I was so careful to count the people in front of me and I know.......uncle Ed died this year.....oh no.. that bumped me up a person...and now it is my turn! No, no, I don't know how to take a turn for this stupid holiday. I can't do this! My plan! I have a plan, for next year, not this year.
Who ever came up with this stupid idea ought to be rolled in glue and popcorn!

Wait, I need to think. I can do this. Can't I? It couldn't be that hard to cook enough food for 30 people. A meat, a starch and a vegetable. No problem, this is a piece of cake, oh, I need cake too. How much does it costs to feed that many people... I'm used to getting 3 kids meals at a time, not a cart full of actual grocer...ies. Yea, that's what they are. G-r-o-c-e-r-i-e-s. Got it.
I take down the old cookbook and choke on the dust it has collected. OUfff, dust in my throat..can't breath...haaack, haaaaack. Man, I thought I was going to die right here, right now. Finally, I turn to the index and find the word, Thanksgiving. Turning to the page number, it has a beautiful picture of a Holiday Meal. It really is quite pretty. Let's see, turkey, ham, potatoes, green beans, cranberries, corn, bread, desserts...hmmm...I've seen these pretty dishes at....

I devise a plan, I make a list. I begin to initiate it. One resturant for the veggies, one bakery for the bread and pies, one store for the turkey and ham. Done. Easy.
All I have to do is pick it all up the day before. Just like we normally do, every day.
I call a cleaning company and have the house cleaned the week before. The windows were cleaner than when I moved in here, and now I can see outside again, imagine that... Hey, this isn't bad....I'm getting the hang of this "holiday taking a turn thing".

On the day before the big event being held in my home, haha, sounds so funny...
I start my list of trips, and begin to pick up food from each place. The ham and turkey were the last to be picked up. I pulled in the parking lot and went in the store, full of confidence now. I truly know exactly how to make a Thanksgiving dinner. I can prove it, all but the turkey and ham were in my car now. As I waited in line, I realized that I wasn't the only one doing it this way.
I shifted from foot to foot and hummed a little ditty, I'm in the money.. until the man in front of me turned mean. He actually asked me stop humming, can you believe that? In Line? Of all the nerve.
Finally, the mean man had his package and left, and it was my turn.

With my very best smile, I tell the clerk my name. She goes to the back to get my order. She goes to the back to get my order......hmmmm....hmmmm...ok. Where is she? Finally she comes back. With absolutely no expression on her 16 year old face, she says they can't find another order. They must have made a mistake and given the ham and the turkey to someone else. Suddenly, I have feeling! I know my name..sort of...I try to speak to the girl...are you sure..ahem..ARE YOU SURE?

I felt a deathly quiet in my brain. I can't hear.. or speak. It must be a stroke. I have had a stroke! I have lost all control of my limbs and mouth. I reached up to my mouth to see if it was crooked. I can't feel it, it's gone!! No... my fingers are gone....where am I?
I scream at the top of my lungs! Oh, I'm back! Fully functional, now and in my most loud voice, I tell them what I think of them. The girl is putting her hands over her ears and the people behind me leave the store and wait on the sidewalk outside, peeking in the window to see if I have horns coming out of my head
Suddenly, I have feeling! I know my name..sort of...I try to speak to the girl...are you sure..ahem..ARE YOU SURE?

Completely spent, I stop. I turn and walk outside. I look at my car full of almost the whole meal. The only thing missing was the...STAR! The center of the meal, the most important, the best part. The turkey and ham...I guess this very nice old lady thought I was having another stroke on the sidewalk too, as I stood looking at the car, with no attempt to get in it, and offered to help me. I laughed, not a pretty thing either. It was the laugh of a drowning woman, almost a gurgle....as she asked me what the problem was. I told her flatly, I was missing the turkey and ham for the meal tomorrow. She sniffed! Sniffed??!! What is that, an answer in another tongue? I don't read Snif! I look at her with wild eyes, eyes that got wide with anger and disbelief....she took my arm, being older and not seeing well, she didn't notice the smoke eminating from my nose, and kindly began to tell me how to cook a turkey and ham all at the same time with no trouble at all.

It's easy, she said. Easy, Ha! Ok, then, come over to my house and cook it, I challenged her. She laughed sweetly, just knowing I was kidding. No, I wasn't kidding, and I was in no mood to be laughed at, or with, or anything else. I lgazed at her neck, my hands started to clench, open and close. My breathing got heavier, almost a pant, she began to back away...I grabbed her and pulled her to me close, as if I wanted her for a lover! She screamed, not loud, 'cause she was an old lady. I held onto her, and told her in the deepest, lowest voice I could find, repeat that recipe please.She was still afraid, but told me one more time how to do it. Easy. Ok. I headed up the street to the grocery store. I had no idea where to find a turkey and a ham. I only go down the soda and chips asile, I asked someone to help me, it was the first person I saw. She pointed. Point? What, you don't speak? What has this world come to today, point? sniff? Ok, whatever. I head in the direction she pointed. I found the turkey and the ham and waited in line, again.

