Monday, September 26, 2016

I'm Positive. Okay, I'm Trying

Like most little girls, I wasn't a fan of the "Three Stooges".  But Baby Bro was and even six year old boys need their television fix.  Back then there were basically 4 channels to chose from and we had to wait our turn to choose.  I recall thinking the Stooges were the dumbest group of adults I'd ever witnessed and wondered why anyone thought slapstick was funny.  And yet, one of their stupid routines got stuck in a corner of my brain.  To this day if someone says, "I'm positive" I hear this in my head:

                         Moe: "Are you sure about that?"
                         Curly: "I'm positive."
                         Moe: "Only fools are positive."
                         Curly: "Are you sure?"
                         Moe: "I'm positive.

Sigh. 

That makes me think the only thing I'm positive of today...might change tomorrow.  I'd be foolish to live in my own little world and not see the big picture.  How it effects all of us.  Oh, I'm not talking about changing my core values: I'll still live by the Golden Rule and take the high road, even if it gets lonely up there from time to time.  But change can be a good thing. (Unless you work with Senior Citizens like I do and they HATE change).

Right now, this country of mine could use a positive change.  There's too much anger, ranting and raving...and by the way, if everyone's yelling, who's listening?  We need to embrace that kindergarten rule of taking turns when we speak.  That archaic social method of communicating called "conversation".  And no, I don't need to go first.  But I'd appreciate the chance to finish my thought...and have someone acknowledge it with more than a cursory, "You're wrong!  Next!"


Here's the thing.  For better or worse, we're all in this together.  Why not make it for better?  

I took this on my way home last week and it made me think: We need to learn to weather the storm together...not in boats of separate colors. Listen. Learn. Love.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Here We Go Again or "Water World, Part II"

Her name is Julia.  So far she's just a soggy Tropical Storm.  Hopefully she doesn't get huffy.  After all, we're already waiting on a contractor to put on a new roof since her sassy sister Hurricane Hermine tried to keep part of our home as a souvenir on her tour of the South.  The contractor penciled us in for the last of the month.  Why?  We're #9 in line. 

In the meantime, Sav and I are in those lovely zones where Julia might share so much rain, we flood.  Again.  I'm thinking maybe I ought to invest in one of these.   

UPDATE: Well, Miss Julia fell apart.  She wandered out to sea, wandered back our way, then got confused and had a nervous breakdown.   May this clip art scared her.  :) 

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Remembering

No, this isn't going to be a long 9-11 tribute piece.  More like a reminder to enjoy life and not take it for granted.

Yesterday, Sept. 10th was the date my Dad died...21 years ago.  It somehow doesn't seem possible it's been that long.  I still find myself occasionally thinking, "I need to ask Dad...," only to realize that would be a r-e-a-l-l-y long distance call.  Yesterday, I had the oddest thought.

"I'm glad Dad didn't live to see 9-11."  

Not the Sept. 11th of 1995, but THAT day.  Because as horrified and baffled as I was, he would've been more so.  His parents were of the "Greatest Generation".  He'd served his country for four years.  That someone would come into the U.S. with such destruction would've been unfathomable. 

Oh he understood evil and what it entailed.  I'll never forget sitting in a hospital room with him as he got yet another chemo treatment as we watched the Oklahoma City bombings unfold on the t.v. in the room.  He sat there, shaking his head and mumbling, "Those poor people!  Those poor people!"  With the equivalent of poison running into his veins, Dad mused how one deranged soul could do so much damage.  I could only nod, amazed at the compassion of someone so ill.  Little did I know I'd lose Dad in five months.

I was glad Dad didn't live to see what happened to the Twin Towers.  I'm glad he got to remember the New York of his youthful visit as a sailor.  I can still hear him telling the story of going up the Statue of Liberty and standing on the torch to look over the city. (Yes, at one time they allowed you to do that).  For a man from a small town, that must've seen miraculous.

So today I will quietly think of those who gave their all trying to save others fifteen years ago.  And I'll be grateful that Dad lived in a world where trouble didn't so violently strike us where we live.  No, he lived in a world where you told your daughter stories about wonderful places and people who lived on the other side of the world.  And I believed him.

In spite of terrorists, I still do.

Saturday, September 3, 2016

She Wasn't A Lady

Sav and I had the misfortune of being visited by one Ms. Hermine, she of the hurricane family with no manners.  I know Sav asked her to leave Georgia by way of the sea, but Ms. H. decided wandering up the coast to South Carolina was more to her liking.  I'm not sure of our rain totals yet, but it's 5-7 inches.  I work in local government and THEY were worried enough to send us home at Noon on Friday.  Which was good...the driveway at work was flooding and beginning to look like a lake.
 
