"We Don't Have Anything for That Here!"

I spent 5 days in the hospital this past week, and had a very unique exprience that still causes me some confusion, but which was also a very unique blessing.

After 3 days of pretty horrible pain and nausea, I was finally coming around to being a human again. I was loaded with all kind of meds; my arm looked like a pin cushion with all the needles stuck in it. And then this very unusual (funny?) thing happened.

I was lying there, talking with my daughter, and I closed my eyes to rest them for a moment. To my astonishment, with my eyes closed, I began to see pictures of people and things floating toward me. It was like there was a small camera on my eyeball, floating this way and that, and taking those pictures.

They were tiny pictures of the faces of persons, mostly male, and one and then another would move aggressively toward me. I couldn't dodge them; they frightened me with their obsessive movement.

I tried to look away (all this with eyes closed, remember) but they kept on coming back, bombarding me with their moving faces. At first, the faces were just plain people, but then they became grotesque and twisted, mouths slashed, eyes bulging, and terrible diseased spots scattered on them.

All this was happening in the space of maybe 30 seconds because I almost immediately opened my eyes and the faces went away. My heart was beginning to pound a bit now. Just to be sure that it was a momentary thing I shut my eyes again, waited a second, and there they were - back again!

Now I was becoming panicky. I hesitated to say anything to Mary, but she understands me pretty well and I thought she would believe me if I told her what was happening. So I told her and she said, "Well, gosh, Mom, that's strange."

I kinda shrugged, feeling pretty stupid, and determinedly kept my eyes open. When Mary was leaving, I shut my eyes very quickly, just to check, and, dang it. the pictures were back. But I decided to act like an adult and let Mary go without worrying her.

That was a mistake. After she left, I frantically shut my eyes again and again and there the pictures were, dancing up and down, moving fast and hatefully toward me. By now, I was frantic. I couldn't keep on doing this, shutting my eyes and then having to pop them open to ward off thedse grotesque, frightening, obsessive person pictures. I had to be able to sleep!

So I called the nurse, who just happened to be a large, black woman, very professional and very assured, and told her what was happening. At first, she just didn't say anything, but I kept on ranting about the terrible thing that was happening to me. She listened a few seconds longer , then started moving deliberately toward the door and said, "We don't have anything here to take care of that." I know she thought I was crazy.

This is all funny now, but then it was the most terrifying, horrible, frightening experience I have ever had. In desperation, after struggling another 30 minutes with the same thing happening every time I closed my eyes, I called her back and asked for a pain shot. She gave it to me and I fell asleep.

Two hours later, I woke up. The pictures were back, and now the machine feeding the tubes into my arm was making a strange sound. It was very rhythmically saying, "Attack, attack, attack" each time a drop in the I.V. hit the bottom of the bottle. (You can laugh now, because it sounds so ridiculous) but I was almost hysterical . Was I going insane? Did I have a fatal disease? Would I become a specimen for medical science to ponder over?

It was the closest I've come in a long time to completely "losing it." I wished for Mary, I wished for Bill, I wished for Mark, I wished for anyone who could help me, but I was all by myself .

But not completely.

In a moment of utter despair, desperation, confusion, fear overwhelming
me, I called out to God for help. And He was there, calming me, warming me, and loving me.

The pictures didn't stop, but I was calmer, able to think coherently and realize that what was happening could be from my cataract eye distorting things, or an effect of the many meds.

So I called the nurse back. I was determined to ask her if she heard the machine saying "Attack, attack, attack" and if she didn't, I knew I was in big trouble. Very carefully I asked her: "Do you hear the noise that machine is making?"

To my great relief, she said, "Oh yes, it's a faulty machine and has always made strange noises, which change from time to time." I was so happy to have her confirm that I wasn't really "going 'round the bend."

So there it is: my strange, weird, unaccountable experience. By the time I left hospital on Tuesday, all the pictures were gone, I was sleeping well, and the nightmare was over.

So why write all this? Remember the title, "We don't have anything for something like that?" Well, she is right; science doesn't have an answer to such experiences. But the spiritual world does have an answer for us, and it is God.

Peace and love from a grateful believer.

Back in Grapevine

We are back in Grapevine after a marvelous 5 weeks with Alice Lynn and family in BHam. So much fun being with the kids who are rapidly growing into teenage-adults. If Bill and I haven't accomplished much of anything else, we sure enough done good with having 3 children who have managed to become pretty marvelous adults --- and have given us 7 Practically Perfect Grandchildren!!

The plane trip home was a good one -- pleasant people helped us get on the plane, the air was smooth and the flight was fast. It was good to see Mary Anne waiting at the luggage place for us.

Good news on the dog scene. I had Barney overnight and got to love on him a lot; let him sleep with me, and we got up together to go potty. He is such a sweet, cute dog, and he will forever be my First Love. But then this darling little girl Shih Tsu has become our new pet. She is white with brown spots, beautiful brown eyes, and loves to cuddle like a baby!!!
We got her from a Vet whose wife is a student of Mary Anne's. And I am sure I will be in love with her also. It may seem stupid for me to take on one more responsibility, but, hey, what can I say?

I can't come up with a name for her - yet. Any suggestions? Yeah, Mark, I plan to make her second name Bruno. Something like Daisy Bruno?? or Carly Bruno? 'Course I will call her Daisy B.., or Carly B. or Whatever B., doncha know????

The wild presidential election is over and I am glad. I am also optimistic that President Obama will do well. I will pray for him as he assumes an awe-full responsibility to lead our country toward healing and health in so many troubling areas.

