Mmmm stands for Mom

Mmmmm stands for Mom

 

When you walk in her house and smell the pot roast cooking, you say “Mmmm”

 

The feeling you got as a little girl and she hugged you for no reason, say “Mmmm”

 

When you carried in the sun baked sheets from the line and wrapped the warm fragrance around you, you close your eyes and say, “Mmmm”.

 

When you come in from the snow and stomp your wet feet, then sit at the kitchen table to enjoy hot chocolate, your tastebuds say, “Mmmm’

 

When you catch a whiff of a lady walking by and smell the lingering fragrance of Chantilly or Chanel #5, you think of mom and think, “Mmmm”.

 

When you sit on the porch with your favorite hot tea that mom once gave you, you put up your feet, relax, sniff the brew and say, “Mmmm”.

 

When you wake to that smell of fresh roast coffee, your memories bring back those wakings when young and mom made the first pot of coffee. Close your eyes and say, “Mmmm”.

 

When you hug that little child, fresh from it’s bath and see the sleepy eyes look at you while that little hand grasps a handful of your hair, feel the “Mmmm”.

Coffin for breakfast?

My son and I saw the most bizarre thing this AM. We were driving a back road to his school band competition and just as we were driving past an old cemetary, beside the road (about a dozen feet off the road) was a coffin. This is no joke! There were no cars, no trucks, no bulldozer - just a coffin sitting there all by its lonesome. Running barely on time, if not a little late, my son said he didn’t want to back up and go look at it again. (Darn). I didn’t stop until we had passed it maybe 100 yards - it took my mind that long to figure out something was very weird here. Why would an unattended coffin (with a body????) be sitting out with no person to attend. It creeped my son out so we didn’t go back to visit and later in the day, I’d completely forgotten about it. Now I’m burning with curiosity again, but it will have to wait until tomorrow before I go visit that spot again. Now if there ever was a cue to get your creative writing juices flowing - a sole coffin beside the road would definitely do the trick!

Moms and Hummingbirds

Since I earlier in the month mentioned a pregnant hummingbird, I’d like to report her status. After no sign of her for two days, I finally did see her back at the feeder, no suspicious lump in her belly. I guess she finally finished laying her eggs. Poor thing, she just looks ruffled and haggard. She’s not sleek and beautiful like the ruby throated males or the black/gray birds with brilliant white neck bands. She is just kind of blah with her tail feathers worn and maybe plucked to feather the nest. She’s flying better and faster though, now that she’s done growing and depositing her eggs somewhere near by.

Speaking of mothers -this is funny. We have what we like to term as an animal friendly yard. There is plenty for all and often seems we are at war to get the fruit, veggies, herbs or just flowers to prosper with nature taking a whack every time we turn around. Recently, my husband decided to start saving his coffee grounds to use around the garden. He had a plastic red Folgers can, sans lid, sitting on the patio table with a few grounds in it. One day, we noticed this little wren kept jumping in, spending a minute or two, then leaping out and taking off. We thought this was hilarious and that the wren must have an addiction to caffeine. For three or four days we watched this activity, then yesterday, my husband called me out to the yard. He asked me to look in the coffee can. So I did. Guess what? There are no more coffee grounds - just a cute little bird nest. Now, this is on our patio table, not two steps from the back door, which is constantly in use. What to do? Should we move the nest to a less conspicuous spot? Finally, we just decided to not touch the can and leave it there on the table. Hey - if Mama Wren wants to be part of our social circle, she’ll just have to put up with the in and out traffic. Hopefully, the next major wind storm won’t blow the can off the table and send it flying across the yard. No, there are no eggs yet. If they show up, I’ll take a picture and post it here. We don’t often have Wrens here, so I hope she makes a successful home here amongst the cardinals, mockingbirds, finches, wild canaries, sparrows, dove and other such critters.

Momma lizard seems to have done well this year - there are dozens of cute little green lizards living out front by the pond. Momma is docile and often suns herself on the Sego Palm  - except when the boys start their posturing and red throat displays. Then she vanishes while they chase around and try to find her.

Momma bunny is giving me fits. Bad momma! After she had her babies, about 4 of which lived and have scampered off now to live in the woods, she keeps coming back. She sits at the edge of the fence and torments the dogs, she can be found there day and night. Now that is OK - we’ve got the big garden fenced and rabbit/deer proofed and the barrel gardens are inside the fence with the dogs. But momma and her relatives are eating my flowers. This week, the cannas, which were slow to come up, get eaten down every couple of days. Now, I did have a wire barricade around them, but my husband saw fit to remove it and said it wasn’t necessary. Wrong. Now my barricade is back up and the cannas are almost 6 inches tall. They have a LONG way to go.

