Month: May 2012

Last week, I had the good fortune to hear Anna Quindlen speak.  This is the 2nd time she’s come to Kansas City to promote one of her books, and both times I went to see her. 

Ms. Quindlen is the dream friend.  She is smart, funny, loyal, and an unwavering supporter of women.  She gets how women think and casually drops pearls of wisdom in nearly every sentence.

It has been my good fortune to have friends like Anna.  Women who can discuss Hillary Clinton or Kate Middleton in one breath, give a movie review and name five places to go for drinks after, who have strong opinions on politics and current events, and who make it their business to stay informed about things that matter.

And then there’s the other kind.

I recently had to spend a few hours working with that kind of woman.  Why must they talk incessantly?   It was constant………the chatter about nothing.  The subject of private vs. public schools came up and she asked the two of us who have kids in the public school system about a high school close by.  She heard there was a lot of problems with fights.  No, never heard that.  Are you sure, she asked.  Yes.

Well, she said, I’ve heard that school has a lot of “transitional” people.  Transitional people?  You know, renters.  The low income type.   

I don’t think there is a single community or school system that is immune from the economic hardships that have been going on these last few years, but the more immediate problem wasn’t the renter types in a public school she knew nothing about.

It was that she never stopped talking long enough to pay attention to a single thing.

…………….because I was digging in the dirt all weekend.

Last week Nonie called to tell me of a florist that needed help with arrangements and wondered if I was interested.  That would be a yes.  I met another friend for coffee and she wanted to know if I was interested in doing some contract work for a company in town that sells homemade soap.  When they get big orders, they call in extra help as needed which is what she had just recently done.  That would be a yes.

Day One at the florist’s house consisted of showing me what to do and shoving buckets of flowers and vases at me to arrange.  And I was in heaven. 

No interview.  No interview outfit.  No selling my skills.  No excessive smiling.  No sipping the Kool-Aid…….and if I wanted to work more they’d love to have me back.  Seriously?????  You like me?  You really, really like me????

This week I painted furniture.  Tomorrow and Saturday it’s flowers.  Who knows where I’ll make a buck next week, but gypsy employment is turning out to be an interesting gig.

There’s something about me being in the kitchen with a knife that gives The Big Daddy the heebie jeebies.  He gets nervous and hovers.

As I was cutting a watermelon, he appeared out of nowhere and stood behind me.  Watching.  Lurking.  Assessing.  When he couldn’t take it anymore he said, “Here…….let me do that for you.”   O.k. with a sigh.

Later in the day, I was cutting potatoes to put on the grill and decided to use the slicer The Queen Mum gave me.   As if The Big Daddy could smell a sharp instrument, he walked in during the process.  Oh geez.  Oh gosh.  Here let me do that for you.  That’s o.k.  No, no, I’ll do it.  O.k. but be careful.  The blade is really sharp.

All of about fifteen seconds went by and he yelled SON OF A BITCH, which one tends to say when they cut themselves and start bleeding.  Holy shit, he said, that thing is sharp.  I mean really sharp.  Isn’t there a tool to use so you don’t get your thumb too close?  I mean there should be a tool of some sort.  Like a handle so you don’t get cut yourself.  Yeah, a tool handle thing.  Are you sure there isn’t a tool that came with this thing?

As a matter of fact, a tool did come with the device.  It is called The Brain.  

I read a lot of blogs for a lot of reasons.   I like to read what’s out there.  I want to get better at writing and life.  Reading the stories of others teaches me a little bit about both.

The blog below is about a husband who was diagnosed a year ago with stage 3 colon cancer.  Two weeks later, his wife was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer.  Neither of them had any idea they were sick.  They aren’t even 40 years old.  The blog started when their daughter was born as a way for family and friends to keep with their life.

This update was posted yesterday.  The lives some people live can break your heart.

familybondingtime

It was some kind of work.

I liked to dress up.  I’d put my fake stole on, get my pocketbook and plastic high heels and go to the market…..which meant I’d clomp around the house gathering cans of food.  One summer morning, I decided to clomp around outside and that is when I had an up close and personal encounter with a snake.

I went running in the house, losing one of my plastic high heels in the process and screaming SNAKESNAKESNAKESNAKEYOUGUYSASNAKE!!!!!!

This is what The Brothers lived for.

They went tearing out the door to find it and when they did one of the boys said, “Awwwwww…….it’s just a garter snake.  It’s not gonna hurt you.”

