This Brady Bunch Business Ain't For Sissies

So, the PC term for my situation is "blended family." Doesn't that sound easy as can be? Just put in all the ingredients and fold them together gently and like magic it is blended into a masterpiece of perfection.
Would that it were that easy! I've been mixing that cake for 17 years and don't have it mixed right yet.
Just when you think you have achieved something regarding normalcy - something jumps up and takes a chunk out of your posterior.
Into my "blended family" I brought 2 children - one of each kind. My husband (or the hubalump as I am often found guilty of calling him) contributed four - 2 of each kind.
Roger has been wonderful to my kids, I've probably not been as good to his but I HAVE tried. Maybe the difference is grounded in the fact that my kids really wanted and needed a dad. His kids didn't need a mom and they sure didn't want me trying to fill that role. It was my mistake to ever even try to do so. I should have been happy just being his wife, but being the overachiever I am I thought I could be all things to all people.
Between us we have a collected set of grandchildren that will number 13 this year. Into that number I've again contributed two biologically and 2 that I have claimed from my son's girlfriend.
None of our grandkids are even aware of a time when we weren't all family, but damn if the grownups in the bunch aren't determined to bring it to their attention. To me this is a sure sign of an immaturity level I can't comprehend. At some point, each of these kids starts to question the family dynamic. Why is our Nana daddy's mom but our Meemaw who is Pawpaws wife is isn't our daddy's mom? Get out the guidebook, this is a road fraught with dangerous pitfalls and stumbling blocks. One of the things that just sets my teeth on edge is for grownups to try to push onto children their own view (skewed thought it may be) of some other family member. Seriously, are we that bent on having someone on our "side" that we want to influence kids to not trust the people who are supposed to and in fact DO love them?
The battle I've fought for years, which I have resolved to not fight anymore is the refusal of my Earth Children to not invite my Birth Children to their parties, etc. Oh, I am always expected - they can't ignore me I'm married to their dad, but they sure have no problem excluding my kids.
When they discuss their family - they have 3 siblings not 5 and excuse me but this hurts my feelings.
Some of them are better at inclusion than others and I appreciate their efforts immeasurably but when they think of family they just think so far. They may include my daughter but NEVER my son. And may I insert here that there are times I certainly understand that to a degree. But....perhaps he wouldn't operate so far on the fringes of our family if he weren't continually pushed there by his sisters and brothers.
Perhaps some thought should be directed toward the fact that my children only have THIS family to claim. Other than families brought into their lives through their relationships with partners - this is it. They don't have a group on their dad's side that is tangible - there are people there - good people but they are just too removed from my kids for it to be a supportive thing. My children's grandparents are dead, my brothers except one have passed. And my living brother lives too far away for them to see him more than occasionally. I have a sister that even I don't know very well and 1 aunt and 1 uncle and a handful of cousins - all removed by geography. Roger's entire family is here along with all of the inlaws and outlaws that go along with a family.
My children are grownups too and certainly can take their lumps, however, what about their kids? How much hurt do we want to inflict on small children by having them know they were excluded? And don't kid yourselves, we aren't fooling kids one little bit.
I have run all over town and stayed busier than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs attending plays, concerts, games, events for all of my grandkids. I can't be at everything but I try to be at as much as I can. I've helped pay for babies to be born, helped to pay for weddings, paid for utilities that were in danger of being cut off, loaned vehicles, money and listening ears. I think I deserve some consideration and so do my children because while I was doing for others I certainly wasn't doing for them. They've shared their mother's time, resources and talents shouldn't they be able to expect that they get just a little piece of the "family" pie?
I've drawn a line in the sand more times than I care to think about and I've always swallowed my hurt and gone back...but no more. New Year, new beginnings. From now on if there is a function which Dad and I are expected to attend, I will be checking to see if my children were invited. If they aren't, I am not going either. These kids (and I call them that because some of them are acting worse than little children) have plenty of opportunities to get together just the 4 of them with their mom, therefore there is no excuse for excluding anyone when it is a "blended" event.
I will continue to love ALL my grandchildren and try to do the best for them that I can but I am no longer putting the stamp of approval on adult bad behavior.
I've spoken my piece and counted to three......see that line in the sand.....I ain't stepping over but you're sure welcome to.

Baking Memories

Today 3 of my granddaughters spent the day with me and we spent it in the kitchen. I gathered a bunch of relatively simple and quick recipes and we made Christmas snacks. Kaitlyn is 15 and therefore loads of help both in the kitchen and with the litte girls. Genevieve is 8 and Audrey is 6 and throwing me into the mix we had a lotta "girl power" at work around the stove today. PawPaw did his part by being our "runner." Many trips to the store, taking the dog to the groomer, Audrey to her Children's Mass practice, he made it possible for me to stay on task. **insert whip cracking here**
It is nice when kids get to the age when they can actually "do" the things to help that they always wanted to do but have been to young to do.
We learned to read a recipe, figure out our measurements, butter a pan and how to add ingredients slowly and stir, stir, stir.
Starting our morning off with fudge we whipped out 2 nice batches and then moved on to cookies. Kaitlyn and I cut the slices of dough (yes, yes, I did Slice 'n Bake - not ashamed) and the LEGs put the slices on cookie sheets and even placed their loaded sheets in the oven. Then they planted in the floor in front of the oven to monitor their progress. We made about 6 dozen cookies 1/2 chocolate chip and the other 1/2 sugar.
We also turned out some easy peasy rice krispie treats and homemade Chex party mix. Then while I was experimenting with homemade dog treats the girls decorated their sugar cookies. I have to say those are some imaginative girls there. Genevieve did one that had little buttons of color all around the perimeter. When I asked her what it was, she replied "it is a fire hydrant." And it did look just like the top of a hydrant - she then proceeded to write DOG on her cookie.
We barely had time to finish our projects and load up their take home trays to share with their families! The day fairly spun by.
I am always struck with how very much I love my kiddoes. I can't buy them much and I am not good at always making time for them. But when I do have them with me I hope that the days are as memorable for them as they are for me. I hope that we have many many more opportunities to "Bake" memories.

Being Crunky

You know nobody hates the Debbie Downer person worse than I do, but good grief! Everybody has bad days, sometimes bad weeks and sometimes just an extremely awful year. It always discourages me when someone actually admits to having difficulties and gets assaulted with criticism about how they shouldn't say anything. Some even go so far as to indicate that it might be indicative of a lack of faith to express how disheartened we are.
Social networking is used for lots of different things. Reconnecting with old friends, keeping in touch with existing friends and just in general putting it all out there for the world to know and see. For some, it is a hopefully safe haven to express what they might not be able to express to their closest loved ones for fear of hurting someone's feelings. After all, don't we all have those moments when we would just like to "vent" without fear of reprisal?
I am of the opinion that people often speak their pain in the hope of just one person realizing they could use some good old fashioned spirit boosting and maybe even a prayer or two. After all, if we don't know someone's needs how do we know what to do to help.
Having said that, I am having a pretty difficult time right now myself. As bad as I thought a year ago was, this year is even worse. As bad as things were last December, I still was harboring that hope that it would improve. My mom would get better, I would have her closer to me in Arkansas and we would have some time to spend getting reacquainted. This December I know better. And so many things have happened this year. My mom died, I lost a little dog I was crazy about, Roger lost his father, I lost a sort of job, the business we are trying to grow struggles daily, I've had surgery on my nose which hurt like the dickens, money is tight, my husband is stressed, I'm on edge, I'm Crunky (which is my word for a cranky chunky person.)
I'm also very lucky....I have wonderful children and amazing grandchildren that brighten my days. I have gotten off my butt and started to actually produce some of the things that I have dabbled at for years. I have a "pack" of canines that are challenging and take my mind off my problems more often than not. I still have a roof over my head, food to eat and I'm staying warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I have a husband who puts up with me which is no small chore - he's very stoic and brave. And, I have wonderful friends. Friends who allow me to be me and express when I am in pain, scared, tired, and just downright frustrated and angry. I hope I am known to allow them that same freedom of expression.
So the next time you read or hear someone say something that indicates they are really struggling try to not make them feel bad for expressing it. That only serves to make them feel worse. If you are physically present, give them a hug, offer your shoulder, a kleenex to cry in. In fact, try crying with them...it might actually make both of you feel better and eventually find something to do or say that will brighten their day. We are all internalized to a certain degree but all it takes is opening your ears, your eyes and your heart to know what is needed.
So, fair warning......I am Crunky and will probably be this way for a bit. I hope you can weather the storm and come out on the other side still my friend.