I finally get home and told my kids to bring in all the food. I thought I should rest after my ordeal, it could have been a stroke, so I laid down, just for a minute. When I awoke I was so groggy I couldn't get my bearings. I looked at my watch. Midnight!?? I had slept a long time, but after all, I deserved a little rest after my ordeal and a stroke, almost. It could'a been a stroke! I went to the kitchen and turned on the oven, and just like the old lady had told me. Preheat.

I took the turkey and put it on a roaster pan with the ham right beside it. I had forgotten to buy the foil to cover it with, so I grabbed the plastic wrap. It should work just fine, I thought as I continued with the proud preparing of the star of the dinner. The old lady was right, this is easy! I shoved them in the oven and set the timer. Looking around I realized the kids had gone to bed, I guessed they had gotten a snack earlier, while I was sleeping. Such a good sleep. So restful..and yet, I still felt tired. Having a stroke can make you tired. I went to bed knowing the beeper on the oven would wake me when the ham and turkey were done.

Sometime later, mid morning, I awoke to the the sound of the kids screaming! I couldn't see! There was smoke billowing up the stairs. I ran and grabbed the kids and took them out the front door, leaving the door open behind me. The open door had created a draft and the black smoke was now billowing up over the roof. I just kept running, pulling the kids with me, out of the house. The fire department had been called by neighbors, and they were coming down the street with the horns blowing. Horns? I don't think that's right. Anyway, they went running, (Un huh, running) into the house. Suddenly there was a new and bigger billowing of smoke coming out the door. It was blacker too. It looked like a train coming down the tracks at a hundred miles an hour. (reminds me of that song..I hear that train a coming..rolling down the tracks, nevermind..I can't help myself in moments like this)A fireman came out the door with something small and black in his hand. My turkey and ham. It was now the size of a tennis ball and resembled a rock. A small black rock. That was the ham, because it had a bone in the middle. The turkey had turned to black powder. The fireman told me the oven timer had been set for 24 hours and it was on the hottest setting. Oops! My bad.Cars were pulling up in front of the house now. The family had arrived for Thanksgiving dinner. I looked at the fireman, and told him to give the rock to them. I took the kids and ran, yes ran down the street, to the waiting arms of MacDonalds.
We had a great time! It was our turn!　　
　
　
　
　　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

A Veiw From The Truck

　

　

My husband and I were coming home from a short trip to see the kids one night. We had taken them calves in our cattle trailer, to begin training for the spring shows.
The kids participated in the State 4-H programs, and part of the program was showing cattle at fairs. We love going to the fairs and watching the kids with their cattle. They work so hard, for so long to get there, it means a lot for us to show up.

Well, we had a good time with the kids and headed home, stopping for gas at one of the large self serve stations. This one offers food and the best coffee around, and of course, a bathroom. By this time of night, there was a need for gas and a bathroom. My husband politely asked me if I was getting out of the truck. I replied no, I would be staying put. With much exaggeration, he took the keys with him. I thought this was a little strange, since he would be right beside the truck pumping the gas. He didn't say that he would be going into the store, but that was fine.

Pretty soon, I saw him head into the store and make his way to the bathroom area. Well, after a little while, I saw him walking around the store. Now, my husband is 6 foot 3, and he was wearing, as we fondly refer to it, his "Gilligan" hat. I was sure that he wanted a drink, as I watched from the truck. I observed him go over to the drink section, now we visit this place a lot, so I know where everything is, from the view from the truck.
He stays there for some time, and then I see the hat, only the hat showing above the shelves in the store, walking along. It turns and goes to the back, where the coffee is located. It comes back toward the front of the store. I am now amazed at how much of the store he is covering, and truly wondering, just what it is he can't seem to find.

He actually comes up to the very front of the store and picks up a paper and reads it. What, I ask myself is he doing? It's 10 o'clock at night and we still have 45 minutes to drive to get home, just buy the stupid paper! No, no, he puts the paper down and heads back toward the bathrooms again. After a few minutes he comes back into view, or the hat does. All I can see now is the hat...going all over the store, back and forth. Da dute de do, da dute de do.
Suddenly, I start to worry. I'm thinking he is having some sort of episode. Could it be dementia starting, and now that the sun is down, he can't think straight, or even know where he is. Just as I am about to get out of the truck and go see about him, he heads toward the bathrooms again. I shut the door, now realizing that he must be having a personal problem, and needs to stay close to the bathroom for a while. Nope! Out of the area he comes, looking around wildly, the hat turning around with every twist of his head, and I know that look. He's upset, but what could it be, he just went in the bathroom....oh..maybe someone is in there and he's been waiting all this time to acutally get in to use it. That must be what the problem is.
Otherwise, he looks as if he is sizing up the place to rob it. Back and fourth he goes again. Now this is getting serious, and I am no longer laughing, sitting in the truck with a front row view. Well, it is still funny, watching it unfold. Actually, I am still laughing, 'cause that's how I am, but it's because this hat has taken on a personality of it's own. The hat seems to be floating all over the store, with the man below it unseen.
Then I see him talking to a woman that works in the store. Well, her arms were waving all over the place, and he was asking questions, or so it appeared. Oh, I'm not going in now, no way, I have a set of keys in my purse.....