I hope to do some more writing for my own pleasure. I love the shape, form, sound, sense, intelligence, of WORDS, and I love trying to use them to express my thoughts, dreams, memories, hopes, and faith. One of the most profound statements about the power of the Word is found in John's gospel -- "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." --- and then the greatest miracle of all: "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us."

Goodnight and God bless!

Now Hear This

The buzz word for what is happening now seems to be "change." We hear it in differing forms: "We can change," "We will change," "Change is now." And since everyone in the USof A is urged to follow blithely down the road of "Change," I would like to make a few suggestions of change that I would especially like to find in the life of one Voter (me) whose vote is supposed to count for everything, and which I think did count in our recent presidential election.

I voted. I expressed my choice for President. And now we have a New President and a New Congress, and these are the things I would like to see changed by them -- in my lifetime -- in my lifestyle--- in my finances -- and right now!!!

And be clear about this: I want all these things in MY LIFE, which means I'm not really very concerned about YOUR Life, which sounds very self-serving and egocentric, and to be honest, that is what it is!!!

1. I want peace in this world, beginning here in America, extending to Iraq, where I want peace to prevail and I want it RIGHT NOW. That means to pull our soldiers , who have been bleeding and dying in Iraq for 6 years, back to USA so they can become part of the diminishing armed forces that need to be cut in order for more important programs to be financed by our government. We really do need to take care of the conservation of the Great White Hoot Owl in Governor Palin's North Western Part of Alaska. You know, that area that is just "right over there" from Russia. Think of the great impact that kind of compassion will have on our relations with Putin and Mother Russia! They will truly love us for it!! There will be no further need for our President to have to sit down with Putin and talk about how much he admires the Russian ethic of hard work on nuclear plants, and how much we Americans want to be "their buddies."

2. And since I am one of the many Americans who make less than $250,000 a year, I want my taxes cut --- or better still -- I want them eliminated completely. I'm not concerned about capital gains tax cuts , since I don't make enough money to worry about that. All I have to pay is income tax, sales tax, death tax, cigarette and booze tax, school tax, police and firemen's tax, trash hauling tax, gasoline tax, repairmen's tax, utilities tax, cable tax, telephone tax, dental and doctor's tax (so they can make a decent living), and church tax (we call that "tithing.") I'm sure there are some hidden taxes that I'm not even aware of, but the federal government will surely take care of those for me so I can be a happy and contented, and my psyche will be in such good shape that I won't be critical of anything or anyone! That means there will be no flack from me directed at our Leaders In Washington!!! No sir-eee---not from me.

Please start with removing my income tax. After all, my husband and I both worked for sixty years, saved, scrimped, did without, and paid taxes faithfully into Social Security in order to have a really splendid income of $7,000 a month (because we funded an IRA and a Savings Account in addition to SS taxes). We managed to buy and pay for a home and two cars on the way, and didn't accumulate anything on our credit cards that could not be paid off at the end of the month. Sounds peachy, doesn't it???? BUT we still have $600.00 a month drawn out of our retirement account (which goes to the Government's Coffer) so that we will not have to borrow money to pay our income tax at the end of the year.

And so, if you eliminate THAT income tax, I promise I will spend the $600.00 each month and thereby guarantee that the economy will get such a boost that our financial quandary will be solved. Oh, by the way, since it is MY money to spend, I will send $300.00 to my M.D. nephew in China so he can minister to sick and dying Chinese and whisper to them the gospel hope of life eternal; I will increase my gift to World Missions to $200.00 to support another young person in Africa so that now TWO people will have a chance at life. That leaves me a hundred bucks to waste on books, movies, gifts to grandchildren, and a special box of chocolates for JUST ME. I hope this wild and carefree spending on my part will satisfy the idealogues who are so anxious to bail out all our financial establishments who have been led down the path of bankruptcy by corruption, greed, and irresponsibility.

3. And while we are talking, in addition to cutting taxes for me, please let the government take immediate action to CUT the cost of living expenses drastically. That means cut the cost of groceries, clothing, medicine, gasoline, doctor's and dentist bills, repair for cars, houses, lawns, insurance, new TVs, and Miscellaneous Things (anything that I have to pay for that I haven't mentioned will fall under this umbrella.)

4. I think that is about all I need right now. But be sure, if other needs arise, I will look to YOU, The Federal Government, to come to my rescue. I don't want to be coy, but "You promised, you promised. ' Remember? Remember?

5. Now, you (the Government: President, Congress, et. al) have my blessing! Do anything you want to do to make our country great, rich, powerful, and pleasing to the rest of the world. I'm all for it; I'm right behind you!!

What was that? What did you say? How will all of this be paid for? Oh, that's so simple. NAIL THE RICH FOLKS!!! Call on Warren Buffett, Bill Gates, Oprah Winfrey, all the rich CEOs and NFL Football players, and particularly the Movie Stars, and anyone else that makes over $250,000 a year. Let 'em keep their $250,000 and "eat cake." Worked in France, so why not here.

P.S. I'm not available for any Cabinet Post, any Departmental Position in D.C. I've got more important things to do: like sitting in my lounging chair and reading books --- and eating my box of chocolates.

Idiosyncratic Antics of Aged People

Know any Aged Persons who sometimes DO or SAY strange things? You've probably wondered where All That is coming from? Well, it's because a special, peculiar idiosyncrasy just kicked in and they do anything but respond to that peculiar THING; They just can't help themselves!! So it's no good to look at them censoriously or embarrasedly or aghastly -- just go with the flow.

