Shopper's Hell

I have decided that grocery store is one of my least favorite stores.  I have spent far too many hours in it over the years and would be eternally happy if I could spend the rest of my life never having to walk in one again!  And I fail to see why women insist on seeing this as a treat when I see it as a chore. 

The choices on the shelf are immense.  I honestly do not see what the difference is in the brands on anything, be it potato chips, green beans, bread, except for the price. And yet, like every other shopper, I can spend 2-5 minutes standing there reading all the brands trying to make a decision which one looks like the right one for my home. 

Companies know this too so marketing departments spend huge amounts of dollars simply on the color of the label, size of the packaging and the verbiage you read. Even something as simple as the word “improved” is strategic when there may not be one darn thing changed in the product. How would you, the consumer,  know?  Truly, we are naive as can be and fall victim to the marketing ploys shopping even in grocery stores! All those Store Specials, coupon ads, high stacks of products on end-caps are there for a reason, Buyer look here, you need me. It never says “Hey dummies get this!” It doesn’t have to, you’ll buy it regardless.

My doctor tells me reading labels on the back of food are important. Well, Lordy, could they type it larger than the directions that come with prescriptions!  

By the time you read the labels, pick up a few extra bags of carrots in the produce department for your eyes due to eye strain. Oh and lady your cart is creating a major traffic jam!  And by the painstaking timely reading of labels, your cart and body blocks others. Move it or loss it. You are creating a massive bottleneck and enemies and if you don’t hurry up do not be surprised to hear “Attention, we have a traffic jam in Aisle 3, slow reader. We apologize; please hit this aisle last before you check out.”  YOU are drawing the wrong kind of attention.

The ingredients are a trade-off; one is low in sodium but high in carbs.  By the

time you are done, your cart is half empty deciding not a dang thing you want to eat is good for the body. Then you have that shopper that thinks they are so helpful watching you grab something to place in your cart and offering unsolicited advice. By the time they are done telling you what is unhealthy about the product you are convinced you’ll die from it and begrudgingly put it back. Hell, maybe you should hire her to do your shopping next time. Or, on second choice, forget the labels, throw everything in you want and get the hell out of there!  Then, forget the extra bag of carrots; your eyes will be fine.

Ever notice most folks don’t dress up to go to the grocery store? Au naturelle, not as in naked though, is preferred; next to no make-up and sweats or crummy shorts. Why bother while pushing a cart buying food?  Well it seems every time I go, I run into people I seldom see and there I am looking my all-time worst!  Most are polite enough not to verbally say what they are thinking. They don’t have to, their eyes say it all. “Wow, you must be picking up a prescription!”   

I dart in the opposite direction, careful now to not cross their path again. Glancing in my cart, I notice items have magically appeared that weren’t on my carefully prepared list.  Most of these are those damn impulse buys that just

seemed too good to pass up but I have no idea what the original price. You know what I am talking about because far too many of you do it too or stores wouldn’t do it, constantly.  If my husband is with me, because I don’t like going into the war zone by myself, he will say, with some of these purchases “When did you start eating that?”  My response, “It’s on sale,” as he rolls his eyes, totally committed to doing all the grocery shopping again.  For that alone, I think it is a great deal and an awesome move on my part more committed than ever to get more junk in the cart!

I detest the chatter other cart pushers want to engage in.  People want to engage with me every time. Perhaps they think they can be my GA sponsor, as

in Grocery Shoppers Anonymous.  But I am the opposite of that, I am far from being addicted to being in the grocery store and that is not what I look depressed and hostile.  Meaningless dialogue. In endless aisles of food is not how God wants me to spend the last few years of my life.  Look, if I was in a clothing store or something, there could be an interesting dialogue of what is around us. There is just nothing I want to say about toilet paper to acquaintances, I

don’t need to know anyone’s preferences in brands of TP.    

Then you have the kids’ parents who give the little crumb grabbers anything to shut them up, usually chocolate candy they wear everywhere. If you are lucky

enough to pass them closely, you get a mushy smushy chocolate bar that looks like poop smeared on the edge of your cart or worse yet, your arm.  The mother looks at you and laughs finding it funny.  I want to say, “Hey, I paid my dues lady!  Give me a butt wipe so I can get this mess off me.” Now I am making record time to the front line!

Then you have the kids’ parents who give the little crumb grabbers anything to shut them up, usually chocolate candy they wear everywhere. If you are lucky

enough to pass them closely, you get a mushy gooey chocolate bar that looks like poop smeared on the edge of your cart or worse yet, your arm.  The mother looks at you and laughs finding it funny.  I want to say, “Hey, I paid my dues lady!  Give me a butt wipe so I can get this mess off me.” Now I am making record time to the front line!

