Olive You Grandma

Olive you too, Buttercup!

Birds in Flight

Our state lottery commercial that doesn't make a lot of sense.

But, it appeals to my inner bird.

Survival Mode

The other day I was feeling as if I was just in a survival mode. I wasn't in the mood to be thankful for our cozy home, beautiful yard, lovely children and grandchildren, numerous friends, and plenty.

Nope! I wasn't thinking about those things at all.

I sat myself down to read the comments on my blog. When I see someone new has dusted me, I follow his/her link, because I'm nosy.

That's how I happened to visit MoziEsmé (an American toddler growing up in Mozambique. Her mommy and daddy are volunteers with Maranatha Volunteers International.)

I smiled at the cute pictures and stories (yes, grandmothers are suckers for little dimples and curls.)

But I quit smiling when I got to her post entitled Zimbabwe Again.

I think I've heard little bits and pieces about Zimbabwe in the news. But I had not paid attention long enough to actually understand the truth about what is happening there.

Please take a moment to read her post. She quotes an E-mail from Paula, a 72 year old woman managing an orphanage there - by herself. When I read it, I understood the true meaning of the term "survival mode."

Once you've finished reading there, link to an Australian website that has more information about Paula.

Daily news headlines from the country can be viewed at a website entitled The Zimbabwe Situation.

Horrible things are happening in places like Zimbabwe.

And then there are brave people -like Paula (and MoziEsmé and her parents) - that step up to the challenges that are presented.

As for the rest of us? Prayer support is always appropriate and I'm sure very much desired. There is also a link at the AU website for those who are able to provide financial support.

Certainly there are many more opportunities for us to provide encouragement for the suffering at this time of year and at any time of year.

Thank you MoziEsmé - for reminding me how blessed my life is.

Ground, open up and eat me

Mariposa, author of Mariposa's Tales, is hosting Fun Monday today in celebration of her 3-year blogging anniversary.
Thanks lady, and CONGRATULATIONS!

The topic she chose is High Moments in Our Lives:
If you could share to us 3-5 high moments in your lives...this could be funny moments...the you can't believe you did it moments...the "I told you so" moments...or the times we asked the ground to go open and eat us moments! You need not write a book to explain them, the highlights will do.

I chose the humiliation event. If you dare.... Read on:

* * * * *

It was just an ordinary Saturday -- as ordinary Saturdays rolled those 15 years ago.

My youngest daughter, Mandy, invited a new classmate to join us at the region’s best shopping center. (60 miles away.)

We had an understanding at the mall. I kept track of them, but stayed my distance. (As any un-cool mother must do so as not to embarrass her 12 year old daughter.)

We had a fun shopping day and I had been the perfect host. ( She'd not once groaned “Oooohh mom” or rolled her eyes.)

It was an “Alls well that ends well” scenario as we headed for home.

That is, until I saw the brand new furniture store from the freeway. (Several signs advertised rock bottom sales.)

I had been browsing some stores closer to home looking for a new living room couch. I took the nearest exit with high hopes that I might find one that I liked - on sale.

After I parked the car, we headed into the brightly illuminated showroom. (The girls weren’t interested, but thought it would be less boring than waiting in the car. Boy howdy!)

A queasiness crept up on me as I looked at styles and compared prices. We were at the farthest end of the huge sales floor when the cramps hit me. (Like a hammer.)

“Oh No……….where’s the ladies room?” I whispered frantically, took one step towards the girls, and lost control.

Praise be! It was only gas! But, it was amazingly offensive. (Loud and long and disSTINKtly malodorous.)

“Oh mom, how could you, Oh! Oh! OH!” My daughter’s mortified expression made my stomach hurt more.

I’d done the unpardonable. (“Dear God, why didn’t you give me sons for a time like this?”)

My heart beat wildly and I could barely speak, “Girls, leave! Car, now!”

Each of my steps was accompanied by a syncopated release of methane. (The proverbial purple cloud formed as I hustled.)

When the situation reached the two girls noses they covered their faces and let their feet fly to the distance exit. (They waited but pretended they didn’t know me.)

I began to laugh. (Hysteria.) That door was miles away and I was going to melt into a puddle before I got anywhere near it.

Thank goodness some resolve formed and determination overruled. I scouted out the direct route and set my jets. (A surprisingly accurate description.)

The young male clerk at the opposite end of the store, however, had observed our odd behavior and was determined to offer his services.

My escape was in sight and I refused to make eye contact with anyone. (Eyes on the goal, you know) The toxic bloom increased with my speed.

Recognizing my intent, the clerk altered his zig zag route just in time to intercept me about 20 feet short of the door.

“Can…. I help you….. ladies …..find something,” he spoke with short breaths. (Induced by an open sprint and several long jumps over displays.)

I just wanted to get out of there. (I was aimed and fully loaded.) I had no patience nor any desire to share space with him and the asphyxiating cloud that would be arriving in short order.

Without slowing, I physically brushed him aside, mumbled some desperate apology about losing track of time, and vaulted for the exit. (That rude little push was nothing compared with the lethal assault coming for his nostrils.)