To help you understand what some of these idiosyncrasies are and how they play out in real life here 1s a partial list of them:


1. They are subject to a sudden change in health.
Your Mom wakes up at 5 a.m., calls and says "I hurt all over; I think I am dying, the Good Lord is about to call me home."
You rush over, try to do something, but she prefers just to "lie here a little while" and do nothing.
You happen to see her drive by your house about noon. Call frantically on the cell phone. She says, "Oh, I feel great; Mildred called for me to meet her at lunch."

2. They are subject to a sudden change in mood.
You stop by and your Mom is huddled in an old robe in a fetal position on the couch with all the lights turned off. "What's wrong, Mom?" "I'm having a nervous breakdown; there's no hope for me." You can't give her an electric shock treatment as you would like to, so you go home, worried and upset.
You call at noon. She says brightly, "I'm going to play tennis, my pal the Aged Doctor just called." She giggles like a teenager.

3. Aged People also LIE (fib, prevaricate,stretch-the-truth) A LOT.
A. To their Doctor. "No, I don't have any chest pains,(no open heart surgery for me! No, nothing is changed with my eating habits (No colonoscopy in the offing) ), No, I don't have any trouble breathing, either (No MRI for me.)
"Why am I in your office?" "I've got a little itch in an embarrassing place, Doctor, that's all."

B. To their Opthalmologist. "Yes, I know I have a cataract, but with these new glasses I see quite well." (Nobody is going to poke AROUND in my eyeball if I can help it.)

C. To their Financial Advisor. "No, I don't have a budget; that indicates that you are too concerned about money, and I just trust the Lord to take care of me.

D. To their children. "I understand what you are doing, and it is all right." "Yes, your children are well mannered, well disciplined, really good kids." "No, it really doesn't matter how you spend your money, or if you save any at all." "Yes, I know you are a Baby Boomer and your Group is going to rule the world much better than us WW2 old mossbacks."

E. To their grandchildren. "Yes, I really like the large brass ring in your nose; it sets you off from everybody else." "Yes, your long purple hair is provocative -- in a nice way." "I understand that you are smarter than anyone else in the world --particularly smarter than your parents, or your doddering old grandparents."

F. To their own friends. "I don't feel a day over sixty."
"My children are so concerned about my welfare; I can hardly get away from them." "Oh, we still do a LOT OF THINGS together. "Yes, we are still madly in love; he/she is so thoughtful about anniversary/birthday/other important events." "Of course NOT, I would never think of leaving him/her."


Aged People are also prone to strange physical idiosyncrises:

1. They don't walk. They wobble, stagger, weave back and forth, take tiny, tiny scooting steps, step high when they are going down, step low when they are heading up.

2. They can't talk very well. Their voices are cracked, they mumble, they can't remember simple words, and if they try to sing, it's a disaster beyond belief.

3. They fall asleep at unexpected times --- like when you are talking to them. Or they stay awake all night, remembering things they did 50 years ago.

4. They don't really like to eat much anymore. Probably because everything tastes mostly like buttered cardboard, or looks like squishy goop.

5. They can't drink anyhing alcoholic because --- they already wobble, stagger, weave, etc.etc.


So what is one to do with AGED PERSONS? How about just loving them, crazy as they are; laughing with them, not at them; seeing something spiritual in them and celebrating that.

Life is mostly good, mostly fun, mostly happy, mostly challenging, mostly rewarding. Enjoy it because one day you, too, will be an AGED PERSON, and ------------------------------.

Who's Minding the Store?

I decided I'd better get another blog in or my mind will deteriorate from old age and I won't be able to compose anything of any value -- that is, if I ever do!

With all the excitement of the stock market plunge and the attendant inability of Congress to put together some kind of relief package, I guess my question is "Who's minding the store?" I know this is a very unusual event happening in our country, but, My Gawd, aren't there any intelligent and willing people in our whole country to try and help with the problem? I donno.

I'm sure not happy with all that is happening to our tax money (and our small Smith-Barney account) but I can't get too upset about the whole thing. The Republic has withstood some terrible things in the past, and has survived and I think we will eventually get through this mess.

One advantage that an old person like me (and Bill) is that we have lived through a depression, several wars, social revolutions like the Hippy Movement, the freeing of women from old stereotypes, the acceptance of our black society as a part of our great society, along with the gradual slippy slide downward in our moral standards. Surely, after all that time and experience, we should have some wisdom accumulated from the ride.

Problem is -- who cares?

On to more mundane things: We are so excited about getting another trip to Birmingham next week. We so enjoy being with the Elgins, especially Alex, Alaina, Olivia and Curry. The rejuvenate us with their liveliness, their enthusiasm, their love. It's really great being a grandparent!

And when we get back to Grapevine, one of my first jobs is to find us another Barney to keep us company. WE both have missed that silly little dog romping around and demanding attention. So Mary Anne will have her hands full taking me to kennels to find just the right dog for us!!!

One other thing: I have so appreciated how the SS class at our church has taken us in and become our friends. Honestly, these folks are so great that missing our friends at OKC has faded into the background. It's amazing how the tie of Christian faith binds people together so quickly and so lovingly.

We are getting a land phone on Monday so that Bill will have a quick connection to keep up with me. He has trouble handling the cell phone with its tiny details and this will make him feel more secure if he can check on me by phone whenever he wants to. And it's great fun that I can be out flitting around and not having to worry about getting home at any specific time.

JUST IN CASE YOU ALL HAVEN'T NOTICED ----- Your Mom, Grandma, (whatever) is pretty much a Free Spirit these days, and having a grand time being one. After one is 84 years old (M.C. age) why not do whatever the heck -one wants to do???