You also have the type that gives them a toy they never intend on buying. This child plays with it and you know for sure it will be broken before they make it to the front of the store. Too young to be arrested for shop-lifting though technically it is in the category of a loss to the company but hell, even the store is grateful of the white noise being silenced so they turn the other cheek. All these prompts future juvenile delinquents. How many people in prison were past toddlers in grocery carts breaking toys in Krogers, huh? 

None of us old folks did any of this. Nope, our children were all angels in the store, walked straight lines, listened to us intently and never asked for any candy. Right and they had to walk in the center of grocery aisles so their angel wings didn’t knock cans off the shelves! But hey, we are short on memory so let us keep on believing we were perfect parents and did no wrong.

Naturally now my squeaky wheel on my cart is beginning to create a migraine from hell, that and the stress of my shopping not being done yet. I ask my husband:”How long before we get there?” as in the check-out line. We have been here far too long. The cart usually, by now starts malfunctioning direction ally going every way but straight.  People look at me  with the audacity expecting me to go upfront and get another cart. Really, seriously, like I am going to march to the front of the store, at this point, get another cart and off-load every item and delay my exit?

The lowest paid employee, FYI, is the bagger. I learned this by, yes, one time holding that esteemed position. That person is also the gopher of the store. They sometimes offer to take your bags to your car but who wants a stranger walking out to *your car these days? Does the store management not realize that would be the easiest way to have your car-jacked?  Take a stranger to your car with your keys in hand!  So nope, I load my bags in the car myself every time if shopping by myself. And once I arrive home, I prefer, in a perfect world, to leave the bags in the trunk. Hell, I am too exhausted from the whole experience to put them away. Now is when I could use the gopher.  

After making it to the light, the clerk at check-out, everyone went on break so only 2 registers are open and the lines are long. I make a mad dash to the shortest one. After 5 minutes I find out why. I manage to always pick the chatty lady that seems to have more trouble than usual finding the UPC codes on each item! And naturally she needs price checks on a few and won't take the customers word on the item. When I get up to the register, no price, no buy. That is the easiest way out of hell. 

And so, to those of you that love grocery shopping, I salute you.  May you always find it something joyful to compensate for those of us that hate it? Know that I will drink a hearty glass of wine to toast you as you go with your coupons, grocery lists and shop for food at your favorite grocery stores! 

Lighting up Christmas

Oh my, as a child I loved Christmas Vacation thinking Chevy Chase was the man! All those

lights on the house, my little heart was broken when he went to plug in the lights and kaboom, the fuse blew and the fire hazard of the county only fired up for a second. I wondered why our home never even looked remotely like that!  So I was determined, when I grew up, my home would be a replica of his. That desire lasted very shortly, about the time I decided a rockin’ Christmas had more to do with other things than lighting up!  

The first house I moved into I was pregnant with my second baby on the way. I was twenty and already had a two year old child, Mike. My baby, or rather one to come shortly was due at Christmas.  The name I had picked out was Christopher, so sure it would be a boy born on the 25^th of December.  We were moving to Northern Kentucky from Cincinnati, Ohio to our dream starter home, a bi-level house spending every last penny we had and borrowing enough to make a down payment.  The neighborhood was small in comparison to many nearby and everyone appeared to know each other there so we assumed we would fit right in.    

Our real estate agent failed to inform us our community was in the news practically every Christmas. Yes, we had landed in the Christmas Street of the city and county! It might have been nice to know so we could have budgeted for this.  So, here we are, first new home, struggling just to buy lawn hose, lawn mower, curtains, curtain rods, etc. thus Christmas lights and elaborate decorations for the outside of the house was low on the priority list.

Little did we know we were going to be targeted by the neighbors and fodder for gossip. It began getting filtered back to us by the very few that spoke to us.  We were seeing neighbors working diligently outside mounting things on their homes, stringing lights for hours, items appearing in their yard but I didn’t pay a great deal of attention. I had a small child I was running after and a painful back from a baby in an odd position in my belly. 

One night as we are sitting in our family room, we realize it is lit up in our house like a Christmas tree even though ours isn’t up yet. Approaching the window my husband yells at me to come look. Damn if the entire street isn’t loaded with more lights than Wally World has in inventory during the entire holiday season! And the creatures on the lawn and on the roof tops are too numerous to count. There were baby Jesus’s that had multiplied like rabbits as well as North Stars, snowmen and Rudolphs up to 3 feet above homes! 

As we stepped outside our front door we were met with another shocker, a sign hung across the entire street. It hung from one chimney to the other chimney’s house two neighbors living directly across from each other. It was made in big squares with each square containing letters and held together by a chain above it.  It read Happy New Year with Christmas icon pictures painted in huge colors so that each box was filled to cover the entire street with boxes.  We later learned each huge square was made water proof.  The sign was lined with lights so it was viewable at night quite well! Walking down the street we saw the other side said, as you drove up the street, Merry Christmas.

