Yearning for a Trip to Once Upon a Time

Roadside Vision

I have cars on the brain maybe.

On the road to town there is an old car

that reminds me of old photos Mom saved.

Her pictures always struck me as from a Once Upon a Time era that was never truly real.

But the car I pass en route to town

is a daily reminder of a living past.

I found a photo Mom saved of her family’s new car, but Bill said, “No, that isn’t the same one we see on the way to town.”  Or, is it?

The Grandparents’ New Car – No Date provided.

Does anyone know anything about this Once Upon a Time vehicle that belonged to my grandparents?

What year is it?  And what make?  And I wonder how much it was to buy?

Even if it is not a match for today’s roadside version, it still stirs my imagination and I yearn to take a trip back in time.

Oh for a visit to my grandparents who must have been excited to have a new car, to the aunts and uncles and cousins who may have lined up to see it, and the kids who wished for the keys.  

They were my own family and their lives went by before I ever got to know them.  But they are all somehow lingering and alive in that flat tired, beat up apparition I  see almost every day on the way to town.

 

 

 

 

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Any Port in a Storm

Storm Brewing in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia

Online Confession:  I am terrified of thunder storms.  Never used to be.  Only since we moved here.  That was 26 years ago, so I have been afraid of thunder and lightning for all that time.  Tsk!

In spite of valiant efforts to hide this phobia, most of my friends know all about it.

I used to tell them our Golden Retriever, Peaches, was so afraid of storms she would try to get in the bathtub or shower.  I suggested the closet and would accompany her there for comfort and solace through the wild flashes.

Photo from http://en.wikipedia.org

From that time on, Peaches and I hit the closet together to weather storms.

• I lined the closet with pillows where delightful scents of shoes and clothing might calm the poor pup down.
• I rubbed her with dryer sheets (supposed to reduce static electricity),
• and I even gave her little candies laced with doggy herbal tranquilizers.

Maybe I should have tried the dryer sheet-tranquilizer thing on myself!

Friends would say, “It’s thundering Dor –you and Peaches better get to a closet!”

The real story is that in a state of abject fear I prefer to lie down in a closet.  Folks do not understand there are no windowless rooms in this house – no comforting walls for protection.   And then of course, Peaches caught my fear (dogs are very perceptive that way you know).  And I suppose she entered the closet to actually comfort ME!

We finally lost Peaches (not to lightning but to old age), and then inherited an old rescue dog named Rozie who also found solace in the closet during raucous weather.

We lost sweet old Rozie as well (not to lightning but to old age).  I fervently wish a stray would wander in but there are no dogs here now and I hit the closet alone.

This is irrefutable proof that fear of lightning is my own hangup and I should stop involving helpless animals.

Peaches

Rozie

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Who is that Girl in the Photograph?

I have just returned from a trip down “memory lane” with my friend, Kate of CoffeeKatBlog who wrote Things About My Youth.

We sort of grew up during the same era and many of Kate’s memories are mine.

Her funny, delightful post reminded me of a poem I wrote a long time ago about a girl in a photograph.

Who is that girl in the photograph,

the one with the spark of youth

dressed for a prom in a silken gown

with a faraway look of hope?

Who is that girl in the photograph,

the one with the faraway dream,

dressed in her best to celebrate?

I think she may have been me.

I remember that dress in the photograph

and the boy who was just as scared,

that soft starry night of the senior prom,

I remember the night clear and fair.

But who is that girl in the photograph?

She seems someone else I once knew,

the child I was, growing up and out

in a world that was changing too.

And onward time marched in quick-step

When a different boy called her wife

while the glowing girl in the photograph

stayed young and full of life.

The seasons passed and the years ticked on

while the picture stayed the same,

through challenges of work and home

and a son making Mom her name.

Running and running the years went by.

Now a grandma looks to the past

at an image of hope for an unknown life –

the young girl in the photograph.

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There Was a Little Girl

A chalk drawing of a little girl

always hung in a living room space.

She’s all grown up now of course,

but it still holds an honored place.

The little girl was me before

 and hangs again on our living room wall,

a reminder of who I once was growing up

and who I am still, after all.

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A One-Foibled Woman’s Shameful Secret

Photo from http://thepennyhoarder.com

Being a perfectly perfect person in my own eyes (if I don’t look in the mirror too often), I hate to admit I have certain FOIBLES.

Actually, there is only one real foible and the secret is now being shamefully announced through cyberspace.

Please do not judge this harshly but,

I DO NOT LIKE TO SHARE POPCORN!

IN FACT, I HATE SHARING POPCORN!

Perhaps this sounds selfish.

Yes, it really is selfish.

But consider this from my perfectly perfect point of view:

1. Hands carry germs and if you are germaphobic (like moi),
2. Sharing anything with germy hands involved is HORROR-FYING.
3. I like to eat the WHOLE Small, Medium, or Large size bag of popcorn all by myself.  I LOVE popcorn!  I want it ALL!
4. The noise created by strange fingers dipping in is maddening.  I want to listen to the movie UNDISTURBED, preferably in solitary confinement (alone with my popcorn bag).
5. Protecting territory or personal space (that popcorn bag) is essential to maintaining mental health.  I read that somewhere and it certainly does apply to popcorn bag holders.
6. And never mind “pass the popcorn please.”  Courtesy does not help.  You are still an invader, a noise maker, and undoubtedly carrying the flu virus!
7. Coming for a visit?  Now you know to stay clear of the One-Foibled-Woman when there is popcorn involved!.  Ignore this warnng at your own peril.
8. The popcorn is MINE!  Why am I expected to share it and made to feel guilty if I don’t?
9. But I ask you fellow bloggers, isn’t there something admirable about a woman with only one foible?
10. And do you think blogging is beginning to take its toll on my perfectly perfect one-foibled life?