(M.C. age - Grandma's age determined by Marie/Curry calculation)

Enough! Peace and Love.

Is It Too Much To Ask?

This has been a puzzling and thought-provoking day for me. We had coffee with Mark and Kim this morning, and that was fun and pleasant, as it always is. But this afternoon, for some peculiar reason, a foolish phrase has been running through my mind. (Nothing to do with the morning coffee chatter, honestly.)

And I feel impelled to write about it; I can't get it out of my mind.

Here is the phrase, "Is it too much to ask ..........? To ask whom? Well, just to get the discussion going, put in "the Fates," "the quirky gods of the universe," "blind Chance," the One True God, or anyone or anything else that we poor human beings think is in control of human affairs.

Got that? Now, let's complete the phrase with some grand hypothetical questions. Such as, "is it too much to ask
that starving children in Africa might somehow be fed? Is it too much to ask that a friend painfully dying with terminal cancer be released from agony? Is it too much to ask that a hearbroken parent might find some kind of comfort when he/she can do nothing to stop a child from destruction?

Are these grandiose questions too heavy? Then how about some simple ones?

Is it too much to ask that a frightened child might find comfort in the arms of a sensitive parent?

Is it too much to ask that a middle-aged Mom might find assurance in her heart that all will be well with her teenager?

Is it too much to ask that an Aged Person might feel compassionate love from unexpected sources?

Is it too much to ask that Someone might find unusual kindness from just an acquaintance or friend?

If you happen to be a pessimist or a melancholy person (as I sometimes am) you would answer "Yes, it is too much to ask. Life is not going to give you reasonable answers to these questions that crowd uncomfortably in your heart.

If you are an optimist or a person of faith (as I sometimes am), you would answer, "No, it is not too much to ask," and I will patiently wait for some kind of reasonable response from somewhere in the universe that will give me hope.


Well, that's the phrase that has been bedeviling my thoughts all day. And do you want to know the cause for this quandary, this morass of twisted thinking, this philosophical mismash of nonsensical questions?

Here it is: "Is it too much to ask that an eighty-six year old woman might have a small, frisky, and hellish little dog to keep and love and fret over?"

And the answer is, "Yes, it is too much to ask."

And I am sad. And I am lonely. And I don't understand.

Giving Up Barney

I'm having a terrible time giving up our dog, Barney. And I thought writing about it might help, but I don't know.

Mark got a home for him this morning, very quickly, and at first I was elated because it sound like he has a great home and will be happy there, and all the problems we were having with him will be gone.

But I have spent most of the afternoon crying about what has happened. We got the little stinker when he was a puppy and i went through all that agonizing time of trying to teach him to poop and pee outside, and then trying to fit him into our routine so that he would be our pet, and during the process I fell in love with him.

And now he is gone, and I am very sad.

I know that he had to go. We couldn't handle him so that he would not bite Bill and that was too dangerous and too devastating for Bill to handle. And I was nervous as a cat, trying to intervene and keep Barney away from Bill. So I know intellectually that all that has happened was for our good and ultimately, I hope, for Barney's good. I know that, but my emotions don't seem to jibe with my intellect, and so this sadness grips me.

I will get over the loss, I guess, and life will go on. But I have a lump in my throat still, and I don't know when it will go away permanently.

I realize that Barney is just a dog, and that he will be fine with other people who will fall in love with him as I did.

But right now, there is an ache in my heart, and a loneliness for something that was and now is no more.

I have no philosophical explanation that will help, no intellectualism that will lessen the sadness, no insight that will make things better, only a dull sense of despair and unexplainable ennui.

And I am sad.

Life is what it is, and sometimes it is . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Keeping Up Appearances

I couldn't think of a good title so I just put "Keeping Up Appearances" because it happens to be one of my favorite British TV shows which I only see occasionally because it comes on at 10:30 on Sunday nights! It is hillarious, and worth staying up to see, but sometimes I don't have the energy to keep my eyes open that late.

So what's happening and how am I keeping up appearances? Not much happening here (favorite quote from my son) but the beat goes on, and I do very ordinary things most of the time. I push myself out the door at least 4 times a week to walk, so that my old bones won't freeze up on me, and that's pretty routine.

I push Bill out the door to get coffee and a sweet roll almost daily because if I don't push he would sleep the rest of his life away. And I enjoy his company. I do all the talking and he nods occasionally to urge me on, and I rail on about whatever is in my emotional agenda to talk about on that particular day.

I've found out that when you are eighty-ish, the hot weather is just about as debilitating and dangerous as if you were in frigid Alaska with temps 50 below zero. When I get inside from doing errands in 100 degree weather, I am panting; my head is kinda dizzy; my legs feel like lead, and all my energy has run out through my toes. So I"m looking forward to the fall weather which is usually invigorating.

I'm subbing at SS at FBC these days for various people. LaRue got my name on the list, and the phone rings a lot. Today I taught the group that is designated "the ladies whose next promotion will be to heaven." They are that old!!! But they were all still alert, still willing to listen, and anxious to add their bits of wisdom to the group. It was kinda fun -- but I don't want any permanent teaching slot -- too much responsibility and hard work.

I find that I am more peaceful and content these days. Don't know exactly why. But when I start to worry about something, or someone, I just have a feeling come over me that worrying is pretty useless and that the people I worry about (my children (old as they are), my grandchildren (who are not my responsibility), and my husband (who is his own person and has to walk his own path), friends (whom I love) who need for me to listen. I usually just voice a short prayer for them, and go on my merry way.