The entire street was like walking down the Las Vegas strip, as light as in the day, full of color and diversity of personality, except for our bleak looking black house, looking like we belonged in the projects.  I walked my wobbling fat bottom back up the hill to my house, leaving my husband gaping with his mouth wide open behind. I wanted to hide in the shadow of our house.

It wasn’t but a few nights later, I begun to hate those neighbors.  My son, Mike was a very light sleeper who woke up when he heard the heater kick on at night. Well, to add to the Christmas cheer, the neighbors blasted Christmas music for all the cars that began hitting our street, stopping and walking it. There was young and old. There were cars stopping on all sides, blocking driveways so if you went anywhere you couldn’t get back in your driveway until you found where the car blocking your driveway was and the same was true when you wanted to leave.  As I was having cravings, this made it rough when I had ice cream or pickle cravings.  Imagine being pregnant under these circumstances.

The music played every night from 6 p.m. to midnight.  So the only time I got a break from my dear son was gone!  He was either frequently caught peeking out the window at the throes of people outside or whining about having to listen to Santa is coming to Town every night at least 10 times, asking me to make it stop!  Our weak TV couldn’t over blast it.  

That Christmas, our first year in a home, I saw how Christmas lights can become a competition as the neighbors constantly talked of what they were adding the following year. When one wasn’t outdoors, the others would talk about how they were going to outdo each other. I was glad to know that no one was talking about how to outdo me!  I made sure, from that Christmas on, that was never a problem! Decorate by never being the one everyone on the street hates.

As Christmas drew near, my spirit began to soar. I put my Christmas candy in candy dishes being a candyahlic, requiring a lot less working than climbing ladders stringing lights all over the dang house and roof. When I came home from church one Saturday night, my husband and I noted the dish was empty.  As we looked at our dog, Max, our golden retriever had a few pieces of red and green foil stuck on his doggie collar. There was a chocolate thief in the house!  And you know what the means?  Someone is going to made piles of a chocolate mess all over the floor!

So, thank God for the light works on the street because our vet informed us for the next 3 hours we had to take turns walking him up and down the street.  This drudgery was to be done until he either vomited it up or pooped it out. Max never did either but enjoyed the lengthy walk.  To this day, I have no idea what happened. He never developed diarrhea but I, in my pregnancy state, developed severe leg cramps as we lived on a steep hill.   I swear that dog was laughing the entire time manipulating us to get the longest walk of his life out of us.  Bah humbug, I never bought those damn chocolate mint Christmas bells again!

Finally Christmas arrived and no baby.  But I knew the days of hearing Christmas music playing all hours of the night would be behind us so that was cause to celebrate. Too often, the neighbors were forgetting to turn it off and we were hearing the music in the wee a.m. hours now! 

Bright and early Christmas morning, our doorbell rang. You know how the early hour is, you are in your pajamas, your hair looks like you were in a wild windstorm, and you look half-awake.  My husband and I looked at each other. We both were challenging each, who is going to address the door, and also wondering who comes to the door that early on Christmas morning.  So, for some reason, we both headed that way as Max ran to the door. We knew one of us would have to hold him back as his Merry Christmas would be a wet kiss regardless of the absence of mistletoe.

Opening the door, expecting one person, we were shocked. On the other side was a group of what appeared carolers. But no, this congregation was about 10 neighbors, all looking

wide awake and bushy tailed saying Merry Christmas!  They said as new neighbors they wanted to give us a gift and held out a package for us to open. My husband then gave me the honors. As I opened it thinking maybe I had somewhat misjudged them as being way too much into Christmas.  With the first tear, I realized my gut is a good judge for staring me in the face was a box of Christmas lights. My husband was slapped on the back with a “Now there is no excuse for you next year to get your house all decked out with lights, here’s your first strand to get your going Mike, Happy New Year bud!”  And with that, they walked away.  I smiled at him and said “Merry Christmas Chevy!”  

Psyched to Bike

I began, several months ago, bike riding to condition my body more seriously.  Prior to that, it was more about the idea of looking fit and forcing me off of the couch and computer. I felt certain any bike riding would be advantageous to my body.   The idiosyncrasies of riding a bike in a closed community were then discovered.   

  

 My primary focus, initially, was the color of my bike. It wasn’t necessary that it be color coordinated with my clothing, though that would have been ideal.  I did want something that looked more like the Health Magazine ads.  Imagining what I would look like from a side profile if neighbors were to look out their window and capture a glance of me biking down the road on my cool colored bike.  I thought that might spur me on!  I knew I needed motivation.