Let's Give 'Em Something To Blog About

Have you ever wondered where people come up with the things they Blog about? Well, I don't know about everyone else, but my blog is the "Dear Diary" of my "declining" years. At some point, someone may look back and read this and have some clarity on where my mind was - or wasn't as the case may be.
I have friends who use their Blogs as online scrapbooks for their little ones and I think that is a great idea. An online scrapbook is at least safe from crayons and scissors - something that paper scrapbooks seem to fall victim to.
I also enjoy those Blogs that people have created from the "weird" way the world works. One of my favorites is one called "Cake Wrecks" if you've never seen this one and are in need of a "wet your pants" laughing spell, check it out.
One person Blogged about loose change they found and kept a running tally of the amount of change that was just laying about forgotten. I tried this for a while until I found out that my husband was raiding my change can for cigarette money.
I followed with great interest a blog by a sweet little mother whose newborn was in NICU for a long time. She was a great inspiration to me with her unfailing faith that God would bring her child home to her, healthy and happy. And he did. That baby is now about to be a big sister and her mother still is a living breathing testimonial about how God can and will bless us if we lay our burdens at his feet and wait for his blessings.
A precious young friend of mine has developed a blog about style and is taking her flair for fashion into the arena of personal shopping. This girl has been stylish since her high school days and no one is better suited to help the unfashionable become style worthy.
I would challenge you to Blog. It is a great way to vent your feelings and opinions. And, you may develop a readership. My blogging lead to a weekly column in an online newspaper. People don't have to read, but often they do. You may offend someone but heck I offend people everyday without even trying, so......
A new year approaches and with it new challenges and new opportunities. Find something in your life that you would like to chronicle and track it for a year. You don't have to write everyday, but chances are you will become pretty dedicated to recording the progress or lack of. There are huge areas outside your front window. The seasons change, and so do we. Write about it - writing is cathartic. It gets it "out there" - and don't be afraid to write about the things that hurt. Having problems and difficulties are not symptomatic of a lack of faith - remember Job? One thing I can promise you - if you write about your problems I will never make you feel bad that you are not faithful enough. I will try to reassure you, encourage you AND pray for you.
So come Blog with me......it is good for the spirit!
Peace my friends!

From The Ridiculous To The Pond Slime

Seriously, I am in so much of a dither over the state of our country I fear I am in danger of harming myself from beating my head into the corner of the wall.
Just when you think the people who represent us in Washington cannot possibly get any more clueless they surprise you.
I was already all worked up over the woman who wanted to have the ban against wearing hats on the floor of our auspicious governing body lifted. Now in all their wisdom the people who should be worrying about no jobs, high taxes, no unemployment, homelessness, lack of medical care for all the people affected by the aforementioned have moved to make our world a safer place.
They have actually passed legislation to rid us of those annoyingly loud TV commercials. We no longer can be trusted to dial down the sound or take subtle pleasure in muting things we don't like hearing - they will do it for us. They actually interviewed one of these lofty protectors of the lowly who said, and I quote, "if I had a dime for everyone who has asked me where is the bill for this - I would be a rich woman." Really?! Really!
One has to wonder how this happened. Were a few of them out to dinner with cosmopolitans and finger foods when someone remarked, "you know what annoys me? - Those loud obnoxious TV ads." OMG - Those drive me crazy. Me too. Someone should do something. Well, we have been elected to be the protectors of the great unwashed (thanks Denise I love this description of us in general.) And a bill was born and passed. What's next - Is Hattie the Hat Freak gonna decide that she doesn't like blue cars and try to pass a bill banning the color blue from the car paint palette? Or maybe they will decide that it is unhealthy to have a TV altogether. We should tread carefully here people. When the focus shifts to protecting us from ourselves we are at risk of losing far more than we gain.
And just how much did this little piece of tripe cost us today?

Happy Happy Birthday Baby

Today is my sweet husband's birthday. We will not speak of his age, mostly because he is younger than I. I always did have a thing for a younger fellow. ;)
Times are tough here at the Casa de Beshears and I have no gift for him. This would be unforgivable if it were my birthday, but he never minds. Over the course of our marriage I have routinely forgotten his special day, celebrated it on the wrong day or tried to convince him that it really wasn't his birthday because his birthday is on the 5th. Poor Roger, I think there were actually some moments when I almost had him convinced that he wasn't born on the 1st of December.
His never failing good humor always stays intact because birthdays aren't a big thing to him. **They are HUGE to me** You forget my birthday at your own peril.
When I handed him his steaming cup of birthday java this morning and confessed to having no present, his response was "you are here for my birthday this year, that is all that matters."
Wow, talk about whispering sweet nothings in my ear! To know that your mere presence is a gift to someone is amazingly romantic. There has been a lot said, written and speculated on about how difficult this time last year was for ME. But I don't think anyone really realized how very hard it was for Roger. He was left with the constant day to day life challenges with no help. He was responsible for 3 dogs who basically viewed him as just another one of the group. He is not the disciplinarian in the house, therefore, not a "pack leader." He was surrounded by family but really alone in the sense that the person he has allowed himself to become dependent on was missing.
So if being here is his gift I will be the biggest 'ole present and presence I can be today. I will make some good old fashioned comfort food for dinner, ply him with chocolate chip cookies and not complain about anything at all for today. (Today only mind you.)
And so, Happy Birthday Big Daddy (or Papa as his Latino workers like to call him) I hope you have a day worthy of you.

It's Electrifying

I find it a bit odd that the electric company cannot speak to me regarding my bill because my name is not the one on the account. It matters not that I can give them the last 4 of the hubalumps social, know his mother's maiden name and can recite his list of scars, bruises and other identifying marks completely.
No, my name is not the one listed on the account, however, it is listed on the check I send you every danged month. As a matter of fact ONLY my name is on the check, therefore explain to me why you can accept MY check to pay HIS bill but you can't TALK to Me about His bill.
To make matters worse, I have specifically heard my husband give the electric company authorization to speak to me on numerous occasions. It boggles my mind that they are incapable of making a note in the file. Believe me, you should be glad that I try to take care of this stuff for him, since he has a tendency to "forget" little things like utilities, etc. Of course, it would be me that would be left in the dark wouldn't it?
There is no one more appreciative of the protecting our identity system, but really....
Till the next time something really ticks me off or tickles my funny bone.....
Peace Out Friends!

Lettin' The Turkey Slide

Being the unconventional sort - I do holidays just a tad different than most. I'm not a big fan of turkey....I'm a white meat kind of girl... Which means that if I cook a turkey I'm usually left with this ginormous picked carcass with 2 big drumsticks still attached - wings and all the other unattractive items.
Then I never know what to do with it. I can't give it to my dogs - poultry bones are a bit dangerous - I know this from spending several hours in emergency animal clinics from ingestion of chicken bones, etc.
For my use - turkeys seem wasteful so I let them slide. If I do fowl on holidays I do hens which are more manageable in loads of ways. The sight of one of my grandchildren gnawing on a chicken leg is more appealing than viewing them hidden behind a big old turkey drumstick (shades of King Henry VIII)!
Lately my Thanksgiving meals have been centered around pork tenderloin. I confess to having a not so secret love affair with pork in general. I can do tenderloin in crock pots leaving my oven available for more important items like sweet potatoes......and pie. Plus there is not one single human in my family that does not like tenderloin (of course what's not to like?)
Yesterday I had prepared 6 pretty good sized tenderloins and made it home with roughly 6 pieces. Beshears is obviously synonymous for carnivore.
I also baked 3 hens and those disappeared as well. Their little carcasses were picked clean and easily disposed of leaving behind some good foundational work for chicken and dumplings. I had to have poultry of some form because one of my daughters loves giblet gravy and I would hate to disappoint her especially now that she is carrying my 12th grandchild.
Our time together yesterday was great - our little hostess Kaylee provided us with something we have never been able to do - sit down all together and eat as a family. There are so many of us and my house is so small that we wind up perched on chair arms balancing plates in our lap. So it was nice to be able to eat like civilized folk while ripping through all that grub. It was a beautiful day - allowing our little ones to enjoy the tether ball, trampoline and wide open spaces.
There was football, good wine, happy talk, smiling faces and joy in being together. Our only dark cloud was that our oldest grandson wasn't there. Having graduated from high school he now has joined the ranks of the gainfully employed and therefore misses a lot of our group activities. But we know he is aware that we missed him and were thinking of him. His mom took him a huge plate of tenderloin which is his favorite so I know that he today is a happy fellow.
We have much to be thankful for this year. It has been a rough year for most of us. We have lost people, but we've gained people as well. The circle of life continues and we remain hopeful and thankful for what we have.
I'm pretty sure the lowly turkey will continue to slide further and further down on our dinner menu until it disappears forever while the great pig climbs upward. Besides I can think of lots more to do with left over pork than left over turkey. So just as in "turkey bowling" I'm lettin' the turkey slide.

