Last Day of School!
I have never been so happy. We were pretty ready to be finished.
It did end with a break up. The little girl who requested that Joe be her Valentine, and then announced they were dating, apparently broke up with him. This was discovered by Lexi, who leaned out her classroom window and asked the Jezebel in question if she knew where Joe was. The girl informed Lexi that she did not know, because she had broken up with him. Lexi searched out her little brother, and attacked him with a hug, telling him how sorry she was. Joe shoved her off and asked why the heck she was sorry, and Lexi burst out "Because Soandso broke up with you!!" at which Joe replied "She did?"
"She didn't tell you?!"
"No. This is the first I have heard about it."
By the time the story trickled down to me, it was to inform me that Joe had decided the best way to deal with it, was to have a bonfire, and start it with all mementos related to the girl in question. Who, by the way, has decided that she is now back to dating the boy that she dumped to announce she was dating Joe.
Joe happily burned all love letters written by this girl, while I breathed in relief that she was not going to be coming around and hanging on my (entirely too young) kid anymore.
Joe was hanging around last night while I made dinner. The end of the story went as such: Yesterday He and this girl ended up sitting next to each other for something or other. She mentioned that she was now back to her previous flame. Joe calmly informed her that all her love letters made lovely fire starter, and he enjoyed watching them burn. She became mad, and Joe told her to never even think about dating him again, because he would never take her back.
I told Joe that I was kind of happy, because, honestly he is too young for these things, and next time around, we are just going to tell girls that his Mama said "NO." until he is much older, thankyouverymuch.
Joe responded with "By the way, what am I taking to school for my special snack tomorrow?"
"WHAT?? WHAT "Special Snack"?!" And, thus began an entirely different tangent.
I went to get my hair done by my sister last night. It was getting pretty bad, and needed her help. I walked into her salon, and she said "What? No kids with you?"
"Joe is figuring out his new telescope, Lexi and Kaila were doing something or other, and I don't know if George lives with us anymore, truthfully."
"Oh. Run off with the wolves, did he?"
"That is a possibility. I rarely see him anymore. The neighbors down the street have a pool. He spends most of his time at their house now. I think that may have adopted him at this point."
"Does he eat at your house?"
"I don't even know. Sometimes, he and his friend come through the house, raid the fruit bowl, and leave again. The fruit bowl is still pretty full, though, so, he could have eaten the wolf pack he ran off with, for all I know. Sometimes I think I see him, and I think he has blonde hair now. And, I see superhero underwear in the laundry, so, he presumably comes home at least for clean underwear sometimes."
We sat down and had a family meeting of sorts last night. George was given a two hour limit to his off-site social activities, He responded with "I would probably stay home more if we got a pool, Mom."
The kids were informed that there was absolutely no reason for them to spend the summer as they did last year - lying around the house in various stages of pajamas and watching TV until shortly before the parental return from work. They were told that there were expectations, and that there were chores and responsibilities. They were all pretty stuck on the possibility of a pool though.
"It would be great exercise."
"We would be outside more."
"Pool parties!"
"It would be so perfect!"
"We wouldn't have to drive all the way to Machias to use the town pool!"
"We NEED a pool!"
Bearded Man said "NO. I am not putting up a pool. I am not getting the ground under it ready. I am not dealing with the installation. That isn't even counting the chemicals, PH balance testing, vacuuming, cleaning. NO."
"Well. Here's an option. You can all fight it over, and hash it out amongst yourselves. WHAT IF, We use next year's vacation money, to put in a pool, and have it installed. That would mean NO vacation to Black Lake, or wherever we decide to go" (I have been pushing for Maine for years now.) "IF you kids are willing to trade off, and Bearded Man is okay with someone else installing it, then, I would be willing. Discuss this at your leisure, and let me know."