I settled on a bewitching silver bike, one that is sleek looking with a highlighted pink color. I needed that girly touch too so I looked like the Female Athlete of the Year.  The first time I got on my new bike, though, I felt like anything but! Speaking of butt, I never recalled those seats being so uncomfortable and hard.  I really considered buying padded pants!

Athletes can work through the grit, grind and pain. My legs felt like they were poured in gritty cement and as if weights were on my feet. I was initially sure I would make it through the whole community, heck it was flat!  After the first street on the first few days on the bike, I regretted not having my cell phone with me. I needed to call home for reinforcements, namely a pick up car to tote the damn bike home along with me!

Gradually it got easier but, at the same time, I realized that sweet habit everyone had of waving was an issue. My stability, not being what it was in younger years, required both hands on the handle bars. I was getting odd looks for not waving back at motorists waving at me. I even tried shouting “Hey, how’s it going?” Doing that when you are moving outside on a bike in Florida can get you about 4-6 bugs in the mouth each time you say it! And no response from drivers in air conditioned cars who can’t hear you! It makes it hardly worth the effort to say anything. So I have adjusted and learned to simply slightly lift up my hand ever so slightly from the handle bars or ignore those drivers and make it look like I am one serious rider on a mission!

When the weather is hot, it is impossible to bike in Florida, except at night. That is, unless you want to leave a trail of water behind you everywhere you go from your sweat and tears. The only wind you get is like the kind coming out of the oven when you pull the door open.  Add the feeling of a heat wave when you are pumping your bike pedals about 10 mph or more. Uncomfortable!   So the bike is now equipped, at night, with flashy lights so motorists can see me. But regardless, some drivers don’t like to pull over to the other side of the road to pass me even though there is no one there. They prefer to hang on to the same side of the road I am on.  Why?  These roads are not super wide.  Are they trying to either test my stability or just plain want to hit me?  I see some of the same cars so I am beginning to think I am a nighttime pastime, let’s try to hit bikers tonight!

Florida gets rain out of the blue, one minute it is dry then, whoosh, it pours! And when it does, the water has no place to go so the roads can be pretty soaked and have puddles on them. Too many times, I have been out bike riding and surprise, downpour. Riding as fast as I can back home, everyone and their brother stops me, on route. Their primary comment, “You better hurry and get home so you don’t get as wet.” Note: this is happening while I am getting soaked and have to come to a complete stop to get this advice from several different folks in enclosed cars or golf carts. Genius advice. Now, can I start pedaling again and get home?

The idea of living in a flat area that is secure for biking seems easier than out on the main roads. There is an issue though, lack of changing scenery.  To get my mile count up, I have to circulate the same roads, same houses multiple times. Thus I feel often times, like I am casing out the entire neighborhood. I know all the dogs’ routines for potty time and I see many of the same faces over and over again on the same ride. Each time they feel obligated to wave at me thus I can see a few get annoyed being friendly. Hell, I would too. Should I tell them please ignore me so I don’t have to attempt to take my hand off the steering wheel? It slows me down and I don’t always feel like being friendly either!  I wish they’d swap out their plants on each round thru their neighborhood just to throw me off abit and change the monotony.

As I have built up my legs and body, I can now ride at higher speeds and faster. I can honestly say you won’t see me on the Wide World of Sports competing.  But, I can go further distances and will continue improving. I think I will progress to going outside the community so that walkers don’t feel they are being stalked by me this coming year as my distance is improving.  The joy of me and my silver bike and the fitness I am getting from it are delightful. If you are inclined, find an exercise that works for you and laugh while hitting your goals! If you feel psyched, get a bike!

These Truths are Self-Evident or Not?

Some general insights follow from me,  things that I have noted during the course of my adult life.  Naturally these are merely thoughts, my opinions and they are, yes, like that other thing we all have!.

Just a word of warning to those of you that don’t know it yet but  social media stays on social media.  And for some folks, that scares the hell out of them. Political careers can and are ruined by this media. Ironic that Bill Clinton served controversy over smoking pot and kinky sex in the White House and politicians now go down for even less.  But even in our everyday life, people are always forming opinions and thus attitudes about us.  But I do find, those that truly care about us realize that we are not what we feel, we are what we do with it.  Expressing views is simply that.