Maybe that's a bit of wisdom I have learned as I get older, and older, and older.

Jesus taught us not to worry, and that we should take life as it comes and trust in Him for what we need. I'm beginning (at this late age) to actually attempt to do that!

Other writers have looked for answers to the questions we have about life and its meaning, and come to some conclusions which may give us some comfort. The atheist Voltaire said, through one of his characters, that the best we can do is "to plant and tend to our own gardens." Which, it seems to me is good advice.

T.S. Eliot said in "The Waste Land" that for some of us it seems like "we have measured out our lives with coffeespoons," suggesting that for the modern man his life may seem inconsequential and meaningless.

And his conclusion (my interpretation only) is a question: "Shall I at least set my lands in order?", suggesting that perhaps that is the best we as humans can do. Or as he further puts it, "These fragments I have shored against my ruins."

You knew I'd get off into literature or philosophy or something else, didn't you?? Well, I find that that happens to me when I start writng and maybe write too long!

But nobody ever died from thinking too much, did they??? I don't know.

scattered thoughts

I don't feel like writing a coherent , or time oriented blog today, but I will try to write out some scattered thoughts.

Scattered Thought No. 1 - Yesterday I bought a new TENNIS RACQUET ---for me. It's the newest one on the market and is really slick looking. Got it from my former tennis teacher for 50 bucks (he said it sold for 150.00).

Now the weird part, as most of you know, is that I haven't played tennis, or even been on a tennis court for 2 years!! So why do I need a NEW tennis racquet?

Best reply to that WHY is to consider another question.

Which is "AND "WHY haven't I been on a tennis court?"

Because I had reasoned with myself, an (84, 85,or 86 year old -(take your pick) old lady, that I shouldn't be so foolish as to keep testing fate by running across the tennis court and maybe falling down!!

Well, pooh to that. I took said tennis racquet and hit some balls with Mary Anne and Ben yesterday and it was fun. Of course, I'm rusty as a nail, have forgot all the good instructions I've had, and just slammed the ball around the court like a rank beginner.

There is a moral to this chatter. For one thing, don't put stupid restrictions on yourself as to what you can or cannot do ---- simply because of your age. I actually hit a few good balls back to Mary, I didn't fall down, and I was able to walk to the car and get home without collapsing! SO -- I did something I didn't think I could (or should), and I had fun.

Second point. I MISSED PLAYING tennis for two years. What a waste! I got two years older anyhow, maybe a tick more senile and tottery anyhow, and that "gone" time is irretrievable.

Get the message??? Don't miss out on life by being too careful!


Scattered thought No. 2. Much to the chagrin of my sinful pride and my serene confidence that I was at least fairly mature in my spiritual outlook on life, I learned, through a video Bible study by an intelligent, fiery, black young lady, that I had an aged, stereotypical, and "set in concrete" view of the Holy Spirit of God and His work in a Christian life.

I can't even summarize the new truths that have bombarded my soul after listening to this woman speak. I'm still trying to apprehend, assimilate, and appropriate new insights that came from her sermon into my thinking and living!!

It's not that I was completely wrong in my theology; it's just that I had forgot that it is impossible for one human being to completely understand God, and that I am very foolish to try to box Him into my own fragile and finite view of of Who He IS and What He Should Do, and How He Should Do It.

I got the message!

Enough of this stuff.

Bye now!

Sunday Update

Today I went to FBC and taught the SS class for my friend, LaRue. Because these folks are really nice people and they are always well-groomed , I dolled myself up a bit with a new navy jacket, blue checked skirt, and my latest pair of new shoes (black and white sling pumps). Have to admit, I looked pretty snazzy!



But were those shoes a mistake! At first they were comfortable, but since I always teach standing up (don't know why, an old professorial habit), by the time I finished and sat down, I realized my feet were "killing" me!



I dragged myself out to the car, cautiously pulled the shoes off, confident that my feet were irreparabily demolished, and sat there in the heat for 5 minutes before the pain stopped long enough for me to drive home barefoot ! Now tell me why anyone (especially an 84 year old (MC age) woman would subject herself to such agony just to be considered "classy," "well-groomed," or whatever the hell it was that I thought I was!!!



No more! Next Sunday, I'm wearing dress pants and Nike Walking Shoes and I don't care what anyone says.



Bill didn't feel like attending SS but when I got home I pushed him out the door to go for coffee and a snax at our Southlake Hang-Out. It was packed! We managed to find a table at the back, back, part of the place and settled in with our coffee and cake and watched the rich folks come in. They look just like us -- except their clothes are obviously not from Penny's or Kohls, or even Macys. And I wonder if they have had a life as happy as mine has been.



Put a Netflix TV on to watch when we got home, and I promptly fell asleep . Since we have the new TV in the bedroom, I'm afraid a lot of that falling asleep might happen. Bill watched the flick and said it was pretty good.



This extreme heat is sure not any fun for me. I can be out in it about ten minutes and I think I"m gonna faint -- so I scurry right back into the ole air conditioned house. I can remember when I was in my sixties I played tennis out in this kind of heat with my buddy Joan Botger at our lunch hour on the campus at UCO, when the temp must have been over a hundred! But that was then and this is now!



I woke up the other morning and wrote a nostalgia blog in my mind which was really good (my judgment only) and I never got around to putting it on the computer. It is amazing how clear-cut, how vivid, how accurate my memory of things that happened 60 to 65 years ago is -- and how satisfying it is for me to live again those happy days. Never mind that I can't remember what happened last Friday, or Saturday.