Free To Be Me

There is a certain segment of you who are aware of my challenges in the employment arena of late. The frustration of being unemployed in such a shaky and scary economy resonates with many of us. Sending out dozens of resumes and on line applications without ever being called for an interview is demoralizing at best. My list of excellent references tell me that not one single person has called to check the validity of my claims.
Those of my generation have probably never known what it is to NOT work “for a living.” I was working at 16, waiting tables weekends and evenings. I also did a stint working in my hometown’s “drive-in.” Not the movie kind - but the soft drink, fast food kind of drive-in. My dad, by example, taught me to be hard working, honest and loyal to my job. Daddy also believed that it was your responsibility as an employee to treat that company or business as if it were your own. And, I am proud to say, I think I lived up to his teaching.
There have been few times since the age of 16 that I have not been gainfully employed. Yet, I learned to fear those moments of no weekly paycheck with the same fervor I fear Christmas tinsel and Easter grass. But, now at 60, I find myself in exactly the situation I spent my whole life being afraid of.
I have learned, and learned harshly, sometimes we need a “ring-ring, wake-up call” moment to entirely change our perspective. And, the old saying “face your fear and it will disappear,” is proving to be more right than not.
For me, the wake-up call pretty much steam rolled me up against a brick wall and left me bruised and seething with resentment. It came in the form of a screeching end to a dead end job. For two years, I worked for someone with questionable business ethics, few if any morals and a genuine lack of concern for the people who greased the wheels of their machine with honest sweat.
On top of not being the quality person I had been used to dealing with, this was a person who also felt any means justified their goal. And, if letting employees with families and small children go for 2 weeks without pay made sure their new air conditioning unit was paid for, so be it.
And yet, I persevered. Looking back I am amazed and wonder why? Was the uncertainty of not working and not having a paycheck worse than the reality of working and not having one I could depend on? Or was working so deeply ingrained in my personality that I didn’t know any other way to be?
Strangely enough I didn’t quit this job. It quit me. No, I didn’t get fired – a simple misunderstanding took on a life of its’ own and my lack of employment was the result. Even in this situation I saw my employer’s “true colors.” I also came to fully understand the depth of their immaturity and love of always playing the victim. It is a telling statement that they still owe me money which I have no hope of getting. And, in order to collect, I have to play their stupid little game and I refuse to play.
When the first moment arrived when I would have ordinarily been pulling myself together to start a new week of uncertainty and unhappiness, I found I was anything but. One thing I was certain of was that while I might not be “working” I would not be idle. And, while my cash flow might be lessened my happiness would not.
I’ve never been lazy and I am very good at keeping myself busy. I have lots of hobbies and several dogs that can always use my attention. My husband who is not a good “paper” person, needs some help in managing the mountains of paper his business breeds. My hard working daughter can use a little help with her house from time to time. And, my own house, which has suffered from gross neglect for a year now, is starting to appreciate a little attention as well.
And, on a more personal note, I am learning that a nice leisurely bath at 10:00 in the morning in a quiet house can certainly set the tone to make your day a more pleasant experience. And strangely enough, I am also learning that getting dressed isn’t such a hassle if you aren’t hurried and hassled to do it by X o’clock. For the first time in a long time, my life is my own. If I want to cook, I cook. If I want to take the day and read, I can. If I want to work on my books I have that option. I am FREE to be me. And I am rediscovering that being me is a pretty good thing.
It is said that when God closes a door, He opens a window. He had to PUSH me through my window, but when I landed on the other side, I saw a brand new day. And anything brand new has endless possibilities.
So for me….for now….if anyone needs something repaired, enhanced or removed via Photoshop, I have the equivalent of PHD and will do it very reasonably. I have numerous needlework projects in various stages of completion that are calling to me from dark closet corners. Perhaps you need makeup or jewelry, I can help you out in those areas as well. Maybe you just need a friend, a shoulder to lean on and a listening ear, I am finally unattached and available to help you. And, if at some point you might want to purchase a book I plan on publishing, let me know.

Free at last, free at last. Thanks be to God, I am finally free at last.

Keep It Under Your Hat

OKAY...............so my big blood pressure accelerator this morning was seeing a news article about Florida's representative who has apparently blown her stack over her hat - or hats as it turns out.
Since the 1800s there has been a ban on hats on the House floor. Remember...guys used to never go anywhere without their toppers. I love looking at old baseball clips and seeing all those fellas sitting in the stands in their slacks and dress shirts complete with ties and hats. But I digress!
Now the freshman rep from Florida Ms. Wilson who apparently ALSO never leaves home uncapped has come uncorked because they won't let her wear her hats on the House floor.
According to Ms. Wilson it is sexist. Hmmmmmm - let me think about this for just a 'mo.
If it were sexist wouldn't it be because guys were allowed to wear hats and women were not?
Now she is demanding this ban be lifted for HER and it looks like the only way to do so is with a full vote of the House. Are you freakin' kidding me?! Seriously, I would almost drive to Washington to slap the crap out of this silly wench. A hat? You are getting your panties in a wad over a hat? Are there no unemployed people in your state? Are there no abused children? No homeless and starving constituents? Are there no abandoned and neglected animals?
By this woman's own confession, she owns over 300 hats - enough to fill a whole room in her house. Again.......really?
I have to admit some of her hats are quite noteworthy. She tends to lean toward cowboy hats (and I use the term loosely.) There is just no telling how much these hats cost - I think it is pretty costly and time consuming to Bedazzle a cowboy hat so fetchingly.
I kept thinking as I read this column "Surely, they are going to say, she has decided to auction off her hats and give the money to charity." But NO. Instead she wants to waste taxpayer time and money by forcing the House to do a full vote to allow her to turn their proceedings into a fashion parade. I don't know about you, but doins' up there on Capitol Hill are already enough of a carnival act for me.
I intend to write a letter on this one because I see a bad end to this. If she is allowed to have her way what happens next? Her chapeaus will become larger and more extravagant (diverting attention away from what is truly important) - our more macho fellows will don the ball caps of their favorite sports teams and the guys who embrace a more feminine side of their personality might show up wearing stilettos and feather boas.
So.....put that in your hat and stuff it.

Fly The Friendly Skies

So flying these days is getting to be more and more problematic. At one time, we could walk in an airport on a whim and catch a flight to practically anywhere. Our luggage wasn't a problem. What you didn't check you could carry on and in our carry on luggage we could take our knitting, crocheting, cross stitching, etc. Anything we might want or need to pass the time away while airborne.
Then came 9-11 and several subsequent attempts by idiots to make us feel threatened and suddenly flying became not only dangerous but downright exclusive as well.
Already a little pricey, it got to the point of a person needing to be independently wealthy to book a flight.
We went from being able to iron, fold and carefully pack our clothes, lock our suitcase and put it on a plane to the current situation. Now, they open your suitcase, paw through your personal items, turn everything upside down and then cram it all back in. We would be better off just taking a bunch of dirty clothes and throwing them in our suitcase and hitting a laundromat at our destination.
And Heaven forbid you have anything that might be construed as a potential weapon. I'm still not sure why my hand lotion has been deemed deadly but OH WELL.
Your carry on needs to fit under the seat in front of you - completely. Or you can cram it in the overhead bin and run the risk of bolting off the airplane and forgetting about it entirely.
Lately, every time I have flown I have been chosen for a pat down. Honestly, do I look that dangerous? If I committed a crime I wouldn't be able to move fast enough to avoid arrest.
But now, they are doing the body scans and what the media refers to as "groping" the passengers. People are incensed and should be. If I were one of the people having to pat people down I'd be incensed. There are just some people I wouldn't care to get that up close and personal with.
But, since people have tried to sneak on a plane with weapons in their shoes, baby diapers, underwear, etc. one does see the need for extreme caution.
I think I have come up with a perfect solution. Fly nude - no carry on. For those of a delicate persuasion - issue them a hospital johnny and paper slippers before embarking. Truly I think the hilarity of this would pretty much lighten the mood on any flight - think of the giggles one could get just watching people head to the restroom.
I defy a highjacker to seriously try to take over an airplane full of naked people. Not only that but some highjackers would be hesitant to get on a plane with the unclothed.
Our skies would become friendly again because who would want to call undue attention to themselves on an all nude flight. I for one would be trying to be as quiet and invisible as possible.
So...since I've always been told that less is more...I'm thinking less clothes, more safety.

....and how was your day? I would really like to know. lkbeshears@sbcglobal.net

When Is The Right Time?

One of the things I am guilty of is procrastinating. I’m not the worst procrastinator I know. That distinction goes to “he who shall remain nameless.” You can give me a deadline and I will meet it – I might wait until 15 minutes to D-Day, but meet it I will. But leave me to my own devices with loads of time and I will find 100 perfectly good reasons why right now just isn’t a good time.
Recently, I have been watching some of my friends who are just stepping out and making RIGHT NOW the right time. I am inspired…humbled and in awe of their willingness to throw caution to the wind - and move. They are stepping out of their comfort zones, and pulling from the depths of their souls the dreams only they can see. As they do so, they cast them on the water for us to capture in our nets. Gathering their dreams gives us a piece of them and allows us to dream along with them.
You know they say if you wait until you can afford a baby you will never have a baby. Well, consider your dreams the biggest baby you will ever bring to life. But unlike a living breathing human that is ours to enjoy for a lifetime, our dreams can be fleeting moments that must be seized. And, not just seized. They must be gripped, wrung out and hung to dry in the winds of time. For once they are hung there, they remain, tangible pieces of themselves ripped open for the world to see, hear and enjoy.
Not everyone is driven to leave behind a work of art, a story, a photograph or an epic poem. But some are. There are those who spend their entire existence in the pursuit of their dreams and they leave behind things most of us can’t fathom in our wildest imaginations. However, I am of the opinion, that we all have a “lasting” piece of work within us. And, I dare say, we all know what it is - we just need to let it go.
Part of our reluctance to pursue our dreams, our passions if you will, is a crippling and paralyzing fear of failure. What if we only think we have something profound to say, or beautiful to express. None of us want to put the children of our hopes and dreams beneath the feet of others and see them trampled into the dirt. Or even worse, be laughed at for our attempt.
And, sometimes we are crippled by the fear of a small success. What if that one painting, one book, one photograph is a fluke and we are destined to be just another “one hit wonder.” Well, so what? So one is all that is in us – is that such a bad thing? I would rather create one wonderful moment than a thousand less than great ones.
I’ve always loved to write, and I dabbled in poetry when I was younger. I found it gave me an avenue to express my feelings without hurting anyone else. I am not a good poet – I still write poetry that rhymes and that seems to have fallen out of favor. But I know some good poets and their words paint the most inexplicably beautiful images in my imagination.
As I aged, I found that I had very strong opinions about almost everything and I wanted to be able to say what I thought without being shouted down by someone else. I also learned that I had an above average intelligence and could express myself and speak for others at the same time.
The really cool thing about writing is no one is interrupting your train of thought – you have a captive audience – even if there’s no one reading. But, the more I wrote, the more I found that there were actually some people who agreed with me.
I am not naïve enough to think that there aren’t those that vehemently disagree with me as well. But, I have been fortunate in the fact that either because of wonderfully good manners or a love of me that allows me a voice, they don’t shoot darts in my balloon. Whatever, their reasons, I am grateful. So grateful in fact, that when I disagree with some of them, I just keep my mouth shut.
But, I kept getting these pushes, nudges to do more, be more. The people who love me encouraged me constantly to do something with what I have. And I fought them every step of the way. I didn’t have enough material, my material wasn’t good enough, I was too busy, too sad, too tired and yes, too danged lazy.
The more I fought them, the more ashamed I became of wasting myself. I was beginning to want to leave something behind that was permanent, lasting and ME. At some point I wanted my grandchildren to be able to pick up something tangible and say…..my Grandmother did this. Because even though to me it may be a bit silly and trivial, chances are it will be neither of those things to them.
And so, even though today may not be the RIGHT TIME, it is MY time. My time to stop delaying, to end the excuse making, and to cast my meager catch on the shore and see who claims it. It is my time to move out of the constantly creating zone and try to make something happen. I must stop re-writing, re-drawing, re-thinking and be happy with what I have now.
For if I wait until everything is perfect, it never will be. What I have to do is understand the perfection of right now. And so, I’m moving out of my cozy and safe place and stepping in the great unknown. I’m going to publish my books even if I have to do it myself. And if the only ones I sell are to myself and the people who genuinely love me – that’s okay.
One day my dreams will die with me unless I choose to leave them here. Unless I choose to share that secret and most hidden part of myself, no one else will ever know. My grandchildren will never really know me and I want them to. I want them to know there was something different about me, something a little crazy, a little brave. It is important to me that they know I was not afraid to “seize my moment” and make whatever time I had the RIGHT TIME.
So, if you are waiting for your right time – why not now? This may be the only time you get - so grab hold and ride it for all its’ worth. I’ll be there on the sidelines cheering you on as you live YOUR moment, just as you have done for me.

