from the porches

filling a void

 
Maddie and Oliver have been without their mama for three nights because Merry Jennifer has been in Seattle.  We all know that ice cream fills a void like only a mother could, so Truett and I took the grandchildren to TCBY yesterday afternoon and gave Sam a break.

 
These photographs are mainly for Merry Jennifer to see while she waits in the Atlanta airport for her next flight home.  These should fill a mama's void.

 
As you can see, Maddie lost her front tooth.  She is a first grader, you know.

 
Dear sweet Oliver.  He's so pensive here.  Probably thinking about his mama. . .or maybe the gummi bears that topped his bubblegum ice cream.

 
Sweet, sweet grandchildren.  Hurry home soon, Merry Jennifer.

 

curiosity continued

In November 2009 my grandchildren exhibited curiosity about the grate at Town of Tioga.
 
Their imaginations ran wild and the two children ran  away screaming that monsters were down in the grate.

 
Today, August 29, 2010, nine months later, my two grandchildren are still curious about what is in the grate at Town of Tioga.

Maddie: "Nana, is the ocean down there?"

Me: "No, Maddie.  The Florida aquifer is down there, it's kind of like an ocean, only it's fresh water." 

Then Maddie proceeded to tell Oliver about all the the sea creatures that live down there in the grate: sharks, whales, fish, seaweed, and crabs.

Exactly what is curiosity?

According to Smiley Blanton, M.D., "Curiosity is nature's original school of education."

 
Then Maddie and Oliver climbed on the wall at Town of Tioga and looked through the rails.

Oliver:  "Nana!  What's in there?"

Me:  "I don't know, Oliver.  Why don't you and Maddie go around to the stairs and find out."

Curiosity: "Nobody wanted me to know.  But I wanted to know."  Joyce Carol Oates.

 

So my grandchildren explored the stairs.

 
"Curiosity will conquer fear even more than bravery will."  By: James Stephens.

 

 

 

 
In the meantime, do you think this grandmother is okay with my grandchildren exploring dark stairs in the bowels of a building. 

Not on your life!  The whole time I'm saying, "Maddie!  Oliver!  Come on down now!" 

But they were exploring.

 
Finally.

Finally, my grandchildren descended the dark stairs and exclaimed, "Nana!  There's only an elevator up here!"  And this grandmother was relieved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mama's hair

 

You may think me perverted, but my mama wants to show my family her hair.  She tries to tell them when they call, but you have to see it to believe it.  Mama has been saying all along since her chemotherapy, "I don't mind losing my hair as long as it doesn't come back curly or red."  Obviously, this is a poor photo because the lighting wasn't right, but Mama's hair is coming back curly, and with the poor lighting. . .red.  Actually, her hair is grey.  She is proud of her hair and so are we.  Way to go, Ms. Alice!

fearing the switch

 

A couple of days ago I got a new hair cut.  It's cute but short, short, short, especially at the crown.  What I've noticed by looking in the mirror at the back of my hair is my two-inch scar on the crown of my head! 

My hair is sticking up like a rooster tail. Now most beauticians may think I have a cowlick on the crown of my head, but it's not a cowlick.  It is a long white zipper scar.   Here's how the story went:

 
When I was around six years old my mom and dad were adding an addition to their little house. In the side yard was a pile of grey concrete blocks, neatly stacked.  Back then my sister, my younger brother, and I would take our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches outside to eat. . .a picnic, if you will.

 
On this particular day the three of us children were given explicit directions from my mother, "Do NOT climb on the concrete blocks!" 

So I didn't. 

I sat on the sole concrete block resting on the ground at the bottom of the tower of concrete blocks because like most children of the 50's, I feared the switch.

 
But not my three year old brother or twin sister. 

Oh, no. 

They climbed straight to the top of the concret block tower and proceeded to eat their PB&J sandwiches.

Stupid me! 

I should have climbed up the blocks as well because the next thing I knew a concrete block bounced off my head and skidded down my little brown back. (Back in the 50's children didn't have to wear shirts, especially if you lived in the boondocks).