With that in mind, I feel certain some folks will agree with some of my observations:

• Churches should use (home-made!) Italian bread for communion verses scanning
  
  neighborhoods for potential parishioners. It would be easier to get bread, if you know what I mean, in the basket.
•  The volume of commercials should be the set at the same level as TV shows, verses so many decibels higher.  How annoying is it to watch something live, turn the volume down on the ads and then have the show start back up and you miss the opening lines?
•  For those that feel everyone should not have medical insurance, here is a thought. Go without it for 1-2 years, in particular when you have health issues and try to pay those bills and get service from health care providers.  Then express your views about life without it.
• People that drink coffee should no, I don’t do drugs.  Because they do! Addiction to coffee is strong. And I must say a wonderful drug!  
•  People that stare at misbehaving children in public apparently aren’t aware this does not help the situation at all.  I propose the following:  each one be photographed at a store for a week or so. Then each store interested in this experiment post a large board in the front of the store so everyone can see, kind of like a WANTED poster.  On it would be placed the pictures of the gawkers with a label on top that reads Warning:  These customers enjoy watching parents struggling with their children.
•  Women need to pack for one trip like their male counterparts.  Pretend they are visiting a nudist colony and when they do go outside of the colony, there is no need for clothes to match.   And then perhaps the packing standard might change for women and men will see what we frequently see on vacation!
•  Doctors need to sit in their waiting rooms at least once a year on a booked afternoon appointment. And then, they must be docked pay for being gone so long
  
  from the job.
• There is no such thing as childproof furniture.  This particular type of false advertising should be tested by preschoolers in the store it is sold to proof the legitimacy.
•  Instead of Wife Swap, to make it much more interesting and controversial, it should be Teenager Swap. The teenagers used should be the variety we all label ‘not-fun’ types as we all know what a killjoy they can be.  Now that would be an interesting show.  Let’s see how other parents deal with your troublesome child and also find out if you are part of the problem.
•  Long lines at the cash register should result in a standard discount for customers. Why not? Is it our fault that not enough employees were scheduled and does our
  
  time not have value?  Reality can bite; we could have shopped at a competitor!
• The list of potential side effects on drugs reads like a laundry list for the mentally insane to consider taking. With this in mind, are some of these made up? Once the list gets rolling on TV, it affects virtually every human body system there is, including breathing.
•  Reality shows should not be scripted so we can determine just how boring and dysfunctional these folks truly are.  Let’s set the standard on these shows as realistic so we aren't promoting unreal expectations and having our young people idolize fake personalities and celebrities.
•  Customer services reps should be empowered to create and present solutions verses roadblocks. We don’t sit on hold for half an hour to be told nothing can be done.
  
• Women with 5-6 children+ should be allowed to have more than one husband. There are only 24 hours in a day and each child deserves attention from a male counterpart.  Note, the reverse should not be allowed. Men have no need for more than one wife in this instance.  We all know why! 
•  I will not be in an Older Woman’s Beauty Pageant or competing for Ms. Popularity so yes, I realize my views aren't shared by some.  And that is okay, we are all unique and find our own way of dealing with life’s intricacies.   

From day to day, barriers sometimes never go away.
Your approach defines you as a person.  You can spend your life cursing.
But the other option to me, is laughing and letting life be.
Live in the moment as much as you can.
And know that others aren't always willing to bend.
Remember your control is limited to you; there is little you can do.
You can’t change others; brush it off with an Oh Brother!
Move on, it’s not your trial, accept what is and crack a smile!
Others will see you enjoying your life,
And you will set an example for others to strife.   

What Does Your Yard Say About You?

Neighbor with 100% best yard!

Years ago, there were types of neighborhoods. You had your classy type were everyone had perfectly manicured lawns. There was the type where everyone had starter homes and small children with bikes lined up outside.  Then there was the type where empty nesters lived like me. Today, it is as diverse as  ever.  Folks are so busy that you can just imagine a great deal about the inhabitants from the outside. 

Take our neighbors for example, if I might.  I think ours represents a good cross reference of many of yours:

Pool use to be behind house with blue siding

We have the one neighbor who had the kayak pool above ground up for years. It was  in the backyard when we moved here over eleven years ago, about 100 feet behind their house.   It stayed that way till about 3 years ago.  The only thing missing was people swimming in it. It had the white lattice work, a nice deck around and a pathway from the deck off the back of the house leading to it.  I am not sure what was in it or what its’ purpose was. It did lessen the amount of lawn that needed to be cut. When our dog, Charley got free, he was always anxious to pee around it.  It began to look sorta creepy when moss and vegetation grew around it over time and was quite a mystery why someone would leave a large unused pool up in a hot summer in TN.

We never bothered to ask the neighbors about this though. Our only communication with these folks was coincidentally through Scott Bolon. He was visiting from Northern Kentucky and taking our dog for our walk.  As he went up the curb with Charley, our dog apparently peed on one of the trees that lined the side of his long yard. Out of the blue, Scott heard a loud angry voice screaming, “Do not let that dog piss in my yard!”  He looked over his shoulder and it was the man from that house yelling out the door from his deck not very happy with a few expletives thrown in there.  We felt perhaps they were not the type of neighbors that would like us to ask them about their unused pool.

