Chores

As a little girl, I had all the normal chores to do that other kids did, help with the dishes, keep my room cleaned, sweeping off the porch, etc. (and usually drug my feet on all of them). However; all the kids I went to school with were “farm kids”. Therefore, they had “other” chores that they actually earned money for, like gathering eggs, cleaning the barn, feeding livestock, milking etc. I didn’t have any farm duties to do, so therefore I didn’t make anything extra. I complained to my folks about this once at which time they came up with a chore for me on washday.  From then on it would be my job to lay Dad’s “greasers” out on the sidewalk and sprinkle them with solvent to soak before washing. Dad’s greasers were “khakis’” matching pants and shirts made from heavy 100% cotton, that he wore to work every day. Every evening he would come home after work with them literally soaked in grease.  These were kept in a separate basket from all of our other clothes.

Every week, usually on Monday’s before school, it was my job to carry the greasers outside, summer and winter, spread each piece out, with the pants and shirts lined up and down the sidewalk, sprinkle them completely with solvent, where they were left to dry before washing. In the winter, often times the snow had to be shoveled first.    They were then gathered up and carried to the "washhouse". This building we called the wash house, was an old tin roofed shed where the Maytag wringer washer set.  When home in the summer time, I put Dad’s greasers in the washer, then Mom would come out, fill the tub with the hose, and get them started washing. I was not allowed near the ringer, as more than one housewife in those days accidentally mangled fingers and hands if they got caught in it. After everything was washed, rinsed, and run thru the ringer, it was also my job to hand them to Mom from the basket on the ground so she could hang them on the clothes line to dry. On bad days in the winter, rope was strung around the shower room, where they were hung with a little gas heater placed in there, and the door kept shut so the heat would dry them.

Throughout the community it was always a challenge, and almost a contest to see which oilfield housewife’s laundry hanging on the line looked the nicest.  For a stranger to this process, to drive by and see a long line of clothes laying up and down the sidewalks in front of the houses would have appeared strange to say the least, but more than once I remember riding by the “camp” and hearing the comment that “ well it looks like Fay, or Jenny or Elsie is doing laundry today”. Therefore, getting those work clothes totally soaked with the solvent mixture was very important, and I was so proud as a little girl to get to have a part in the process.

When we traveled thru the small towns in Mexico a few years back, it brought a smile to my face as I seen the clothes lines behind every house filled with sparkling white’s and bright colored clothes, many of them done by hand on washboards, and not always with the luxury of clear, clean water. Even with today’s automatic dryers, you will often see sheets and other items hanging on clotheslines of all kinds, across America.

The clotheslines in those days were made with a tall piece of pipe buried in the ground with a shorter piece welded to it forming a “T” at each end with wire strung between them. The pipe was a perfect place for wasps to build their nests, which also brought the challenge of keeping yourself from getting stung in the summer time. Like everything else, the clotheslines required maintenance. Dad would have to get the wire stretcher out a couple times a year to tighten it where it wouldn’t sag, and the poles had to be painted every spring.

Even with such a simple task as laundry, there is always so much more than meets the eye. Washday in my memories offers a vision of pride and gives me a sense of accomplishment, even when I think of it today.

not just my words

President Elect of the United States of America
Barack Obama

“America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is SO MUCH MORE TO DO. So tonight, let us ask ourselves -- if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made"?   This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment.

tarzan

 I feel so good tonight knowing that I will wake up in the morning with a leader who understands that there is always "so much more" out there, and who will reach out to the people to encourage them to always search for and do so much more......(maybe even beyond their wildest dreams).   

"Un-day"

For years, Monday was the “dreaded day”, we knew what lie ahead……..back to the job, putting up with demands from the bosses and society in whole, co-workers and family members in bad moods as they also had to return to the world. It meant telling the weekend days of Saturday and Sunday goodbye, with their lazy mornings when the alarm did not go off, the glorious two days of each week that allowed us to enjoy home or have fun with friends and family. Monday’s meant kicking the brain back into gear, taking on problems, solving problems, catching up on what was left over from the week before, and putting forth an effort to survive the next five days.

When my sister and I retired approximately a year apart, we were both so used to meeting the dreaded Monday’s head on, it was very hard to get used to the idea that we would not be expected to show up anywhere or do whatever someone told us to do, or whatever we knew we had to do.  In learning how to cope with retirement, we vowed to never have to go through another Monday……. instead, it became our “UNDAY”. This meant we could now enjoy our Mondays without the usual connotations, which they had carried for so many years.

Our “UNDAY’s” have become just that – a total UN day. A day in which we can choose to ignore the world if we so choose, a day we can devote to ourselves if we want to, without guilt of not meeting an ordered deadline. We make a point of emailing each other to say “happy unday” at the beginning of each week.

Just because “life” does go on, If one of us happens to find ourselves forced by circumstances to be associated with rest of the world, (such as a dental or doctor’s appointment, or an obligation of any kind), we still reserve the right to get through it by disassociation. It’s quite ok and within our rules, to “zone out” an unpleasant task by pretending in our minds that we can survive it if we’re not really there in our minds.   We can allow the mind to take a break! As the dentist’s drill drones on, I can wander through a path of daisy’s, or climb to the top of a mountain, or silently swim with the dolphins

Monday’s have now become a day I look forward to…….. There have been a few times since we started our “undays”, that I have had to flash back to the old Mondays and make myself remember what they were like. The dread and the challenges we faced to get going on the week and all of it’s demands. I do, still remember how bad some of those Mondays were as there was always so much more to them than I cared to acknowledge. The very word Monday held unforeseen testing of one’s abilities, intellect, and energies. I associated Monday with “survival”. I no longer do that.