Anyhow ---- I am going to blog some of those memories, just for my own pleasure. I will make the heading Memory Blog so you can just skip the whole thing if you want to. My first one will be entitled Memory Blog -My Life at the Ritz, coming up soon (in the next six months, probably.)



Mark, I started Little Brother, got bogged down in all the technology stuff, tried to read through it to get to the story, but finally gave up. It's sitting on my bookcase now. Yeah, I know, I should push on, but don't think I will.)



To Everyone: MC Age which I referred to above means Marie-Curry Age and that means that is how old I am really. Obviously both Marie Saunders and Curry Elgin could not be wrong about anything that important!



Adios!

A hectic day

Yesterday was a most hectic day! Joy, who cleans my house, came kind of early so I was going to to walk at the mall to be out of the way. But before I could get out of the house, the fence guys were knocking on the door to put up a new fence. I had to quickly call neigbors on the east and south to warn them to get their dogs put up. Fortunately, I was able to get both of them on the phone and they were cooperative.

Eight strong Mexican men, only one of whom spoke English, descended en masse and they began to work quickly and very professionally. I was almost afraid to leave the house because I thought they would be finished in just an hour or so.

But by noon, Bill and I were famished and so we took off to get a hamburger at Waffle House, ate hurridly, and got back home by 1:30.
By then, Joy was about ready to leave, and the fencers were moving right along. I took them cokes shortly afterwards (it was a 100 degrees by now) and they seemed grateful.

The last part that consumed time was the gate. Two guys worked on it, and it was finally finished about 5 p.m.

I was supposed to go and check on Mary's white cat to see if she was all right, but by then I was so pooped I fixed us a sandwich and fell in bed by 8:30. The cat had to wait until today to be checked on.

Today we went to the hearing aids lady and she tinkered with Bill's hearing aids a bit, hoping to make his hearing improve. I don't know if it has or not; maybe tomorrow I will be able to check that out more carefully. We also ate breakfast out today; fact is, we are probably eating out more than we are eating in, but it's working for us. I just don't give a flip about preparing meals these days.

The dang dog is sleeping on my bed again! He stayed in his kennel for a few nights, but soon tired of that and of course, came to his main man in the pack, which is ME, to hang with!!! Tomorrow the trainer comes and we are gonna have a talk. Barney has attacked Bill this week (for no reason, except I was there) and if that doesn't stop by the end of July, Little Mr.
Barney is gonna be finding a new home.

While I was sitting up having my early cuppa coffee with Barney at my feet and Bill in bed, I wrote , in my mind, a really good blog about My Life At the Ritz. I'm thinking of getting it out of my mind and on to a blog soon; it's so much fun for me to write --- about anything, anybody, at anytime.

Hey, Mark, I'm starting "Little Brother" and I think I will like it.

Hey, Alice, I finished the young girl/vampire book that Alex liked. It was interesting, but nothing special that I could see. I'm gonna write Hannah to get her slant on it; it sure didn't strike me as "one of the greatest books I ever read." I must be missing something.

Tonite I'm feeling good, not very tired, think I may even be able to sit in bed and read a bit. Last nite I was SO TIRED I was almost blotto and could barely crawl into bed at 9:00 p.m. So what's the difference??? I have no idea; I was busy today as well. Go figure.

P.S. The guy who shares the back fence brought me a check today for $360; his half of the $720 cost of that fence. Nice guy, a former Okie. The gal on the east side (fencing cost there was $1330.00) said she could only give me $300. And I won't hold my breath until I get that amount!!!

But the fence looks really good.

Getting in line with blogging trend

I finally decided I might as well join the blogging parade and try to write something about what is happening to me on a fairly daily basis. I may still throw in a few of my philosophical (?) discussions just to worry everybody about my sanity.

Today has been a scorcher here, but Mark Alan and I got out to Best buy early this morning and I managed to drop almost 700 bucks in their coffers by buying a flat screen 32 inch TV for my bedroom. Went there to get a DVD player that would work with my BIG remote control, but somehow in the process I ended up with said 32 inch TV. It often happens that when i go out shopping with my son, I end up spending more money than I had ever figured I would. But what the hay, it really is nice.

Of course, it follows that I need a smaller bed in said bedroom and possibly a new leisure chair -- and who knows what else??

This afternoon has been one of those days when a plug has been pulled somewhere in my ole bod and all my energy has run out.
I've been too tired to do anything but flop on the bed and sleep.

Mary is busy, busy, trying to get everything done for them to leave for their Colorado vacation on Saturday? Sunday? I hope they will have a great time; at least it will be cool there.

She and I went shopping yesterday and bought some cute, cool things for her and I got a sharp short navy jacket to wear with my white jeans. I'll probably look like a sailor when I get all dolled up, but the jacket was a steal and very attractive.

I'm reading the book ALex was fascinated with while she was here called "Twilight" and find it engrossing. It's about a young girl falling in love with a handsome vampire, and it's scary for me because I've always sorta believed there really are vampires out there. Don't believe in goblins, ghosts, werewolves, ogres, or bad angels, but vampires just might be real!!!

I'm keeping a record of my daily spending these days ever since Kim told me I oughta know where my money is going, and it has been pretty revealing as to where my interests lie. I spend a lot of money on DVDs, entertainment, clothing that I don't really need, and eating out. Makes me one of the "now" generation" I guess.

So much for my "exciting" day! I'm alive, thank God, and that's a lot for an octogenarian.

Cold Feet?

Did you ever have cold feet in the idiomatic sense of "not having courage to follow through on something?" Well, I'm not talking about that kind of cold feet!