Tree Saying "Help Me"

Then we have the neighbor whose tree fell down a few months back during a storm. He

has made no attempt to pick it up.  He is waiting for the tree fairy to come by and pick it up.  I never knew such a fairy existed. It must be a southern thing. 

Next door to us for years our dearest neighbors have one of those fold down top trailers.  We are not sure they ever used it but Rob tells us he got a heck of a deal on it. I suppose it makes sense if one gets a deal to buy it while the picking is good. So, over the last ten years, we have seen it get opened up and aired out at least two or three times. I think it may have housed a few slumber parties for their youngest daughter even.  It has been moved two or three times to different locations in the yard, making its way from the driveway, to the back of the yard to where it resides now, closer to the front. I am assuming it is waiting for another person to drive by and see it and think it is a heck of a steal and buy it.

On the other side of us is a wonderful family. They are the home fixer-uppers that believe why pay someone else to do things when we can do it ourselves so much cheaper. Perhaps if you gaze at some of the pictures you can see why you would pay someone else.  

The patio we watched initially being constructed. It was hand laid and they picked the hottest day of the summer.  It began with skids all over the backyard piled 3 to 4 feet high with bricks.  The patio was going to be shaped in this wonderful custom geometric shape. It was going to take some time to construct, they told us, but they were in for the long-haul. By noon, the day they started, plans changed. I think, by then, it was decided to switch to a square patio with plant boxes made of the bricks on the side!  Plants were purchased, at some point and lined up in the backyard to put in those planter boxes for once the patio was complete. The construction site was open for ages. When complete, very little energy was left to plant.  Eventually they made it into the ground.  However, all energy was spent by then, so nothing was left to care for the greenery so the picture is self-explanatory. The plants around it became overgrown and now look like long forgotten friends left behind.  

One day a concrete truck came through the yard of our neighbors, a site we don't normally see. Apparently he was laying concrete in the backyard.  This, we quickly learned was for a basketball half court.  One would think one of the children was going into basketball.  Nope.  Apparently, oh well, nothing more to say here, incase it does happen in the future, it is here, in their yard.  Oh, it has been used occasionally. Normally though the hoop is laying where it is pictured here, on its side.  

Somewhere along the line a boat was purchased. They have a camper so we presume it was for this purpose.  Even though home owner rules disallow all of these items to be proudly on display, they are in their case, allowed to disobey these rules. Or think they can.  Their yard is reminding me more and more of Pawn Stars.   The boat, pretty as a picture, hangs underneath their bedroom, upside down. I doubt this will go to  the best bidder though so do not even attempt to stop and bid!  Go two houses down to the fold down camper (3 paragraphs above) if interested in purchases. Your chances will be better on that gem. 

I certainly don’t want to imply we have no room to talk.  We, for our part, have a huge

Man-Eating Evergreen

evergreen out front that looks like a man eating Christmas tree. I have no idea what came over this plant but it once was a beautiful tree in a pot in our house for the holidays. We put the bulb in our front yard and it has never once looked the same again. It began to grow and took on this idiotic shape. We are waiting for some horticulture nut to come by one day and take to it so it looks more ‘normal’.  We do not want to be the subject of someone else’s blog!

It is not obvious this time of year but our front porch normally has on proud display pots holding fake flowers. I know what you are thinking, that is phony. Yep, but it works, they look beautiful and from the road, no one can tell.  They do not need watered, and can be reused.  I got the idea from a magazine and believe it or not, many friends have stolen my idea since. 

So maybe it goes without saying that the idiosyncrasies we all have inside our house, inside our lives are also expressed outside our homes. The next time you are driving through a neighborhood, perhaps your very home, take a look around.  Life can be quite humorous in a silly kind of way, in the mundane.

A Lesson from Two Six Year Olds

2 wise old souls at 6 years old!

They say that our role as adults is to teach our children. 
I am constantly amazed at what they can teach us, about ourselves, if we stop and listen.

Some grandparents are called other names, nanny, pappy, Mamey, Granpop, etc… Our grandkids have stuck with just ordinary grandma and grandpa.  We are happy with that as it fits.  We are just ordinary folks with no real tradition of names or habits of doing things.  Sometimes we wish we did but then again, life is simpler this way.  

Little things from our grandkids mean so much to both of us. The thoughtfulness of even the smallest thing melts our hearts as it does to most any grandparent. Getting a Starbucks travel cup from my grand-daughter Ava, after she told her Mommy she must buy that for Grandma Ronni, was precious! She has already duly noted my obsession for Chai tea from SB.

The winter hat from Kaleb that Grandpa Jim proudly wears on display for all the neighbors to see when he walks Charley.  It not only keeps his head warm but his heart because it was from Kaleb. 

