Monthly Archives: August 2013

Coulda Been a Community Event

This week is bulky trash pick up.  Lots of interesting things get put out.  Some worthy of picking up and taking home, or selling for scrap.

Great time to clean out old junk and the it out of the garage or home.

A few doors down and across the street, someone added an upright piano to their pile.  Oh it breaks my heart when I see such things put out. I began to notice different people would stop and hit a few notes.  First a couple of neighbor boys.  The notes they hit sounded in tune.

The next day, regular and recycle pick up day, the guy who goes through and gets the cans and bottles, stopped and hit a few keys.  I couldn’t resist and later that afternoon, I started Fur Elise.

Oops, I hit a few notes that the keys needed to be tuned.

Wouldn’t it have been fun if we could have had a block party with a pot luck and sing along?

outdoor piano

outdoor piano

Where are the Men?

Lately I’ve been asking where are the men when I spend time at the garden. Especially for the heavy lifting projects.

Don’t get me wrong, there are a couple of men with plots and those plots are immaculate, they even have wood chips in the path way inches thick and it feels like a cloud when walked upon.  Can I just stand here and enjoy the moment?

Puts my overgrown spot to shame.  (Good thing I’m way in the back) They are probably asking where I am and when I’m going to get the tall grass pulled and the fall crop planted.  But I’ve been spending my community garden time in the Plots Against Hunger area for the food pantry.  I’m thinking I’ll plant a cover crop this season.

I also know that I’m not at the garden 24/7 so I don’t know the whole story of what is happening at the garden.

Then I realized, traditionally, women tend the garden and men hunt Wooly Mammoths.  So if that is where the men are, then I’m OK.

And if they are hunting Wooly Mamoth, I hope they bring some to the next pot luck.

Two Weeks Notice

A couple of weeks ago, a friend from the garden found out she had cancer.  She decided that it was terminal when she found out it is rare and spreads fast.  She planned on being dead in a couple of weeks.  by yesterday.

Well, most of the ladies at the garden as well as the church, pray.  I told my friend that I hoped she wasn’t too disappointed if she wasn’t dead when she predicted.  Too many people were praying for healing and otherwise better news than she was expecting.

Last Wednesday she had a CT scan to determine how far the cancer had spread.

Yesterday she came to the garden and gave away a number of items that was near and dear to her heart, that she wanted us to have.  The most important was an angel birdbath that her son who lives in Florida gave her.

She had her other son bring it.  I told her that he wasn’t going to be too happy when he had to lug it back to her house.  She whispered, “then I’ll have someone else do it.”

I understood her looking forward to heaven, I puzzled over her giddiness.  Then I remember a bad job I had when the kids were little.  My husband agreed that I should quit, even without another job lined up as it was too much stress.  The last two weeks I was practically giddy knowing I only had a few more days to deal with the stress.

Today she learned the results.

Good Good news.  She left a message on my phone, so I need to call back and get the details, but the cancer hasn’t spread and the lymph nodes look good.

Be careful of giving a bunch of praying ladies your  two weeks notice, your plans may change,

Clinical Lying

I hate the term – Clinical Lying. Mostly because it has negative connotations. There is a certain resistance to lying to a loved one.  And yet, it isn’t lying at all.

It’s a form of going down memory lane.  Who doesn’t like to sit and reminisce the good old days?  It’s hard when a loved one doesn’t realize where they are right now, but where they are is someplace they have been before.

That’s a memory, not a lie.

Gpa grew up in Kansas.  As a weatherman, he moved all over the United States and retired in Ft. Worth.  When he would ask me if we were in Kansas, I would say “yes.”  Sometimes he’d ask about Ft. Worth.

When I did say “no”, it would confuse him and my explanation only confused him more.  No need to go there.

Kansas and Ft. Worth aren’t such bad places to be.

If he wasn’t tapping into a memory, he’d be asking me if we were on Mars or someplace he had never been.

And even then, I wouldn’t have considered it a lie.  I would have considered it imagination.

A friend who is currently caring for her father pointed out a good thing about the condition of dementia.  Her father is always excited to see her.  Every time. She’ll be pushing him in his wheelchair and look around to check on him.

“Oh, hello! Good to see you.”

I’d have to say that I liked that part of spending time with Gpa as well.  Who doesn’t like to be greeted like a long lost loved one?

Choice Debate with Kevin O’Leary and Rachel Parent

On the surface the debate is about GMO labeling, or is it scientific testing?

It is really about peoples right to choose.

Ms. Parent is asking that food that is GMO be labeled.  Why is this a hard concept?  We have ingredients on our food.  Though for some reason some food manufacturers don’t want us to know that MSG is in the food.

I have watched my sister determine MSG as one of the sources of her migraine headaches.  These migraine headaches keep her from work and will effect her for many days.  Some food won’t list MSG out right, the label will be more obscure, even splitting the ingredients into the parts that make the MSG.

I wonder if they’d be allowed to hide when peanuts are in food.  Oh wait, this would kill people, better not do that.

Co-host Lang pointed out that if she chose to not eat GMO food, she would have to cut most corn and corn products out of her diet. Yes, and vegetarians don’t eat meat.  Alcoholics abstain from beer, liquor and wine.

Why is the thought of not eating corn so bad?  We don’t sensor others for their food choices.

Mr. O’Leary never acknowledged the right for people to know what they are consuming.  Stating that if we choose not to eat GMO foods, it would make poor Asian children go blind and die.


Yet, I am encouraged to look for the ‘Made in America’ label on my clothes.

Maybe it is Mr. O’Leary that has a vested interest in the rest of us to fill out pantries with this type of food.



Time Travel in Slaughterhouse Five

Time Travel described in Slaughterhouse Five makes me think “memories”  Though memories are better, you can choose when and where to go.  Billy Pilgrim couldn’t control his time travel.

About ten years after my mother died, Gpa gave me a tape cassette recording.  It was a copy of what she had sent him when I was about 3 years old.  Mom and my grandparents would send taped letters to each other.

I popped in the tape on the way to work.  Bad idea.  All of a sudden I hear mom saying, “Laura, Laura.”  She was trying to get my 3 year old self’s attention to talk into the recorder.

I was more interested in the ‘bebe’

Well she got my current self’s attention and I had to stop the tape, or wreck the car.

I never thought I’d hear her voice again.  I have the tape somewhere in the house.  We’ve moved several times and I think, I’ll find it and listen sometime when I’m not in the car.

But I haven’t.

Maybe it’s too precious.

Like The Time Traveler’s Wife

Some days I don’t post.  Its because I’m gathering my thoughts.  Or more specifically, I’m untwinning them from each other.

Then I have to determine what I am going to share.  Is it share worthy?

I have thought I would never see Gpa again in this life.  Oh sure, I’ve got pictures and I’ve friends and family to reminisce with.

But it’s not the same.

Friday, a friend invited me to her house for lunch and video Bible study.  When I got there, her husband was there and the whole family was having a conference.  You do that especially when you have a teen or pre-teen.

I thought about leaving but he invited me in.  While my friend was getting the kids settled, the husband and I got to talking about music and he remembered that he had a clip of our first sing-a-long.

It’s only 45 seconds panning the group as Mark plays the accordion.  And there in the middle was Gpa!  What a nice surprise!

Just like the Time Traveler’s wife, I’ll never know when or what age I will see him again.