I'm talking about literal "cold feet." That means cold feet like the two feet you use to stand upright cold feet. Confused enough, already?

Well, my cold feet problem starts way up at my knees, travels all the way down my legs and to the end of my toes on my feet. That's a pretty good chunk of anatomy to be cold 'most of the time, doncha think???

Yep, and it is not just a seasonal problem; my cold feet are cold in the middle of July when the temp hits 105 -- and that's with shoes on top of said "cold feet." You can imagine how cold they are in wintertime! Brrrr!

So what do I do to be able to live with this very unusual(?) physical anomaly? Well, when I am at my own home, I keep an electric blanket on my bed all the year around and turn the temp up to about 6 every nite before I climb into bed. That's a really toasty temp, in case you didn't know. In about 15 minutes my pore old cold feet are warm enough that I can go to sleep. (From my knees up, I"m really hot!)

When I'm visiting other people, I pile on woolen socks, or wrap my lower extremities in a warm, warm blanket before I struggle into bed. At my daughter's house in Birmingham, I hinted that I really needed an electric blanket and she provided one. (I think her husband urged her to do so, thinking that I might go "poof" under such intense heat, and disappear into the stratosphere)

So what has all this to do with "the price of corn" or "how such profundity of thought will change the course of history?"

Well, hey, it won't do nothing like that, but it will keep my son Mark from remarking, "Mom, you don't blog everyday like you should." Right? Right.

Adult Children

What do you call your Adult Children? Is there a proper term?

I have three people, two girls and a boy, to whom I gave birth and they are now 'way past the age that I can comfortably call them "two girls and a boy".

But to call them "Adult Children" is an oxymoron, and few people out there know what an oxymoron is --- or care. But I do,, because I am an English professor and when an oxymoron is used, it is used for a literary purpose, and for the life of me I can't place these three into a literary setting. So then, "adult children" is out.

So what's next? How about just calling them "Children?" People do often ask me how many children I have and I respond, "Three children . A boy and 2 girls. " Think about that!! I have THREE CHILDREN? No way is that true. I realize the questioner is satisfied because he/she interprets my answer as a generic statement and he doesn't puzzle about the "children" part.

Before you get a smarty reply formed in your mind, let me say, "Yes, I know he doesn't puzzle about it because he can tell by looking at me that the three I'm talking about couldn't possibly be "children."

But that doesn't answer my original question. What is the proper term to use then? How about Adult People? or Ageing Offspring? or Boomer Bloomers?"

Is there any significant point to all this nonsense? Why did i ever think of bringing up the question?

There is a significant, and poignant, point to be made. Here it is:

I look at these three beautiful (handsome) people I birthed who are now adults and my heart glows with joy at who they are right now.

It doesn't really matter what I call them, what matters most is that I can use a predicate adjective to identify them--- " They are mine. "

A Positive View of the Past

So many people these days are so concerned with abrogating the past, denying its value, emphasizing its negativity that I feel compelled to speak some encouraging words for this be-deviled and severly criticized thing we call : The Past.

I am referring, of course, to My Past (the only one that I really know anything about), but I think there is a lot about The Past that we all have in common. And I am also limiting The Past, in my case, to refer to a few things that happened to me within a span of time from early childhood to about the age of twenty.
So here goes:


What does our remembering Things Past offer us? What good can come of stopping for a moment in our dizzying ,stultifying Present to focus on The Past? What values, or lack thereof, does the Past reveal to us?




For me, my Past is focused on a small West Texas town where I lived with my parents during the years between 1922 until 1940.


During that time I learned how to ride a stick horse, shoot with an imaginary gun at Cowboys and Indians, how to read, how to become comfortable with myself as a sixteen-year old, how to experience my first kiss, how to appreciate the meager "things" that were given as Christmas gifts, how to understand and appreciate (to a degree) parents who were stern disciplinarians, who eked out a bare existence for the family, who took me to church and taught me that there were absolutes, there was a right and wrong in life and I was expected to do the "right" thing, that I was responsible for myself (and the reputation of our family!)

And now, how does thinking back on that part of my past, make me feel? what does The Past do for me?

It comforts me. I remember the unspoken love I felt from my parents, my brothers and sister, other relatives, friends , and my heart is curiously warmed and softened, and I am unafraid.

It enriches my value of my life now. The years of the Past speak to the brevity and fragility of life itself, and that knowledge helps me live the Now more passionately and lovingly and happily.

It clarifies my perspective; it enables me to see more clearly what is important in every stage of living.

It offers me a momentary release from the sorrows, the horrors, the fears, the uncertainties of the Now because, in my memories for a brief time, I can re-enter a fairy world-that-never-was and revel in the past joys that I experienced.

It gives me hope and a sense of purpose for living on. In the Past I hoped for many things; things; things as simple as getting a new dress, as important as who I would marry, as thrilling as what I might become . Without hope, life is nothing, and my return to the Past reminds me that some of my hopes came to be.

And So --- The Past is important to me. I go there as often as I need to, without apology.

It is as important as the Now, more certain than the Future.

Teenagers and Aged People

One time, in the midst of a counseling session with my favorite psychiatrist friend, I said to him "You know, most people do not even look at old people." And he smiled and said, "You know, Marie, that's what teenagers say to me all the time, that "Nobody , nobody ever looks at them."

Since then I've thought about what he said, and I think he hit on an important truth. There is a great commonality between the angst of Teenagers and that of Aged People. At first glance, that may seem impossible because of the vast age gap between someone who is fifteen and someone who is eighty-five.

