I've been going through my clothes and shoes. I've got a bed full of things to be packed up and sent off to Goodwill, and all of my spring/summer shoes are in the guest bedroom floor. They are "auditioning" for their place in my closet for the next few months; I wear them around the house or out for a few hours, and check to see if they are comfortable or hurt my feet. If they hurt my feet (or meet that "one year rule"), they move to the donate pile, and I move on to the next pair.
While I was trying on some sandals Saturday, I decided that I was going to splurge and have a professional pedicure (something I'd never done in my almost fifty-five years). I shared my plan with my sister, along with my confusion as to which of the MANY nail salons to choose. She talked to her sister-in-law, who has pedicures on a regular basis, and she recommended the salon that she uses. It is convenient to my regular route to and from school, so I called today on my off period and made an appointment for after school.
I got there at 3:30, and was sent to the back of the salon, where the pedicures are done (manicures are done in the front). The attendant came out and motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs and take off my shoes (I later learned that she spoke very little English). I rolled up my pants, and put my feet into the warm water. She turned on the massage chair, and my wonderful afternoon began...
She finished off the cleaning, clipping, and buffing with a wonderful massage of my feet and legs, and then the polishing began. After she finished with the polish, I was moved to the front of the salon to sit at the nail dryer. After the drying process was finished, I paid her (and tipped nicely...it was a lovely afternoon!) and put on my street shoes. As soon as I got to the car, I took off my shoes and drove home barefooted, so that I wouldn't mess up my pedicure! I even walked from the car to the house without shoes! I put on some flipflops after I got into the house, and still have them on. It's easier to admire my toes while wearing flipflops...hope it's warm enough tomorrow to wear sandals...
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
It Was a Bigger Deal Than We Thought...
During the past two weeks, I had a couple of messages from a woman (I think she's a cousin, but with the number of cousins I have, it's hard to tell) telling me about a memorial service that was going to be held in a local cemetery in honor of my great-great grandfather. I confess that I did not return her calls; I was sick with my upper respiratory infection for three weeks, and then we had the baby with us for a long weekend. I was also hurt VERY badly by my mother's favorite brother on the day after my husband passed away, and it's made me a little hesitant in general about that side of my family. She left messages on my sister's phone, too, and we decided that we'd go to the memorial service.
We thought it involved the placement of a marker on the grave of my great-great grandfather and great-great grandmother, as this had been a project of my mother's family association. The markers had been the subject of much discussion at several of our annual reunions, and the family had collected enough money to pay for the markers and their installation. The family reunions apparently ended after the death of my mother; I had written one of my cousins explaining the situation with my uncle, and offering to turn over all the addresses and other information to anyone interested in continuing the annual gatherings.
We arrived at the church at exactly the time given for the service, but we ended up being late for the service...but just in time for the photographs. As we gathered with the cousins for a group photograph, my sister and I looked around and realized what had happened...my great-great grandfather was a veteran of the War of 1812, and one of the state chapters had placed a marker (an engraved star) on his grave honoring that service. We mingled with the crowd, talking to several cousins (my mother's brother was not there, so I didn't have to decide how to handle that situation), and making our way to the church hall for refreshments.
There were several state officers from the 1812 group, and one of the state officers lives in a small town just east of our city. We spoke with several of the ladies, including the woman who lives near us and apparently serves as the membership chairman of the group. We have already joined the Daughters of the American Revolution, which pleased my mother (even though she declined to join herself!), and she would be pleased about us joining this group. She and my father were the genealogists for the family, and got a great deal of enjoyment out of their years of research (and filled more than forty notebooks with their data!).
They were proud of their heritage, and wanted us to be proud of who we are. In addition to our heritage, they brought us up in a loving home, with strong Christian values and moral standards. We were encouraged to read, to be creative, and to laugh whenever possible. We went to the library and on family vacations. We took lots of photographs, and collected seashells. We loved each other.