The automatic door couldn’t open fast enough, and I was in my car in a nano- second. (They didn’t have nano seconds back then, but I’d already borrowed into future years of embarrassment and I deserve that description.)

My shame was so complete and so deep that I don’t remember much else after that. Not the hour plus drive home. Not dropping the friend off at her home. Darn! I don’t even remember her name.

The poor flatulently abused child never graced our home with her presence again. (I doubt she forgot my name. Can’t you just picture her pointing me out to her parents at the next PTA meeting?)

It wasn’t very long after this incident (and my memory back in working order) that I found a suitable new couch in a different store. That leads me to the 2^nd most humiliating day in my life. But, you’re not going to hear about it today.

Please link here to read something more inspirational and encouraging from the other Fun participants. (And then pretend that you don’t know me, either.)

Here goes...

I quit my job.

It wasn't something I planned.

A voice said "I quit." When I turned around to see who had spoken, there was no one to claim the decision except me.

If your own words and actions are unrecognizable, then it is time for search and rescue. (Before it becomes just a recovery operation.)

Tomorrow will be my first day unemployed.

Yes, it is very poor timing.

No, I don't have a solid grasp on my compass.

Maybe, it will all work out for the best for everyone.

Here goes...

Rows

I have been tardy for every occasion the past few months. So it is with posting my first Thematic Photograph hosted by Carmi. He is one of my favorite Wordless Wednesday participants.

About last week's theme he said, " Basically, anything that lines up is fair game."

I blog in an agricultural valley, so it was easy to find photographs that I could use with "rows" that I had snapped over the past year.

It is my pleasure to present to you: Food for more than thought.

grapes

apples

wheat

Carmi at Written, Inc is an inspiring read. You really ought to click over to his blog and enjoy his creative vision.

Drivin' Truck - Dreams and Memories

I had a dream last week that I actually remembered the next day.

My Aunt Deloris made an appearance in it.

Deloris, who will be 88 this month, was married to my mother’s younger brother and is the last surviving member of that generation.

She still drives to the grocery store, to church, and to her volunteer shift at the local hospital gift shop. She also babysits her 2 year old great granddaughter every weekday morning.

She's a good cook and a great conversationalist. There is really nothing elderly about my aunt except her age.

In my dream, the hubby and I were on a trip to California. Our return trip included plans to pick up Deloris, who was visiting her son in the Bay Area.

We were shocked when her son asked us also to drive one of his companies huge semi-trucks back to our town.

I probably was tossing and turning at this point in the dream. I just didn’t know how we were going to drive both vehicles safely. I knew that the hubby would have to drive the truck. I can drive a manual transmission, but I’m sure I couldn’t handle a big rig like that.

I asked Aunt Deloris to ride in the truck with the hubby to keep him awake. I would drive the car alone - I’ve done that long road by myself several times.

When we approached the subject of putting a trailer hitch on the end of the semi truck to haul the car, the acid reflux must have started stewing.

I woke up and had to prop myself up. So, I don’t know if we got that semi-truck home or not.

The next day I called Aunt Deloris and shared. She laughed heartily, of course.

I told her that as neither of us could drive that truck, the dream left me feeling a bit helpless.

“Hold on there a minute,” Aunt Deloris huffed! “I can drive a semi.”

This was news to me and at first I thought she was jesting.

“No,” she answered. “When we lived in Cle Elum, Bill was driving long-haul and would get in very late at night. We didn’t have a car, so he taught me how to drive that semi.”

“Where did you drive it?” was my astonished response.

“Mostly just to church.”

She paused, then shared, “I’d get the kids up, dressed, and we’d all pile into the cab of that big truck and off we’d go. By the time we got home, he’d be awake and ready for lunch.”

Then she told me that Uncle Bill had insisted on teaching her to drive it with the trailers attached.

She was able to drive up the road and back to the house and park it.

I heard the sentiment in her tone when she added, “After the last lesson I turned to him and said 'There! Are you satisfied, now!'”

I had a great laugh with her.

Now I’m wondering if I should drum up that same dream tonight.

I can put Aunt Deloris behind the wheel of that big old truck and we can head on down the road. It would be the perfect time to write down some of her stories.

Here they were - 70 years ago this month.

In love until the day he died, and she loves on.

Seeing Red

Are you REDy for Wordless Wednesday? Get your fix HERE.

Poster Boy

The Caboose , the youngest grandson, wearing his cozy little sweater knit by Karisma and mailed all the way from Australia.

He's a happy one - in spite of what you see in the picture above - and reminds me so much of the his mom at that age.

Camouflaged Sidewalk

Someone else had the same idea today as did I. A walk in the park. I doubt she left her house with the thought that her distant image would show up on a stranger's camera, much less a blog. Whoever she be, I appreciate her accidental posing for me with such grace. A few weeks ago I would have sworn that we would be knee-deep in snow by now. But, here it is, November 2, and the fall weather has been most appealing. We trudge through carpets of leaves and sparkling showers of much needed rain. I lift my thanks for the sunshine that sneaks between the clouds and smiles through all the colors.
I do love autumn.