Awkward!

Years ago, during the time that both my husband and I were working full time, we kept our community oriented  activities linked with our children's activities.  Whenever we participated in a bake sale or white elephant money raising activity it was usually tied to the soccer team or brownie scouts or some school event or for early years the church.  We operated within a small circle of parents and therefore knew almost everyone at the event.

Now we are no longer working full time and are able to devote more time to slowly becoming involved in this new (to us) small community through various volunteer activities and events.  We are slowly beginning to feel that we are no longer the newcomers.

Yesterday we spent seven hours on our feet promoting a children's community garden by getting children to plant a lettuce or broccoli plant in our demo garden as they attended a Green Earth Day exposition.  If this garden is not destroyed by a freak storm, eaten to the ground by Bambi, or some other unpredictable event, we hope to be able to harvest food throughout the season for a nearby food pantry.  Summer camp students will also be linked to the garden during their week at the art garden and learn and help.  As you can see above, the spring break school children have already decorated the stunning white oak that we obtained to make the boxes.

Many of the children were eager to plant their vegetable which we allowed them to mark with a 'name tag.'   They were encouraged to come by and visit their plant throughout the month.  Some of these families are military families and not able to garden as they would like, so we are hoping we gave them some ideas and allowed their children some fun.

Over 90 children helped us plant these vegetable beds.  At the end of the day, after we had planted the few plants that were left, loaded the remaining flats of lettuce into the car and checked to make sure all our hand tools were loaded, a well dressed handsome 60-year-old with a mustache stopped by the beds.   He greeted us by our name and praised our garden work.  Hubby greeted him back and the talk flowed back and forth for some time on gardening and the seasons and eventually descriptions of the pros and cons in each of our yards.

When he left I turned to Hubby and asked:  "Who was that?"

Hubby responded,  "I don't know!"

"Well, he knows us!"  I said, "I thought he might be that guy at the scientists club that had asked you to speak."

Hubby replied, "Yeah, so did I, but when he said he lived down by the point, I knew it wasn't that fellow because that guy lives near the cliffs."

I must admit that I am much more used to people NOT knowing who I am.  I hope that this is not going to happen habitually, yet something very similar happened at a talk we went to just a few nights ago.  The couple who sat behind us and recognized us had to introduce themselves in context (two months ago an evening dinner at a mutual friend's house) and then the light bulb went on over my head.  I hate being that type of person...old and doddery!  I have become the cliche which I cringed at seeing in others.

Whip Lash

As a liberal (whose heart does not bleed for everything) I was extremely disappointed that, with surveys supporting a move to more data and regulation on gun sales and ownership, since anyone can get a gun in this country, the Senate (Democrats and Republicans) were cowards and did not pass this very minimal bill.  Former Congresswoman, Gabby Giffords, whose writing is more eloquent than her speech-making these days due to a violent gun act gave us an inside look at what she knew had happened here. 

Yes, I agree this is one small plug  in the dike holding back the flood of violence in this country and we also need to move strongly on better mental health care, better mental health identification and reducing our addiction to violence in our culture and entertainment.  And no one is going to take away the guns of an honest citizen anymore than they take away the cars of drivers that don't drink and drive.

But we have to start somewhere in turning our country around and this bi-partisan bill seemed to have a chance.

What happened?  Go here and you will understand.

Just how much do you love YOUR country?

People Watching

I have spent much of my life people watching, wondering what they were thinking, what they were planning to do, where they were headed, why on earth they dressed like that?  People watching, because as someone who loves stories I get intrigued by the people who ARE the stories.  I make up stories about them, or they perform actions that tell me a story.  The photo below is blurred because I may have been a little self-conscious taking it as I walked by.

Stereotypical, perhaps.  Someone from your neighborhood?  Lets us pause and get a closer more focused look.

This is my belated April Fool's post.  Do you get it?  If you look closely, you must.

