from the porches

Lionel

This is my final post about the Windstream internet problems I experienced the week after Thanksgiving.  One of the most important weeks to stay connected to family and friends.

I was left to the mercy of anyone at Windstream who could connect me back on the internet.  Connect me back to family and friends.

I did a lot of soul searching during the past couple of weeks.  Just how important was internet connection?  Why am I so addicted?  I was miserable.

My IT guy was down and out.  I called Windstream daily, with no results.  Just "We can't find your account!"  In the meantime, I knew family was posting on Facebook or possibly sending me emails.  Miserable, I tell you!

I sat at the Dollar Store and watched this puppy watch his shadow and grieved over the loss of internet services.  I loved this puppy.  I decided I didn't need internet services anymore.  All I needed was a puppy to hug. . .  not yapping daschunds!

One final time, I called Windstream and reached a live human being.  As I whined about how important my internet connection was to me, Lionel said, "I will get you connected.  Please don't cry, Merry George". 

I told him I wasn't crying (although I think I was blubbering).  And then it happened. I was connected to the internet.  Yes, I was.  I was connected to the internet the same day I saw this sweet puppy sitting in this bicycle basket at the Family Dollar Store.

In the end, I asked Lionel where he was calling from and he said, "Pakistan." 

"Pakistan!  You've got to be kidding!"  I blurted out.  Somehow, I thought he would have said, Texas or Maryland. 

"Thank you, Lionel," I said.  "You've helped me get my family and friend life back.  I love you!"

Lionel answered, "Merry George, you relax and enjoy your family and friends. and don't cry.  Okay?"

I promised Lionel I wouldn't cry anymore.

Windstream does do a good job training their tech people on being courteous to their clients. . . that is, if you can actually reach a real person...somewhere in this world of ours.

In the meantime, I have re-named Midnight to Lionel.

internet blues

After my Thanksgiving post, I realized I had left Julia and Truett's photos out.  So Friday morning I found the missing photograph and decided to post it.  SURPRISE!  The internet was down.  I spent forty-five minutes talking with Windstream techs.  They couldn't even find my account, but did want me to complete a survey about their willingness and congeniality. I believe my comment was, "Sure, but where is my connectivity?"

Anyway, for almost three days I've had the internet blues.  I don't run a business on the internet.  No.  Being connected to the internet is my way of keeping in touch with my friends through blog sites or Facebook, even good old fashion emails.  Boy, was I in a duldrum.

I hate being addicted to the internet and all it has to offer.  Last night, for instance, I wanted to find a leftover turkey recipe.  Couldn't do it.  But, I managed. I scanned real recipe books and made do.  You see.  Once I retired from teaching, being connected to the internet keeps my friend base alive, even though I don't actually see them face-to-face.  Being connected to the internet, keeps my family base alive.  I felt totally alone in this cold hard world of mine.  Totally!  And I didn't like it one bit.

Every night I cleanse my brain by playing games on the internet.  I suppose I could read a book, but that takes too much concentration.  I missed cleansing my brain with stupid internet games.  But wait!  I discovered Solitaire was downloaded on my bedroom computer.  So now, I have a running score and time with a game I can bring up at the click of my finger.  Obviously, I've had internet blues.  No one should be that addicted to the internet!

By the way, the photos of the Bleeding Heart vine was killed last night with our cold weather.  Tonight it will only be 28 degrees.  This plant is invasive and totally suffocated my roses;  but it is so beautiful at this time of the year.

I have internet now...but who knows about tomorrow?  I shouldn't let technology rule my life!

Thanksgiving 2012

Mom said Wednesday, "I think I'll wear this for Thanksgiving."

Sadly I informed my mother that those socks would not be worn on Thanksgiving.  "But, they match the pink in my shirt," Mom said.  "Doesn't matter.  Wear white socks tomorrow."

We had a great Thanksgiving.  Clay was home for the first time in two years. 

Because the weather was so delightful, the women retired to the porches after the meal was cooked and served.  We chatted and laughed.  We watched birds and tried to find Tippy, the squirrel.