The Queen Mum came out to have a look.  The boys had plans for that snake and picked it up with a stick to do God Knows What.  Mom gave them a look and said, “Put that gull damn snake down and go find something better to do.”

A snake is a scary thing to come across when you’re six years old and out shopping the backyard for some root vegetables to feed your pretend family.  Not near as threatening, though, as a mom in the heat of summer who wasn’t about to let her little hellions spend the rest of the day making snake stew.

Postscript:

I wrote this story two weeks ago and had technical issues getting the picture included with the story.  Drrrrrrr………..  I became obsessed with getting it posted so I was constantly thinking about it.  This is what I saw a few days ago on the way to the park.  

I kid you not. 

The Big Daddy came blowing back to town on Saturday and it was like back in the dating days….we were so happy to see each other.

We discussed the crappy news about Mallie Bee not qualifying for any scholarships even though she’s a brainiac and everything a school would want in a student.  Two kids in college at once, BD.  How are we going to pull this off?

It keeps me up at night.  This pending drain on our savings account.

And that man said, “You have to stop this.  We will make it work.  We will be o.k.  A year from now, I’ll be here.  You’ll be here.  We will be o.k.”

I know he can’t guarantee me that, but if we are both here a year from now and the people we love are here and healthy then he is right.

We will figure it out and I’m glad he’s home.

On Wednesday night, I attended an awards ceremony for the graduating seniors.  These are students who are recognized for their brains, their involvement, their leadership and their success over the past four years. 

Each department gives an award to the outstanding student in their subject, and there are other awards that run the gamut from athletics to art to merit scholars.  One of the last awards given was the Principal’s Award which goes to four students who have demonstrated leadership amongst their peers.

Though Mallie Bee didn’t win any of the special awards, one of her friends did.  Her friend whose mother died of ovarian cancer when she was in the 8th grade, who had some very tough years before her and her brother settled into their motherless lives and who has never blamed anyone for the lousy hand she was dealt.

She strode across that stage with the confidence of somebody twice her age and I couldn’t have been happier, for her mother was one of the dearest people in my life.  Six years earlier, I sat next to Vicki in the elementary school gym when the 6th grade choir sang and she cried the entire time.  When they finished, she laughed at herself and wondered how emotional she’d be if her daughter actually did something big.

Well, my friend, she did do something big.  Very big.  She got through lonely days, upheaval and uncertainty, and stayed true to everything you valued in life.  When the principal handed her that award………I cried for you.

People ask me all the time how I feel about our impending empty nest.  I have mixed feelings.  Some days I can’t wait to not have to put the brakes on my day at 2:30 and hightail it home, and other times I look at The Big Daddy and think………hmmmm.  You and me have some catching up to do.

These days have brought about a lot of reflection on this child-rearing gig that I’ve been doing for the past 25 years and most of what I remember is the good, the barf, and the school projects.

When The Teacher Girl was in 1st grade, the kids had to do The Bug Project.  It came with a sheet of construction paper that the bug had to fit on, and it could be anything your child you dreamed up as long as it fit on the paper you were given.  Like every instruction sheet I’ve ever been given, I skimmed it, thus not fully understanding the significance of the endeavor.  We helped with the drawing of it as far as advice, and might have put a few sequins on it but it was most definitely a 1st grade effort.  All the bugs were put on display in the hallway so the kids chould show off their work their parents work.

We had no idea what we were in for.

Bugs that lit up, bugs that had moving parts, bugs with their favorite food coming out of their mouth and a bug made entirely of mink because Sarah’s mom owned a fur shop.

Sitting on a piece of construction paper in the back was The Fisher Family Bug that looked like it took a long, slow crawl from the trailer park and had been run over a few times in the process.

We learned our lesson and when it was The Boy Child’s turn, we stepped up our participation.  I made many trips to the craft store and his bug looked significantly better than his sister’s.  Alas, in The Land of The Overachievers and The Overindulged, it wasn’t a show stopper.

When it was Mallie Bee’s turn, The Big Daddy said, “Don’t worry.  I’ve got this covered.”  For a week he toiled at the workbench in the basement working with plaster of paris, paper mache and paint.  When he emerged he was carrying a cricket that weighed as much as The Beester and announced to the family…………..

“That school will remember the last Fisher bug.”

They did, too, for it was a menacing black cricket so pumped up on steroids that it scared the bejeezits out of kids and adults alike.  When it came home from The Big Show it spooked Mallie Bee so much that we shoved it in the closet with the other scary monsters and called it quits……….

………….which is what we are looking forward to after all these years.