Evacuation

On the island of Yeonpyeong, Myong Ok gathered together the last of her mini vegetable dolls...the radish head girl with the purple turban and put it into her already full school backpack.  Her mother was hurrying her out the front door, handing her a scarf and loading a suitcase into the small car that would take them to the boat and to her grandmother's house in Incheon. The mornings were still cold and Myong Ok pulled her coat close to her neck.  When she asked her mother when they would be coming back home, her mother looked for an answer in her shoes and then shook her head to indicate she did not know.  The little girl had left her home like this years ago when North Korea made threats, but she had been younger at that time and did not remember it well.  Her scarf was whipped by the early cold spring wind across her face and she stumbled on a crack in the road as she reached for the door to the car.

Today was Elizabeth's eighteenth birthday.  Her stepfather was stringing balloons across the front porch for her party that afternoon when he shouted something that made Elizabeth turn.  She ran to the door and her eyes followed his to black shiny river that was coming down the street toward their yard.  She could smell something like old rubber tires and it burned the back of her throat.  While she watched the black river cover her sidewalk she heard her father calling 911 and trying to describe the scene of rushing oil.  By mid-afternoon they were packing their suitcases as were all of their neighbors, calling relatives and friends to cancel the party and moving to a Holiday Inn near the Mayflower Quik Mart.  Dinner was sandwiches and soda from the Quick Mart and dessert was her birthday cake which they had packed for the trip.  It was shared by relatives and friends that had come to commiserate.  Elizabeth asked when they would be heading back home and her father shrugged his shoulders in dismay.

Walking slowly and carefully with his cane, Babur padlocks the front door and then the metal gate and slowly drops the keys along with the key to the paddock for his three cows into a neighbor's hand.  He is leaving his mountain home at this early hour before the sunrise to escape frightening airstrikes from U.S. drones which they called benghai or "buzzing flies" targeting militants near his home in the remote mountains of Afghanistan.  Babur turned to the American journalist who was asking him questions and said that you cannot see them but the buzzing sound goes on and on and then the bombing sounds begin.  When the journalist asked when he would return home again, he sighed and shook his head.

Strong winds were whipping hair all around Alicia's head as she threw another garbage bag of clothes into the back of the pick-up truck.  She held a cell phone tight to one ear trying to keep her voice as calm as possible while she described to her husband the awfulness of the fire that had eaten the McDonald's house at the end of the street.  There were sirens screaming in the background competing with the noise of the helicopter overhead and men in fire gear yelling at her and her neighbors to get going.  Fire engines blocked half of the end of the street.  Smoke filled the air making her cough at the end of each sentence.  She turned and her son held up his baseball mitt and ball for her.  She had screamed at him twice to get into the cab of the truck, and this time she swooped him into one hand as she struggled with her phone in the other.  She asked her husband how long it would take to recover their losses if the fire got as far as their house, but there was no answer because her phone went dead.

(All of these are fictionalized accounts of actual news I read this week.)

Bone Weary

I am so bone tired.  I completed all the tasks resulting from my recent trip only to fall (spring?) into the tons of yard work.  It is my own fault that I have three landscape beds, three flower beds, one herb bed and the azalea bed out by the gate, all needing weeding and mulching.  It is my own fault that I have headed up the volunteer group to manage the native flower beds and rain garden at the museum resulting in two hours of work every Tuesday and hours of work in the evening managing email lists and coordinating project ideas! 

It is my own fault that I married a man who takes on more projects then letters in the alphabet and I have to back him up building and planting raised vegetable beds at the artists garden in town where they are going to grow food for the food pantries in the county.  We are in the county with the 15th or 16th or 27th(?) highest median income in the United States, and yet, 25% of our kids are on the school supplemental food program.  These are children of the working poor...not the homeless.  Most food pantries do not get as much fresh produce as they should.  Some cannot store it because they have no refrigeration.  Most of these pantries are run by the churches in the county.

I have a bridal shower coming up the next month which I must attend as it is for my son's future wife, and I have not even purchased a gift!  I have to think about a dress for the wedding in early July, only three months away.  I am told I should have been shopping already.  I pulled a lovely very simple navy blue floor length cocktail dress from my closet.  It has been worn only once, and I don't remember where.  I am thinking, if I can squeeze into it....do I dare wear that?  Shopping centers are over an hour from me.

Mother of the Groom???

