Thursday, August 13, 2020
Tuesday, August 11, 2020
So I bought an air-fryer and began posting the stupid shit I do with it on Facebook. I'm told I should write a blog. I have a blog, so...consider this your invitation to the wedding 😂 A Three way marriage between the air-fryer, Facebook and my desire/need to write again! I am nothing if not open-minded...
Please feel free to look into my past posts while you are here. I used this space for years to write poetry, write posts based on prompts from writing groups and to just get some stuff out of my system. I will go back and delete anything really dated or irrelevant, but some of this is my best writing.
I have a few suggestions if you'd like to read a couple of things...
If this is a mid-life crisis, where is my red Corvette? This one was actually published on the More magazine website. To bad it doesn't exist any more!
I will post the air-fryer stuff to save my Facebook friends**Tee-Hee**but I think I will write the other stuff again, too.
I have missed it
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
The first in series of public service messages to keep you informed about my new hopping empty-nest, 50-something life...
I just went out in the pouring rain (without a bra) to buy a Butterfinger and a lottery ticket...I really need to find a man to do this kind of crap for me :)
Monday, June 27, 2011
I am from the many, then finally the red brick, a small front porch with steps to sit out on, the spirits of lost souls, a big tree of shade and a promise to stay put.
I am from the tobacco plant, the clear spring water, the mulberry bush, the lilacs and suburban green grass.
I am from real Christmas trees and stubborn as hell, from Whitt and Robinson and Ashley and DuBord and Estes and rumors of Native American and French aristocracy.
I am from the give the shirt off your backs and the alcoholics and the lovers and the fighters, the coal miners and farmers, the runners and the returners, the forgivers and the grudge holders, the crazy ass and the always steady.
From get your shit off the stairs and did you get something to eat and do you need any money?
I am from Grandpa’s Bible, a tiny church full of hellfire and brimstone with Jesus’ promise of redemption, Grandma’s lap on a wooden pew, Rock of Ages cleft for me, sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains and Amazing Grace.
I'm from a small steel town, the middle of the Midwest, a bit north of the Mason-Dixon Line, Green British Isles, two stoplights, way down in the holler and over the next ridge, soup beans and cornbread, biscuits and gravy and stack cake.
From the time we put the box of caterpillars on Mom’s dinner plate and the Ohio State-Miami Championship game the night before Grandpa’s funeral, using the outhouse at Granny and Grand Dad’s house, Dad’s catering trucks and Jessie’s Buck and Sam and “It must have been the Ghost”.
I am from Grandma’s shed out back, cardboard boxes, a closet that seems to hold everything you’d ever need, a plastic box under the bed, in drawers under socks and the corner of a mind still sharp after all these years. I am from memories that will soon get muddled and faded but can be revived by “Do you remember the time…”
This comes from this template.
Friday, June 3, 2011
I have to take the opposite approach. My son has played travel baseball since he was 9 (now 17). He LOVES it and yes, I sacrificed. His sister (who graduates tomorrow!) was consumed by band. I sacrificed. Maybe it is different because I am a single mom, but I never minded a minute of it.
My kids had plenty of "get out and play time", our family time was spent at ball parks and football fields, but the drives gave us such great time to connect and they loved all the travel-a hotel pool is the best! I have friend whose daughter swims-and she is at the pool as much as we were at baseball-and the practices are at 5 am!
BUT...what works for your family is the thing to do. Period.
Then several people commented on the "evils" of organized sports. Oh, I get it! Trust me!
- There are only so many books, magazines and newspapers to be read.
- There is NO comfortable bleacher chair.
- Fast food is sucky and expensive. It is a pain to pack a cooler every weekend to save money.
- The parents/coaches/umpires/referees/judges can be incredible jerks
- Mosquitoes, heat, cold, rain, sunburn, flat tires, blown engines, injuries, tears, frustration, heartbreak
- Hours in car are mind-numbing exercises in stress and boredom
- The list of crap left to do at home is looooong
- The expenses are crazy! Uniforms, fees, gas, food, hotels-not to mention the shopping I did in new towns with new stores!
- When the games are lopsided-either way-it is painful
- Kids do need time to just be kids and play just for the joy of playing
But in the end, it worked for us. My son focused on baseball, but he has played soccer, lacrosse, and basketball. My daughter played tennis and volleyball and lacrosse-liked all of them-but really focused on band. Her school band is competitive. They travel all over the state (and country) to compete and play. Just as much time, money and practice as sports, but with Journey/Michael Jackson/Queen/AC/DC tunes! (and if don't think there are the exact same issues as "sports" you are so mistaken!)
My kids are active in school and community clubs and volunteer in several community organizations as well as at school. They work part time jobs, maintain excellent grades and hang out with friends. Organized sports and activities are just part of what they are all about.
My kids have made friends they will remember forever. The experience of marching at the Governor's Inauguration Parade or playing at the Baseball Hall of Fame and hitting your first home-run at Cooperstown are memories I am glad my kids have. Yes, it is a stereotype, but they have learned teamwork, cooperation, winning with dignity and losing with grace. They have also learned patience, kindness, and that it is NOT OK to punch a coach in the face no matter how much you want to do just that!
I am better for the experiences as well. Chaperoning, marching, cheering, shivering, sweating,crying and laughing with these people will bond us forever. And as it all comes to an end, I am glad 18 is marching for the USF Herd of Thunder Band next year. She is not ready to let go of that camaraderie and hard work and frustration and joy just yet. Neither am I!