Momma squirrel is getting to be a pest too; mostly because she started to dig for acorns - and now the dogs can’t stop digging there. Then, when the squirrel gave up on the back yard, she came around front and is digging up my pansies. What could she want with pansies? She sits on the corner of my roof just above the koi pond, still as a gargoyle. I think she believes I don’t see her. When I turn to go into the house, she jumps down in the gardens and starts to dig. I’ll have to get a shot of her gargoyle pose, it’s cute - her damage is not.

Dear Mom

Dear mom,

 

I felt I had to write you a letter today, it’s been so long since we talked. There are so many things I have wanted to tell you, and just haven’t been able to say them to you.

 

I’ve tried so hard to live up to your expectations and be the person I think you would like me to become. Your examples over the years – patience, wisdom, understanding, frugalness, caring for others, working hard and playing hard as well – have provided me a foundation for living my life.

 

I know I more than once exclaimed in that dramatic way of teen daughters that I would never be like my mom. What was I thinking? I don’t have to do the same things or even like the same things to be a good person like you were.

 

I promised you I would take care of things when you were gone, especially helping dad. And now, now I think I’m failing you and I feel so bad. When you left us, not only did I lose my mother, but I lost my best friend. Your friend Betty called me today, she wants to know why I am letting my oldest brother take over dad’s care and spending all dad’s money and forcing the nursing staff to allow no visitors. Dad’s in a prison in his own mind, mom, and part of it is my fault since I finally turned care of him over to the boys.

 

Yes, I know you woke me up when you visited me in a dream. I wanted to talk to you longer and you wouldn’t stay – you told me to wake up because my house was on fire. I wish you could have stayed and spoke longer, there is so much I want to share.

 

The flowers you sent to Todd – yes, mom, everyone knew they came from you. I’m curious how you did that – how did you put snap dragons in that empty pot on his patio?

 

And dad knows you were there in the hospital with him when he had his heart attack – he’s not the only one who saw you. You kind of scared a few people because they think your visits are creepy. But I believed the nurse when she described you to me, and I believe dad when he says you were there.

 

I didn’t cry at your funeral mom, just like you asked. I was strong for dad and the boys and all your friends. I know I promised you a lot of things and I told you not to fight so hard anymore – that it was OK for you to stop feeling the pain and leave us. But mom, I just can’t take it anymore. I have to cry. I just can’t do all the things you wanted me to do. All I can do now, is be the me you raised me up to be.

 

Love to you and all the other angels in heaven, Your daughter

Cough it up

Coughing has become a major portion of my time spent this past month, so I’m reminded of a funny story that happened to my friend, Dina the werecat.

One of Dina’s jobs is to deliver and sometimes help plant items from her friend’s nursery in Central Texas. On this particular day, she was helping an elderly lady plant some spring flowers, and typical to the area, even though it was February, the temperature had soared over 90 degrees that day. Although not often affected by allergies or cold symptoms, Dina had a tickle in her throat when she left the nursery and was often clearing her throat to try and lubricate it or loosen it up so the tickle would go away.

Toiling away at the direction of the customer, a very nice woman, Dina began to heat up as did the customer, both over dressed and unaccustomed to the unseasonal heat. Before coming to work earlier that day, pre-dawn in fact, Dina had shifted to one of her larger cat forms and hunted for rabbit, dined nicely on the plump spring bunny, then spent a lazy morning grooming herself.  Now, she was hot, tired and thirsty. Sitting back on her haunches to wipe her sweaty brow with a sleeve, Dina reaches for the water hose to take a drink to soothe her parched throat, which was causing her to cough even more.  “Oh, honey,” says Mrs. Youngst, “don’t drink that water”. I’ve got a nice jar of sun tea that I set out this morning and it won’t take me a moment to get two glasses”.

Thinking the tea would go nicely towards soothing her tickley throat, Dina agrees and rinses her hands off before moving to a chair set in the shade of a nearby Burr Oak. When Mrs. Youngst comes back with two large sweating glasses of iced tea, they sit and visit for a few minutes about, what else? - the weather. Instead of soothing her throat, however, the tickle seems to get worse after a few sips of the cool brew and shortly Dina finds herself coughing and gagging. Concerned, Mrs. Youngst is hovering over her like a nervouse butterfly while Dina is waving her help away.