I have a deck that needs soapy hand washing and rattan patio furniture that needs washing AND painting.  I finally broke down and admitted that I cannot wash my windows this year.  I am calling someone in.  I have no time!

But for now a shower and a good book are all I can envision after this post.  Can you believe that tomorrow it is supposed to be in the high 80's.  Pardon my French but what the h**l happened to spring?  We only get four days of spring this year??  Yes, this post is more for me than you.  It is a personal journal post, something I can look back on in years to come and wonder why I was complaining so much.

All You Need is Time (and Money)

Having access to the Internet can be a very expensive luxury.  Fortunately, in America, we still have public libraries that allow free access on their banks of computers.  But in most libraries, this free access is limited to 30 minutes.  Most people in our libraries that sit before computers are working hard at job hunting, finishing research for a school paper, checking their email or reading the sports sections of newspapers.  These activities are all well and good, but I have found there is so much more.  Because I am retired and have 'unlimited' access to the Internet, I can pause and write that I am in awe of all that is available in greater depth to those with both energy and time.

On Monday I can start a free Yale course on Environmental Politics and Law, or Game Theory, or France Since 1871 and feed my attention deficit disorder.
On Tuesday I can listen to Anne Sexton read her poem "Wanting to Die" and try to understand the mental anguish of depression which she makes sound like cocaine addiction.
On Wednesday I link to Twitter and try to find time to follow the Paris Review which might come in handy at my next cocktail party...if I ever went to cocktail parties!
On Thursday I can review the New York Times section Dealbook and follow all the resulting links and get more terrified at the lack of control I have over my financial future.
On Friday I can have some fun and check out award winning photographs here and here and get both inspired and depressed.
On Saturday I can spend time emailing friends, making fun of them on Facebook or blogging away with you all.

And I haven't even mentioned the Ted Talks, the free Master Writing Class, the Cornell bird watch cameras and all the online tours of the worlds museums that await me!  It is like sitting down at one of those groaning tables of food in a Harry Potter movie, but it can easily become an addiction.

By Sunday, if my head has not exploded, I must re-enter the tactile world and take a walk or weed the garden or head outside and listen to church bells and bird songs.


This is a world that my parents could never have imagined when they purchased their first TV.  It does make me pause and wonder how much more open and "interactive" the world will be for my grandchildren.

I have Issues

• Most Fruit
• Coconut
• Nuts
• Avocados
• Fresh Tomatoes
• Cucumbers
• Corn (on the cob only)
• Olives

When I am planning meals for my family, the above are just a few of the items that I try to leave out of meals unless I put them in their own bowls for others to add as they wish.  All of the above items are foods that my children's spouse and future spouse will not eat.  (I am not even going to list the foods that one cannot feed to grandchildren as this would make this post way too long.)  As I will eat anything that does not move...actually I HAVE eaten things that move, but that was a bet I took after too much saki , perhaps to be included in a future post.  I am not as sympathetic to picky eaters as I might be.  I am weary with those.  Food is the gift of gods and all should be eaten with gusto and relish.  People are starving in this world, and therefore, I have little patience with picky eaters.  Yes, I know there are things you do not like to eat,  just don't tell me and eat around my food after I prepare and serve my gourmet meal.  I will avoid talking religion and politics...and you can pretend you like my food!!  Of course, it goes without mentioning that food allergies are exempt from this post.

It is a puzzle.

Today is a beautiful sunny morning that will climb in warmth to the low 50's.  Daffodils are glowing yellow and speedwell has scattered purple blossoms across the spring dark green of its leaves.

Yesterday I finished ALL the laundry, sorted a weeks worth of mail with bills, watered my in-house plants, filled bird feeders, handled a travel problem for my husband, compiled a list of future errands, and should be sitting and smiling today with a review of my accomplishments.

Yet I am feeling as if life is a scattered carpet of puzzle pieces this morning.  I cannot start to put them together because I know that some of the key pieces are missing.  I feel overwhelmed a bit and discouraged a bit and just plain unmotivated today.  How incongruous with the spring sunshine!  It is a puzzle.