Not too long after the woman talks to him, he heads out the door, fast, almost running. He pulls open the door and yells at me, "What are you doing in here?"
Ok, now I'm getting scared, but I say, "I live here." His eyes go wild and his arms are hitting the side of his leg. He really didn't appreciate my kind of joking around at this point.
He doesn't get in the truck, he just stands in the door and says,"I was worried to death about you! I thought you were in the bathroom!"

Suddenly it dawns on me, why he was going back there so much, but my humorous side got the best of me, and I started laughing. I laughed so hard I couldn't talk, making him madder by the moment. I couldn't help myself, I cried, I laughed so hard. Finally able to control myself, or so I thought, I tried to repeat the conversation we had before he got out of the truck, that I was staying in the truck. He was too far gone for that to matter, he wanted to know why I didn't come in the store after 20 minutes or so and get him, and he was now in the truck and yelling. I couldn't tell him I was enjoying the scene being played out in front of me...no I better not.

I couldn't stop laughing! That just made him madder. He had gotten the store manager to go into the ladies room and look under the door of the stall, to see if I was lying there unconsious. With this picture in my brain, I begin to try and stifle the laughter, no luck. I am now laughing so hard I can't breath, and this finally gets a laugh out of him too. He begins to smile and then laugh, but not without holding a grudge at me. I am hysterical at this point, and he is laughing at me, not with me.

Poor baby never did get the humor in the whole thing, but I will carry that video in my head for the rest of my life, of my husband worrying, that I am passed out on the floor of a gas station, and there's nothing he can do, but go around and around the store, looking for me, as I silently watch from afar.
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

Choosing Your Destiny

　

Getting married can in itself be a traumatizing time. Getting to know the families after the marriage and how they work together for different reasons, can be equally traumatizing for some, like me. Learning how to take the words of a new family member, can be either frightening or confusing, depending on the level of control the new family must have over you. Now, there are families that leave you alone to find your way in your new life, because they have a life. They don't need yours. In others, gaining control and keeping it, are a must.

Now, control, sounds a bit strong, but the reality is truly an issue for a new family member, say a young woman. A young woman unsure what her role will be among this large family of diverse ages. The oldest female is usually the controlling member of such a group, however, somtimes the personality of a younger member can rise above all the older siblings, and pounce like a cat, on anyone threatening to take away the power of the loudest voice, namely her.

The sound of a voice can be inviting, or on the other hand make you tremble in fear, not knowing what that voice has in mind for you personally. Sometimes the smile on the face of that voice can be equally fearsome, again, not knowing what lies behind that smile on any given day. Sometimes, it's just a smile, other times it could be the smile behind a plot, to make you do something for them that you never saw coming. You are beginning to see some light now, wary of that smile and knowing you must hide when she spies you in a crowd. Never make eye contact, once you have made eye contact you're caught! No where to run then, the bathroom is at the other end of the house and the backdoor is blocked by the larger members of the family. It begins to appear to you, in your mind, that everyone in the room is dressed in camo gear. A military regime is surrounding you, and they all have the same last name as you do now. You imagine the window has an escape ladder attached to it, as you see her making her way toward you, no where to run and bodies are blocking the fox hole. Suddenly, she has her hand on your arm, you can't breath, and you try with all your might to not make eye contact, looking down at the floor as she is yelling in your ear. She yells louder as you make no indication that you have heard what she said. Oh no, your eyes are going up and...you make contact. The breath is hung in your body and you can't breath. Her grip is tightening on your arm now, you won't get away. She has you in the snare, you are newest member of the family, and don't know all her tricks, so she thinks.

Time is usually the only education on this phenomenon. Now, I call it that because it seems to actually be a phenomenon, cropping up in not all, but some families. There is always one dominant member of the family, more often than not a female member. Now, this dominance factor can be very stealthy, creeping up when you least expect it, and taking you so much by surprise, that you have gotten caught up in a project for this all powerful person again, and you have no idea how you agreed to it. Or did you? Did you really agree, or were you told, ever so sweetly and not knowing that you were agreeing until they were gone, leaving you in wonderment of how it happened at all .

