Month: March 2012

Spring Break

We are the peeps who never go on spring break.  When the whole town clears out, we take care of our neighbor’s dog and bring in their mail.  We have been doing staycations long before they were called that.

But not this year.

Mallie Bee and I got invited to spend a week in Mexico (Cabo) with some friends who have a condo down there.  We couldn’t pass that deal up so we head out today.  I’m not sure what the computer situation will be once we’re there, and maybe I need to just enjoy the sun and water and company and not worry about posting anything.

Yes, that’s the plan.

I’ll see you in a week.  Rested up for the Easter bash we always host, Mallie Bee’s graduation in May, Teacher Girl’s wedding in June, and an empty nest in September.  Oh my, there’s some stories on the horizon.

Drip Drip Drip

When the weather gets nice, we live on our screened-in porch.  It’s all kinds of cute and homey and summery.  And the best place to have a gin and tonic.  It is also so much work to keep clean and maintained that I sometimes curse it.  When we had it rescreened many years ago, I wanted it painted white.  Between primer and paint, it took THIRTEEN gallons.  If you saw it’s teeny size, you would think I’m lying, but that raw wood sucked up that primer, spit it out and said “more please.”

A couple of years ago, we noticed the paint on the ceiling kept peeling in the same spot, and we would scrape it and patch the paint job.  Then we noticed it was wet.  Then we said screw it.  We own this porch, it doesn’t own us.  By the end of last summer, chunks of paint would fall down, and if you sat in the corner it wouldn’t have been a bad idea to put a hardhat on.

This called for action.  Ya think?

Back in the day, The Big Daddy was a roofer, and considers himself to be an expert at finding leaks.  After many trips up to the roof, he couldn’t find where the water was coming in and said, “It’s the goddamn shingles on the house.  The water has to be getting in underneath the shingles.”  He took me outside to show me the goddamn shingles and pointed out the goddamn gutters, too.  Home ownership sometimes always wears on his last nerve.

I called a repairman who found a hole in the corner of the roof about the size of the tip of your finger, and with some checking and double checking to make sure, he put some caulk in it and we should have no more problems.  Total cost $50.00.  I was so happy we got off that cheap that I TOLD EVERYONE, and in the telling The Big Daddy would huff and puff about this leak that eluded him.

When The Leak Hunter came back for the fix, The Big Daddy kept him company.  He told BD that he’s been doing this for eight years, that leaks are a very tricky business, and he once found the source of one 200 feet from where the ceiling stain was.   Wow.  I guess.

The Big Daddy took a liking to that repairman, for in the midst of fixing this troublesome roof of ours, he restored his customer’s bruised Man Card. 

Hats & Babies

Fifty five years ago today, I made my entrance……which BLOWS MY MIND because it hardly feels like I’m that old.  Oh, but I am. 

The Big Daddy and the kids had a celebration here on Sunday.  There I was standing at the kitchen counter clipping the Sunday coupons that I never use, and in comes The Boy Child from the university to surprise me with a day visit.  And that turned my mood right side up.

The story my parents related to me of my birth day goes like this…………My dad took the train to work.  He got to work, hung up his hat and was about to take off his coat when the secretary said, “Not so fast.  Gerry called and she’s in labor so you need to get home.”  He turned around and went back to the station he’d just come from, and waited for a train that would take all morning to get him back home. 

These are my dad’s hats which hang in my house.  Sitting beside him on the seat of the train that day, the felt Stetson was the keeper of his worries while he made his way home to his wife, and the new baby that was on her way.

Before There Were Trophys

This was my 1st grade report card that I found last week.  The one where I was below average in every single subject the entire year.  They sure didn’t sugarcoat anything back in the day if they thought you were dumb.

Sheesh.  I was six years old.  According to them, I even sucked at praying.  Who grades a little kid on how she prays?  The Archdiocese of Chicago in 1963, that’s who.

One day when my older brother was on locker duty, he walked out the door and headed home because my grandparents and Aunt Belle were coming to town.  At 8:00 in the morning.  No cops were called, no code red, no worries.  Just a call from the principal telling my mom he was missing.  I’d give them an UNSATISFACTORY in Christian Doctrine for not getting on their knees and begging God to find that missing boy who disappeared on their watch.

He showed up at home awhile later and Mom told him he had to go back.  “You can’t walk out of school every time we have company come to town.”

He was pissed.  I don’t blame him.  By the looks of my year I wasn’t having much fun there either, and if I knew what he was up to I’d have taken my thumb-sucking, scared self right out the door with him.

Words From The Wise

Yesterday, I was hell-bent on finding something I drew back in the day.  I took an art class in college, and I’m no artist.  It was a pear and it got a raving review from the teacher and a big, fat “A”.  I saved it, came across it recently, and when inspiration struck first thing in the morning, I could not find it.

I did find my 1st grade report card that was a collection of four semesters of straight L’s.  As in low.  Even in Christian Doctrine for God’s sake.  I found my high school journal and yearbooks.  I found a print The Big Daddy and I bought ten years ago and surprised him when he came home from work with it framed and hanging on the wall. 

Alas, no pear.

In my digging, I found a letter my dad wrote from him and my mom to all of us on the occasion of their 25th wedding anniversary.  The six of us kids pooled our dollars and came up with enough money for them to take a trip to Hawaii that Dad’s company was sponsoring.  I remember getting the squeeze from one of my brothers to come up with more cash, I remember the party for them, and I remember them being over the moon about this trip.  For once, we got our act together and did something great for them.

These are some of my dad’s words, written 36 years ago…………..

As we said in our invitation, we looked upon it as “the birthday of our family.”  It was not something that belonged to the two of us exclusively.  Rather, it belonged to the eight of us collectively.


God did not bring the two of us together just solely to please each other.  He joined us so that we may serve others……..and in doing so together discover true happiness that comes from trying to live unselfishly with each other’s help.


It takes a lot of years……….one whole lot of years of living……….to even come close to understanding that fact.  For us it seems we’re only beginning to learn.  After 25 years we’re just emerging from the kindergarten of discovering what life is really about.

He was a great writer, a great dad, a kinder man I have never known.  I’ll keep looking for the pear, but in the meantime, the company of my dad by way of letter was a lovely way to spend the morning. 

I think it’s what he’d call a discovery. 

Intervention

Today on the news here in Kansas City, was a story about a family that paid off all their credit card bills and saved $89,000.00 in one year.  WHAT??????   I wanted to see what that was all about.  The mom told the reporter that she has learned how little she needs to be happy, and that her and her husband and their six kids have found dozens of ways to save money.  Their biggest tip?  They no longer use toilet paper.  They cut up old tshirts to wipe their butts, and did you know that 99.9% of bacteria is killed in a washing machine?  I did not.  There next to the toilet was a basket of “wipes”, and Ace Reporter never asked where the used ones go until it’s laundry day.

This is when it’s helpful in life to have a sister, because a sister would be over to your house in a hellfire hurry to tell you that your budget busting ways may get you some face time on the local news, but you have crossed the line to bat shit crazy.  Then she’d tell you to crack open the safe and go buy some candles cuz your crib smelled like a zoo.