"KID MEETING IN THE FAMILY ROOM!!!!" they all shouted, and ran off with Bearded Man hustling right behind them. He was sent back when they pointed out that, though he is regarded as one of the kids sometimes, this was not one of them, so please leave the meeting. A pool was voted down 3-1, and, after the probable cost of braces for Kaila, and possibly Joe next year, we will probably book the same vacation again.
The Million Step Challenge continues. This week, I surpassed the halfway point. Also this week, my sister in law, Deanna, invited me into a "Workweek Hustle" challenge for the week. I will never ever again agree to two simultaneous challenges at the same time. At this point, I am walking at every possible moment, including and right up until bed time. Turbo seems to love the late evening walks, but, I am kind of tired.
Thrown into the Million Step Challenge was a NEW twist - there are 27 large squirrel sculptures around Olean, where I work. They are scattered all over the place, and each one has a different theme. We have until June 30, to get a selfie with each squirrel. I figure I will have a life again sometime toward the end of July. So far: I have accomplished ONE selfie. and it isn't even the squirrel right outside the front door of the clinic where I work.
Oh, while I am at it - Christmas has been saved this year.
We have this yearly tradition. Every year, on "get the Christmas Tree Day" we go to a local Pizza Hut, where, some Boy Scouts (Not our troop) sell Christmas Trees. We eat Pizza for lunch, and then we stroll outside at a nice reasonable distance with minimal inconvenience, and select a tree. The Boy Scouts then wrap it up into a tidy bundle and secure it to the top of my vehicle. It's probably the kids' favorite Christmas tradition.
(Before we think Moriah is a princess here, you need to know about previous attempts at the frozen tundra of hiking through and picking out then cutting down trees. The last time we tried this, I was less than a month away from having George, I had bartended a big/loud/very late Christmas party the night before, I was in nursing school, I was exhausted, and I had to hike all over the place. We froze, kids cried, Kaila had a friend with her, who lost her "favorite scarf EVER!" someplace, so we had to RE-hike the whole thing.
Another year, I somehow ended up bouncing along, FREEZING in the back of Bearded Man's pick up truck, 7 months pregnant with Lexi, while we drove to the lot. I still cannot recall his reasoning for myself being in the back of the truck.
We have NEVER had a good experience in "Cut your own" tree lots, and I avoid them at all cost. While trying not to feel all guilty as my friends post happy perfect family pictures of themselves at all the local tree lots, with trees their husbands all just cut down. None of them are ever frozen, pregnant, angry or hostile.)
Anyhow, back on track here, last Christmas, the Boy Scouts announced that they probably wouldn't be selling trees at Pizza Hut anymore. Or, anywhere, for that matter.
We were all horrified by this news, and probably Christmas would be ruined forever now, because it just wouldn't be the same anywhere else. This is tradition!!!!! Every time we drove past Pizza Hut, we mourned a little more.
Well. There was a Christmas Miracle. I spoke to the Mother of one of those Scouts, whose husband is a scout something or other (helper? Leader? Saver of Christmas??? I don't really know.) and he announced that the Scouts will, in fact, be selling trees at Pizza Hut this year.
So, Christmas is saved! Glad Tidings and stuff.
I think that is it. I need to run down town and find a color map of all the Olean Squirrel Sculpture locations, so I can run around town taking selfies.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
PS: Another Hurried Blog, to go with Yesterday's Hurried Blog
After yesterday's hurried Blog (Well. In all fairness, they all are. Thus the dreadful mistakes I always find and then cringe at.) I remembered all the things I had meant to mention. So, today; another (hurried) Blog.
Last and this week were termed "Hell Week" mostly because we are nearing the end of the school year and baseball season. Pretty much, we have something going on all the time right now. Kids are going in every single direction. It's insanity.
Anyhow I took two days off last week, to accommodate a field trip to Niagara Falls, a Kindergarten Graduation, a Sixth Grade Moving up Celebration (For those not familier with our schools in Franklinville, Pre-K thru 6th grade is in one school, and 7-12 is in the big school across the road. Lexi is heading into the big school in September.) and a mishmash of other things.