Bottom line: lots of limbs to pick up and a chunk of roof to repair.  Like I told Sav, you never comprehend the sheer power of wind until you have to PULL an embedded shingle corner out of the ground.  She might've spared the Old Gal out front (150 year old pecan tree) from splitting in half, but she lost a lot of limbs and a TON of pecans which were still green.  You know what's fun?  Trying to pick up limbs while your feet slip and slide over small golf ball size pecans, still in their green husk.  We picked up for an hour this morning before Hubby had to go to work and a-l-m-o-s-t got all the limbs up under the Old Gal.  She has three children and her cousins, the Paper Birches, got in on the act as well.  Only total tree loss wasn't on our property but on the bordering field: China Berry uprooted and fell in front of the trailer I'd suggested we hook up to the 4 Wheeler to aid in gathering limbs.  Oh well.
 
Good news is we're fine.  Interesting news is we get to meet a new friend in the next day or so: the Insurance Claims Adjuster.  I'm hoping he's friendly because we've never filed a claim in the 19 years we've been here.
 
Hope everyone has a relaxed Labor Day weekend.  
 
 Just for perspective, Hubby is 6 feet tall.  
The pile is growing steadily: the tree which uprooted itself is in the background.  
That "dead" tree on the left?  
It was ONE branch off the Old Gal from a storm a couple of weeks ago....
a single limb the size of most trees.
 

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Run!

There's been a lot of logging going on in the country this morning.  

I don't know about you, 
but I think this guy on the left is trying to make a break for freedom.


 

Friday, August 19, 2016

National Photography Day

Saluting Kim Ayres and his fellow photographers 
who capture life's most interesting moments.  

Who knew there were perks?   :)
 

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

The Visitor

People are creatures of habit.  People with pets are creatures of that pet's habits.  I could set my watch by Bou's time table of life.  Come in from work with Hubby, he'd greet me like I'd been gone for a month.  But if I sat down after that, he'd come lift my hand with his head until I got up and fed him.  The evening joke was my asking, "You need to go out?"  Bou's reply would be to lay down on his bed.  Yet as soon as I sat on the couch and got comfortable, he'd approach with that Elvis grin of his to let me know he wanted to go out.  When he was done, he'd literally body slam the front door so I'd let him in.

Hubby used to say Bou trained me. 

One part of the nightly ritual was what happened when Bou went out.  He'd stand on the top step, survey his kingdom, then go down the steps.  We live in the country and are surrounded by fields.  Fields often filled with deer.  Yet Bou was never interested in chasing them.  Every evening he'd go out and 5 minutes later I'd hear a bark.  Not one of warning.  Or danger.  Or annoyance.  And every time I went out to see what was going on, there she was.

A Doe, standing in the field, just looking at Bou.  And Bou, looking at her.  Wagging his tail.

After a while, it appeared they were friends.  While other deer would scatter at the sound of Bou's voice, she would always stand still, look at him for a moment, then saunter off.  Never running.  Just strolling.  When she had fawns, she didn't rush them on at the sound of his baritone.  No, she and the kids stood there until Bou wagged his tail, then they moved on.  This wasn't a one time thing...she's come back for a couple of years now.  There's a hedgerow* at the end of the field where she has her fawns each year, where they'll be safely hidden.  More than once I'd witnessed Bou lie in the front yard, waiting to see her before wandering off to do his business.

It's been almost a week since Bou crossed the rainbow bridge.  Hubby was mowing the lawn yesterday (our 36th anniversary) and when he came inside, he was quiet.  I thought it was because of how many times he had to pass where we laid Bou to rest out back, which borders a field.  (Remember, we have 5 acres in the country).  After showering, Hubby said, "Come with me.  I need to show you something."

We hopped on the golf cart and headed toward "that spot".  I thought maybe he'd marked it as a way of dealing with the loss...after all Bou did go to work with him every day.  As we approached he said, "Bou's had a visitor".

My heart dropped.  All I could think of was coyotes had come and disturbed the grave.  My eyes searched for signs of digging, but there were none.  Then my eyes followed where Hubby was pointing.  In a dainty line around Bou's final resting place were a set of deer tracks.  The size of a doe's.  The trail walked all the way around the spot and never over it.

"There are no other tracks," Hubby offered, pointing out the patches of dirt in the surrounding area.  Just here, then back into the field."

It seems we're not the only ones who miss the ol' boy.   




*Hedgerows, for you city slickers, are those blocks of trees or brush you see down the middle of a field which serve as a wind break to protect crops.  The one above is a small block of trees at the end of the field.