she wants me to believe...

... I am a grandmother. But if I have been successful at refusing to be called that when attached to a wide assortment of dogs and cats, as well as backyard chickens, I won't let that happen with a rabbit that gave birth yesterday. P. called and asked what I was doing last night. I said I was putting the boxes into the box to put them up on the closet shelf. So, yes, thankfully, I am done with Christmas.

Then she asked if I wanted to hear a funny story. Which I always do. You have probably guessed that my most favorite thing in the world is to spend time laughing with my daughters. If I cannot actually be with them, to get laughs delivered long-distance is surely the next best thing.

She said her husband called her when she was just leaving the workplace, late due to meeting, to tell her there was a surprised awaiting her arrival at home. She asked if it was poop. For some really odd reason he will save the poop when the dog or cat do their 'doo' inappropriately to show her when she arrives, several hours after he gets off work. But it was not something nasty. Strange maybe, but not disgusting.

He has had several rabbits in the back yard for a couple of years. Sadly, usually cooped up in small pens he and a neighbor built. The neighbor/acquaintance was really into the 'paleo' diet, consisting mostly of protein, and decided to go into the business of raising rabbits. You can now imagine what he planned to do with the results. The novelty, as well as the responsibility for the care of three rabbits soon wore off, the neighbor completely lost interest. And the rabbits became permanent back yard residents. So C. has been feeding, watering, caring for these un-assuming hares all this time. Two males and one female. He will occasionally put them in a pen he built of chicken wire and let them graze in the backyard, but they mostly stay in little small enclosures, raised up about three feet off the ground, made of 2 x4s and hardware cloth.

When P. got home, he told her to go look in the bathroom. Which she did, and found nothing odd, amiss, unusual. He said to go look in the other bathroom. Where, in the bathtub, she found newborn rabbits in a box. P. said C. had suspected something when he fed the rabbits early in the morning before work - noticing the female pulling out fur - which is apparently a sign of 'nesting', impending birth. So he found some clean hay, other nesting material, soft and suitable for insulating babies. And brought a box home from his work to put it all in.  So now the bathtub has become the nursery. I assume since it will be so cold in the next couple of nights, to keep them warm, as they will  not be living underground in a rabbit burrow/warren or under the roots of tree like Peter, Flopsy and Mopsy.

The newborns are, according to the phone call, about the size of your thumb, and naked as the day they were born: which is yesterday. But you are Not allowed to call me 'grandma'. If I have successfully resisted the nomination all this time, I am not about to fall into that trap now. Reportedly they will need to be handled to be domesticated, so they will have grown some fur and be ready to hold when I go to TN in a couple of weeks. Not too sure How Excited I Am about that....

un-decorating....

... the season. I reported that it took me about 45 seconds to install my holiday décor: Hang wreath. Sadly it required much more time to take it all apart: probably a minute and a half. I took the wreath down, unplugged it from the outlet, last Thursday when the kitchen floor got mopped. And returned it to the shelf in the storage room where it lives for eleven months of the year.  Where upon it fell off twice, and landed on my head once.  And put the six little Wisemen and the two Santas back in the box where they reside, in pretty close quarters. It is not back up on the closet shelf yet but I will get that done today. So maybe two minutes, maximum. Goodbye, till next December

Some things I heard from my mother, maybe 'urban myths' that were so intimidating as a child, those tales likely struck fear in my heart. I don't remember any mention of dire consequences, other than the potential for vaguely ominous bad luck. Sort of dark, threatening clouds off in the distance for some of those legends passed down over the generations.  As children absorb and interpret, squirrel away in their minds, many things in ways adults can laugh off, completely ignore. 

These are some of the No-nos from growing up in south Georgia: You cannot leave your Christmas tree up until Jan. 1. I don't recall if this rule applies to all holiday decorating, but think it is probably specific to the tree. (Not a problem Here: I have not put one up in years! And don't think I even have any ornaments to put, if I did have a tree to put them on!) There are lots of families that leave lights and decorations up through Jan. 6. So I think this ban only applies to the tree. Wondering now if it was back in the era of fresh/cut trees that would get as dry as tinder from being inside for days and weeks, becoming a fire hazard. Especially in the time before electricity was commonly used to light the strings of colored bulbs on the tree: when the tree was actually lit for only one night, using wax candles.