We thought it involved the placement of a marker on the grave of my great-great grandfather and great-great grandmother, as this had been a project of my mother's family association. The markers had been the subject of much discussion at several of our annual reunions, and the family had collected enough money to pay for the markers and their installation. The family reunions apparently ended after the death of my mother; I had written one of my cousins explaining the situation with my uncle, and offering to turn over all the addresses and other information to anyone interested in continuing the annual gatherings.
We arrived at the church at exactly the time given for the service, but we ended up being late for the service...but just in time for the photographs. As we gathered with the cousins for a group photograph, my sister and I looked around and realized what had happened...my great-great grandfather was a veteran of the War of 1812, and one of the state chapters had placed a marker (an engraved star) on his grave honoring that service. We mingled with the crowd, talking to several cousins (my mother's brother was not there, so I didn't have to decide how to handle that situation), and making our way to the church hall for refreshments.
There were several state officers from the 1812 group, and one of the state officers lives in a small town just east of our city. We spoke with several of the ladies, including the woman who lives near us and apparently serves as the membership chairman of the group. We have already joined the Daughters of the American Revolution, which pleased my mother (even though she declined to join herself!), and she would be pleased about us joining this group. She and my father were the genealogists for the family, and got a great deal of enjoyment out of their years of research (and filled more than forty notebooks with their data!).
They were proud of their heritage, and wanted us to be proud of who we are. In addition to our heritage, they brought us up in a loving home, with strong Christian values and moral standards. We were encouraged to read, to be creative, and to laugh whenever possible. We went to the library and on family vacations. We took lots of photographs, and collected seashells. We loved each other.
Monday, March 24, 2008
A Little Cold for Spring...
especially in NE Alabama. Our temperature tonight is supposed to be in the high twenties, but we're hoping this will be the last real cold spell of the season. My heat went out Sunday afternoon, but my dependable repairman was here this morning at 8:45 and had it running by 10:00. It was in the thirties last night, but when this happened before Christmas, he'd told me how to heat my main living area with my electric stove, so I was fine for the night. He did some "extra" work this time to help keep this from happening again; my system is about eight years old, and the pilot light can go out in a heavy wind (the system is in my unfinished basement), so he added something to help the pilot light relight itself. He said it wouldn't always work, but it would help.
I go back to work tomorrow, and we spend the week getting ready for the state-mandated standardized testing which will start March 31. That lasts for just over a week, and then we FINALLY have our Spring Break week. We'll have just about six weeks of school left after the break, and then three more years until I intend to retire. I've enjoyed most of my teaching career, but I'm reaching the point when I think I'm ready to pack it in. I may start a tutoring business, and another teacher and I have talked about enrichment or remediation camps for students during a couple of weeks of summer vacation, possibly in conjunction with the local community college or cultural arts center.
My Easter weekend was lovely. My great-niece was here from Friday evening until Sunday afternoon, and on Saturday, my sister (her grandmother) and I took her to the nearby park to ride the train. She is VERY interested in trains; we rode twice around the park on Saturday morning and three times around on Saturday afternoon (the park is only about three minutes from our houses, which are in the same block). You will notice how cool she looks wearing her sunglasses...
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Cracks in my Easter Egg
I have finally gotten over the upper respiratory infection that had me in its grip for about three weeks. It came just before the one-year anniversary of DH's passing, and took advantage of a weakened system. After a little more than a week, I went to the doctor, but it still took almost two more weeks for the antibiotic, cough medicine, and decongestant to get me feeling human again.
I went Easter shopping today for my family and my in-laws. I went to my favorite caterer and bought more than $100 worth of wonderful food...I bought chicken casseroles, chicken and dressing, cheddar crusted potatoes, orange fluff gelatin salad, beef lasagne, and a little pimento cheese thrown in for good measure. I'm hoping that my niece and her husband will bring my great-niece over for the weekend (I'm trying to bribe them with their favorites...), and I took half the food to my in-laws. It's frozen in reasonably-sized containers, and my MIL can pull something out of the freezer and add a salad and have a meal in about forty-five minutes. I also bought huge slices of Italian cream cake for my FIL, plus two quarts of frozen homemade soup (vegetable and potato).
