Mother and Daughter

I just can't get over this photo. Love, love, love.

Now, this will really be short! I just want to share my newest favorite thing to do. Do not tell anybody because this is just our secret.

What I love to do most is to sit in the dining room appearing to be playing some idiotic game on the computer, when (our secret, remember) in reality I am listening to the voices coming from the family room. Usually it is Martha, Rick, Tom, Ashley and their friends--Krystle, Ben, Charles--and sometimes, Dave. I can't actually hear what they are saying, only the tones of their voices while conversing and then raucous laughter. Even the dogs and cats join in in their own way. It is just so wonderful and reminds me why life is good.

What is missing? The voices of Joe and Rachel. But I need to just get over that, huh?

I do not have time for this . . .

So, yeah, I do not have time for this, but I will write 1 (ONE) paragraph and that is it just because I told myself I would and I haven't.

The thing I need to write about is our latest incidents of bats in the house. It began (as bat stories always do) with someone (Dave) cutting a hole in a wall (the ceiling of the kitchen cuz the roof won't quit leaking) somewhere and the bats, who (that) have lived up wherever forever saying "thank you so much, yes, we will come on in." They don't do this right away, but they wait until you are not expecting a bat to come flying past you and whoosh there they go. The first one had a furry face--Tom and Rick took a photo of it . . . looking Dracula-like--Dave IDed it as a brown bat. Then that night or the next night he came back (cuz they let it go outside) and Tom woke up to Dharma (our shy cat) beating the crap out of one on the table. Tom again flung the bat outside (we don't catch on) and thought he saw Dharma heading after another one which then disappeared. Okay--now Dave put some cardboard up to block the hole. I am never home, I thought, so this really has little affect on me except if everyone gets rabies. I head up to the bedroom to do some mending . . . swoop! a little bat appears and then disappears (evidently the disappearing one from earlier). Yipes--I call the brave and awesome Dave who finds the little frightened critter on top of the curtain rod and takes him to the great outdoors. Darn this is really where I wanted to begin this paragraph so let's make it 2 (two) paragraphs.

What it made me start thinking about was how bats really do act "batty" and how squirrels act "squirrelly" and how many ways humans compare behavior and appearance with animals and insects in language and literature, i.e. busy as a bee, stubborn as a mule, quiet as a mouse (except the ones I had in the walls of my house when I was 21 years old). We only can imagine that we soar over the rooftops or spin a web or jump as graceful as a gazelle. I can see why women can be foxy or men perhaps wolves, but I don't see how being "a dog" could ever be bad. Someone goofed.

Being Here and Now

It's the middle of the night and I don't know what wakened me. Once awake, I began thinking about all the history that I should be recording and that there isn't time to do it and also have a current life. I visited Mom today, and she didn't know who I was. This is new--she usually knows me. I would say she knew that she knew me--but couldn't recall how. I am upset, and I wasn't ever going to be ready for this. Now I think "why didn't I record her sweet voice when she was able to make more sense?" So--freaked out--that's what I am. She has been baffled with recognizing the grandkids for quite awhile. Were you kids this upset? I don't recall that (because, you know, it's all about me).

I just finished a CD book called "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle--narrated by himself. It was one of those books that is a journey, beginning with me mocking his Arnold Schwarzenegger voice. I reeled at his extreme monotone and his terminology as I listened, but I kept listening. By the end of the book, I was humbled by his understanding of where people are "coming from" in their everyday actions. His instructions for assessing each situation were useful and astute.

What that has to do with Mom: He talks a lot about not living in the past or the future, but rather in the present. This is something I heard so long ago--but I wasn't ready to listen. Today is what I have with Mom, and we did have a nice visit. She's still in there. I just have to look very closely.

Can I go back to sleep now?

Day of Anticipation

We're getting ready to go to the lake today. Don't get extremely jealous, but they're predicting thunderstorms. We love to be at the lake during thunderstorms. It is just incredible.