But in certain important ways, they are very much alike. For example, the Teenager is afraid of many things, and so is the Aged Person. A Teenager is afraid he/she will not be accepted by his peer group; nothing is more important at that age than that he be accepted.

And so, if he is lucky, he will find an accepting group of Teenagers and they will retreat into their own particular world with its own peculiar needs and stresses and they can discuss these worries freely and dramatically with each other.

The Aged Person is also afraid of not being accepted by people who inhabit his world. His peer group is dying all around him, but he still needs to be accepted by other people. Just as the Teenager needs someone to look at him and value him and listen to him and not be put off by his strange, wild, bizarre behavior, so the Aged Person needs someone to look at him and not be disconcerted by his anxious, fretful, disconnected actions, and value him for who he is.

If either group does not get this kind of look from someone, you will see the destruction that almost inevitably follows. The Teenager becomes wilder, more rebellious, more difficult to understand, more withdrawn into his chaotic world. The Aged Person becomes more crotchety, more morose, more hateful and critical, more withdrawn into his bitter world.


Another common fear they share is fear of the passage of time, an element over which they have absolutely no control. The Teenager looks at the future, and despite all his bravado, is afraid. He asks, "What will happen when I leave home? "What about college?" " Will I ever find someone to marry?" How can I make a living for myself?" "How can I learn to live with purpose and hope?"

The Aged Person looks at the future, and quails with fear. "What will I do when I have to leave my home? What can I do when I cannot take take of my basic needs? Will I become a burden to someone I love? "How can I continue to live with purpose and hope?"

Even in less important ways, the Teenager and the Aged Person are much alike. For example, in the simple matter of dress, there is a basic sameness in their fervent insistence on their personal choice. The Teenager wants to wear what every other Teenager is wearing, no matter how frivolous, how ridiculous, how outlandish that particular style is. From the same basic premise, the Aged Person refuses to wear the current clothing fads, insisiting on the rightness and quality of "the classic dress of my age group."

One would think, then, with so many "alikenesses" between the Teenager and the Aged Person there would be the possibility of great relationships developing between them.

And you would be right! THIS IS A REAL POSSIBILITY.

If one is lucky, an Aged Person may meet a Teenager (to the consternation and surprise of many Middle Aged Persons) with whom he may develop a symbiotic realationship that brings great joy and peace and love to the both of them!! I know this is true --- because as an Aged Person, I have been blessed with relationships with Teenagers that bring joy into my life, and I think joy into their lives.

Who else but a Teenager would listen to how I, an Aged Person , sorted between boyfriends to find my one true love?

Who else but an Aged Person would listen to how important it is to the Teenager that One Particular Boy has noticed her?

And so it is. Life is a journey, and those who walk with us in love, no matter their age, are blessings sent to us from the God of Love.

I am forced back to my blogspot because of an important discovery I made just this week : There is an horrible epidemic spreading among our young people that must be addressed quickly, or they will be seriously impaired all of their lives.

The poor y0ung things are showing signs of serious hearing and seeing impediments!! Example: I walk in the mall each day (to keep my figure trim and healthy) and on this occasion I stopped at a kiosk to get a new battery for my wristwatch. The older man in charge was talking to a young man in some foreign language (Pharisee, I learned) and I interrupted and asked him, "How much for a new battery for this watch?" He promptly replied, "Ten dollars." "Too much," I said, "I can buy a new one at Walmarts for that. "What would be a fair price?" he asked. "Five bucks," my reply.

At that time the young man spoke rapidly to him (in their strange language, of course) and they both nodded. "Okay," he said, "I'll do it for 5 dollars."

As he worked on my watch, my curiosity got the better of me(as it so often does) and I asked him, "What did that young man say to you?"

He said, "Give it to her for 5 dollars; she's an OLD Lady."

Now, obviously that young man is visibly impaired!!! I am not an old lady. Actually I am approximately somewhere in midlife , and at times I am much younger than that, just depending on my mood, you understand. That poor young lad is obviously going blind!

I find other young people giving like evidence of poor sight. Some of them stand back, open a door for me, and occasionally even have the audacity to hold on to my arm as I step through -- as if I were a doddering old lady incapable of managing to get through a door safely!!! It's appalling!

As if that is not enough evidence of this plague, there are some young people I pass right by in the mall who do not even SEE me. I know this is true because I look them in the eye, speak to them sweetly, and they never give any evidence that I am even there. They haven't seen me. It's pitiful!

As far as their hearing impairment, I have made this judgment because of talking to my grandchildren. I engage them with an fabulously interesting story of what I did when I was sixteen, and their eyes glaze over, their tongues loll out in a peculiar way, and they gasp for breath. It's obvious they are unable to hear me at all. It does no good to talk to their parents about this problem; they don't hear very well either.

I can sympathisize, to a degree, with these impairments. There is nothing wrong with my hearing, at all, but sometimes I do not see as clearly as I should.

For example, the other day at the mall, I looked across and saw a tall, gray haired lady striding along at about my pace, wearing a red leather jacket and wearing a TexasTech ball cap, and for a second I thought she looked a bit like me.

But it was the lighting after all.

That lady had GREY hair; mine has a sexy platinum sheen. She was slightly stooped; I always stride with shoulders back and head erect. And, my god, even with one glance, I saw that she was wrinkled.

So, I understand the problem. But it is such a pity that young people are the main ones suffering this phenomenon! Perhaps as they age a bit, their good genes will kick in and their hearing and seeing will improve.

Anyhow, that's my wish for them, and until that happens, I will do my best to be understanding , sympathetic, and non-judgmental and keep on loving them anyhow.