My Daddy will be gone for twenty-six years this coming Thanksgiving. It's been such a long time to have been without him. I miss him and his sense of humor. He was a friendly man to everyone, warm and congenial. Every one of my friends remembers him that way.
Dad knew how to have fun and he knew how to work. Sometimes the two things were co-mingled in his doing. I don't think there was anything that he didn't attempt to fix or build himself, even if he didn't have any training to do the job. He seemed to like the challenge of accomplishing something he'd not done before. He was not a 'master carpenter', but he and my uncle, who worked as a carpenter, built a two room addition with a bath on to our house. He and my uncle also built a small four room investment home, as well. Then when it was time for us to build our first home, he was right there to help complete the interior.
He and Mom joined a square dance club when I was nearly a teenager. He wasn't much of a dancer, in the regular sense of the word, but he could square dance. He loved it so much that he learned how to become a 'caller.' He was quite busy, 'renting himself out' to Girl Scout groups and other novice dancers. He taught them simple dance moves, circle dances and reels, and line dances. Later, when he got better at his fun work, he became the regular caller for a square dance club which met each week. He did that for quite a number of years, until his lung cancer stole his breath away, making it difficult to call as fast as needed.
A pedicure! I've never been one to run to the hairdresser or get a manicure 'just because' the way so many young women have become accustomed to doing in the last few years. I've always taken fairly good care of my skin and that includes my feet and my toenails. I soak them in warm water, do all that pumice stone stuff on the calluses, keep the nails trimmed and shaped nicely. But I'm tired of doing it. It's not very comfortable to bend down for the length of time it takes to do the work needed when they get bad.
It's all my daughters' fault! They took me to have my first pedicure a few years ago as a gift. I never felt so pampered! I felt sinfully wasteful for allowing them to spend the money for something that I've always done for myself. Now I have them done a few times a year, taking care of foot care myself between visits to the salon.
I have decided that because I don't spend much on my hair or my fingernails, and I do all the work associated with those parts of me, that I can afford the cost of the pedicure. After all, in the years since I was in cosmetology school, I've always cut and styled my own hair. (Except for three times in the nearly five years that we've lived here.) I don't color my locks, as I've still got a lot of my own color with threads of natural silver in it and I happen to like it! I don't need a manicure as my nails are kept short, and I can do the cuticle trimming and filing and even apply the rare coat of nail color.
At any rate, it's been awhile since I've had the luxury of soaking of my 'dogs' while sitting in that recliner with the heated lumbar vibration on my back. Aside from the fact that my feet need attention, I think I need the lazy hour or so, pampering myself a little. How does one know when they need to see the pedicurist? My current symptom, as a result of going barefoot for the majority of the time, is some seriously-callused soles at the heel end of my feet. They're so bad at the moment that they sound like velcro separation when I walk across the Berber carpet!
(These are NOT my feet...but the one on the left, unfortunately,
looks as if it could be mine!)
I want to walk on a sandy beach, at the edge of the bay, like I used to. That kept my calluses at a minimum, and I had nice, smooth feet. But, since I'm 900 miles from our hometown beaches, and 5 hours from the ocean in our new state, I guess I'm going to head to the salon and pay for the soft feet!
Do you think I'm spoiled? Maybe I am, but as the saying goes, "I'm worth it !" Maybe I'll even spring for a facial, while I'm there!
There's no doubt that I'm a 'people person.' My husband is too, though he's not likely to say so. He says I'm more out-going than he is, and that may be true, but when he's put into a situation where people are, he's wonderfully friendly, laughs easily and sincerely, listens well, and carries on a terrific conversation.
My mother always used to tell me that I would 'collect the oddest characters' as friends. I didn't pay much attention to her then, because she was shy and had only her sisters and a few friends. I liked everybody. But as time when on, especially now, looking back, I can see that she was quite right about me. I did have a lot of unorthodox people that I called 'friends.' Some were pretty quirky but outgrew a lot of that, and are still my friends. Some were pretty quirky and didn't change while I did. Many of them have parted company with me. I tend to be a friend to the end, no matter what you do, and so I still consider them 'friends' in some obscure way.