Hello Mary and Leigh Ann.  I loved being with my women friends this Thanksgiving.

Well, hello Dennis Harmon!  I have missed you, my friend!

Jim Piercey and Sam Markham are in heavy discussion, I suppose.  I think I overheard the words fishing and boats sprinkled through their conversation as I made my way to the kitchen.

My son-in-law, Sam and his friend, Pete, monitored the five children as they played outside.

"Where are the children?"  I asked.  As you can see, the children were pretend driving on the tractor and lawn mower and front end loader.

They appeared to be having fun.  Hi, pretty Maddie!

Hi, Oliver!

Hi, boys!

Little Cade was so cute.  "No monkeys up here!" he repeated time and again.

Thanks, Sam for helping in the kitchen.  You are the best turkey carver in the world. I seem to have left Julia and Truett's photographs out.  Sorry, Julia and Truett.  Maybe next year.

Thanksgiving 2012 was very special.

 

Remembering Thanksgiving 1983

I did an unspeakable thing today.  I took photographs out of a photo album I spent hours and hours putting together.  Hours spent before I even knew about internet blogs.  But, I don't feel one bit guilty.  My family's life are in those albums, which can now be printed into a book via internet.

One of my favorite pages in the album was of Merry Jennifer and Clay on Thanksgiving Day 1983.

Merry Jennifer dressed as an Indian and Clay, a Pilgrim.  I also remember exactly what I wore on that Thanksgiving Day in 1983.   I wore a wine colored silky type skirt and blouse and low heels.  Yes, we used to dress up for Thanksgiving in 1983.  Today we are much more casual, thank goodness.

Merry Jennifer was eleven at the time and Clay was seven.  Perfect ages to participate in Thanksgiving.

I will tell you that our family was influenced highly by Pamela Faith, a writer for the High Springs newspaper, The Observer.  This is a photograph of Mystry, Pamela and Philip's daughter.  Pamela taught our family how to have fun with the holidays.  Thanks, Pamela.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends and family.

PS.  If by chance, I have the wrong name of the High Springs Newspaper, feel free to correct me.

 

 

cherish the memories

Since not much "fun"stuff " is happening these days, I decided to research my archives from my blog, "From the Porches."

Incredible stuff.

Wonderful stuff.

I love my stuff!

(Hey, by the way, my school students were NEVER, EVER, EVER allowed to use the word STUFF.)  But, when I retired, I let loose.  I let the word "stuff  out of the bag!   And it felt good!

Oh, well.  Now, I am computer illiterate.  I tried to copy "good stuff" from 2007 from "On the Porches".  But I just couldn't do it.  Didn't know how, if fact.

Some of this good stuff dealt with teaching second and third graders how to elaborate.  Everytime I tried to copy, I couldn't do it.  The dang blue lines reverted to black and white.  What's up with that?

And then I tried to copy Thanksgiving 2007, a year after my daddy died... the year my Mom didn't feel like coming to Thanksgiving.

Awww!  It was a sweet post and Mama needed me that year.  But, she didn't come.

So, here's my plea.  

If you want to remember the Highlights of my life before retirement . . . well, I suggest you go to "Archives" like I did. 

Just pick a year like I did. ( I miss those years.  The years where I thought I was stressed out.  JOKE!) and then read about my life.

Or . . . you can tell me how to retrieve posts from Typepad.com to repost again, since I have more friends now than I did in 2007.

Now, what I want to do, is publish all of my blog posts throught Blurb.com so I can cherish my memories.  Then, after publishing on Blurb.com. my stories will be told.

The memories will be cherished.

And I will feel contentment.

the best laid plans

Sometimes the "best laid plans" don't work out.  Today, I had my plans all laid out.  Yes.  Get up. Get a hair cut.  Take Truett to lunch and then grocery. 