At this stage in our life, anything from any of them means so much. I have fought a battle with cancer, and won. There is no guarantee it won’t return. Several of my friends have fought or are fighting it again.  Some had diagnosis dates close to mine. My husband has lost his only son.  Again, having grandchildren is special, they will outlive us.  We do what we can when we can to let them know they are forever locked in our hearts. Their gifts of any kind, even a gentle kiss remind us that we too are loved back by kind innocent hearts.

I co-wrote a research paper in college on the “Use of Art in Therapy.”  I quickly discovered that since the beginnings of time, humans have used art as a form of expression.   Recently, both of my six year old grandchildren have drawn pictures of Grandpa Jim and I.  They wanted us to display their artwork. Rather than hoard it to ourselves, I thought I would share it on my blog page.  Also, I have included some of what their insights are of us that I have drawn from these pictures.  Pure speculation of course …

Ava A. Glasmeier's Drawing of Grandma & Grandpa

Ava:

1. Apparently, in Ava’s eyes we have very colorful personalities. This could be biased by her ‘colorful lively ‘perception of the world.
2. We have large feet and mine rarely stay on the ground. I think the implication here is that I have my head above the clouds. This may not be altogether wrong, at least some of the time.
3. Grandpa Jim was born with antennas on top of his head.   I can only surmise this implies he is aware of everything going on at all times.  Thus, it is hard to keep a secret from him and also he is a good one to ask about what is around the corner.  I suppose we should nick name him the Family Radar in Ava’s eyes.
4. There is a large M on this drawing, much like the Golden Arch at McDonalds, so apparently she equates us with that fast food chain.  This could be explained away easily by our desire to spoil her and get her happy meals there. I wouldn’t dare think it was because either of us reminded her of Ronald McDonald. 
5. Grandma Ronni needs to be on the TV Show What Not to Wear or come to one of her princess tea parties to learn how to dress pretty.  She did put me in my favorite color purple and a dress but I am far from stylish.  I really think that my red leggings clash somewhat with my purple dress!
6. This next observation is a self-serving one. Grandpa Jim does not help Grandma Ronni enough.  Well actually, I am just analyzing my grand-daughter’s picture.  Grandpa is minus his right-hand on her image. He is right-handed so how much help can he be to me or anyone without it?
7. I noticed she has a zigzag line across the front of my face. This could be a worry line, a sign of a migraine or, God –forbid, she is already noticing my wrinkles!  (Please tell me no)
8. There appears to be wings, red in color, coming off of Grandpa. For some reason, there are three wings!  She must feel he needs to be on a diet.  Two wings are not enough to lift him off of the ground.
9. Our grass is orange as in dead on the bottom of her picture. She is right-on, we live in the south and she knew not to pick green!
10. The overall comment about this picture is that Ava picked each of our favorite colors to use on us for clothing and put a huge smile on both of us as if we were thinking of her!  That is something we do all the time! 

Kaleb Bolon's Drawing of Grandpa Jim

Drawing by K. Bolon of Grandma Ronni

Kaleb drew a picture of us individually. I am not sure why, perhaps he thought it was important to show our individuality.  Just a guess, who knows?

Kaleb:

1. Compared to living in Northern Kentucky, the sun is always shining in Nashville, Tennessee!
2. Going hand in hand with that, the sun smiles down on us southerners!
3. Grandpa Jim has his hands on his head.  He must be getting frustrated with Grandma Ronni, again or it is just a good resting place.
4. Grandma Ronni has no clothes on. I guess it doesn’t matter what I wear around him, the furthest thing from his mind is fashion! Grandpa Jim is naked too.
5. Grandpa has shading around his head which can imply, in these types of drawings, anxiety.  Now this is interesting to me because most folks would call Grandpa Jim laid back but I know he has some underlying anxiety. From this pic, I think his little six year old grandson knows it too!
6. Grandma Ronni has eyes but no eyeballs.  Does that imply, at times, I can be clueless? Possibly my six year old grandson has been ‘clued’ in!
7. Kaleb told me that the blue lines represent a train track. Grandpa is walking towards it. I am not sure if this is a good thing or not.  It is interesting he choose this because, as a small boy, his grandpa loved to play on train tracks. Kaleb never knew that and yet drew tracks on a picture of his grandpa.  Ironic or intuitive?
8. I think our grandson thinks our house is small. He has it drawn coming up to about my waist. Either that or my personality is way bigger than our house.
9. Folks we have the most well-manicured lawn in the world according to Kaleb! Look at that line and eat your heart out. Looks like a fairway on a golf course.
10. Grandpa Jim is going to be bald in the future and my hair is going to go from short to very funky, possibly only growing on one side. But since Kaleb had a big smile on when he gave me the pictures, I know he would love us bald, toothless and feeble!