……and how was your day? I would really like to know. lkbeshears@sbcglobal.net

A New Adventure

So.........today I finalized my first publication attempt. I have self published a children's book entitled Genevieve's Window.
When my granddaughter Genevieve was just a baby I was visiting one weekend. Her parents had gone out for the day and she and I spent a lot of time standing in front of their beautiful front door gazing outside. The idea of writing something about what a child sees outside their window was born that day. I have worked and reworked this dozens of times. The illustrations are mine - I did not hand draw everything you see - some are compilations of free clip art that I used and manipulated to suit my purpose. My extensive experience in Photoshop continues to serve me well. The window itself is mine and does not do justice to the beautiful beveled window G and I looked out of that day.
This piece is soo important to me because I feel like it began a journey for me. A journey that has taken me down roads of poetry, blogging, newspaper column submissions and many many others.
My success or failure with this will probably set the tone for the rest of my attempts in this field.
I hope that you will consider purchasing a copy - I tried to keep it reasonably priced. I think it is such a calm and soothing bedtime story it might become a well loved favorite.
In any case, as always, I welcome your suggestions, your praise as well as your criticism.
Peace Out!

Hero Worship

Several years ago I was asked to judge a local high school's Mr and Miss Pageant. I had no particular qualifications to do so - but the organizer knew me and knew I would be fair.
We were given several questions to ask each contestant and then were tasked with formulating 3 questions of our own.
One of the mandatory questions was "Who is your hero?" The answers were pretty typical for high school seniors. Of course their faith factored heavily into their answers and many talked about their grandparents or parents. Interestingly enough, very few mentioned popular celebrities or sports figures. I enjoyed hearing their answers - it gave me some insight into what was important to them.
I decided to take that mandatory question and turn it around a little. One of my questions to them was "Who do you think looks up to YOU as their hero?"
Suddenly, there was quite a thought process going on. They all knew who they respected and wanted to emulate, but few had given much thought to who might be watching them.
So, today I am challenging you. If there is someone who inspires you, take the time to let them know. Who knows.......you just might find out who finds YOU inspirational.

Peace Out!

Never Bring a Bologna Sandwich to a Banquet

Trying to avoid the “Debbie Downer” personality at all costs isn’t easy…..they are relentless in their pursuit to rob your joy, steal your happiness and make every situation all about them. We all know them, those seemingly tuned in people who can take any circumstance and dig out the microchip of how it affects THEM, ignoring the larger truth.
They miss the point that in any occurrence, there is a pecking order of importance. My car accident will suddenly be about them because they were counting on me to take them to work. Get the picture?
Working for almost two decades in the photography business, I saw the BS (calm down...in this case BS stands for Bologna Sandwich)- all the time. It was especially apparent in those girls who came for senior pictures and brought along a “friend.” Yes, yes, I know…friends are supposed to be those people who will always tell you the truth, those brutally honest observations which are often just simply brutal.
These helpful little souls are the burr under a photographer’s saddle blanket. The human eye does not see what the camera sees and these girls often ruined a “killer” shot by critiquing from the sidelines. Nor can one know what is in the mind of the photographer when setting up a shot. He has something in mind that is unique and lovely. However, by making the model feel insecure and silly, the well meaning (?) friends have accomplished little more than to deprive the artist’s subject of a truly lovely shot.
Coupled with the studio, was a bridal shop. The BSs were at their worst in this venue. Usually the maid of honor, brought along to help the excited bride find the “perfect” dress. All too often the girl who has been chosen to stand alongside the bride was barely concealing her seething jealousy.
You would put the bride in the dressing room with a dress and she would emerge with a shining face and happy smile. Moments later, her smile would start to tremble and the happy switch would be flipped to “off” by a thinly veiled snide comment from the MOH.
There were times I literally had to war with myself to keep from pulling the little bride aside and begging her to please go shopping with her mother and no one else.
Please understand that I did see a lot of really helpful girls who genuinely loved the bride and were as happy for her as could be. They loved everything she put on and their comments were always constructive and delivered with genuine affection for their friend. But, sadly, those personalities are not what this column is about. Suffice it to say, I’ve seen far more Honorillas than Bridezillas in my day.
The Sandwiches like to go on vacations too. Well, they like it as long as it is all their idea, if they get to make all the plans and then dictate what everyone does every second of every day. These downers actually come in all ages, sexes, sizes and colors.
The hubs and I went on vacation once with another couple. Not being blessed with many Vaca opportunities, Roger and I know exactly what we want when we do get away. We enjoy leisurely vacations comprised of sleeping late, drinking lots of coffee, eating too much food from restaurants that are local and not franchised. And, ambling through our days until something strikes our fancy – we have been known to actually sleep through entire vacations from sheer exhaustion. And we never regretted it.
On our joint vacation, finances were slim and so we all consolidated our resources. Unfortunately, in doing so we also relinquished our input into daily activities. We came home from vacation exhausted from trying to live someone else’s vision of the perfect getaway. Actually we felt like we were the overworked and much abused staff on a cruise ship. We still talk about this one and have never shared our precious time away with anyone else.
Then there was the trip to Hawaii with my mom. This one was destined to fail largely because she was terrified of flying. She was also suspicious of strangers, hated crowds and spent the entire time scared that I was going to fall off the balcony of our hotel and plummet to my death. She refused to rent a car and drive around and see anything that couldn’t be reached by foot, taxi or bus. I had the vacation of a lifetime and never got to really experience it.
It is interesting that she talked about that vacation till she passed away. See, there’s the difference in having an experience you control. The controlling sandwich has a great time. The side of potato salad….not so much.
In any relationship – love, friendship, employment or family there must be some give and take. And sometimes we have to just give ourselves over to someone else’s thrilling moments, saving our own for later. But we shouldn’t ALWAYS have to suppress our own joy, wonder and excitement.
I think sometimes it is hard to find excitement in today’s world. Times are tough and often uncertain. We are frequently buffeted from all sides with depressing and disheartening news. If we allow it, life alone will drag us down. We must be vigilant to guard against becoming those “downer” personalities ourselves.
But the good news is that WE are in charge of our own happiness. Where our minds are is critical in making our lives an “up” experience. And, one of the most important things to remember is to surround yourself with people who are happy, positive and ready for anything. And, to the best of our ability, try to bring something wonderful and happy to everyone in our acquaintance as well.
So, when you get all dressed up to go to the banquet, leave your Bologna sandwich at home and feast on everything put on the table for you. Sit with someone you don’t know, make a new friend, try something strange and exotic. Chances are you will lose your taste for the plain and ordinary and begin to crave the wild, unique, exciting and extraordinary.
……and how was your day? I would really like to know. lkbeshears@sbcglobal.net
Peace Out!