You are not allowed to do any laundry on January 1. You should also not plan on doing any house cleaning, which goes back to the previous paragraph: get it done before the new year dawns, I guess.  You don't start any projects: the one I specifically recall is sewing. Never start any sort of sewing, meaning don't cut the fabric out, or start assembling any article of clothing on the first day of the new year. I think the threat I heard from the elders was greatly influenced by the fact that everything I wore for the first years of my life was handmade.

You can imagine what a chore clothing a family would be when every single garment had to be cut from whole cloth and put together by hand. Those 'newfangled' inventions, sewing machines would ease the task somewhat - but still, the challenge would be unremitting. Especially with children growing and outgrowing faster than you could cut and assemble.  Who wants to be doomed to that fate for the next 365 days? Chained to the machine???

I did cook, I did eat my black-eye peas, and I am optimistic about the New Year. There is probably a rule about cooking that comes under the one about cleaning, but I was  not sufficiently organized to cook the peas on the 31st. I would like to think that the positive value/good luck that accompanies the peas will outweigh the risk.  And unwilling to leave a stack of dirty pots and dishes in the sink overnight, so had to clean before bed. Still hoping for the best in 2015....

travelin'...

...from one side of GA to the other. Got up Friday morning early and drove to Decatur. Spending most of the day on Eleanor Street, just puttering. The weather was wet and cold and yuck, so the dogs did not get walked. We took some stuff to donate to the Salvation Army, with plans to go to lunch a little country cooking café nearby. When the closet-cleaner-outer saw the servers at the café wearing cute colorful aprons, she went back to the Salvation Army donation site to reclaim a bag of aprons she meant to give. And donated to the delighted women who work at the café instead. They were wearing brightly printed, frou-frou'ed up aprons when we left. Delighted with their new attire. To the point of making the guy who was bussing tables put on a frilly apron.

Drove up to SC, to visit cousin E.,and spend the night.  A good visit, a good meal (it's always good when someone else is cooking!), and a good night's sleep.  Went to visit my pen pal who lives in Greenville. I try to get up to see him once a month, and had not been in December, due to letting the month get away from me. A confession: I always try to be nearly out of gas when I got to SC, to buy it there much cheaper than the high-tax cost in GA. Even though the price has been going down for months, I was surprised to see it under $2 when I crossed the state line. I usually stop at a Quick Trip convenience store near Anderson and buy, but found some that was (don't hate me): $1.79 near Greenville.

Went back to Decatur on Sat. aft. to spend the night with cousin F. She and a friend usually go to a movie on Saturday night, so I had invited myself to go with them. "The Imitation Game" - about the group of British mathmeticians who designed the first computer to break the codes in the Nazi Enigma machine during WW II.  A really good, thoughtful, interesting story, but a pretty sad ending for the leader of the group. He was so smart he could not function well in society, and would have probably been diagnosed with some degree of autism if he had been born fifty years later.

I knew when I left home on Friday morning I had to work today.  I had set my alarm to get up at 6, but the thunderstorm that rolled in rattled the windows and shook the entire neighborhood so badly, I woke up at 5:30. Laid there for half an hour, warm and snug not wanting to get in motion. But got up at 6 to drive back to Columbus in the pouring rain. I have it programmed into my brain to think I can get from Decatur to Columbus in 90 minutes. But I was on the north side of town, and driving slower in all the downpour, sloppy weather,flooded city streets awash in water. So it took me 2 1/2 hours to get back to town.