 I challenge you to do what these two six year olds do when they look at us. Don’t take yourselves too seriously. Life is too short not to laugh at the image in the mirror sometimes.  Walk away and carry that humor with you for the rest of the day.  Oh, what the heck, how about for the rest of your life?

Solo Time

My doggie lost his privileges. We picked him up from boarding school, better known as doggie camp and the usual report card accompanied him. Unlike past stays when we received a stellar report, this report card one was loaded with comments about his apparent need to dominate members of the opposite sex. In fact, he was indiscriminate in his tastes. I chose to think my dog embraces diversity.

This type of behavior by Charley was strongly dealt with when he was in obedience training years ago when he was just a young pup. Even then, he had this overwhelming urge to let everyone know in the class who was boss. And it most definitely, most evenings was not the person holding the leash. Unless the leash holder was the top trainer leading the class, who whipped the collar with no mercy. She could snap that chain with her wrist and bring our 100 lb lab to his knees screaming, in doggie language, “Uncle!” But as soon as the leash was handed to us, the best we could do was throw Cheerios at him! This was our feeble attempt to get him to listen to our commands of “No humping Charley” followed by “We do not sniff other dogs butts Charley!” No amount of Cheerios in the course of the evening seemed to dissuade him from this beastly behavior and make him act like a boy we could be proud of.

Fast forward to today. We pay extra to have Charley attend Pal Time when we go out of town and board him. We want him to have play time with other dogs so that he does not spend 24/7 in a cage when he is use to having the run of our house. The only other time he gets out of the cage is to urinate if he was not granted play time. Granted we always request the suite for Charley. I mean he is worthy of deluxe accommodations, naturally, because of his large stature. Hence his cage is a mere 8 x 8 foot cage, larger than some prison cells, I dare say, complete with TV in the cell block tuned in and playing to the Animal Channel for his viewing enjoyment during his stay. He even has a doggie bed. Unfortunately, the doggie bed is made for more of a doggie about the size of a cocker spaniel, thus, it only accommodates Charley’s head and possibly his front paw.

In the past, Charley has gotten to enjoy Pal Time every day. We have the bills to proof it! He spends a few hours with a few other dogs his size just playing out in the fenced area wearing himself and the other canines out. This is his social hour and the time for him and the other dogs to network and make connections, and build friendships. Charley has made several along the way. His trainers have been good about keeping us posted on his friendships that have developed during his stays there. We have received comments on the report cards such as , Charley and Peter the Poodle hit it off real well this visit or Charley and the Golden Retriever Lucky had a gay ole time indicating this lab was possibly male also.

Imagine our surprise then, when this week, after four years of visits there, things have permanently changed, and not for the better! He was picked up and the report card that accompanied our dog/child was a bad report. It felt like our son flunked a grade after making straight A’s all the way through. It came with no warning. There was no change in his behavior either,preceding this report to indicate a change was coming. He was not acting moody, depressed,or more barky. But yet, right there on the report, in pen was clearly written, “Charley is no longer allowed to attend Pal Time during his stays here at My Second Home.” Not a word was said when he was picked up to us. We were simply told here is good old Charley and here is your bill and we loved having him. Perhaps they were concerned Charley would be embarrassed if behavior issues were addressed in the lobby with other parents in the area to overhear and other play mates of his But, I would have preferred some advance notice, a parent/trainer conference would have been nice!

Forgo the formalities, the time of subtleties is gone. The verbiage on the report was not left to the imagination at all! It painted a very clear picture. Our dog had routinely, during Pal Time, insisted on trying to mount all his other play mates. This was considered unacceptable behavior. In fact, I think it might possibly be grounds for sexual harassment of the other guests. Forget the fact these are dogs, humping is not allowed. It was stated that our dog could get hurt by humping other dogs. Somehow our 100 lb dog might hurt himself doing what dogs do naturally. Apparently, even with the one on one trainers that are assigned to each dog that boards, restraining Charley from this behavior is too hard to do. On the good side, there was no mention of him trying to mount any 2 legged characters in the camp. God knows how that would have turned out or what would have been stated on his report card had that occurred. Charley could have been banished for life from doggie camp! Imagine his disappointment!


So it is with deep regret that we are faced with yet another setback in our life with Charley, he has been barred from Pal Time at My Second Home now. He is only permitted Solo Time where he can get out and roam the grounds all on his own but with no one to play with. I am disappointed for him because I know he will lonely and will wonder why he is being ostracized like Rudolph at camp. I am disappointed for the other doggies also for their loss because he is a loveable dog that I think other dogs will miss playing with because he is a character. No longer will there be a chance for their report cards to say what probably many have said in the past, “Made a great friend with a lab named Charley this stay.”