From http://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/foible :  Sometimes a foible helps make a person who they are, even if the foible, or weakness (“feeble” is a close relative), is a little odd. Synonyms for foible in a negative sense are “failing,” “shortcoming,” and in a more positive sense “quirk,” “eccentricity.” It can likewise be annoying or endearing. Most people have a foible, or idiosyncrasy, that stands out to others, but interestingly, a person rarely sees his or her own characteristic foible.

 

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What is This Plant?

I should probably know such things but in admiring beauty and color I tend to forget who plants really are.

Eliza?

 

 

 

 

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The Perils of Planning Things for Planning Purposes

 

I am among the ranks of the world’s most paranoid planners who keep calendars and more calendars.

There is a calendar in my purse (super private),

a calendar on the kitchen wall (semi-private),

another for “quick viewing” on the refrigerator (reference only),

a calendar on my cell phone (for an emergency),

and a desk calendar bedside (seriously private).

There are actual “plans” and appointments written on the desk calendar, the purse calendar, and the one on the kitchen wall.

And if there are changes, I have to erase/mark out/change all three of the above.

Emoticon from http://www.cliparts.co

Lately I have changed ALL THREE of the write-in “planning” calendars over and over.

1. A friend planned to visit us  for 10 days in August but cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances.
2. Postponed a lunch date with a group of ladies since the main attraction cancelled due to stomach flu.
3. Eye doctor’s office called to cancel an appointment.
4. My niece is coming for a weekend with her dog, Noche. Hurrah! So far, so good.
5. Cousins booked to visit on another weekend. No threats so far.
6. Son coming some time soon and then again some time later, yet to be defined.  Sooner or later means possible restructuring the calendars!
7. The bathroom floor was to be replaced last weekend, but date now re-arranged.  Will my niece be here then? There are no guarantees anymore. 
8. What about the dental check up scheduled for tomorrow and a haircut the next day?  “Up for grabs.”
9. Erasers are being worn down changing appointments!

Planning is supposed to save time right? Reworking three calendars is beginning to be time consuming, must be done in pencil due to all the radical changes, and aggravation prompting a nervous tic.

Therefore, I have devised an entirely new and competely radical change in plans.

I now plan to cease planning things and only keep one calendar – for planning purposes!

The question is, “Which one?”

How many calendars do YOU have?

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A Tale of Two Rings

Weekly Photo Challenge:  Half and Half

Yesterday I was doing something with my left hand that caused two fingers to cramp.

Not knowing what else to do, I began to shake that hand.

And my wedding ring flew off and wound up clear across the room!

I noticed my ring finger was miraculously slim.  It was evidently too skinny to hang onto the wedding ring.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO A TALE OF TWO RINGS!

Once upon a time there was a couple who thought they were in love.

They planned to marry and purchased two wedding rings – a little one for her and a bigger one for him.

Time went on but they did not marry.   I guess they were never meant for each other.

But there was another couple who planned to marry.

They bought the two almost-used wedding rings from the first couple.

They got two rings for $25.00.  What a DEAL huh?

DOR AND BILL WERE THAT SECOND COUPLE.

Wedding Day
Note: Dor’s Dad Not Happy

Dor’s Dad objected to the union and predicted “the bum” (Bill) would divorce Dor as soon as he graduated from college.

Nevertheless, they were married by a Justice of the Peace, and Bill said that thing about, “With this ring I thee wed.”

And they agreed to share all their worldly goods,

which of course, were nil.

And even though Bill never wore his Big Ring, Dor wore her Little Ring forever;

well, for years and years and years anyway.

Half of $25 is $12.50 (the cost of Dor’s wedding ring).  What a DEAL huh?

I am very good at math.

But, one day when Dor was a grandparent and still married to the same “bum”, her finger began to ache.

Arthritis maybe?  Naw.

Why would arthritis hit only one finger?

And why just the ring finger?

Bill had graduated from college and was long retired from work so it wasn’t Dor’s father’s  curse coming back to haunt them.

Dor finally noticed her aching finger was miraculously FAT!

Before you condemn Dor as a weight gaining sloth, please remember the time lapse.

It is likely that a child bride’s finger might grow bigger over time.

FINGER WEIGHT PROBABLY FLUCTUATES.

But Dor’s ring  was cutting off circulation, was leaving a deeply imbedded ringlike scar, and the only way to get the ring off was with soap and water!

So Dor took Bill’s original Big $12.50 ring to a jeweler where it was then reduced in size to fit an aging, slightly overweight bride.

At least it was a half of the original pair right?

And that is the happy ending (or beginning) of the Tale of Two Rings.

The groom’s ring is the one that flew off Dor’s finger and wound up clear across the room!

DOES THAT MEAN DOR LOST WEIGHT?

Y  E  S  S  S  S  S  S!!!

Well, maybe a little.

And Dor now has two rings that make a whole marriage.

There is the BIG ring that fits a fat finger

And the LITTLE ring that fits a slim finger.

And this marriage was meant to last forever.

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Floating Imagination

A pink cloud in an otherwise ordinary sky

escapes the mundane white on blue,

floating, floating aimlessly by

 displaying its gossamer baby pink hue.

A feather drifting softly through space,

  a lingering apparition,

floating away to dissipate 

  and return to imagination.

 

 

 

 

 

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The Downside of a Country Season

It’s SPRING everyone!  It’s SPRING!

Even the birds are singing.

And look at all the pictures of a picture perfect world!

It’s SPRING!

But what about the itchy eyes,

the filled up nose, and

the constant urge to sleep?

It’s SPRING everyone!  It’s SPRING!

 

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