My Internal Clock is Ticking

So we've all heard about those women who put off having kids until later in life and then feel those inner stirrings to be a mother. They refer to that situation as one's biological clock ticking. Well, my biological clock was put to rest a long time ago however, someone needs to check the adjustment on my internal clock.
For more years now than I care to think about I have had no need of an alarm clock. Oh, I still use one on those rare occasions when it is of CRITICAL importance that I be on time before 10:00 am. Even though I lean on the crutch I know that I don't need it.
That little inner rooster crows every morning at about the same time. Given my age, it no longer takes me very long to get ready to go anywhere. After all, there is just so much one can do with the materials left in our tool box.
But now, I am finding that this idea of Daylight Savings Time wrecks havoc with my little inner Timex. Particularly the Fall Back part. Okay so we've taken 6 and made it 5. Given my proclivity to wake up as much as an hour earlier than my usual 6:00 am - means I am now arising at 4:00.
This has made me highly unpopular with other humans in my house, dogs and neighbors. Because once I'm up, the dogs are up and once the dogs are up there is no slumber for anyone in close proximity.
For the life of me I can't figure out what we are saving all this daylight for, I'm certainly tired of it by the end of the day. I would share some with those who felt they needed more. But in exchange I want some of their night!! I want to sleep more than 2 hours at a time. I'd like to experience the joy of sleeping in again. Why is it that we once were able to sleep so late that we were embarrassed at the lateness of the hour we awoke. And now, the inner ding ding gets us up before the sun to make coffee and wait for the paper to be delivered. Is it because at my age I am quickly approaching that time of life when the eternal sleep is a real possibility? That's a sobering thought.
So sobering in fact I think I will see if I can't hit the snooze button on life for a while and slow things d o w n.
Yep, my internal clock is ticking, thank God. Hopefully it will continue to tick for some time to come, I just have to be very careful to not wind it too tightly.

....and how was your day? I would really like to know. lkbeshears@sbcglobal.net

Peace Out!

And Man Made Fire!

Well, to be exact.....woman did this morning. I put a spark to the old gas logs this morning. I have to say the sight of those flames licking around the logs (fake though they may be) is a happy, homey sight. Makes me want to drag out my cross stitching or knitting and just craft the day away.
At the present moment I can get nowhere near my lovely little warming spot as the dogs did the equivalent of blissful sighs and settled in with their noses pressed as close to it as they could get. I have no idea what keeps a dog from spontaneously combusting. No matter how furry they are they love to get super close to the heat.
The sun is shining brightly and the sky is a beautiful blue - chances are we will have a pretty day and it will warm up outside, but for right now we are buttoned up and snoozing, drifting in and out of nappies.
Have a super Saturday and don't forget to set your clocks back tonight - AND remember it is going to be really really dark when you wake up in the morning. That is if you get up at the same time I do.
Peace Out!

We're Goin' On A Bear Hunt!

My goodness.....the cranky factor has certainly ratcheted up today. The hubalump is having to have those lubricating injections in his right knee (OUCH! - I do feel sorry for him) but holy cats! He is ca - ran - ky!
I thought I'd been a pill this week but he's puttin' me to shame. Wish I'd waited until today to try to deal with Best Buy - I'd have opened his cage and said "Sic 'em!"
He still likes all the dogs...........me and everyone else....not so much!
He will heading back to McAlester tomorrow and then leaving for Mississippi this weekend. We all hope he gets some relief but once he's out of the house he is the boy's problem.
It is hard to see him this way because he is a big old Teddy Bear most of the time - but today he has released his inner Grizzly.
.......and how was your day? I would really like to know.
Peace Out!

Remembering to Remember

I am going to start dropping by here everyday and posting a little something so I begin to remember where and how to Blog. In the short time I've been gone from this site some things have changed so I will have to get myself back up to speed in the Blogging world.
The thing I want to leave here today is a link to my friend Meagan's Style Blog. This kid is the most stylish person I've ever known, she was cutting edge as a junior in high school. Not afraid to try new looks and willing to step out and pose for absolutely beautiful photographs (sorry Meagan but I still love, love, love the hairdo).
Anyway if you are wondering what is new and HOT! in hair, shoes, clothes, furniture, etc. this is your girl. And, trust me, she will never steer you wrong. Visit her at http://allthingssoleful.wordpress.com/
Peace out my friends.

Back To The Blogger

Beginning the end of November I will once again be writing for you here in my Blog. The Hutchinson County Highlights is ceasing publication at that time to allow its' editor to actually have a life for a change. I will miss the thrill of weekly column duties but happily return to the point of my beginning. The good old Cherry Bowl where there are sometimes some rotten cherries, occasionally more than a few pits, but most of the time just wonderful luscious ripe and wonderful cherries ready to talk about.
I hope you will follow me here from the HCH and will share with your friends. I've come to depend on knowing that someone is reading and enjoying.
Until the end of the month you can find me at www.hutchinsoncountyhighlights.com and after that I will meet you here in the bowl.

I'll Have The Chicken With A Side Order of Popcorn Please

Okay, so today I went to Atwoods Farm and Ranch Supply to give them roughly $100.00 of my money. It was stock up on dog food day at the Casa de Beshears. Just as I have done a hundred times before I took one of my dogs with me. They have always been welcome in Atwoods. This time I took Cooper since he was in need of something green to wear in the St. Paddy's Day Parade.
I entered the store with Cooper sitting on my purse in the baby seat of the basket. Passed by water tanks full of rabbits, ducks and baby chicks and ALMOST made it to the dog food area when I was stopped by one of the associates and told that my dog could not come in their store. I inquired as to why since they had always been allowed before. He explained to me that the health department had told them they could not have animals in the store because they served food. Food? Yes, ma'am we have popcorn and therefore we cannot allow animals in our store. Well, what about the "livestock" you have in the store for sale? Well they are in contained areas. Okay, I will be happy to give all my business to Petco in the future and I'm sure they'll be happy to get it. I gathered my "offensive" dog and headed for the store exit. On my way out I observed some adolescent girls who had been stroking and handling the rabbits and chicks serving themselves some popcorn. Hmmmmm - And stay out of the Atwoods - (I wonder if that means just that store or all of them) **apologies to O Brother Where Art Thou**

Things That Make Me Go .......HUH?

In the police report section of today's local paper I learned that 50 bras ranging in size from 32A to 38D had been stolen from Victoria's Secret. Wow! This leads one to believe someone just came in and "scooped" up a whole rack and ran with them. The Victoria's Secret here is in a mall - 50 bras are going to be hard to cram in a purse even one the size of a Buddha Bag. The 38D's alone would fill a substantial shopping bag. Leaving me to wonder. How did this happen? Where were store personnel? And did no one see someone fleeing VS with flapping straps and bobbing cups? I think as a store manager I might have been ashamed to report this one.

I'm hoping this was a typo and someone really didn't involve the police. Property valued at $1 (yes, you read it right) one dollar was stolen from a local residence. Crap! I want to call the police department and offer to give that person a dollar. I can't right many injustices in the world but I can sure handle that one.

And finally, a Pocola, OK police officer shot his wife in the foot while clearing his gun. The report states the officer was in the river bottoms shooting his gun, went home, sat down next to his wife to clear his weapon and "accidentally" shot her in the foot. He then proceeded to drive her to the hospital for treatment where he was questioned in connection to the shooting. Wonder what the chances are in a few weeks the report will read "local Oklahoma police officer found beaten senseless while sleeping" wife claims she was cooking breakfast for her husband and "accidentally" dropped her iron skillet on his head 3 times.

**Courtesy of my friend Denise and the Texas Redneck Society**
If you ever hid in a clothes dryer to avoid being busted for selling meth . . . you might be a Redneck. If you ever caught your garage and dog house on fire because you put the waffle iron the dog's house to keep it warm . . . you might just be a redneck. Can't make this stuff up . . . Brilliance here in the Texas Panhandle

May I Direct You To A Different Location

Until I get used to having to have a column once a week, my blog posts will be appearing at www.hutchinsoncountyhighlights.com I sincerely hope you will look the paper up on line and read there. There are several other really good columnists writing for the HCH and I think you will enjoy them too.
See you in the funny papers.............oops I mean paper.