Yesterday we met someone who may turn out to be a friend...no snap judgements here! We stopped at a yard sale, drawn in by some artwork we saw on his table. It turned out that they were 'cypress knees' ...about 3 feet high...pointed at the top, and hand carved with the most characteristic expressions! They were wonderfully done, and we would have purchased one, but even the smallest of them was a bit pricey for us, though certainly the time and talent warranted the price. You can see some of them here: http://www.etsy.com/shop/brucescarvings?order=price_asc&page=1
The artist was the yard-saler, a short man in stature, but tall as can be in personality! He was a bottomless pit of stories and a friendly character,to say the least. He and his wife had just moved into their new home from elsewhere in the state, but he had originally come from West Virginia. His accent was a mix of all the states he's ever lived in, so it was quite odd. 'Southern' is the only description for West Virginian, South and North Carolinian and Georgia...with a tiny bit of Binghamton, NY thrown in to make things fair.
He seemed taken with us, and finding that Mike worked his whole life caring for trees, Bruce invited Mike to take a look at one of the ones on his property that doesn't look healthy. He talked to us as if we'd be seeing him again and meeting his wife, who was at work. He wants to teach Mike how to whittle and carve, the way he does. Mike's not sure about that, he doesn't think he has any talents. Bruce told him that he didn't know he did either until he started doing it. Now he competes and is a blue ribbon winner. As for me, I'd love to learn that art! But, the offer of teaching wasn't made to me...it was given to Mike. So, maybe I'll just get myself some tools and go to it!
Time will tell whether we'll develop a friendship with this artist. If so, my Mom might just think we've added another character to the collection!
After reading on a blog about a 'circle letter', I was intrigued and had to know more. After some investigation, I discovered the way it all works, and I wanted to be a part of one. What did I do? I contacted the women who had responded with "I love to receive letters." or "What fun that would be!" Nine women responded to the idea, and so it was that I started our circle letter.
We started out with a few emails, hashing over the details, letting everyone else know how the letter worked. One would write her letter, mailing it to the second woman on the list. She would add her letter to the first, mailing the letters to the third woman, and so on. We asked that the letters be passed within seven days, in order to keep the news fairly current. When the ten letters make their way back to the original letter writer, she takes her first letter out, writes a new one, and puts it in with the rest, mailing it on to lady number two...and round and round it goes!
I started our letter off, introducing myself and my interests with some bits of news. Oh, there's so much to say when you are introducing yourself! But, I kept the letter to the facts, thinking as time goes on, I can be more 'interesting' and detailed. The letter winged it's way to one of the northern states, and from there, touched base with North Dakota, Texas, Ohio, and some other states far from me. It made it's way back into my mailbox two months later. The wait was nearly unbearable, as I watched for the mail each day! I wasn't disappointed! Imagine reading nine letters in one sitting! What fun!!!
Our fifteenth anniversary! After five years of dating him, I married my best friend.
I think I remember every detail of that day. We'd decided to be careful with our budget and still have a nice ceremony and a party to follow. Since it was a second marriage for each of us, we wanted it to an appropriate service. We are not believers in spending multi-thousands of dollars for a blow out, impressive ceremony and reception. We aren't the type of people who need to impress anyone. If my husband had been able to choose exactly what he would have wanted to wear, it most likely would have been a pair of jeans and a short sleeved dress shirt, and we'd have married outside.
I wanted to have the ceremony outdoors, too, but I was a bit fearful of the unpredictable weather. As it turned out, it was 88 degrees, the hottest day of the whole summer that year. It would have been a perfect day for an outside ceremony in a rose garden. Oh well! Instead, we chose the little Presbyterian church where my mother had attended in her youth.
My dress was 'designed' by myself. I knew what I wanted to look like. I bought two patterns, and combined them, making alterations even then, until I came up with the look I'd hoped for. I purchased the fabrics...a soft peach satin and a cream lace and together, Mom and I and began the sewing of the special outfit. I also made the dress for the flower girl, our little two and a half year old granddaughter. Since I was doing the flowers too, they were all silk arrangements.