I dashed in the door, changed to work clothes and went to church for 45 minutes. Then on to work. Thankful that I got to see so many folks I wanted to spend some time with, and thankful to be safely home.

something to ponder...(part 2)

...would be my original plan for the previous writing. To share something I read in a book recently by Don Miller. This is a different book, written when he was living in Texas, and went on a road trip with a friend driving in a (you guessed it!) Volkswagen bus that was both chronically and acutely ill. The bus was near death's door before they left on their vision quest, and provided about half the fodder for the book: when they got stranded, parts fell off, things got patched together with speaker wire.  Compassionate people they encountered who: did repairs, provided meals, helped them get on the road again.

The title of this one, written before "Blue Like Jazz" is "Through Painted Deserts: Light, God and Beauty on the Open Road". There have been several passages, paragraphs that really caught my attention. I am reluctant to mark up books, especially when they belong to others. So I sadly confess: I wrote in this paperback, spirited off the bookshelf of a close relative. With an ink pen. It so spoke to me when I was reading recently, taking a lunch break at work. And has stuck in my mind/heart, I need to share it with anyone who will read/listen/pay attention.

The pair of travelers were en route from Texas to the northwest states, taking a circuitous route. Decided to hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. When Don gradually realizes it was a bad mistake, poorly made decision. Dramatically overestimating his ability to walk down many miles on a steep, rocky, precipitious trail. And then having to climb back out of the canyon when exhausted. A different trail, but equally demanding. So here he is, left behind to travel at his own pace, with his friend moving faster, more able, going on ahead up the constant incline.

As Don struggles up the never-ending steep, rocky grade, he ponders:
"I think to myself about the weight in my pack. Last night Paul and I talked a bit about the stuff that we carry with us.  All the weight we walk around with, emotional baggage, thinking we need stuff we don't need. We weren't getting very deep or anything, but I keep thinking about it, and how much stuff I walk around with, about how life is a dance and God just meant for us to enjoy life, not get bogged down in sin and religion. Just be good, it seems like, is the point of life; be kind to people; don't hate anybody; forgive people because we all make mistakes. I know there are always going to be exceptions to this kind of thinking, but it seems like life would be better if we could just let go of the thought we need more and more stuff to be happy, more and more of the approval of others."

I got stalled out a few pages later, had to get back to work, and have not read lately. So stay tuned: you might see  more of Don Miller musings here soon... I am wondering, if I give him all the credit and admit that I am quoting directly from a book that was copyrighted in 2005, will I still go to jail?

something to ponder...

... from a book I have been reading in a haphazard fashion. I take it with me to work, and the only time I make any progress, read a few pages, is on days when I am at work all day - long enough to be scheduled for a lunch break. I can eat my lunch in about ten minutes, but required to take an hour off the clock. So I am always looking for something to read for the next forty five minutes. Occasionally, desperately sneaking a magazine off the rack to read something that caught my attention on the cover.

But usually occupying my time with something interesting that I have been reading at home. Most likely a library book. This one is was 'borrowed' from a bookshelf I passed by and noticed the authors' name on the spine, by someone I had a read before. My knowledge of this man is that he was a reference in a sermon I heard years ago, so intriguing was the idea that I knew I needed to read the book: 'Blue Like Jazz'.  A chapter taken from this book, written by Don Miller.

Miller was attending a college in the northwest, Oregon or Washington. Involved with a group that wanted to sponsor a booth at a campus event, something like a carnival or recruitment fair. They decided their booth would be a Confessional. But instead of offering to hear the darkest secrets of passers-by, then would invite students into the tent to listen. To hear the confessions of the sponsors, the students who were manning the booth. Allowing the members of the group to open up their hearts, become transparently truthful and share their own personal fallibility, quirks of human-ness. Confessing their innermost shipwrecks to total strangers who wander in.

Would that be easier to do, share horrendous heartaches, or horrible wrong-doing with your close friends, dearest relatives or complete strangers? Is it less painful to do with someone you feel would love you regardless of mis-steps/stupidity, or someone you are paying by the hour to help turn you into a better person? Are we more likely to be completely honest with well-educated, professional, experienced psycho-babble experts or open our psyche to the ones we think will love us without regard to the gritty, muddy, foul-smelling excrement that occurs as a result of poor choices we make every day?

cultural differences...