 
I let out a scream and Mama came running.  Of course she could see the scrape marks on my back as she tilted me over and then . . .and then she noticed blood dripping out of my head.

We had no car back then so Mama bundled us up, tied a kerchief over my head and we walked a mile to the city bus stop.  The whole while I was crying.  My twin was crying, and my little brother was crying.  We must have been a sight on that city bus.

Now you do realize no one had the right to really cry except me; and I highly suspect the reason my siblings were crying was the fear of the switch because they knew I would tell Mama that they climbed to the top of the concrete block tower.

 
And then an odd thing happened.  My mama gave my brother and sister a dime to stop crying and causing people to stare. 

Now tell me.  Does that sound right to you?  Why didn't I get a dime?

The rest is a blur.  I suppose I made it to the doctor with my head in a kerchief.  I suppose they stitched up my head, and I assume we rode the city bus back to the country.

But what I am definitely clear about is: I did the right thing by fearing the switch and now sixty-one years later, I have what appears to be a cow lick on the top of my crown and my hair just will not lay down!

 

 

catching up

 

I thought I would catch up on my blog to know where I've been for the last several days. 

Since Bubba passed away and since the snake episode, I've been out of sorts, so to speak.  Not to mention another school year started and I was not a part of it for the first time in forty-five years.  So I'm thinking I've been a little depressed as well.

But I'm trying to catch up here with things that are new around my place:

 

The grapes are in and ready to be picked, although I won't be harvesting them.  It's way too hot and humid and I am way too old for that stuff anymore. 

I used to make grape jelly when I was about thirty years younger. Back then, I sweated, boiled, strained, sugared and canned the grapes.  We had no air-conditioner back then, so my body was used to the heat and humidity. 

But no more.  I will gladly buy a jar of grape jelly from Publix.

  

Mom:

My mother went to her arthritis doctor yesterday and got reprimanded for not eating.  She's dropped thirty pounds since January and the doctor was not pleased.  But, we all know why.  Furthermore, Mom uses her walker and walks with her knees bent; therefore her knees are giving her a fit.  She did get a shot of cortizone in her right knee, along with orders for a physical therapist.

After Mom was released from the hospital following chemotherapy, a physical therapist would come out once a week and show Mom exercises to keep up her muscle tone.  But, she quite frankly told the nurse she didn't want that physical therapist back.

Now look where it's gotten her.  So we expect to hear from the new physical therapist soon.  Mom's comment was, "Well, that means we'll have to stay home for her to visit."  At which point I said, "No, Mom.  You will have to stay home."  I know that sounds mean, but my mother tends to be stubborn about her health.

So it's back to Ensure for lunch instead of her Frappachino  plus leg raises.

 

The puppies are still chewing everything in sight.  I bought them a new $70 bigger bed today, brought it home, and within thirty minutes they have chewed out the bottom. 

That's it!  No more cute beds for the puppies.  I'll just put an old blanket down in their pen from now on. 

They are pretty much potty trained; and the key word here is pretty much.  As soon as I get them out of their pen, I have to carry them to the side porch so they can go out.  No more are they allowed to race down the hall to Mom's room and to the kitty litter box, tinkling along the way.

So, my life goes on.  I'm busier than ever and hope to get my happy spirit back soon.

 

 

 

all of my life

All of my life I have had a fear of snakes.  I have feared a snake would fall from a tree and land on me. 

All of my life my family has protected me from snakes. They have tried to educate me about the benefits of a snake.  They've told me how most are not poisonous and especially how the Indigo kills rattlesnakes.

All of my young life my brother would terrorize me with the "S" encyclopedia.  

I remember eating supper as a child when I felt a tap on my back.  I turned around and Steve, my younger brother, would be standing there with the encyclopedia pages of snakes opened wide an inch from my face.  I would scream and yell, "I hate you!", but it never did any good.  He did it again the next night and the next and the next.  You would have thought I would have learned not to turn around; but I am a trusting soul and learned my lesson the hard way.