Well, most of that didn't happen; but, hey, no problem.  The afternoon was spent watching Florida football on pay per view.  That worked out fine.
Then conversation about Thanksgiving ensued and Truett insisted we go find Nettles Sausage Company near Lake City.  Oh, well.  My best laid plan wasn't working anymore and neither was dinner plans. 

"Mom, I'll give you a shower tomorrow, okay?" 

So, Truett and I drove to Nettles Sausage Company, buought a smoked turkey, because he was impressed with the one from his Lion's Club meeting the other night, and then we drove home.

I settled Truett in his chair and cooked a tuna casserole.  We ate at the table and I re-settled Truett back in his green recliner.

Then life turned around with a WHAMMO! 

Truett's oxygen tube broke and he went into a panic. Of course I freaked out because this was NOT in my best laid plans.  But I had no other choice.  Drive to Lake City in the dark to meet the oxygen man halfway.

I called Clay to ride with me.

And then a miracle happened.

 Clay counseled me all along the way.

"Mom, patience."

"Mom, if I've learned anything, it is to step away for a minute, re-group, breathe, and regain."

"Mom, you can do this.  I'm here for you!"

"Mom, you CAN do this."

My son saved my life today.  Actually, he saved my sanity today.  Thank you, Clay. I am so impressed with you.

So what if the best laid plans didn't work out today.

God's plan did!

Amen!

 

 

 

procrastinators

I am a procrastinator.  With Thanksgiving only less than a week away, I find I am not dealing with stuff.  Stuff that should be filed or thrown away or shredded.  Magazines that I no longer want to be delivered to my home.  Pretty magazines.  You know.  Better Homes and Gardens.  Well, those are not mine.  They are a gift to my mother.  I flip through the pages and see beautiful Thanksgiving presentations, and I freak out.  "Can't do it!"  I think.  "Just can't do it."

Magazines are not the only issue.  I have spider webs that have to be swiped away on the outside of my stained glass windows and inside stained glass windows to be cleaned.  Therefore, Clay and Gary are being procastinators.  They will do it by Thanksgiving, I'm sure because I have layed the law down and said, "Do it tomorrow!"

Not only that, but I went to my Orthopedic doctor today and he successfully drew fluid off my left knee and injected it with Cortizone.  I have procrastinated in getting Mom's hair appointment until next Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving...the same day I take my puppies to be boarded during Thanksgiving.   In the meantime, Truett says, "Stay with me. . .sit with me. . ."  Do you really want to know what my thoughts are? 

Naw!  You really don't want to know.

I suppose I was always a procrastinator, even when I taught school.  I know I was.  Do the paperwork the day before it was due.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

the ripper

This morning I looked out the porch screens and saw Clay walking a dog.  Or, at least I thought it was a dog.

"Clay!" I shrieked.  "Put your cat back in your house!  We have Daddy cat out here and Molly and wild turkeys and foxes.  Put your cat back in your house!"

For two years and around 2,000 phone calls, Clay asked about his cat, Charlie.  I reassured Clay that Gary was taking care of Charlie and he need not to worry.  But, today, I saw Clay risking Charlie's life.  Charlie, the cat he so adores.

Heck.  My puppies are not even leashed trained.

After I divorced and moved to Louisville in the late 60's, I had a female Siamese cat.  I visited my Mom and Dad one weekend and took "Siam" (clever name, huh?) with me.  I also took a light blue leash with rhinestones set in it.  The leash, of course, matched Siam's eyes.

What was I thinking?  I put the leash on the cat, opened the front door, and the cat took five steps and layed down on the sidewalk.  "WALK!" I demanded.  But, no, Siam would not even stand up.  Do you want to know what I did?  I drug that cat along the sidewalk with her lying on her back, feet sticking straight up in the air.  I was so determined to walk my cat that day. 

Didn't happen, though.

Finally, I got exasperated and drug Siam back to Mom's front door.  Then I reached down to pick her up and WHAP!  WHAP!  SLICE!  SLICE!

Yes, indeedy.  I was a bloody mess after Siam got done with me.  My arms were bleeding.  My face was bleeding, and my fingers were in shreds.