When my sister and I were children, we always had lovely new outfits for Easter, and there was always an Easter basket for each of us either on the front steps or on the swing set in the back yard. We dyed eggs with our mother and spent Easter afternoon hiding and hunting eggs, either at our house or at our paternal grandmother's house (she had a better yard for hiding and hunting, plus the addition of cousins).
During our marriage, the Easter season centered around our church's pageant. I had been part of the production crew for several years before I met DH, and when I prayed for a husband, I was very specific--he had to be willing to be part of the production, either on or off stage. God honored that prayer, and sent me a baritone voice attached to a man with a wonderful stage presence! He spent most of our marriage playing the role of Pontius Pilate, with one brief foray into the role of the high priest Caiphas. At one of the first rehearsals after our marriage, a friend asked, "Did you know he could do this when you married him?" I designed and directed the lighting, and he stood in the spotlight...it was a great partnership, and an answer to my prayers.
I went Easter shopping today for my family and my in-laws. I went to my favorite caterer and bought more than $100 worth of wonderful food...I bought chicken casseroles, chicken and dressing, cheddar crusted potatoes, orange fluff gelatin salad, beef lasagne, and a little pimento cheese thrown in for good measure. I'm hoping that my niece and her husband will bring my great-niece over for the weekend (I'm trying to bribe them with their favorites...), and I took half the food to my in-laws. It's frozen in reasonably-sized containers, and my MIL can pull something out of the freezer and add a salad and have a meal in about forty-five minutes. I also bought huge slices of Italian cream cake for my FIL, plus two quarts of frozen homemade soup (vegetable and potato).
When my sister and I were children, we always had lovely new outfits for Easter, and there was always an Easter basket for each of us either on the front steps or on the swing set in the back yard. We dyed eggs with our mother and spent Easter afternoon hiding and hunting eggs, either at our house or at our paternal grandmother's house (she had a better yard for hiding and hunting, plus the addition of cousins).
During our marriage, the Easter season centered around our church's pageant. I had been part of the production crew for several years before I met DH, and when I prayed for a husband, I was very specific--he had to be willing to be part of the production, either on or off stage. God honored that prayer, and sent me a baritone voice attached to a man with a wonderful stage presence! He spent most of our marriage playing the role of Pontius Pilate, with one brief foray into the role of the high priest Caiphas. At one of the first rehearsals after our marriage, a friend asked, "Did you know he could do this when you married him?" I designed and directed the lighting, and he stood in the spotlight...it was a great partnership, and an answer to my prayers.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Jill and the 'Possum
On a fairly regular basis, my dog wakes me at around midnight or 1:00 a.m., and indicates that she needs to go outside. I don't enjoy it, but I get up, let her out, go to the bathroom (while I'm up, might as well make good use of the time), and then let her back in. Sometimes she indicates that she'd like to have a snack, and I usually go along with that idea because she sleeps better with a full tummy. The ONE time that I didn't get up to let her out was the time she left me a "gift" on the living room carpet, so I give in to her messages.
On Monday morning of this week, at around 12:15 a.m., she came to get me. I had heard her barking, and thought she probably saw a strange cat on our deck eating her cat's food. I opened the door, and she dashed out, barking furiously. I went to the bathroom, and came back to get her in, but she was not waiting at the door. I could hear her barking, almost constantly, and the barking was punctuated with spells of growling. I put on my shoes and walked onto the deck, and realized that she was under the deck. I looked over the edge of the deck, and saw a clue to her commotion. I could see the 'possum's tail sticking out through a small crack in the "apron" of the deck (which was put up to keep my adventurous dog from wandering the neighborhood). I started calling the dog, and poking a broom handle through the edge of the deck to try to encourage the animals to go their separate ways. She ignored me.
I got a little panicked, and then formulated a plan. I went back into the house and got my heavy-duty flashlight that throws a long beam. I went back out, and went down the deck steps and turned toward the side that is inside the yard, so there's no "apron" to keep me from seeing under the deck. I shined the flashlight on the dog, and continued to call her. I calmed my voice, but kept it very stern, because she usually responds to that tone (my last resort would have been to get the fly swatter; she was disciplined with a fly swatter before we got her; not beaten, but disciplined; she is a VERY social dog, and LOVES people, so she has never been abused; just looking at the fly swatter would have brought her in). She turned and looked at me, and reluctantly began to walk out from under the deck.