Well, this morning my biggest fear came true. 

As I was carrying a paper plate of wet cat food out to the back porch to feed the yard cats and kittens, I opened the porch door to the outside.  In a flash I saw something fall and bounce off my right shoulder.  I imagined it was one of our giant banana spiders, so I began whacking at my shoulder to get it off.  Then I looked down and it registered:  a six inch, pencil-thin red rat snake lay at my feet. 

I froze until my mind could register what I was seeing, then I let out a WHOOP! and flung the paper plate of wet catfood high in the air.  I did a cute hopping, jumping, shrieking dance back to the house door and yelled for Truett to "Come quick!  There's a snake on the inside porch!" 

Truett doesn't have much tolerance for me and my phobia about snakes.  He just told me to "Get over it!  It's only a harmless red rat snake."  Then he opened the back porch door and kicked the snake to the deck.

 

I did learn one lesson this morning: I didn't die of a heart attack like I've envisioned all these years.

Now my question is: Where were all the yard cats that catch snakes???
 

 
 

 

a gentle giant

Today we lost our Australian Shepherd, Bubba.

Bubba was a good dog.

No, that's not right.  Bubba was a great dog.

He was not a barker like his sister, Annie.

He was not hyper like his brother, Cody.

My niece, Tiffany, qualified Bubba as a "Gentle Giant", and he was that.

Bubba has had problems with his hips for the past couple of years and could barely walk.  I gave him meds daily to ease his pain.

Oftentimes I would tease him and say, "Come on Bubba.  Run!  I know you can do it!"

And Bubba would hobble toward me as fast as he could with that smile on his face and love in his eyes.

We will all miss you, Bubba.  Especially my grandchildren who have had to push you aside because you wanted to be loved by all. 

But the one good thing about Bubba was his name.  It was easy for toddlers to say.  Now I will tell you a secret.  His real name was Casey.

Somehow the name,Bubba, fit his personality better.

RIP Bubba George. 

We miss you already.
 
 

inexperienced cashier

"

Yesterday as Truett and I were taking a little drive to talk about our day, I looked in the sky and saw this cloud.  But that's not all.  Look closely and you can see the moon at about 11:00.

The cloud and the moon was just what my soul needed after a stressful day of grocerying in Food Lion in Lake City. 

 You see, I chose the wrong line when checking out.  I chose a line that had no customers in it. I thought that was pretty smart of me, but I was wrong.

Mind you, I had spent twenty minutes picking out my groceries and I was about to spend twenty more minutes while an inexperienced cashier checked me out. 

First off, the young girl couldn't tell a  plum from a pear. A child knows a plum is purple and a pear is yellow or green. 

But not this cashier.  As she typed in the code she said, "Pears."

"Those are plums," I told her. 

Ding!  Ding!  She called the manager over and said, "This machine rang these up as pears."   

Do you know how frustrating that is when you're trying to beat a thunderstorm outside and there has to be a discussion about the difference between a plum and a pear . . . and besides that, the machine didn't do anything.  We all know it takes a human to key in the right code.

Next came the canteloupe slowly making its way down the rolling table.  

Oops! 

The canteloupe did not have a sticker on it, so once again the young girl called the manager over for a lengthy discussion about how to find the cost by flipping over her cheat sheet and looking up the word "canteloupe".

Meanwhile, the clouds outside are getting blacker and blacker, and I really don't enjoy racing to the car with lightning flashing and rain pouring.

I just wanted to scream, "Just put it back and let me go!" 

But I didn't.

(Be prepared for the same cloud images, but doctored up)

Now from the get go I told this young cashier that I had two separate orders and that I wanted the first batch of groceries bagged in paper and the second batch bagged in plastic.

Do you think she got that right?

Not on a bet. 

So the cashier's bag boy had to remove the plums and canteloupe from the plastic and put them in a paper sack.

Yecht! 

 "Let me outta' here!" my mind screamed as my foot began tapping the floor. 

Now paying for my few groceries caused a stink as well because I didn't have my "Saver Card" and at the end I get a lecture from the cashier about how much money I could have saved if I only had my card. . .but now it was too late.