Morning Has Broken

A new sun came up today and dawned on my 60th birthday. As I reflect on the fact that I used to regard people my age as "old fogies" I wonder how I appear to others. I know that time and life have had their way with my face - sometimes I think I've forgotten to take off my Halloween mask when I look in the mirror. There was a time I thought mirrors on the ceiling might be kind of "fun" now I'm thinking those might be the cause of a stroke. Either mine or Roger's. I truly wonder how he can bear to look at me - God is kind in that regard because he causes your eyesight to fail in conjunction with diminishing appearance.
My hearing is shot - I need to track the number of times a day I say "Huh?" "Excuse me" or just ignore someone completely. Upon finding out that I have forgotten my hearing aids, one of my friends will stand talking to me just moving his mouth. He is a sick and twisted individual. And, unnecessarily cruel to boot.
My body is just something I am unwilling to discuss in polite company. I've asked Roger repeatedly..."Where did that pretty girl you married go?" He is well trained and answers "Honey, she's still here." Well then, obviously I ATE HER 'cause I'm not seeing the chick anywhere. There is enough "hail damage" on my carcass that were I a car I would be considered "totaled" and my owner would be looking for a replacement. There is enough snap, crackle and pop in me that I could make the Rice Krispie guys hang their heads in shame. My skin is so wrinkled I find it useless to even iron my clothes now. Why should they look more pulled together than the person inside. Anyone needing me to sew better be prepared to thread their own danged needle 'cause that ship has sailed as well.
All that being said.....I am finding a certain peace and contentment in not being so focused on the exterior. Beauty fades for everyone and some fight it tooth and nail. I just gave in to ebbing tide and decided I wanted to be remembered for something else. I want my legacy to be one of joy, I want to be remembered because I laughed, hard and loud. I want my life to be something that causes others to laugh as well. When I post a blog for others to read, I am giving you the essence of myself. I'm sharing me. My thoughts, fears, frustrations, and happiness. To share your thoughts is to share your heart. I do so because I trust. I have friends who fall on the complete opposite sides of the pole in religion, politics, and every other "hotbed" of controversy in our world. Their opinions are their own whether I agree, disagree or don't care one way or the other. You will seldom find me taking issue with anyone over their opinion. The reason for this is that I genuinely love my friends and there is no issue, no politician or any other situation that is worth losing even one of them over. And I would venture to say, most of my friends know exactly where I stand on things whether I am "out there" with my opinion or not. I appreciate being allowed to be just me, not having to reshape myself according to other people. For the first time in all these 60 years, I am finding a person I really like and I'm learning to trust myself too.
Gone are the fits of rage and frustration. I'm still frequently frustrated but not unreasonably so and I am seldom ever truly angry. Having made so many mistakes throughout my life, I find it easier to be tolerant of others. I have had much to confess and repent, therefore I try to not be so hard on people I know are fighting those same demons. I am working on the "don't worry - be happy" thing. This will be my toughest challenge. Worrying is in my genes. I learned it at the feet of the master worrier. However, I have learned that worrying never fixes anything. In fact, it usually creates even more causes to worry. What is truly amusing to me is that I am finding the ability to actually like myself. Or maybe I am just beginning to believe some of the people who continue to affirm me. I've lived a very interesting life, I've met people most people only read about, I've traveled to one exotic location in reality but many in my dreams. I am reasonably intelligent although basically not well educated. One of the things that makes me interesting to myself is that I am a paradox. Seemingly confident on the outside and seething with insecurities and low self esteem inside. I have a larger than life personality, yet I basically crave being alone. I am 60 years old and I can be the silliest person on earth. I am aging yet find that my heart and my mind still feel young, hopeful and full of wonder. I know God and yet at times doubt that He could love someone as flawed as I am. But then, I remember that it is wandering sheep He seeks most earnestly. I have become the matriarch of my family without ever feeling like I was a child there.
So, now that I am "old" how do I want to be remembered? First and foremost, I want to be remembered as a loving and well loved child of God. That I tried to be a good and faithful daughter. I want my children to forgive my failures and faults and be able to say they had a good mother who loved them with her whole heart. There is no shame in failure only in quitting. And I never quit on either of you. I want my grandchildren to remember that I wrote them stories and poems and drew pictures for them. I want them to remember that I made up silly songs about potty training. I want them to remember that I took the time to come to lunch at school, plays, concerts, ballgames and cheered as loud as I could. I want my husband to remember that through all the peaks and valleys, all the good times and bad, there has never been a moment when I would have done differently. I would still choose him and walk those roads again just to have him in my life. And I want my friends to remember me laughing, telling stories, dancing until I embarrassed myself and everyone around me, listening to their problems, trying to help when I could and loving them every single day of my life. And if 60 is all God allows me to be - remember ME with JOY and HAPPINESS. Stand in front of the crowd and say with one voice "Oh, Lavetta, well she laughed."

Can I Have a Geritol on the Rocks - Please?

Well, the day I never thought would happen is approaching. I've tried running from it. But apparently it has much better sneaker connections because every time I look over my shoulder, it is breathing down my neck.
As if I hadn't already enough to contend with, now I have this to look forward to. Really? Couldn't I please postpone this for just one more year. I need to prepare. By the time the sun sets on my Sunday, I will be 60 years old. I have dirt in my flower beds younger than me. It takes the combined ages of ALL my grandchildren to be older than me. I have turned the corner on Tired and Irritable Lane and found myself on Geriatric Boulevard where everything that moves is on wheels and pills.
Gone are the days that nicely built and reasonably good looking young men would follow me to tap me on the shoulder and tell me how attractive I am. Now if one is following me, chances are he's trying to steal my purse in hopes I'll have social security check inside.
No more can I look at the Tilt - A - Whirl at the fair and shriek "I wanna ride THAT!" The kiddie carousel makes me so dizzy my ears ring.
Oh and speaking of ears, I was already dealing with the whole "hearing aid" reality and now I'm wondering how long it will be before someone breaks out an old time ear trumpet for me.
Bi-focals, tri-focals, quadrafocals.......why in the heck don't they just call them what they really are OLDFOLKALS.
Each and every joint in my body decided to chime in today. I felt like you could hear them protesting with each move. Didn't you hear it? It sounded like a group of 1st year violin students running their scales. And to add insult to injury the popping of my knees made the people around me think a plane had just gone super sonic overhead.
My granddaughters think I look like Mary Kay Ash (who is dead for goodness sake!)
Please don't get me wrong, I am so thrilled to still be around but I truly don't feel ready for this next phase.
As I've looked back today I realize there are some things I would like do overs on.

I would write my granddaughters a letter every day telling them how much I love them, and giving them insight into my thoughts and my heart.

I would not overlook people who were not "in the groove" - I have learned that everyone has something to share and more importantly, something to teach.

I would laugh every single chance I got. I would not waste one second of my precious life crying about anything.

I would be more tolerant of other people's mistakes.

I would never be without a dog for even a single second.

I would ALWAYS send a card, make a phone call, hold a hand, offer a prayer, lend an ear and wipe a tear.

I would awaken every day of my life praising God for my existence and for allowing me to experience every single blessing and challenge He gave me. And, I would go to bed every night begging forgiveness for failing so miserably in every way shape and form.

I would use the words I LOVE YOU in speaking to everyone I know - and I would mean them. And, I would earnestly ask to be loved in return.

I would read my daughter's unwritten book on being a wife and mother and try to be better at each.

I would listen to my grandparent's boring stories about their lives. It would make understanding my own so much easier.

I would genuinely try to never wrong anyone, but if I did, I would "man up" - admit it - ask forgiveness and love them anyway even if they refused.

I would journal my life every day - these are the bones of a family. The foundation we build on. I would leave it to others to put flesh on those bones.

I would be happy, joyous, glad, worshipful, praise driven, honest, kind, compassionate, fearless and soft enough to expose my tenderest parts.

Happy Birthday Old Girl! You've lived a lot, loved more than most, laughed till your stomach ached, cried a river, saw a lot, heard even more and thankfully spoke about it less. You are a contradiction in terms - and I actually find you kind of interesting. Let's try to leave this orb much better for us being here.

An Oldie But Still A Goodie!

I found this today while looking for a completely unrelated document on my computer. While it is an oldie, some points still remain valid. My apologies for the one bad word - I tried to think of a different one, but nothing carried quite as much impact. Sorry.

I've decided to analyze my own dreams. I will either learn that I am borderline crazy as a room full monkeys, or well on my way to self discovery.
My dreams have always been the product of an over active imagination. But lately, depending on the level of sleep aids I've ingested have been downright bizarre. I know that my present life condition is contributing to my technicolor, Monty Pythonesque sleep periods. I also know that my inability to deal with said life condition doesn't particularly help form a relaxing restful slumber. But hey, this is me and I've always had this personality and chances are at this advanced stage in my development, things aren't likely to change. Therefore, following is my latest pillow carnival. My analysis of the different points will be set apart by asterisks.

Anyone who knows me well knows that lately I have had trouble sleeping (as evidenced by the fact I am blogging at 11:45 at night!) Watching TV you see the lovely peaceful commercials for Ambien or my personal favorite the gentle floating butterfly effect of Lunestra. What they don't tell you in these commercials is that you need to know some personal kind of dirt on your doctor before he will take pity on you and give you these. Also, the try free for a week, etc. is a further misleading statement. What they will do is send you a coupon for the product but you still have to get your doctor's permission to try it. As far as I'm concerned they are all the supreme leaders of the different levels of hell. There isn't a doctor alive who thinks that it isn't perfectly okay for me to spend practically 2 years of my life with hardly any sleep. I have desperately sought some sort of relief....no caffeine after 5:00 in the evening. Nice warm baths with candles and wine. Reading, meditating, counting sheep, counting dogs, counting money....you name it I tried it. I have on occasion considered suffocating myself (just kidding!) Actually, I'm not kidding. Given my inability to sleep and my husband's constant coughing the chances of someone getting a mouthful of feathers increases every night.

So...I decided that I would give Tylenol PM a shot. Holy Cow! Where has this stuff been all my life? As a former debilitating migraine sufferer, I have practically rendered myself impervious to medication but this stuff is "THE BOMB." Literally, light's out...... in fact, I usually feel quite lucky(?) to wake up the next morning.

I can take it, turn on the TV and the next thing I know it's morning, my mouth is dry as the desert (which probably means I've snored like a logger all night long.) I've thought about trying to do something about this problem too but given the aforementioned hubalump coughing I feel it is my only defense.
But, just as no good deed goes unpunished...neither does any good remedy.