In the middle of the recent craziness, there was a trip to the local ER with Kaila. Kaila has been complaining of bone and joint pain for some time now. The pediatrician really has not done much about it. While at school recently, she was walking along, and suddenly had mega bone pain in her lower legs. She slowed down, and the kid next to her turned around to comment about it, and ended up yelling "HOLY SHIT, KAILA! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE??!!!!" because, Kaila's nose suddenly erupted and blood was pouring out both nostrils. A trip to the nurse's office found that the blood would just not stop. So, off to the ER we went. Where, they managed to stop the bleeding, and sent her home again.
In addition to the bone pain, Kaila has found that the palms of her hands will suddenly become unbearably hot. When we walk together, and are up in the local cemetery, she will stop and put her hands on the granite, to try to cool them off.
Some research suggested (what I have been saying all along!!!) that, there are some rheumatoid issues here.
Other research indicated that she is probably a witch, and needs to learn to harness the powers of her burning hands for healing purposes.
Because of this, I have advised her to please stop touching the grave stones with her burning hands. Possibly, she should just stay out of the cemetery altogether, actually. Also, every time I have a headache, I have been instructing her to please touch my head with her burning hands. It hasn't worked yet, but, I think she just needs to work on it.
Meanwhile, on the off chance that she is not a witch, I should probably find another doctor for her.
Lexi's 6th Grade Moving Up Celebration has come and gone. The afternoon of the Celebration, one of Lexi's friends wandered over.
"Hi, Mrs. Dick." she said miserably.
"Well hello! What's up?"
"I am escaping my mother."
"Oh no! What's going on?"
"She wants me to wear a polo shirt tonight. It's always polo shirts! All the time! I hate polo shirts, and I don't want to wear one to the dance after the moving up thing!"
At this, Lexi was beside herself.
"WHAT???? This is unacceptable! And not okay! You are a twelve year old! How does your mother ever expect you to become an independent woman, if she is still trying to dress you when you are TWELVE?! You are an intelligent person, who is capable of deciding what to wear to your own dance! If you don't want to wear a polo shirt, then, you should NOT. you need to tell her you will wear a shirt that YOU pick out! I cannot believe this!!!!!"
"Lexi." I cut in to the tirade, "What do you plan to wear tonight?"
"I don't know yet. I will think of something."
Twenty minutes before it was time to go, Lexi began to work on her outfit. She took an old dress and cut off the bodice, added buttons to the back, making it into a full skirt, threw on a coordinating t-shirt, whipped up a matching bow for her hair, and was ready to go.
No one will ever have the same outfit as Lexi. She looked amazing.
Joe has managed to survive a crazy baseball season/scout season/school winding down, and, the class field trip to Niagara Falls. Along with a recent scout camp out for a weekend (during which it rained the entire time, and they spent most of the time trying to keep the campfire going) and several sleepovers with a friend of his.
Next week, after his Scout moving up, at which time he will be a Boy Scout and no longer a Weeblo, Joe will have a break. School is nearly over, baseball is nearly over, and, except for a week at Boy Scout Camp in July, Scouts will be over until school begins again. I think he needs the break. He hasn't had the time or energy to correct anything, ask questions, or obsess over any particular subject. Except telescopes. It is all he wants for his upcoming Birthday. He has certain requirements for his telescope, and has researched them exhaustively. I suppose this weekend, Joe, me, and Amazon will have to get together and order him a telescope. Also, he wants a lemon cake, shaped like the sun, with lemon cupcakes making sun rays for his birthday. Because, when you stop and think about it, The Boy Wonder is only going to be 11.
George. George is still George is still George. This year, he hasn't spent as much time on his bike as most years. I mentioned it the other day and his response was "Well. I decided that I would do the bike every other year, so you don't have to keep being scared all the time. This year is my safe year." While that sounds sweet, this was coming from the kid who wandered home last night with a nasty scrape across his face (something about a tree and the way home from school. I don't even know.) He has scrapes and bruises all over his legs, from his many adventures, and his hair has already lightened to blonde for the summer.