Suddenly, giving one last choke, something comes out and goes ’splat’, right in her hand. Flushed with embarrassment, Dina quickly takes a napkin and hides away what is in her hand. “My dear, are you all right?”, the kind lady softly asks as she pats Dina’s shoulder gently. Dina, though mortified with what she holds in the napkin, assures the dear soul she is now fine and takes a long swallow of the now soothing tea. What she held in her hand, and quickly stuffs away in her work bag - is a hairball. She’d never coughed one up in human form before, only in cat form, so she hadn’t been aware of what the signals were telling her. Had the old lady seen the hairball, there’s just no telling what she would have thought, but for Dina, this was one of the most embarrassing moments she’d ever had in human form.

I’m thankful for

More than once today someone passed on a comment about writing about things we are thankful for. It was mentioned in one place that we should write something every day (for a week, a month - any period) that we are thankful for. So today I am going to write a short little piece on what I am thankful for today.

I am thankful for my imagination and the ability to see the humor in life, even when it can be sad or stressful. Let’s take today for an example. I had to go to the hospital today to get some tests done (xray) after a visit to my doctor proved that I’m not getting over my pnuemonia after nearly a month. Since my doctor wrote on the hospital orders that the tests were indicated for pnuemonia related issues, the lady at the registration desk insisted that while I was in the hospital that I wear a face mask so that I wouldn’t infect anyone - if I was infectious. So, in the various waiting rooms, strolling the halls - every where, with an occassional cough, cough, hack, hack, wheeze wheeze - I am seen wearing this mask. The looks I got from so many people! Sitting in the waiting room, someone would get up and move to the other side. When I coughed, people who may have been walking in a straight line suddenly veer to the other side of the hall. What do they think I have? Am I suddenly a typhoid Mary? Inside my imagination, and behind the mask, I smiled. Then I frowned. It’s funny to watch people’s reactions, but also sad that people have to be so fearful of a little cough or something that appears on the outside to be just a little different and mysterious. I know the 3 ladies in xray were asking, after I left the room, “I wonder what terrible thing she has - do you think we should be worried?”. And the intense young man with a tissue in his wringing hands - was he going to get up and go wash his hands - yet again?

Yes, I’m thankful for my imagination and the immediate jump I make to see the humor in life as it hits me; and I’m also thankful that I can also see that some things aren’t funny - they are just sad because of how some people have so much fear and sadness in their lives. I don’t really want to make that fear or sadness worse, so I really shouldn’t have smiled (my first reaction) behind my mask at how uncomfortable people were to be around me just because I had a mask on my face - for their protection!

Thoughts on Journaling

Journaling or keeping a diary can serve many purposes in our lives. From the first flush of young love, crushes and secrets we start the diary. Perhaps we need an outlet for our damped down imaginations to soar. As we grow older, it can be our best friend, an outlet for pain, a desire to create something beautiful, a way to articulate something beautiful that we have seen or experienced. Maybe we need to crow our accomplishments, to help build esteem. Or maybe our feelings are so dark, so deep, that no one else but our inner selves would understand.

When we were discussing journaling in one of the writing groups I belong to, I found that like myself, many people journal more when their souls are in torment over something. When life is going well, not much if any is written; yet when life is showing it’s most profound side, or hateful even, then the journal is like a life line, thrown out there to keep us sane. Also, it is a healing tool. A great person today mentioned to me that a person should not hold in their grief, but to write through it. Yes, very good advice. Even if you don’t need to share your grief with another, writing is a way of letting it out so that the healing can at least begin. Later, maybe even decades later, you can revisit your writing and see yourself as you were and know that you grew through the experience. And perhaps then, when the wounds aren’t so fresh, you can use the material to help others heal. We are not alone and the power of the pen sometimes provides us with a bridge to the other side, the one not so dark or painful to live in. Yet we can cross back across that bridge when we want and evoke memories, or even, as many have done, destroy the bridge because we do not need it’s crossings any longer.

Not all journaling is dire dark and dreary, or even a healing tool. At times, we want to record little incidents or tidbits just so we won’t forget how moved we were by the sky, how funny that outing was or how wonderful a person we met seemed to be. Perhaps we want to remember a certain phrase someone said because it was so profound.

Old friends, good friends, my own space

The computer was down for a couple of days, actually, it was my wireless modem, but now I’m back and running. Today I had a client come by to have her taxes done, but she’s also a soul mate type of friend. While we were working, and after, we visited for a while and it was wonderful. She lives about 250 miles away, so we don’t get to visit often. Many of my clients have become friends and I always enjoy visits from them, even if it is to work because then we have the chance to catch up on each others’ lives.