The dreams are WILD and so vivid that I literally can remember them in perfect detail the next day. I've shared a few of these flights of fancy with a few of my family and friends who I'm pretty sure now have Harbor View on speed dial just in case. Note to family: Harbor View no longer frightens me, I totally rock group therapy.
But the one I had the other night was quite possibly the most interesting one I've ever had. Brace yourselves readers this is going to take some time.
It all began with the little Edwards girls who for some reason were in need of me dressing them for school. In putting their socks on I realized their socks were purple. ***Analysis: Direct reference to my inability to fix anything that is wrong, broken or otherwise being a pain in the butt***
Being the snappy dresser I am I knew they couldn't wear purple socks with their school uniforms so I was very concerned. At this point, their mother appeared and reassured me that all I had to do was turn them inside out. So I did and sure enough they weren't purple on the other side. However, they were brown. ***Analysis: See previous paragraph***
So...I decide to buy them more socks. ***Analysis: Can you spell control freak***
Apparently the only store in dreamland was an outdoor outfitters store. Yep, log cabin decor, trophy animals the whole nine yards. ***Analysis: Has to stem from the fact that for a solid week I dealt with the cable company telling me they were not the ones to fix my internet problem. The phone company telling me they were not the ones to fix my phone problem. And the computer repair store telling me they were not the ones to fix my computer problem***
At this point Genevieve and Audrey are no longer involved in this dream and thank heaven for that. ***Analysis: God is mighty and merciful and spared my granddaughters from having to participate further in my madness***
Working in the store is an extremely well built young man wearing spandex biker shorts. Watch it...I know what you are thinking..but I hate spandex biker shorts with a passion. Now, here's the really interesting part. His spandex shorts are completely transparent in the posterior area. ***Analysis: This has to be a direct result of the fact that I think that some men (not all) are basically asses, either by showing them or acting like them***
Yikes! I was just wrapping my mind around his unseemly attire when a stagecoach, cowboys, Indians, trick riders on horses and a zoo wagon starting circling around inside the building. ***Analysis: My life is just one bearded fat lady away from being a complete circus. Sidenote: Perhaps I should have said dog faced boy since my body style can handle the fat lady part and my hormones (or lack of) is accomplishing the rest.)***
I hope you are laughing at this point because I am splitting my pjs myself right now. Mercifully the dream ended somewhere during the circus acts but when I woke up boy was I confused! So I guess the Tylenol PM is going to have a short lived run.....darn it. Although, I could just continue to take it and continue to regale my loyal followers with my dreams. I have to run now, I think I hear the little men with the white coats knocking on the door. :)

Everybody Polka!

Yesterday, Roger and I celebrated 17 years of wedded mess (er...I mean bliss.) Actually our life together has been nothing short of chaotic. We have been on top of the mountain and to the bottom of the abyss in those 17 years. **Ahem...I have to confess that I sure enjoy the view from the mountaintop a whole lot more.** But, I just know that being down means we have to tie on our hiking shoes, take a lot of Ibuprofen and start climbing.
Since we are not blessed with an overabundance of cash at present, we were very fortunate to be in possession of a gift card to a local German restaurant. Now of all the ethnic foods out there, German is my least favorite. But, having someone else pay for the lion's portion of my anniversary dinner.....I'm totally on board with that.
I managed to wrestle Roger into attire other than T shirt and jeans, I put on my best bib and tucker and off we went. Heck, we were even on time! **For us, that is huge. If your last name is Beshears chances are your picture is beside the word TARDY in the dictionary**
I really wish I would have been able to capture the moment when we entered the restaurant and heard Polka music. Roger is not big on "entertaining" dinners. He loves the "show" at Japanese steakhouses and to make it better they don't sing. Karaoke is in his opinion the 9th level of hell (and I have to say I pretty much agree with him on this one.) And in all of our 17 years together I've never known him to willingly seek out a Polka Band. He will sit and have a beer and listen to live entertainment **that expression has always puzzled me - live entertainment....as opposed to dead entertainment?** But I digress.
Polka was a'playin' as we entered and lucky us...they seated us right in front of the stage! This was a husband and wife team, she was wearing Pippi Longstockings tights with Mary Jane shoes and a plaid skirt and sweater combo. Her hair had been sprayed the most unusual shade of red and her hubs was also suitably attired. The woman played the accordion (which I've always been fascinated with - they look very complicated to play) and the husband played what Roger kept referring to as a Flueglehorn? The husband would occasionally sing and when I inquired of my husband who has traveled more extensively than I, if that was the way German's sang, was informed that no, that was Louie Armstrong that sang like that. The "band" had 2 preschool age children that spent the evening running through the restaurant laughing and screaming at the top of their lungs until time for them to perform as well. I have to confess that I thought those 2 little vunder kinder doing The Chicken Dance was very charming. They did it well as opposed to when they were supposed to Polka. The Polka caused them to have obvious artistic differences in their delivery. Umm, can you smell the romance in our evening?
Our prime spot right in front made it impossible to avoid the Polka Band. Since we could be seen, applause was necessary after each number and they engaged us in conversation which I assume was part of their act. In short, they would not be ignored. We did not come prepared to tip the Polka People so I had to enter into some serious negotiations with our charming ex-New Yorker waiter to come up with a cash appreciation for their entertainment. Upon tipping, we were instructed to please take one of their postcards. I picked one up, expecting to see info on their band. Instead, I found only a website referenced. www.polkayoureyeout.com hmmmmmm......after Roger and I tried to make this say everything we finally tumbled to the fact that it said Polka Your Eye Out. Honestly, I only had 3 teensy little glasses of wine.
In spite of everything, we had a great time.
I'm sure you are waiting to know what the point to this Blog post is. Well, here you go. What did Polka Night teach me? It taught me that all it takes to enjoy something is to let yourself be open to it. There were at least 3 big negatives about the night that could have ruined an evening, but instead turned it into a great fun evening for both of us. It is all about your attitude. If you decide something is going to be crappy, chances are the stench will be overwhelming. But, if you decide to just let yourself go, give yourself over, join in the craziness, you will find out that joy has jumped on the wagon with you. While we may never choose that particular event again, for now....Everybody POLKA!

Who Is On Your Pedestal?

Today I watched as Tiger Woods did his formal apology to all those people he has hurt with his actions. I sure don't approve of what Tiger did, but he is a human being after all. And like the rest of us, he suffers the same temptations, challenges and problems. Just because a person has a bazillion dollars doesn't immunize them from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
All in all, I'm pretty tired of Tiger and all "famous" people whose problems get played out in front of the world for all to see. Aren't we lucky that WE are invisible humans and get to "hide" our stuff in our own lives where few see and even fewer know. Somehow that makes us feel better about ourselves.
However, as I was watching and listening to Tiger talk, I started thinking about his position. We hold celebrities up to the light of scrutiny after we have placed them on a teetering pedestal of human frailty. I too, thought the Woodster was a "do-right" kind of guy. I've even said "Wow, what must it be like to be him?" Well, I dare say no one is terribly envious of him now.
As a kid, I looked up to my teachers. Some like Rita Chisum, George Snider, Mary Dalton, Elaine Elliott, & Louise Pierce taught me so much about the kind of person I wanted to be. Some simply were genuinely good people, some taught me about honesty and fair play, others brought the love of literature, theater and music into my life.
I looked up to people in authority. People like H. Wilbanks who tried with everything in him to have a good and decent place for us to grow up and yet he was able to keep that connection with the kids that made us try not to disappoint and feel crappy when we did.
I confess to admiring people who have found the one person in life that fits the bill and has had the intelligence and talent to stay with them.
I look up to my little bitty daughter who is a human dynamo. Her ability to multi-task and make good decisions is astounding. She also has the strength to let you lean on her less than 100 pound body when you are too tired to stand on your own. Her skill as a wife and a mother are amazing and I am in awe.
I admire my husband for his honesty, humility, tolerance, kindness, wittiness and intelligence and long suffering endurance (he is married to me after all.)
Many many people in my life have touched me and given me those awestruck moments of hero worship. But, I would be wrong to put any of them on a pedestal. They are all human and therefore prone to fall. Hopefully, I would be around to throw myself under them when they fell, wrap my arms around them and tell them it was okay. Hopefully, I wouldn't ask any of them to strip themselves bare emotionally for falling.
In my opinion, there was only One Who could stand on a pedestal and be worthy of such a position. How interesting that He didn't want to be on the pedestal, what he chose was a lowly cross with a couple of flawed humans.
Be careful who you place on your pedestal because while you are looking up at them you might miss the quiet voice whispering in your ear. He will not stand above you but He will walk beside you, comfort and sustain you and give you immeasurable peace.
So, today, I would like for us all to think about Who is on our pedestal. Who do we hold up as our example of how to live, how to treat others, how to forgive and most of all, how to endure?

So How'd Ya Get Your Big Old Butt Up There On The Fence Anyhow?