We wrote the service and our own vows. We included all of our seven children in the ceremony...two daughters singing "Grow Old Along With Me" written by John Lennon. One of them was so full of emotion, she cried all the way through it, while her sister sang the duet as a solo! Another daughter read a passage from The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran. Another passed the guest book. Mike's sons were ring bearer and best man. My daughter's fiance took many of the photos, adding to our photographer's supply. My son in law and a friend video taped the day.
Is there anything better than a 'real' letter? I mean one that's gone across the miles via plane and truck ? I can't think of a better form of communication, unless it's face to face. I've always looked forward to an stamped envelope with my name on it...unless of course, it's junk mail.
When I was a youngster, back in the days of dinosaurs and cave men, I had my first pen pal. She was ten, I was eleven. We met when she came for a visit to her grandmother, who lived two doors away from me. Since she was a self-proclaimed "Air Force Brat", she moved around a lot, and when she left for parts of the world I've never see, we wrote letters to keep in touch. Then, another friend from the neighborhood moved to Colorado. We wrote letters for many years.
Because I like to write, my correspondence was newsy, detailed and long. One of the above-mentioned gals has always teased me about the details in my letter, especially when I would describe every item of clothing was being worn by whoever I was telling her about. She said I'd not only give a people report, but a fashion one as well. (I think I learned that as a result of reading teen magazines where the threads of our favorite celebrities were described in detail. Maybe it was because I was interested in fashion design at the time. Who knows? Anyway, it filled the pages!)
I spent hours writing letters in those days, passing the time while babysitting for many local children who slept as I shared my life. I loved to surprise my correspondent. Sometimes I'd use pretty papers, sometimes just loose leaf notebook paper, but occasionally I'd write on something unique....like paper towels or long strips of toilet tissue! At that time in my life, I had a number of pen pals, having added a male friend who was away in Military school and another who had left his job on the British cruise ship where we'd met. He'd returned home to England to have foot surgery and we shared an on and off correspondence for many months.
Communications! In this day and age, we have so many options in the field of communication with one another. Computers of all sizes for email and social networks, cell phones for speaking and texting, home phones, blah, blah, blah. The world 'round is buzzing 24-7 with communications.
While, it's fantastic that we are able to have such 'instant' discussion with people wherever they may be in the world, do we really need to be so 'instantaneous' ? It used to be fun to come home from a day at work, or a vacation, push the button on the answering machine, and discover who's called in our absence. Now, voice mail is on that little cell phone, and those who choose not to or are briefly unable to answer their cells, are inundated with messages. For business people, that is a very convenient thing, but why does the common man need to be so 'immediately informed' or bothered, as the case may be.
Why does every teenager, and many children, need to have a cell phone at the ready everywhere they go? The answer they and their parents may offer is, ' to be able to reach Mom'. Well, let me say this. I've had a cell phone for only the last two years of my life, and that is used only for traveling or emergencies if my home phone goes off in a power outage. And...I've never had trouble contacting my Mom (or another person) if I needed help.
When I was a teenager, I was lucky to have a princess phone in my room. I didn't have my own phone number, it was an extention to the home phone. My time on the phone was limited, as others in the house might need to use it. If I needed to make a call while I was out, I'd go to the nearest phone booth. "What's that?," some younger people might ask these days! It was a conveniently placed, public telephone that you put some change into, made your brief call, and hung up! Cell phones have nearly obliterated phone booths in this country, although I recently saw one on one of our day trips.
During my growing up years, nobody walked around with a silly device hooked on to their ears (unless it was a hearing aid!) People didn't wander through stores talking to someone who was invisible to all as they released their frustrations or told the latest gossip, unless the speaker was somewhat mentally ill. Nobody thought it was a necessity to reach someone "NOW" unless there was a medical emergency.
I've stuck with my determination not to use that cell phone under most conditions. I usually forget to take it with me when I go out, unless we are going on an extended trip, which is what I bought it for. I don't feel that I need another fashion accessory wrapped around my ear; I prefer earrings to something ringing in my ear! I don't even care much for the telephone at home, usually they aren't someone I want to talk with anyway. With the current medical testing showing that cell phones may be responsible for brain cancers, I think I may end up being the only one I know who will be brain cancer free... and old-fashioned enough to think that I don't need that phone!