He graduated from Kindergarten last week. "Mom. I watched you. You are supposed to be happy for me. Why were you crying through the whole thing?"
"Yeah, Mom" piped in Lexi "What the heck is up with Moms who cry over this stuff? I don't understand these things."
"I don't either, Lex."
Anyhow, I have no idea what I am going to write about, once all the craziness that is our lives currently, slows down.
Till next time!
Last and this week were termed "Hell Week" mostly because we are nearing the end of the school year and baseball season. Pretty much, we have something going on all the time right now. Kids are going in every single direction. It's insanity.
Anyhow I took two days off last week, to accommodate a field trip to Niagara Falls, a Kindergarten Graduation, a Sixth Grade Moving up Celebration (For those not familier with our schools in Franklinville, Pre-K thru 6th grade is in one school, and 7-12 is in the big school across the road. Lexi is heading into the big school in September.) and a mishmash of other things.
In the middle of the recent craziness, there was a trip to the local ER with Kaila. Kaila has been complaining of bone and joint pain for some time now. The pediatrician really has not done much about it. While at school recently, she was walking along, and suddenly had mega bone pain in her lower legs. She slowed down, and the kid next to her turned around to comment about it, and ended up yelling "HOLY SHIT, KAILA! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE??!!!!" because, Kaila's nose suddenly erupted and blood was pouring out both nostrils. A trip to the nurse's office found that the blood would just not stop. So, off to the ER we went. Where, they managed to stop the bleeding, and sent her home again.
In addition to the bone pain, Kaila has found that the palms of her hands will suddenly become unbearably hot. When we walk together, and are up in the local cemetery, she will stop and put her hands on the granite, to try to cool them off.
Some research suggested (what I have been saying all along!!!) that, there are some rheumatoid issues here.
Other research indicated that she is probably a witch, and needs to learn to harness the powers of her burning hands for healing purposes.
Because of this, I have advised her to please stop touching the grave stones with her burning hands. Possibly, she should just stay out of the cemetery altogether, actually. Also, every time I have a headache, I have been instructing her to please touch my head with her burning hands. It hasn't worked yet, but, I think she just needs to work on it.
Meanwhile, on the off chance that she is not a witch, I should probably find another doctor for her.
Lexi's 6th Grade Moving Up Celebration has come and gone. The afternoon of the Celebration, one of Lexi's friends wandered over.
"Hi, Mrs. Dick." she said miserably.
"Well hello! What's up?"
"I am escaping my mother."
"Oh no! What's going on?"
"She wants me to wear a polo shirt tonight. It's always polo shirts! All the time! I hate polo shirts, and I don't want to wear one to the dance after the moving up thing!"
At this, Lexi was beside herself.
"WHAT???? This is unacceptable! And not okay! You are a twelve year old! How does your mother ever expect you to become an independent woman, if she is still trying to dress you when you are TWELVE?! You are an intelligent person, who is capable of deciding what to wear to your own dance! If you don't want to wear a polo shirt, then, you should NOT. you need to tell her you will wear a shirt that YOU pick out! I cannot believe this!!!!!"
"Lexi." I cut in to the tirade, "What do you plan to wear tonight?"
"I don't know yet. I will think of something."
Twenty minutes before it was time to go, Lexi began to work on her outfit. She took an old dress and cut off the bodice, added buttons to the back, making it into a full skirt, threw on a coordinating t-shirt, whipped up a matching bow for her hair, and was ready to go.
No one will ever have the same outfit as Lexi. She looked amazing.
Joe has managed to survive a crazy baseball season/scout season/school winding down, and, the class field trip to Niagara Falls. Along with a recent scout camp out for a weekend (during which it rained the entire time, and they spent most of the time trying to keep the campfire going) and several sleepovers with a friend of his.