Oh, agreeing to a project is the very least of it, by the time it's all done and presented to her for inspection, it suddenly belongs to her. She has taken possession of your work, and now owns it too. The project, being presented at a family and friends function has become the topic of conversation. You are beginning to feel those warm feelings of appreciation, feeding your ego just a little and a slightly embarrassed smile begins to increase the size of your mouth, when you hear her taking credit for it. What?! What just happened? Of course it is disguised by her touching comments of how long it took, and she didn't have any idea it would turn out so wonderful, but all the while, eliminating any reference to you. Now, by eliminating you, she has taken possession of it.

Your eyes widen, and you realize you have been taken advantage of, not only in the initial assembling of your talents to do the project, but now in the obvious and blatant, taking credit for your hard work as well. She makes sure while speaking about this, to never turn in your direction, as a matter of fact, you do not exsist. As you watch this taking place in front of you, your mind starts to remember other occasions when you have been forced, not realizing it at the time of course, to participate in making a hero out this person. This person thrives on self importance, and works quite hard to make this her lifes work. Of course it is well disguised, with the good works that she does all the time for others less fortunate than she, by gathering people like you to do the work, while she takes the credit and builds her portfolio in the eyes of all those who adore her.

You are now beginning to be among those that don't exactly adore her, but are stuck in that familiar family position now, of keeping the peace. Yes, keeping the peace becomes your job, not hers, oh no, she is the martyr of the family. It would never be perceived that she could be responsible for any discord, no, that becomes your new mantra. Yea, go ahead and try to to tell them how things really are, go ahead. That would turn out like a national backfire, and spread thoughout the community like wildfire, dipicting you as the family member always trying to disrupt the unity among the family.
You are stuck. Stuck like gum on a sidewalk, people just walking all over you, all the time. Stuck tight!

There's nothing you can do, so don't even think about it. She has worked far longer and harder than you at this, you don't stand a chance of winning. Winning? Is that what you need, to win over her? Make her look bad and you look good and take the credit you so deserve? Really? Alright, if you must make an attempt at it, I will tell you a secret. It won't bring you rave reviews or accolades and applause.... or it just might... What it will do is, give you a little secret satisfaction. Just a tad, enough to hold on to, and take with you every time there is a function. Now, this is for those that always get the last pick, or no choice at all, of what type of dish they are supposed to bring to a function. You know, the others get all the good stuff, the things that you are really good at making, and you get left with....crackers. Leaving you looking as if you didn't care enough to make the effort with a real dish, which was the plan of course, to leave you looking inept.

Ok, now before I tell you how, I just have to tell you, that this will not be forgotten. It will stick to you forever, remembered by all who attend, and some that didn't. How it is remembered, remains to be seen, by the indiviuals who attend, and whether they can take a joke or not. I must also say, I didn't apprciate a good joke nearly as much as a young woman. I had to become a full fledged woman first, and this was the path to that accomplishment. I now have a voice, although, sometimes it's just that little inner voice, that talks to you while you are listening to the droning of those that would abuse your talents, or leave you out in order to further their own agenda.


I decided to make a pie, instead of crackers, to take to the next family function, a beautiful, lovely pie.
It truly was the most lovely pie you would ever see, with cut out leaves and a golden flaky crust. The crust had been brushed with egg yolk and water. It was perfect. Laid in the middle of the rest of the pies on the dessert table, that were brought that day, it stood out as the one you most wanted to try. The ooo's and ahh's were said by all, and as each person asked what kind it was, I told them it was a surprise, and smiled brightly, leaving them all still wondering what kind of pie it was. I was ready today, no nerves of noodles or nausea. Of course, everyone there had eaten my cooking at one time or another, and they were looking forward to this surprise pie, sitting in the center of all the others, and shining brighter than all the rest. Oh yes, that was by design as well. I placed that pie there all by myself, and as I did, I began to feel taller.

Well, before everyone was done with the main meal, one family member could stand it no longer, he had to have a slice of that pie. He asked his wife to cut him a slice, and she looked at me as if asking permission. Of course, my nod said to her. He actually leaned over the pie as he took his fork and cut off the first bite.
He went in for another forkful, but he slowed his chewing and began to roll that bite of pie around in his mouth. He looked over at me with a deep crevice in his brow, and asked what kind of pie it was. His lip was turning in an odd way, and he appeared as though he was extremely upset by the taste in his mouth.
I sweetly smiled and looked at him, telling him it was...Sauercraut Pie. He dropped his fork and spit the mouthful in his napkin. Everyone else in the room roared with laughter, as did I.

You know, from that time on, I was always asked if I had a favorite dish I would like to bring to those functions. I had chosen my destiny.