... would possibly be the best heading for lunch today. I married a man who was raised in the north, and I think the area where he grew up had a lot of Pennsylvania Dutch population and influences of their variation of life-style, eating preferences, syntax. He 's been in Georgia much longer than the years he spent in Johnstown, but some of those tastes and unfamiliar (to me) quirks remain.

I grew up eating black-eye peas on New Year's Day. I think most peopleraised in the south go along with  'tradition' that includes some form of cooked greens, like collards, as well as some form of pork, possibly cooked in with the greens. Or maybe chops or a smoked, bar-b-que pork butt. And of course you need cornbread to wipe your plate clean. I am not a greens girl. And have pretty much quit eating meat. But I dare not defy the Good Luck gods by failing to eat the peas. Apparently the combination of peas and greens signifies a greater likelihood of coming into wealth during the next twelve months. The more green stuff you eat, the greater the quantity of green paper money will fall out of the sky. Which could possibly explain my meager situation, since all I've ever been eating is the peas, an indicator of loose change.

The area of the country where my spouse grew up had traditional foods for ringing in the new year. But a profound, outrageous revelation to this little sheltered south GA ignoramous. His family always had a pork roast, cooked until it falls apart. Then add sauerkraut (homemade if available, from the big crock on the back porch), let that all cook together until the flavors blend. Then serve the pork and kraut over a big pile of mashed potatoes. If you dish this up onto white plates, you will notice that everything in front of you is the same color. Good luck in finding your food.

So what we had today covered all the bases: pork loin, cooked overnight in the crock pot. Then add a can of sauerkraut. Cook a pile of new potatoes, add butter and milk, smash all together, until mostly smooth. I would not ever, no, never think of waking up on January 1 and failing to eat black eye peas. So I brought home a small bag of frozen peas yesterday, that I cooked and enjoyed for lunch.

Making me remember when I first got married, started cooking in my own kitchen - it never occurred to me that you don't have to cook the Whole Bag of dried peas. You can put them dried on the shelf, in a jar and save for another time. I did not know this. So I would cook a pound of peas and we would still be eating in February. After they had turned into mush from heating and reheating.

He thought when he got up from the table today  that he had insured abundant good fortune, after eating all the things that historically, traditionally guarantee luck. And sat down to check his email. Whereupon he found he had already been awarded three million dollars from the FBI, who will be sending a debit card that will allow him to make withdrawals daily. Provided he will send a check for $375 for the processing fee.

I suggested he might have better chances if he would load right up and go to MS., spend a few days in the casino playing cards and hoping for a good run from the six decks the blackjack dealer uses.

happy new year...

...fairly accurately describes my own personal new years' resolution. Just to focus on being more content with the circumstances of life. To do less complaining about things I have no control over. Plus being more willing to speak up and attempt to alter events, situations that I can impact.  As opposed to discussing to death instead of actually making the effort to confront and be the instigator of change.

I remember as a youngster, times when my mom would insist that family members would write a List of Resolutions on January 1. I have no more recall of those particular items than anything I would have put in a Letter to Santa. Safe to assume they were fairly lame, along the lines of cleaning my room, or sweeping the kitchen. (The same list of things I need to be doing today!) Meaning my plans were so unmemorable that there was no commitment or sense of change to go along with the well intentioned list.  She had my brother and I sit and read our proposed improvements aloud at a meal. I do not have any remembrance of parents doing the same, so it was possibly her desire for the two of us to embark on a self-improvement plan to ultimately become better citizens of the world? Hmmm.... I'm thinking that proposal probably didn't even make it through the end of the month!

When I was out walking in the park with my friend yesterday, I told her about my desire to make a deliberate effort to focus on the positive things in my life. To devote less time and effort on the things I have no ability to seriously impact. Asking her to help me to be more mindful, tell me to 'let go' of situations that I am only griping about, and not actually doing anything to alter outcome. So we will see how well I can hold that thought, and pursue the higher road of releasing the little annoyances and aggravations of daily life...