She chose NOT to come out on the side where I was standing. She walked out at the end of the deck nearest the steps, ran up the steps, and was sweetly waiting for me to get back up the steps and to the door. It was almost as though she was asking what took me so long, and that she really needed to go in and go back to sleep.
One morning last weekend, she did spot a strange cat eating her cat's food. I've started feeding the cat on the rail of the deck because if I feed her on the deck, the dog eats her food, and if I feed her on the other back steps, she won't run off the other cats in the neighborhood who eat her food. Anyway, when I let Jill (the dog) out onto the deck, she went after the cat with a vengeance. She chased the cat, making two complete rounds in the fenced portion of our back yard, and that's a large racetrack. The cat finally climbed up a tree, and Jill gave up after watching for a few minutes. I congratulated her on her physical prowess; she's almost eight years old, and shows very little signs of slowing down.
She has such a wonderful personality, and a pleasant disposition. She can be stubborn, but she was wonderful company to my husband, and has been an excellent companion to me since DH's death. She's adjusted well to the new baby in our family; my great-niece is now twenty-one months old, and as long as everyone speaks to Jill when the baby is around, she doesn't show any jealousy. The baby is learning to pet Jill sweetly, and can say Jill's name.
On Monday morning of this week, at around 12:15 a.m., she came to get me. I had heard her barking, and thought she probably saw a strange cat on our deck eating her cat's food. I opened the door, and she dashed out, barking furiously. I went to the bathroom, and came back to get her in, but she was not waiting at the door. I could hear her barking, almost constantly, and the barking was punctuated with spells of growling. I put on my shoes and walked onto the deck, and realized that she was under the deck. I looked over the edge of the deck, and saw a clue to her commotion. I could see the 'possum's tail sticking out through a small crack in the "apron" of the deck (which was put up to keep my adventurous dog from wandering the neighborhood). I started calling the dog, and poking a broom handle through the edge of the deck to try to encourage the animals to go their separate ways. She ignored me.
I got a little panicked, and then formulated a plan. I went back into the house and got my heavy-duty flashlight that throws a long beam. I went back out, and went down the deck steps and turned toward the side that is inside the yard, so there's no "apron" to keep me from seeing under the deck. I shined the flashlight on the dog, and continued to call her. I calmed my voice, but kept it very stern, because she usually responds to that tone (my last resort would have been to get the fly swatter; she was disciplined with a fly swatter before we got her; not beaten, but disciplined; she is a VERY social dog, and LOVES people, so she has never been abused; just looking at the fly swatter would have brought her in). She turned and looked at me, and reluctantly began to walk out from under the deck.
She chose NOT to come out on the side where I was standing. She walked out at the end of the deck nearest the steps, ran up the steps, and was sweetly waiting for me to get back up the steps and to the door. It was almost as though she was asking what took me so long, and that she really needed to go in and go back to sleep.
One morning last weekend, she did spot a strange cat eating her cat's food. I've started feeding the cat on the rail of the deck because if I feed her on the deck, the dog eats her food, and if I feed her on the other back steps, she won't run off the other cats in the neighborhood who eat her food. Anyway, when I let Jill (the dog) out onto the deck, she went after the cat with a vengeance. She chased the cat, making two complete rounds in the fenced portion of our back yard, and that's a large racetrack. The cat finally climbed up a tree, and Jill gave up after watching for a few minutes. I congratulated her on her physical prowess; she's almost eight years old, and shows very little signs of slowing down.
She has such a wonderful personality, and a pleasant disposition. She can be stubborn, but she was wonderful company to my husband, and has been an excellent companion to me since DH's death. She's adjusted well to the new baby in our family; my great-niece is now twenty-one months old, and as long as everyone speaks to Jill when the baby is around, she doesn't show any jealousy. The baby is learning to pet Jill sweetly, and can say Jill's name.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