Next week, after his Scout moving up, at which time he will be a Boy Scout and no longer a Weeblo, Joe will have a break. School is nearly over, baseball is nearly over, and, except for a week at Boy Scout Camp in July, Scouts will be over until school begins again. I think he needs the break. He hasn't had the time or energy to correct anything, ask questions, or obsess over any particular subject. Except telescopes. It is all he wants for his upcoming Birthday. He has certain requirements for his telescope, and has researched them exhaustively. I suppose this weekend, Joe, me, and Amazon will have to get together and order him a telescope. Also, he wants a lemon cake, shaped like the sun, with lemon cupcakes making sun rays for his birthday. Because, when you stop and think about it, The Boy Wonder is only going to be 11.
George. George is still George is still George. This year, he hasn't spent as much time on his bike as most years. I mentioned it the other day and his response was "Well. I decided that I would do the bike every other year, so you don't have to keep being scared all the time. This year is my safe year." While that sounds sweet, this was coming from the kid who wandered home last night with a nasty scrape across his face (something about a tree and the way home from school. I don't even know.) He has scrapes and bruises all over his legs, from his many adventures, and his hair has already lightened to blonde for the summer.
He graduated from Kindergarten last week. "Mom. I watched you. You are supposed to be happy for me. Why were you crying through the whole thing?"
"Yeah, Mom" piped in Lexi "What the heck is up with Moms who cry over this stuff? I don't understand these things."
"I don't either, Lex."
Anyhow, I have no idea what I am going to write about, once all the craziness that is our lives currently, slows down.
Till next time!
Monday, June 13, 2016
Racing a Grandma
All these things have happened. But, since the "Million Step Challenge" is on my mind right this minute, that's where I am starting out.
Last year, I began a "Step Challenge Club" at work. Participation was great, but, then it sort of fell off. I discontinued it, but, was asked in January to restart it again. It only took a few weeks, before participation started to drop again. One of my co workers then came up with the Million Step Challenge. To be completed between May 8 and September 8. First prize to be determined.
I was all over that. I could totally do this. I calculated approximately how many weekly steps I would need, and decided to do this. I am always walking anyhow, so, why not?
Turbo is THRILLED. We do at least 3.5 miles every day.
I walk to baseball and T-Ball games.
I walk home from baseball and T-Ball games.
I walk on my lunch breaks.
I walk every hill I can find.
I walk with my 15 year old.
I have several requests from friends/acquaintances/and even the mayor's wife, to get together and walk.
I was out walking at 11:15 at night last Saturday, to try and get over 100,000 steps in for the week.
My competition? Linda. Linda is approximately 4 feet tall. She is 60+ years old. She is a lifelong smoker. She drives a full size pickup truck with an extended cab, that is decked out in camo. She hunts. She goes four wheeling. She loves to walk thru creek beds, take four wheelers thru mud pits, is dedicated to the local Beagle Club (where her husband is president), runs around after multiple Grand kids, and is right up at the top with me. Without even trying.
WITHOUT. EVEN. TRYING.
I am killing myself, trying to get all these steps in, and Linda is just doing life as usual. At this point, I want to beat Linda purely on principal, because, honest to goodness, I am not even forty. I cannot be beat by a 60 something year old grandmother. It's a matter of pride here. Anyhow. I suppose all I can do is try, right?
Yesterday we attended a Going Away party for The Southern People. (They have requested that they remain unnamed in this post. I agreed completely. Besides. I don't think anyone residing in Franklinville will have any idea who "The Southern People" are. Since we have so many people from Mississippi kicking around our middle of nowhere-everyone-is-related-somehow-multiple-generation-town. Total anonymity here on this Blog.)
Anyhow, this Southern family moved here temporarily a few years ago. Mr. Southern Person travels all over the place for his job, so, Mrs. Southern Person and all five of the Little Southern Persons travel with him. Unfortunately, Mr. Southern Person's job in this area has ended, so, it's back to Mississippi for them.