Before 5:00

This whole vacation I have slept later than I normally do...sometimes I am under cover until 8:00 AM which is late for me.  Perhaps it is the endless trips to the activities, back to the apartment and then on to the pool.  Perhaps it is the running after a recently turned -two-year-old that has discovered real speed on tennis shoes.  Perhaps it is the emotional ups and downs of seven people confined combined in a two-bedroom apartment.  I just know that when evening came I was more than ready to open my arms to Morpheus.

So, this morning of our departure I awaken before 5:00AM!  I know that it is my anal personality that wants to make sure everything is found, sorted and packed before the long drive back to reality.  But silly me cannot do anything noisy as everyone else is still fast asleep.

I cut a small piece of the remaining birthday cake covered in icky blue trimmed frosting and sit with my Kindle and finish "Schroeder, A Novel" which is certainly a haunting bit of work appropriate with overly sweet birthday cake.  I look around the strangely bare apartment where every board game, laptop, Thomas the Train track and wet towel has been tucked away for another year.   The only sound is that of the climate control unit...which seems to have switched between heat and air-conditioning as the weather has been all over the place.

I wait, somewhat impatiently, for the peach red sunrise to burn over the Atlantic Ocean but only see black inky darkness outside the window broken by soft landscape lighting around the paths to and from the pools. Only one other apartment light on the high rise of the far building is lit in sync with mine.  Perhaps someone else is wandering about looking for the day to start.

I must wait to make coffee so that it will be fresh for my daughter when she rises.  I had brought some of the Mexican coffee with my ground cinnamon and she has become an addict looking forward to it each morning.  We have just enough for one final pot.

I will miss this lovely stressful high energy family as we all go our different ways following spring north.  This has been a week of firsts:  the 2-year-old saying a complete sentence, the 5-year-old actually giving in for a change, and the 7-year-old completing two of the longest bicycle rides in his lifetime. It is not without some sadness that I face realistically my future of less energy and ability to keep up as they grow.  But I am realistic in knowing they will not want me at their side during that future time as well. 

Well, I have a busy spring of volunteer gardening to distract me...if it ever stops snowing up that way.

Brrrrrr! Half Full of Cold Air

Here we are at Hilton Head where the weather is supposed to be in the low 70's F traditionally, but this spring it only breaks 60 F by mid-day with the late winter front!  My neighbors just a short drive to the north got snow...so I am not complaining, even though we have to wear coats and hoodies to the pool! 

The Hilton Head experience has different enticements for some and different disenchantments for others.  It has the reputation of being a place for the upper income folks and in some places is a little hoity-toity.  Many easy golf courses and some championship courses are here.  Tiger Woods will be here in a few weeks.  The places to stay are mostly costly, but we try to come here at least once every couple of years as it is so close to home and so low key.

The beach is hard packed, huge, with lots of room for running and exercise or getting away from everyone.  No sugar sand beneath your feet, and the water is cloudy, but the beach is wide and long and the surf is safe.

The area is close to Savannah, a charming city which has great southern charm and low country cooking.  We are not driving there this time but staying on this island where there is a large and growing assortment of restaurants, both good and bad.  For instance, a bad example, we stopped to try the food at the  "Roast Fish and Cornbread" and they were "out" of about seven items including the cornbread!  This was the middle of a Tuesday...what is up with that?  The fried or grilled seafood was nothing to write home about.  The Santa Fe Mexican restaurant, on the other hand, has wonderful soups and never disappoints with everything else on the menu and is a 'good' example.  Bluffton town nearby is much more small-town and representative of the old south.  A famous TV chef, Robert Irvine, has two restaurants here and is coming down in a week or two.

The grandkids have been the driving force determining activities with egg hunts, fire pit evenings, swimming in the heated pools and bikes riding to lunch off the grounds.  Hilton Head is strict about enviromental controls and the area is full of palmetto and marshlands which I find lovely, though others do not like such rustic enviroment. 

Very close is Pinkney Island with is water birds and alligators and hidden lakes and long paths for biking or walking.  Photos to follow and bore you soon!

Please pat me on the back for writing this post while simultaneously playing pizza restaurant using play dough with my 5-year-old granddaughter !!  Her restaurant is called "Carrie Bijohn"...who would have guessed?  It is one of the 'good' places to eat down here.