Therefore, I vowed NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER to try to walk a cat on a leash again.  I wanted to rename my cat The Ripper.  Plus, I'm not ever sure I liked her anymore.  Poor kitty.

"Be careful, Clay!  There's wild animals out there!" I shouted.

Oh, well.

 

 

 

my heart melted

Yesterday, was very special to me.

All summer long, I would drive Truett to Paynes Prairie, hoping to take a photograph; only to be bombarded by heavy downpours of rain.

I'll be honest with you.  I dreaded the wheelchair push up the ramp to the dock; but I was willing to do anything to photograph the prairie. 
Often I tried to take photographs with spitting rain pelting my face while Truett sat in the car.

The difference about yesterday's visit to the  prairie was the presence of Clay, my son.

I know it sounds like a little thing to have my son unload the wheelchair, put Truett in it, and then push Truett up a ramp so his dad can view Paynes Prairie and feel the breeze blowing through his hair.

But, to me. . . yes, me.  It meant the world to have a burden lifted for a day.  It wasn't a great big burden... just a small one where I could photograph forty pictures without worrying about pushing Truett or lifting that god awful wheelchair back into the Acadia.

I'm loving having Clay home to help out; and he is doing it willingly.  Today he said, "Mom, Dad's calling your name.  Can I go see what he wants?"  And then, my heart melted.

Thank you, Clay Sanford George.  I love you!

God's reason

Today I was able to go to my psychologist alone because Clay volunteered to sit with Truett.  Thank you son.  Truett doesn't really need anyone to sit with him, but I figured it gave Clay a purpose.

After I got home I decided the boys needed to get out in this beautiful ,cool Florida weather, so I suggested we go to the Ichetucknee Springs and purchase our annual pass.

None of the park ranger stations were opened, so we ended up at the Head Springs of the Ichetucknee River.

I haven't been able to take Truett to the Head Springs because they have no wooden boardwalk to push a wheelchair on.  But, this is where Clay came in handy.  He unloaded Truett's wheelchair and pushed Truett to the stairs overlooking the beautiful springs.

While we were there, a couple of guys passed, said hello, and watched me hobble to the top of the rock stairs.  "Are you okay?" one fellow asked.  "Yes, I just can't walk down those stairs," I answered.  I have a bad knee."

 "I'll walk you down," the fellow said. "That's okay," I answered.  "We've lived here since 1974 and I really don't need to go down the stairs.  I just wanted to take a photograph."

Finally, after taking a few photographs, I told Truett and Clay I was ready to go.

And then GOD took over.

Yes.  Scott, the fellow in the green shirt, the same one that offered to help me down the rock stairs, came to our rescue.  He asked Truett what his problem was and Truett said, "I can't do the things I used to do because I fell and hit my head."  I further explained to Scott that Truett had had a tumor removed, and indeed Truett had fallen three times since and that he had no equilibrium and could not walk.

Scott then said he was a "born again Christian" and he has traveled the world healing people.  He asked Truett if he wanted to be healed and Truett said, "Yes."  In the meantime, I'm clicking off photographs.  Scott and Truett grasped hands until I saw Truett's knuckles white with the grasp.   Then Scott prayed for Truett to be healed.  But it wasn't over.  Scott told Truett after the prayer that he had one more thing to do:  Truett was to do something he has not done before.

"Truett, I want you to stand up and walk."

Oh, my word.  Clay and I looked at each other; but at this moment, we both felt God in our presence.



Truett DID stand up and walked four steps without anyone holding on to him.  But, the miraculous thing is, Truett walked in sand and over roots!

Then Scott layed his hands on my shoulders and said, "I want you to walk to the stone steps and see the beautiful Ichetucknee Springs.  A good walk.  No limping.  He said a prayer and he held my hand and I walked beautifully down the stone stairs with no pain.

Scott's message was:  There are only you guys and us  God and Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. . . and that's for a reason.  God's reason!

Tonight Truett told me he felt better somehow.