In sticking with the whole "walking everywhere" theme of things, the kids and I carted folding chairs and a strawberry shortcake trifle over to the Southern People's home. Where we encountered a police vehicle sitting in their driveway.
"Mom?" Lexi said, staring at the police SUV. "Ummm. The police are at the ( Southern People's) house..."
"I see that."
"Do you think we should still go? I mean...."
"Absolutely! It's a small town. We are obligated to go now, because at this point we need to know WHY the police are there. It's our duty now."
"What if we can't get into the party because of the police?"
"Well then. We will pop these chairs open right on the sidewalk, and we will watch the police activity while we eat our strawberry shortcake trifle."
"Okay."
"Besides. This just means it will be an awesome party. You know things are going to be good, if the police are already there!"
It turns out the police presence was due to a bonfire happening in the back yard. The police officer decided to check it out, and announced it needed to be in a better contained receptacle. So, they complied and sent him on his way. He did return later, to just make absolutely sure. He was graciously invited by Mrs. Southern Person to partake of the food and drink and stay awhile (She was getting aggravated with his suspicion, and, being Southern and everything, I am sure she added on a "Bless your heart" or two, which is how I have heard Southern People say "Because you are being a jerk -insert lots of inappropriate language here - and we have just about had it, so you may as well just pull up a chair, since you insist on parking in the driveway and crashing the party with conflicting stories as to your presence.")
There were approximately five million children in attendance, lots of adults, and, the food was descended upon like locusts had arrived. It was a good time. We laughed a lot, and I will honestly miss them so much.
Also of recent note: I got a massage. This is noteworthy, because, I never get massages. Even though I have often thought that, if I won a lottery jackpot, the first thing I would do is book a massage, and then hire a full time massage therapist for myself. I am not even kidding. It's a dream of mine.
Recently on Groupon, I found a wonderful deal for a 90 minute massage, and booked it on the spot. Seriously. I earned this massage. I was so looking forward to it, that, I actually dreamt about it the night before. In my dream, all these obstacles happened, and I couldn't get the massage. I really needed that massage.
Without incident, I arrived at the massage location. It was in a fairly affluent neighborhood, in a house turned multiple business offices. I left my phone in the van, because, seriously. I am constantly on phones for one reason or another. I just wanted two hours of no phone time.
I walked up the driveway, as, the house sat back from the road somewhat, and entered the house. Where I realized that all the other businesses were closed for the weekend. It was just going to by myself and the massage therapist.
The waiting room book selection consisted of titles along the lines of "Guitars for Dummies" "Finding the Inner Self" "The Odyssey".
Just me and some guy I don't know. Massaging my naked body. No one knew exactly where this place was.
I hadn't thought to leave the address.
My phone was in the van.
Every bit of training I have had since working as a VA nurse, for self defense began to scream at me. I spend every work day, making sure I am not putting myself in bad situations.
This was pretty much the anti-VA training right here. I knew better. Great. I was probably going to die now. Well. Hopefully I would at least get the massage first.
The therapist came out. A 30-something young man who had a low pony tail and was about as New Age as they come. I figured I was pretty safe, and agreed to be led back to the massage room.
The massage began. Relaxing music. My neck being rubbed. All those tense muscles... this is soooo nice. Honest to goodness, I just want to float in dreamland and -
"So. I see on your intake form that you are a nurse."
"Mmmmhmmm."
"Where are you a nurse at?"
"The VA."
"What do you do?"
"Everything. Lately, a lot of behavioral health."
"Oh. And, do you medicate people?"
"I do not. The doctors do."
"I do not agree with chemicals. They are a foreign substance in the body. Have you had your patients tested for sleep apnea? Sleep apnea causes so many issues."
And. Here we go. That went on for awhile.
"Are you religious?"