Excerpt from "The Dog Chronicles" - Chapter 7

Veronica’s final flight could have possibly been the best. And, after all the months of rescuing, chasing and worrying, I finally had a witness to my plight. At long last my husband was home. Roger was in the house in his office and unknown to me, my daughter was also about to arrive.
I was actually in the yard when Veronica went sailing over. It was miraculous to behold – one moment she was just a dog enjoying the freedom of her backyard – the next she was experiencing the miracle of flight. I watched her put her nose in the air and I truly think at that moment I witnessed her brain flipping the switch to “off.” She backed up about 12 feet from the fence, made a running dash and catapulted herself toward it. She jumped high enough that her front legs hung over the top of the fence and she scrabbled with her back feet until she achieved enough purchase on the boards to push herself over.
My blood literally went from just coursing through my hardening arteries to the point of boiling and pulsating until I thought my head would explode. I went in the house in search of my husband, explained to him that the “damn” dog had taken a powder AGAIN!
Contrary to what you think you have been able to discern about my personality and character by now, patience is NOT my strong suit. I am enough like my mother to have the “I want it done and I want it done NOW” chromosome. When I have reached a personal crisis point, any delay will only serve to make me want to annihilate not only the source of my problem but anyone who is not responding with my same level of urgency. In short, failure to help me when I request it will put your life in mortal peril. Or mine as this case proved to be.
My darling husband is the “great procrastinator.” He subscribes to the “why do today that which you can put off until tomorrow” credo. Therefore, he failed to come running when summoned and that was the first step in my ultimate undoing.
When I did not see any help forthcoming, the pounding in my head became so severe that I literally saw red. I’m sure anyone watching would have been able to observe my brain shutting down just as Veronica’s had a few minutes earlier.
Stalking to the shed, muttering every expletive known to modern man plus a few that I made up by combining several foul words, I was a woman on a collision course with destiny.
I threw the tools of my fence scaling trade against the fence and began my ascent. I don’t exactly know what went wrong. It was the same problem, the same fence, same ladder and lawn chair and I was certainly the same highly agitated person. Everything was the same except my ability to conquer the situation.
I was able to mount the fence but that was the end of my journey. Somehow once I had one leg on one side of the fence and one on the other, I was hopelessly stuck. There I was, lying on my stomach on top of the fence unable to go anywhere. I didn’t even have the ability to simply go limp and fall off the fence. I’m sure I presented a pretty picture, something akin to a beached whale impaled on a harpoon. Kaylee tells me that I spent a lot of time twitching and trying to fling my leg or legs up onto or over the fence. I'm not sure, by the time she gets to this point in the story she becomes quite incoherent and I don't completely understand her.
Under the roaring in my already deaf ears, I could hear my daughter shouting for my husband. And she must have been really worried because there was an underlying note of real urgency in her voice. Upon further examination, I came to realize what I mistook for compassionate panic was actually her rather feeble attempt to control hysterical, gut wrenching, tear jerking laughter.
Suddenly, my rescuer arrived! It is interesting to me that a person can be amused, worried and genuinely mad as can be all at the same time, but Roger was all these things and more. Somehow he managed to get my fat butt down off the fence without injuring himself but not without a solid scolding about my reckless behavior. I was counseled severely about my lack of patience and need to “do everything myself and right now.” Hello……earth to Roger…had you come when called, none of this would have happened. To add insult to injury, he also managed to retrieve the dog without significant incident and restored order to the animal kingdom in the yard.
Men have this ingrained sense of being the superior sex, more capable at problem solving and just general chest beating testosterone machismo. And now, I had unwittingly contributed to this particular man’s ego. After all, it was a female dog that started the ball rolling and HIS female that rolled it smack into a brick all, or a privacy fence in this case. I think his head grew 2 sizes that day.
It did not help that by the next day my inner thighs were bruised from where they connected to my torso all the way to my knees. This colorful reminder of my day of infamy did nothing to make my husband contrite over his failure to timely respond to my need. In fact, each time those bruises were visible, he had such a self satisfied smirk on his face that I wanted to slap him silly and lock him in the closet.
And then there is my darling daughter who continues to this day to bemoan the fact that she had not had a video camera available. She was and still is convinced she could have been the big winner on America’s Funniest Videos. And the fact that she would have profited from my misfortune would not have bothered her in the slightest. I get NO respect and probably wouldn’t have gotten part of the money either. But hey, it is enough for me to know that I am a constant source of amusement to those I love!



Next Installment: Where, oh where, has my little dog gone?

Let Me Hear You Bark Like A Dog - or Stupid Hurts

You will never be able to say that I will not make fun of myself. Part of the reason for that is sometimes I crack myself up. I think I can be really funny at times and at other times I'm so stupid it's funny.

I stuck my toe in the water today and mentioned an incident that happened a while ago and several of you have private messaged me and wanted the skinny on the story so I shall write and publish for you all. Mostly because I always feel that it is a good thing to provide a public service announcement when you can. So read on.

I've mentioned loads of times that there was a prolonged period when my husband lived and worked in Kansas City. Most of the time he came home briefly on weekends but there were times when it just didn't work out for us. It was usually during his absence that all things crappy in nature chose to happen around the house. If you have read "The Dog Chronicles" you know that Vaulting Veronica would usually pull her disappearing act while Roger was away. Leaving me to climb fences and search neighborhoods to retrieve her. But that story belongs to a different day.

I am absolutely a rabid animal lover. I can't stand the thought of someone neglecting or hurting an animal. In fact, there are people who think I need some form of intervention concerning my treatment of my dogs. I firmly believe that the more like a person you treat them, the more like a person they become. And I have proof of this in Jessie the Wonder Dog (RIP) so no arguments please.

That being said, one of our rescue dogs, Betty was and is a terrible barker. Most of her problem stems from the fact that she is absolutely terrified of all humans but Roger and I. So if there are other people in our house, she barks. If there are other people next door, she barks. The squirrel in the tree makes her bark.  Thunder in North Dakota makes her bark.  If she hears a mouse fart on the next street....well, you get the picture.

Her barking was contagious. She would start, then Veronica would join in and finally poor old Max would be unable to contain himself and would add his voice to the chorus. They were driving me crazy and I was scared to death that I was going to be cited by the city for disturbing the peace.

So.......I decided to try the bark collar on them hoping to bring their incessant barking under control. I bought one of those that only transmit when the dog barks, strapped it on Betty, she barked, jumped about 2 feet off the ground, flew sideways and shut up! YAY!!!! I left the collar on her for a couple of days and then removed it. She would be good for a while but eventually would need another lesson in vocal control.

One extremely boring weekend when I was home alone I decided to change the battery in the bark collar because it no longer having the desired effect.

As I unscrewed the little compartment that housed the battery, the unit beeped. Hmmmmm, maybe the battery wasn't dead after all. Now I've already told you that I am often too stupid to function and I'm sure you know where this story is headed. I'm standing in my kitchen with this bark collar in my hand and it occurs to me "How do I know that these even work?" "What if it really hurts the dog?"  The literature says it is 100% HUMANE, but............is it really?  No one is here for me to talk to about this enigma so scientifically I owe it to myself and my dogs to learn the true nature of this instrument.

The box on the collar has 2 small metal points about an inch and a quarter apart. Confidently, I pressed those two small points to my throat and vocalized my best imitation of a big dog bark.  

HOLY CRAP!!!! 

My vocal cords seized completely up, tears ran both down my cheeks and my legs,  and I could swear I felt my heart stop and restart. People, I have never had anything hurt so bad in my life - it was a genuine pity that I didn't have a nice thick coat of fur to somewhat diminish the sensation because right on bare skin was the equivalent of dropping your hair dryer in the tub with you. 

Those things may be HUMANE - but apparently not for the individuals who make up the root of that word.

When my vision cleared and I could speak again, I called my husband and told him what I had done. He must have been really busy because he immediately got this strangled sound and said "Let me call you back."
I think it may have taken him some time to recover his composure which was lost from laughing so hard.because it took a bit for him to call me back.

Well, it didn't take long for that story to get around the family and then one Thanksgiving they all had to get the collar out and try it for themselves. They passed that collar from person to person, each one barking in turn and being AMAZED that it hurt like hell.  My daughter (ever cautious) was having difficulty making a good bark and kept saying "I don't feel anything."  It was at that point one of her brothers leaned over and gave a hearty WOOF - she felt it. 

I sure wish I could have had a video camera that night with everyone sitting around barking............I would be fabuloso wealthy now and could send my dogs for anti-bark therapy.

And now for your public service announcement: Children don't try this at home....that dog (collar) will bite you....

Excuse Me Ma'am - Your Slip Is Showing

Oh wait.....No, it isn't. That's because you aren't wearing a slip. And I ask you dear madam, Why aren't you wearing a slip? What's that you say? Wal-Mart no longer carries slips? Why that simply is impossible. Do they not consider themselves the EVERYTHING place. My goodness, you can get your oil changed, your eyes checked, your nails buffed AND your picture made while waiting on the Photo department to process your film or digital imagery. Then you can leisurely stroll over to the grocery aisle while your dear husband checks out the .22 rifles in the sporting goods department. After that you might want to make a trip down the meaningless gesture aisle because surely someone has a birthday, anniversary, bar mitzvah and is dying for one of those Hot Sauce combo packs. Therefore, you must be mistaken. What's that you say? "The "associate" in the lingerie/sock department said that Wal-Mart hasn't carried slips in about 3 years!"
My stars and garters! Literally!
This morning for the 3rd time in maybe that many years, I opted to wear a dress to church. I usually go for the 2 piece suit type look as my body has not retained a shape conducive to attractive wearing of a dress. This particular dress really needed a slip under it. I realize that because over the course of the past decade I have been the self appointed "underwear" police in my area. Working for a photography studio - I saw it all. I saw girls who wore panties that should have rethought their choice. Here's a little hint gals.....thongs don't always look good under an iridescent while clingy dress - especially when said thong is royal blue. I have seen girls who opted to not wear a bra - AND SHOULD HAVE. I've seen girls who wore a bra - nice white straps with block and tackle buckles under a strapless gown. And I've seen grown women walk into a business in a nice light chiffony little summer dress. With the light shining behind them, I became far more familiar with them than I cared to.
So, I'm a little anal when it comes to proper undergarmenting (spell check says that is not a word it recognizes) TOO BAD - I recognize it.
On the way to church we stopped at the closest Wal-Mart - I ran in while the hubs circled the parking lot like an anxious lover waiting to pick up his date on a Saturday night. Carefully, I perused the foundation department. Panties - check, pantyhose - check, bras - check, check and triple check, press it down and move it up garments - check. But no slips. No full slips, no half slips. Nothing, nada, zero, zip. Running out of time I found an "associate" and inquired where I might lay my hands on a slip and was informed that indeed they no longer carry slips.
Now I was in a pickle. It was too late to return home and change, nothing else was open and I wasn't even wearing my long coat.
So, today, I went to church with no slip and was paranoid the entire day that someone else would know I had no slip. I guess I will have to do some research into why the slip has "slipped" away into oblivion. But, listen girls, if you have slips, hang on to them - they will be collector's items someday. Perhaps I will see one of you on the Antiques Roadshow being offered a million bucks for your underwear.