Being Ostrich like and sticking your head in the sand can be healthy at times, it’s not a place we want to stay in, as Tuesdays are right around the corner, when you are more capable of adapting to the new week, and more able to face the task ahead. Acceptable or not, you will find freedom by ignoring life for awhile. It’s also ok, to make your unday on Wednesday! Or on any day you just don’t want to, or find yourself unable to cope.

Retired or not, and no matter your personal situation, it’s ok to look beyond the name of a day, as there is so much more when you allow it to become something else. I hope you’ll join me in the celebration of this UN-DAY. Make it what you want it to be!

Apple Pie

Apple Pie...I wish I could share this with all of you.  I baked a fresh apple pie last Saturday, to serve friends coming for dinner.    I had it covered with a towel as we ate our meal, then after I cleared the dinner plates,  I brought it forth and placed it in the middle of the table....I told them we had to set there and contemplate it's worthiness while waited on the coffee to finish.

I love anticipation....... especially of home baked goodies.   I, being the cook, never knows how a particular dish will turn out as food has a way of having it's own mind.  All apples are different, some more tart, some juicier, some tough, and some tender.......did I add enough sweetening and spices?   Did the apples get done?   Is the crust flaky enough?   

As the first piece was sliced and lifted on to the plate, warmed in the microwave and topped with ice cream and set before my guests, I held my breath as each took a taste.......

Watching the expression on their faces, told me this one was a success.    (I have had my failures) but they did not discourage me, I have always kept trying in life to reach perfection.   I've never completely enveloped it, but this came close.  

 Is there really so much more to life than apple pie?   I might have to argue that point..... In my mind, nothing gives my inner soul as much satisfaction as completing a home made meal. Putting simple items together....flour and shortening, rolling it out smooth, peeling fruit, adding sugar and spice and combining it all together, and ending up with dish full of pride.   If you've never baked an apple pie, or made a batch of cinnamon rolls, or a loaf of bread, or baked a cake from scratch.......I urge you to try.   It is the end to all means........

I send you a piece of my pie and my love, I can't think of a better way to express it.

The Hiker

He pitched his tent high in the mountains
With plans to follow the stream come morning
Drifting off to sleep neath clear, starlit skies
Feeling comfort and faith in nature soaring

Waking to sounds of ice falling 
Dawn of light showing layers of snow
The trail down and his path were covered
No guidance with what lay below

Nothing to guide him, but faith
To stay would mean certain death
Relying on his his own instincts
Fear sucked away his breath

A solid path covered in white
He knew not water from ground
Holes and dangers were hidden
Only trust as he was homeward bound.


I knew this hiker, he is my son and he indeed survived……The journey on foot that day was precarious at best. He was dressed only in light clothes wearing lightweight shoes. The storm had moved in quickly without warning, out of the seasonal norm, and left him vulnerable.  He was unprepared for the challenges he met that day. He did find his way down the mountain but with each step he took, he didn’t know if it would hold his weight, or take him over a cliff or into the icy hidden waters, as everything was level and white…… He hiked out on his own faith.

I think about his story a lot as we go thru life…… Sometimes we have no choice but to trust ourselves. We have very little to hold on to and very little to guide us. We can watch for the hidden dangers, and pray that God will see us thru but we have no obvious support. There is so much more to this story, but it’s message is to go forward no matter the dangers, no matter the measure of faith, no matter the outcome. Just keep going and hold tightly to your chances.

The Back appointment

ok, I am home from the dr. I sure like him....I call him dr. B. Anyway, he had a copy of the cat scan that dr. cute had taken in May.....I don't know how he to knew to ask for that, but anyway. he had it, and he looked at it and he showed it to me. The back is still a mess and he understands why it hurts. What he wants to do is have me get another shot first.  (an epidural),  the first one I had two years ago didn't help, and he wants to make sure this one don't help either. (but who knows, maybe it will this time),   then when that's worn off he want's to do another MRI and then probably surgery. He showed us this new little gadget they have now, it's like a little "spacer". They make a tiny slit in the back and stick in this "spacer" made out of stainless steel & titanium in between the disc or somewhere, so the nerve can breathe again, and everybody in there is happy. He said they would put me to sleep, then do it and I'd have to stay overnight, but then they'd send me home the next day and it would help me walk again. It would hold my spine in a position flexed forward, where it was comfortable. ....... I'm pretty sure the reason he wants me to have the shot again is because the insurance would require it.     If he said lets do surgery tomorrow, the ins. company would say "well have you tried the shots"? SO - all of this is just routine. I think the MRI will show them better what the deal is when they actually take the pictures. He said the cat scans are great, but they don't show the 3D on the bone like the MRI's do. SO - the plan is the shot first and hope it works....If it does, for how long, and if it don't, then surgery. We'll take it a step at a time. If you don't understand any of this, don't worry, there is so much more to it, and I guess I'll just trust dr. B because I don't understand it either.

Out There

Out There

I went out there again
I seen, I played, I tasted
I touched the world and joined in
I did not let a moment be wasted
I laughed with you.

You welcomed me again
You offered your time
You showed me, you taught me
You gave me your prime
You laughed with me.

The comfort is now with me again
The world is quiet and content
The security I yearned for is mine
The satisfaction was lent,
The open door awaited me, and I am home.

Oh boy, there really is “no place like home”. We’ve had such a great time but it’s so nice to be back here in our own little world.

It was fun to see our old friends again at the reunion, and the new outfit was perfect…..The balloon festival was wonderful and awesome, our hosts were gracious and loving.

Returning home brought unloading the car, unpacking, chores to catch up on, and, an opportunity for rest. I’m sure it won’t be long and we’re be ready to get “out there” again……There is always "so much more" out there, and, here........ah, home.