"Mmmmhmmm. Whatever you are doing to the shoulder there is lovely."
"I believe in God and Jesus, but, I do not believe in institutionalized religion."
"Everyone has their own beliefs."
On we went. How do you tell someone to just kinda shut up?
"I had this mentor ask me once if I had ever experienced complete silence or stillness. I said yes I had, and he said I couldn't have, because your heart is making noise you can here, and your breath and body are never all the way still, nor is the world around you. It is a goal - to try to experience the peace of complete silence and stillness." He remarked dreamily.
"It's called death. I would rather put that experience off as long as possible." I snapped back a little tartly.
Anyhow, it was quite the experience, and, honestly, I want to go back. Whatever he did to my back and neck and shoulders is worth the chatter. I just wish I didn't have to argue about religion or my job while wanting to launch into a dream state. There has got to be other topics of conversation out there.
Anyhow, that is a small portion of life around here in a nutshell.
Last year, I began a "Step Challenge Club" at work. Participation was great, but, then it sort of fell off. I discontinued it, but, was asked in January to restart it again. It only took a few weeks, before participation started to drop again. One of my co workers then came up with the Million Step Challenge. To be completed between May 8 and September 8. First prize to be determined.
I was all over that. I could totally do this. I calculated approximately how many weekly steps I would need, and decided to do this. I am always walking anyhow, so, why not?
Turbo is THRILLED. We do at least 3.5 miles every day.
I walk to baseball and T-Ball games.
I walk home from baseball and T-Ball games.
I walk on my lunch breaks.
I walk every hill I can find.
I walk with my 15 year old.
I have several requests from friends/acquaintances/and even the mayor's wife, to get together and walk.
I was out walking at 11:15 at night last Saturday, to try and get over 100,000 steps in for the week.
My competition? Linda. Linda is approximately 4 feet tall. She is 60+ years old. She is a lifelong smoker. She drives a full size pickup truck with an extended cab, that is decked out in camo. She hunts. She goes four wheeling. She loves to walk thru creek beds, take four wheelers thru mud pits, is dedicated to the local Beagle Club (where her husband is president), runs around after multiple Grand kids, and is right up at the top with me. Without even trying.
WITHOUT. EVEN. TRYING.
I am killing myself, trying to get all these steps in, and Linda is just doing life as usual. At this point, I want to beat Linda purely on principal, because, honest to goodness, I am not even forty. I cannot be beat by a 60 something year old grandmother. It's a matter of pride here. Anyhow. I suppose all I can do is try, right?
Yesterday we attended a Going Away party for The Southern People. (They have requested that they remain unnamed in this post. I agreed completely. Besides. I don't think anyone residing in Franklinville will have any idea who "The Southern People" are. Since we have so many people from Mississippi kicking around our middle of nowhere-everyone-is-related-somehow-multiple-generation-town. Total anonymity here on this Blog.)
Anyhow, this Southern family moved here temporarily a few years ago. Mr. Southern Person travels all over the place for his job, so, Mrs. Southern Person and all five of the Little Southern Persons travel with him. Unfortunately, Mr. Southern Person's job in this area has ended, so, it's back to Mississippi for them.
In sticking with the whole "walking everywhere" theme of things, the kids and I carted folding chairs and a strawberry shortcake trifle over to the Southern People's home. Where we encountered a police vehicle sitting in their driveway.
"Mom?" Lexi said, staring at the police SUV. "Ummm. The police are at the ( Southern People's) house..."
"I see that."
"Do you think we should still go? I mean...."
"Absolutely! It's a small town. We are obligated to go now, because at this point we need to know WHY the police are there. It's our duty now."
"What if we can't get into the party because of the police?"
"Well then. We will pop these chairs open right on the sidewalk, and we will watch the police activity while we eat our strawberry shortcake trifle."
"Okay."
"Besides. This just means it will be an awesome party. You know things are going to be good, if the police are already there!"