We just bought a used paddle boat and I'm just excited all in all about every dang thing. I have a few grasses and plants to take along that I got free via Cathy's many gardening connections--and I've been trying to replace window treatments from hell that need attention. So, though I go intending to totally relax, I do have tasks in mind. These are some plants I've never tried before, so I'm eager to see what they do:)

It's an inherited thing. Dad (Chuck) always had a list of things to do--even carried 3x5 cards in his pocket to add ideas as they hit him. I remember coming back from vacation once because Dad planned to paint the porch on his vacation. It's a sickness. I do get stuff done, though.

I saw a wise saying at a garage sale yesterday. It said "Don't confuse having a "to do" list with having a life. I will keep that in mind--after I finish my tasks!

Spring--When the Swallows Return to the Parking Garage

I was aiming to post only every two weeks because, well, I have nothing to say !! BUT, for two months I have been fretting about the fate of my favorite part of spring in Omaha: when the swallows return to the parking garage. The facilities drones had put up soft mesh "screens" around practically every orifice of the garage to keep out the devil swallows that they say build nests on the pipes and corrode them. I say "get more durable pipes!!"

The joyous news is that the swallows don't need all of the orifices, they only needed the entrance that we walk through (can't close that), and they are building their nests like maniacs. Probably a dozen or so, they are too charming chattering away in their tuxedoes and swooping in and out, in and out. The mesh nets are falling into ruins because repairmen are working on the garage and messing up the nets. All that worrying was for nothing. I just couldn't help it, though. They really are my favorite part of spring.

Me Happy

My friend said to me the other day, “don’t you wish you could be a kid again?” It got me thinking that anyone who feels that way was blessed with a happy childhood. Yes, it was great to be the center of the universe for a time. It stirred up all these feelings of gratitude to my parents for struggling to make us feel safe and loved and free, yet somewhat controlled and responsible and connected at the same time.

Then, even without caffeine, my brain continued on this trend thinking about the blessings that came to me when I met Dave, who allowed me to make all my own choices (sometimes I didn’t even want to) and sat back calmly whether I excelled or loafed. It’s called freedom, and even in this land of the free, too many people are oppressed.

This leads to the love our children give back to us. It is beautiful and overwhelming at the same time. It feels a bit like a circle but it is really more like a coil that circles round yet continues on and on. I think that is the happily ever after part.

Sometimes I feel so naïve when I come up with these moments of awareness and then I think I am a dang moron because everyone else realized this stuff at age 20. And that’s what just keeps my life so interesting. Every moment I’m coming closer to catching up with everyone else.

Fever Pace

Work is becoming increasingly crazy with each day as we approach finals week (next week). This is the time when, almost without fail, our copy machine decides to crap out. And that's what happened today, although it is still copying. It just won't staple things until a new part arrives. Now that only means that we have to staple all the final exams MANUALLY, but because I am so very seasoned, I recall when we not only had to staple manually, we also had to collate everything one dang sheet at a time. It's a leap backwards to a slower-paced world. Believe me, I appreciate the superior machines and all the work that they save me, but . . .

It reminds me a little of when the power goes out and everyone sits around the candles for a bit waiting for the power to return. Then the conversations start, and then things get creative and about the time you begin roasting marshmallows over the candles, the lights come on. It's a little disappointing, truly.

I don't expect to get all "into" stapling, but there's probably a mantra for stapling, donchathink?

Lame Ramblings

Yes, this is going to be lame. I am tired and feeling rather boring. I just felt bad about neglecting the blog (like I need something else to tend). Grumble, grumble. And I thought it might get me back in the groove if I just mutter aimlessly here and hope to have something real to say next time. So do any of you kids know why ALL of the keys are sticking on the keyboard. It couldn't have anything to do with all the racket down here one of the nights that Joe visited, could it????

Good news! Just when I feared that we would run out of weddings (there have been about 5 or 6 in the past year that Joe and Rachel came back to attend--one more scheduled in September), I find out that Tony Vaccaro is getting married in November!!! If we can just keep this up, we'll be seeing Joe and Rachel more than if they lived here. :)) Me happy.

Someone tell me how to sign this, please.

Mama