One of the things my friend brought up was that this year, she bought a small camper on a lot on a lake. She’s married and both her husband and herself travel a lot for work. But since she has bought the place, her husband has not been there - it is deemed ‘her place’. So now, when she wants just to go veg out or contemplate her navel, she has a place to do it. I think it’s wonderful that her husband lets her have her ’space’. It’s not a matter of the money, it wasn’t an expensive place - very small and bare essentials (water and a roof). And an awesome bed from what I heard. I think every person needs their own space - it doesn’t have to be a remote cabin in the woods, as mine would be if I had it - it just needs to be their own space. Some people thrive on the malls and the people and maybe just one bench where they can sit and anonymously watch the people go by is enough to give someone a mental breather. I’m more of the ‘get lost in the woods’ kind of person and don’t really have my own space, yet. I make do by finding space when I can, but not often. Even my writing is often watched or interrupted, such as now when I am typing this, my husband keeps wandering in and looking over my shoulder, and makes comments like “that doesn’t look like work to me”.  (I already fixed their dinner, so they must be lonely)

Tomorrow, I will find personal space in my work. I get to go take some measurements at a ranch for a gun range. I’ll probably take the two teen boys with me for help, but won’t mind at all if they don’t come or if they do, that they maybe wander off to the lake to fish or just throw rocks or get muddy.

So if you are reading this - give this a thought. What is your own personal private space? Do you have one or do you maybe feel you don’t even need one?

Hump Day

Today has been a frustrating day with the computer simply because my DSL isn’t working properly. It may have something to do with the high winds we have had today, or just the simple matter that I saw the phone truck outside yesterday and they have done something to my line. I had to use an old computer with an old dial up system to get on line and it is SOOOOO slow and driving me crazy. 

I got a wonderful call this evening from a family friend, what many call our Jeddah (Saudi Arabia) family. They are going to start visiting my dad in his nursing home now that they know where he is. My brother doesn’t give out information and he is in charge of my dad’s care now. But I knew the name of the nursing home and the city, sent out an email to a couple of my dad’s pals from the 60’s & 70’s - and ta-da! The old grapevine had people calling me the same day. Our adopted family from the middle east is very large - we were part of the first 500 families allowed to live there while our fathers worked there. We became very close and still to this day they have annual reunions. Anyway, it was sad, but sweet to hear the latest news and I felt bad to have to tell people what has become of my father with his increasing dementia.  It’s a little painful to write about and some of my thoughts and actions I wouldn’t want to put out there for the general public (or family) to read. Is that sad, or what? Right now, dad is in an OK nursing home with good inspection results; they have an Alheimer unit and from what I hear, he does OK in the day time and they keep him active. But every night he packs his bags and thinks he will leave the next day. I am not sure if he is ever going home again. Since his home is up for sale, he doesn’t really have anywhere to go. Don’t get me wrong, he is welcome to live with me, but when he was in full charge of his mental facilities, he never wanted to move to Texas, and now it is probably too late. My brother does have full power of attorney, and for better or worse, he will see to my dad’s care unless something comes up and I have to step in and take him to court to get the power transferred back to me. As long as dad is getting good care, I don’t care where he lives or who has control of the money.  Anyway, it’s nice to know we still have friends (family like) that care so deeply for us and keep us in their prayers.

Hummingbirds & gardens

I took time to enjoy my hummingbirds today. There is a real cute little girl bird that has been lucky enough to fend off the boy who guards all the feeders and keep others away. Twice this week she has shown up on different days with a definitely ‘heavy load’. I haven’t tracked her to the nest, but I’m sure by tonite there are at least two eggs in it. I have four feeders in the front of the house and one in the back. The ones in the front are the domain of a very large male and he swoops in to chase the others off if the encroach on his territory. Last week, my son had the misfortune to walk through the war zone (our front sidewalk) and get smacked upside the head by one of the hummers. In addition to the feeders, there are a lot of flowers out that the hummingbirds enjoy (and the deer). So far, the geraniums seem to be non-edible to the deer and the rose vine. No such luck for the mums, zinnias or marigolds. What the deer don’t devour, the slugs have suddenly decided to attack. Mostly, they are eating the petunias. They will all gang up on one overnight, the next day the entire plant is gone. We didn’t have this problem last year. Every year it is different. (except for the deer).

Tomorrow I will try once again to find tomatillos and cilantro for my herb and vegetable garden, no such luck yet unless I want to try by seed (which I don’t). My mulberries are in full fruit and I’m having to fight the birds for the fruit. This year, I should get at least two quarts from one tree (at the rate I’m eating them, that may be optimistic. I’m not sure about the newest tree, it leaved out very well but I didn’t see much flowering. My blackberries are doing fabulous this year, but I’ll have a fight with the local wildlife in getting them in. Maybe it needs a year. I love the gardens and all the herbs, fruits, veggies that I harvest; but I’m sure by the end of the year I’ll be sick of them.