It turns out the police presence was due to a bonfire happening in the back yard. The police officer decided to check it out, and announced it needed to be in a better contained receptacle. So, they complied and sent him on his way. He did return later, to just make absolutely sure. He was graciously invited by Mrs. Southern Person to partake of the food and drink and stay awhile (She was getting aggravated with his suspicion, and, being Southern and everything, I am sure she added on a "Bless your heart" or two, which is how I have heard Southern People say "Because you are being a jerk -insert lots of inappropriate language here - and we have just about had it, so you may as well just pull up a chair, since you insist on parking in the driveway and crashing the party with conflicting stories as to your presence.")
There were approximately five million children in attendance, lots of adults, and, the food was descended upon like locusts had arrived. It was a good time. We laughed a lot, and I will honestly miss them so much.
Also of recent note: I got a massage. This is noteworthy, because, I never get massages. Even though I have often thought that, if I won a lottery jackpot, the first thing I would do is book a massage, and then hire a full time massage therapist for myself. I am not even kidding. It's a dream of mine.
Recently on Groupon, I found a wonderful deal for a 90 minute massage, and booked it on the spot. Seriously. I earned this massage. I was so looking forward to it, that, I actually dreamt about it the night before. In my dream, all these obstacles happened, and I couldn't get the massage. I really needed that massage.
Without incident, I arrived at the massage location. It was in a fairly affluent neighborhood, in a house turned multiple business offices. I left my phone in the van, because, seriously. I am constantly on phones for one reason or another. I just wanted two hours of no phone time.
I walked up the driveway, as, the house sat back from the road somewhat, and entered the house. Where I realized that all the other businesses were closed for the weekend. It was just going to by myself and the massage therapist.
The waiting room book selection consisted of titles along the lines of "Guitars for Dummies" "Finding the Inner Self" "The Odyssey".
Just me and some guy I don't know. Massaging my naked body. No one knew exactly where this place was.
I hadn't thought to leave the address.
My phone was in the van.
Every bit of training I have had since working as a VA nurse, for self defense began to scream at me. I spend every work day, making sure I am not putting myself in bad situations.
This was pretty much the anti-VA training right here. I knew better. Great. I was probably going to die now. Well. Hopefully I would at least get the massage first.
The therapist came out. A 30-something young man who had a low pony tail and was about as New Age as they come. I figured I was pretty safe, and agreed to be led back to the massage room.
The massage began. Relaxing music. My neck being rubbed. All those tense muscles... this is soooo nice. Honest to goodness, I just want to float in dreamland and -
"So. I see on your intake form that you are a nurse."
"Mmmmhmmm."
"Where are you a nurse at?"
"The VA."
"What do you do?"
"Everything. Lately, a lot of behavioral health."
"Oh. And, do you medicate people?"
"I do not. The doctors do."
"I do not agree with chemicals. They are a foreign substance in the body. Have you had your patients tested for sleep apnea? Sleep apnea causes so many issues."
And. Here we go. That went on for awhile.
"Are you religious?"
"Mmmmhmmm. Whatever you are doing to the shoulder there is lovely."
"I believe in God and Jesus, but, I do not believe in institutionalized religion."
"Everyone has their own beliefs."
On we went. How do you tell someone to just kinda shut up?
"I had this mentor ask me once if I had ever experienced complete silence or stillness. I said yes I had, and he said I couldn't have, because your heart is making noise you can here, and your breath and body are never all the way still, nor is the world around you. It is a goal - to try to experience the peace of complete silence and stillness." He remarked dreamily.
"It's called death. I would rather put that experience off as long as possible." I snapped back a little tartly.
Anyhow, it was quite the experience, and, honestly, I want to go back. Whatever he did to my back and neck and shoulders is worth the chatter. I just wish I didn't have to argue about religion or my job while wanting to launch into a dream state. There has got to be other topics of conversation out there.
Anyhow, that is a small portion of life around here in a nutshell.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)