Hey, Baby, It’s Relatively Cold Outside

Today is January 28.  Feel sorry for us  Floridians yet?

Today is January 28. Feel sorry for us Floridians yet?

It’s wintertime and I’m cold.  I will not dwell on that, though, because it’s important to me that I don’t complain all year long.  Our summers in Orlando start in May and continue through October.  By the time August hits I’ve just about had it with the stifling, unending, humidity and heat.  That is the time that I will complain.  And, I’ll continue to do so right on through October.

For now I will be brave through our grueling, semi-chilly, sunny January days.  Days when the temperatures are so low that I am forced to wear socks.  Days when I’m forced to use the seat heat in my car (though not the actual heat as that would be overkill).  Days like today when I need to drink hot tea and sit by a fire for warmth as I write.

Oh sure, I could be outside.  It’s not exactly frigid.  But figuring out how to dress is confusing to me.  It’s bright and sunny so I need my sunscreen if I’m in the sun.  Plus, should I wear a heavy sweater or a long-sleeved shirt with a scarf?  Perhaps a short-sleeved shirt with a heavier jacket would do the trick.  If I go in the shade then I need another layer of clothes.  Am I going to be active or sedentary?  So many questions!

My indoor view - flowers from my son, Jesse.  Thanks for encouraging me to blog, Jesse.

My indoor view – flowers from my son, Jesse. Thanks for encouraging me to blog, Jesse.

I choose to stay indoors for now.  It’s simpler and far less distracting.  Who can concentrate with the breeze making melody as it gently moves through the wind chimes?  Not to mention the singing of the birds as they nestle in the trees.  My orange tree is putting out buds and that alluring orange blossom scent is starting to fill the air, too.  Florida winter!  It’s calling my name and I must answer.  Excuse me while I grab my sunglasses and head outside.  It will be May before I know it.

 

Even in Sadness, Light Shines Through

June 4, 2014, was the last time I posted on my blog.  I am determined to post before July ends, so here I go with a snapshot of what the last several weeks have looked like.

June was Family Eye Doctor Appointment Month – at least it was for my parents and father-in-law.  During one week I had four separate appointments for them with a total of six appointments in three weeks.  They all go to the same group.  I am the transportation and extra set of ears for my parents and the “seeing-eye-daughter” for my father-in-law.  (He’s legally blind.)  I think I’m making friends there.

In mid-June, Bob’s two sisters came down to visit their dad.  Bob’s and my prayer was that he would be healthy and they would have a good visit.  His tendency to contract UTIs (urinary tract infections) would often land him in the hospital.  We hoped he wouldn’t be going through that or anything else during their stay.

God is good.  Their visit was amazing.  They spent a week with him and saw him every day.  Bob and his sisters took him out to lunch, which can be challenging.  It was a special time with him and his three kids.  They had great conversations and walked down memory lane.  There were no incidents.  The new declines that we were beginning to see were barely noticeable during their stay.  We were so thankful.

Two days after they went home, he fell.  A few days later on June 30, Bob and I were heading over to visit my parents to celebrate my dad’s 91st birthday when we got a call that he fell again and was being sent to the ER.

He was admitted.  We all thought it was a UTI, but it was not.  I think he was worn out.  It was his time.  On July 4, he was moved to Hospice House.  On July 7, he passed away at the age of 91.  It had been a long year for him, full of challenges physically and consequently emotionally.  We are thankful that he is now at rest in Heaven.

How kind of God to give such a wonderful final visit with his daughters.  And we are thankful for Hospice House – a place to die with dignity surrounded by people who understand, comfort and help.

On the last day that he was fully responsive, I spent several hours with him in the hospital.  He was living in his past and talking vividly about it.  I joined in his conversation like I was there with him.  Having known him for over forty years, it was not difficult.  I’ll always remember how happy he was on that day and how much he enjoyed reminiscing.  I had heard of things like this happening right before the end of life here on earth.  It was remarkable to witness.

The last thing he ever asked of me was to scratch his nose.  I think they had given him some meds that made it itch.  I gave it a good rubbing.  He said, “No, that’s not getting it.  The inside itches.  Scratch the inside.”

“Sorry, Dad, you’re on your own,” I told him.  He was not shy about asking people to do for him.  I don’t feel badly about not granting this last request plus it made him laugh when I said no.

Dale (Bob's dad) telling stories at our house last Easter

Dale (Bob’s dad) telling stories at our house last Easter

He also talked about his projects.  Right to the end, he was concerned about them.  For the last six months our daughter-in-law, Aubyron, had been more or less his secretary.  When she and our son moved back to Orlando, she wanted to help; so we hired her to see him weekly, take dictation from him and transcribe those last pesky stories that he had not completed.  Her duties also included delivering Icy Hot and Listerine and the occasional manicure and tweezing of the nose hair.  (This was not part of the original job description.)  She provided Bob and me with much-needed relief and she enjoyed visiting Grandpa.

When he died, we sent messages to our friends telling them that Bob’s dad had passed.  One of our friends asked us, “Hey, what was Bob’s dad’s name?”  He was always Bob’s dad or Mr. Anderson to them.  His name was Dale.  Among other things, he was a writer.  He encouraged me in my writing.  That being said, I guess I better buckle down and write.  That would make him happy.