"You know what?" I said. "I never shop on this side of town and never will again, so if you will just hand me my receipt I'll be on my way."

"But mam, here are two scratch off tickets and a coupon," the cashier stammered as I snatched the receipt from her hand.

"I don't want them!" I snapped. "Give them to that lady!" and with that I scurried out of the Food Lion and vowed never NEVER to go back.

Well, to make a long story short, later when Truett and I were taking our drive and I saw the clouds and the moon, I told him, "That's just what I needed to see."  Somehow I felt all better.
 

 
 
 
  

 
 

satisfied

Last week I rode with Truett to St. Augustine to assist with the drive home.  Truett has a tendancy to nod off if I don't keep a close eye on him; so I cheerfully went with him.

The crew from our stained glass studio is rebuilding windows for Holy Trinity Parish, and if you know St. Augustine streets, they are very very narrow.

Truett went over to the job site and asked me to stay with the car, which was double parked behind the church.

Drats!

That suggestion irritated me because I had visions of me wandering the cobblestone streets taking photographs of buildings or weirdos.

But on this particular day I hovered near the car with one eye out for cops and the other eye on the lookout for subject matter.

"I know there's a picture somewhere," my mind thought.  "There always is if I'm just patient."

By the way, patience is not my strong suit. 

But I wandered around the car with my camera poised. . .waiting for a picture.

And the pictures were in the shadows.

I even saw a picture in a rain puddle . . .a reflection.

So even though I didn't end up with photographs I thought I'd take, I was satisfied at the end of the day.
 
 
 

angel's diner

After Truett and I left the beach on Saturday morning we drove home by way of Palatka, Florida. 

In the heart of Palatka, and at the foot of the bridge crossing the St. John's River, is Angel's Diner. . .Florida's oldest diner.

When our children were young, the thought of dragging children into the diner, all sandy and irritable after a hot day at the beach, was flat out of the question.  

Therefore, Truett and I never ate at Angel's Diner even though we both wanted to for these past thirty-five years.

 I peeked through the round window in the entrance and pulled open the heavy stainless steel door; and as I did so, I felt a sense of excitement in my heart. 

A flutter. 

 I had ALWAYS wanted to eat at Angel's Diner, and was finally getting my wish.

 
 
 
Angel's Diner opened in 1932 and is a converted railway train car with 1950's decor. 

As I surveyed the diner, I  could almost see teeny boppers in poodle skirts twirling on the stools and young boys with duck-tail hair cuts and Pall Mall cigarettes wrapped in their white tee shirt sleeves rocking to the music blaring from the juke box.

 

I'm sure the patrons of Angel's Diner were suspicious of me as I took many photographs to remember the ambience of an authentic diner. 

But I didn't care.  I could always say, "I'm a tourist and have heard about this diner for years."

Truett was impressed with the sound system.

A Seeburg! 

Obviously, he is older than I am because I've never heard of a Seeburg.

I overheard the man in the white shirt telling the young man next to him that his son's first job was at Angel's Diner. 

Then the young man said, "My grandmother was a waitress here when she was young, and I had my first job here, too."

I thought, "How unique.  Ordinary people caught up in the spirit of the diner.  It's narrow aisles, too-short stools, and smells wafting from the kitchen."

Truett and I ordered a traditional breakfast, and I must say, "It was delicious." 

On the way out, I asked if they had a restroom, and the waitress handed me a key attached to a heavy wooden stick.  "Take that second door and it's at the next entrance."

Okay.  The restroom was tiny.  Almost too tiny for me and my purse, but I had to know what it looked like.  The entrance was certainly inviting.

As we left Angel's Diner, I noticed all the automobile slots were filled with cars, almost like a parking garage; and I wondered if Angel's Diner still has car-hop service.  

 I'm thinking they might. . .at least I want them to.

Florida's oldest diner is a must see for anyone visiting northeast Florida.  

I found one blog that did a fine review of Angel's Diner, just in case you are curious.