Once Upon a Time…

This morning I was privileged to attend a short story reading event in my area.  As a writer, I think it’s important to take advantage of these kinds of opportunities.  It’s valuable to hear from other aspiring authors.  This group, I must say, was adorable.  They were my grandson and his kindergarten classmates.

photo (132)Each of the five and six-year olds wrote and illustrated a story and read aloud to a room full of photo-taking parents and grandparents.  My heart leaped a bit as I heard my sweet grandson, Manning, reading his story about the trip he and his family made to Lego Land.  I was on the edge of my seat the entire time.  The story had it all – plot, action, suspense, and very loveable characters.  I am so proud of him.

The teacher did an excellent job of coaching the kids, and they all loved sharing.  When their story was told, she supplied a bio for each of the authors.  She told us their name and where they live – for example, my grandson lives in his house.  We also learned what these up-and-comers do in their spare time.  This ranged from playing video games to playing outside, but my favorite was one little girl who likes to run around her couch.  And, what do these young authors want to be when they grow up?  Everything – doctors, lawyers, teachers, soccer players – you name it.  My grandson wants to do construction, which fits in perfectly with his love of Legos.

I was a bit surprised that two of the children want to be spies.  One of them wants to be a spy and a mailman, which I think has real possibilities of success provided the Post Office is still around twelve years from now.

None of the kids mentioned wanting to be a writer, but I think the seeds have been sown for some of them to do just that.  I overheard the couple next to me saying that the girl who said she wants to be either a lawyer or a cake maker really wants to make cakes.  The lawyer thing she added to make her dad happy.  By the looks on the parents’ faces, these kids are already doing a great job of that.  Most of their stories were dedicated to their mom and dad.  Only one child hadn’t made up his mind yet about his future – when you’re six, why not keep your options open.

A Bug By Any Other Name

A ladybug crawled across my windshield.  I love ladybugs.  They are small and bright, and they eat the aphids on my roses.  I don’t mind holding them, and if I see one on the sidewalk I’m careful not to squish it.  As I watched her, I began to ponder.  If a ladybug wasn’t called ladybug but was called roach, would it still be cute?

Suppose you never saw a ladybug before but you had seen plenty of roaches – everything from the small German variety to the huge palmetto bugs that torment us Southerners.  Then you saw a cute little polka-dotted bug that you had never before seen and when you asked what it was you were told “roach.”  Would you automatically squish it?

Ah, the power of words.  There are some ugly words out there and I think roach is one of them, which brings me to the following.

A Mississippi State professor did a survey to identify the ugliest words.  This was reported earlier this month on the local fox news station morning show.  Interestingly, as I searched for more info, I discovered that this professor has been doing this survey with his students for years.  My conclusion, it must have been a slow news day, but it did get me thinking.

The Mississippi State results are:

  1. Moist
  2. Phlegm
  3. Hate
  4. Ooze
  5. Vomit

I conducted my own survey from my facebook friends to discover what their choices for ugly words are.  My only restriction was to keep it “G” rated.  Out of all the words submitted, three were repeated often – hate, ugly and shut-up.

To report my findings, instead of giving you an ugly list of ugly words, I wrote an ugly short story.

The corpulent colonel looked ugly in his taupe uniform.  I hated watching him as he picked his scab and sucked mucous from the crusty pimple on his putrid foot.   The sight of the moist, curd-like substance oozing from it made me want to vomit.  It was as ugly as sin.  Sadly, this happened as I was about to enjoy a succulent steak dinner.  I asked him to stop but he told me I was retarded and I should just shut up.

Some of the above words merely sound ugly.  Others are hurtful and offensive.  Do we take seriously the power of words?  Wouldn’t you rather read a sentence like this?  The baby laughed as a beautiful butterfly landed on her nose.

Yes, words have power to build up or tear down.  Let’s use them well.  And I promise, I’ll never tell this ugly story again.  Meanwhile enjoy this clip from Seinfeld where George waxes poetic about the word manure.

Help, I’m Chained to my Computer

Bob is making me write this post.  He likes to force me out of my comfort zone.  Currently he is standing over me with his arms folded in front of him yelling, “Type, type.”  It’s like the writer’s version of being chained in the hold of a boat while the master yells, “Row, row.”  He has promised to let me have a sip of water once I’ve posted.

The reason for my hesitation is that this post is a little like patting myself on the back.  I’m not comfortable doing that.  Perhaps I should stretch first and that would help.  Anyway, Bob thought I should tell you a bit of exciting news.

My last post about stalking zombies at CVS described one of the most spontaneous bits of fun I’ve had meeting new people while out and about.  I decided to share it on Erma Bombeck’s Writers’ Workshop facebook page.  Today I was contacted and asked if they could share it on their blog.  I am so honored.  I grew up reading Erma and feel like she is part of my extended family.  I am reminded that I would have stopped writing a long time ago if I didn’t have a few people out there reading what I wrote (besides my mom and dad).  So, thank you, my friends, for reading the stuff I throw at you.  You warm my heart with your kind words of encouragement.  I hope my little offerings lighten your load and bring a smile to your faces.

In case you’d like to see my post on the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop Blog and also take a look at what some other humor writers are doing, you can click on this link  for the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop Blog.  It is a very entertaining place to hang out and do some reading.

Now, if Bob doesn’t mind, I think I’ll have that sip of water.