Summer Stuff, Who Would've Thunk?

 Why are there so many squirrels, making so much noise this morning? They are so busy and it looks like fun! We humans have to find a way to make being busy more fun. Whatever we choose to do, work or play, there has to be something to keep us engaged to see it through.
  Summer seems devoid of routine, as does retirement, therefore I seem to be working harder. That picture is a tad off center to me.
  Each summer I do spring cleaning, big purges of letting go.
  So I decide to rid myself of some of my many books, in every room. I love the way they look, stacked in all directions, but they get dusty and seldom are read again, so why hoard? I take down two books, TWO to begin with, then I make the mistake of scanning the contents to see if I have highlighted any jewels, that I need to use at sometime in my life. LipShtick by Gwen Macsai is so funny. Each page full of words that I love. Example one-"You know, I think of myself as a highly emotional person, but have never known such depths of love and hate until I got married and had children." and " Anyone who has walked out of a beauty salon looking like Don King understands." ( I love women writers!)  She writes about the hair on her legs being sharp, " You can run a potato up my legs and it slices and dices, makes julienne fries!! ( men don't get this!) This book came out in the year 2000, I sigh and put it into my pile of one!
       Example two- The Girls Guide To Hunting And Fishing by Melissa Bank 1999
 " My breasts seem to be saying something about me that I didn't want said, my Achilles' heel!"
 " The museum was like the house of a rich old women who didn't want you to visit." I double sigh and place it on book one! and I have to stop. Do you realize how long this is going to take, at two books a day, and you have to blog about each one!? (that would be me talking to myself!) Still talking to myself, " Its summer and you are retired, duh! you have the time!"
   "I just didn't think cleaning out space could be so hard", now I am answering myself, this is fun!
" Oh now I get the squirrels, they are moving around nuts, and looking at each one, and hiding some and putting some in the Goodwill bag for others!" ( weak metaphor Bon!) ( now Iam not listening!)
Summer, just like any season requires us to focus and get things accomplished, while having some fun.
That I can do!

I Just Needed A Few More Days

  As much as I pine for summer, it pulls at my heart.
  Everything is so bright and magnificent, flowers pop with color.
  Smells of fresh cut grass wafts through the wind, and animals of all kinds flutter and swarm.
  and yet....
  This is when we lost Ward.
  I don't want him to miss anything. I want him to be willing to pull off the road, for the perfect picture.
  He was my journey, my adventure, my boy.
  I just needed a few more days.
  How many?
  I always think if I could hold him, and just tell him I love him and that he is perfect one more time, but I know that would not work. I could not say good-bye again.
  How about five more years, and he would get better, not want to take any drugs, not want anything for a quick fix. Would that have been enough? No, there are no answers.
  I just keep moving and hope for each day, to make him proud.
  I saw this quote this week, and it reminded me of all my children, but especially Ward.
                          Every Child is gifted
                       They just unwrap their packages
                            at different times
I remember when Ward was in K, or preK, who knows, they test people soooo young, which is insanity!
They told me they (teachers) wanted to test him for the gifted program. I was delighted, "Sure you can test him, I am so glad that you see his gifts, like me!" The teachers looked at me strange, which would not be the last time! Of course he passed with flying colors, and they wanted him in all kinds of "talented" classes, when I said, "NO"
I would like for him to show his talents in a regular classroom, he does not need a label of any kind. Talented and Gifted, well he knows he is this from his family. He is an artist, he knows three languages, he reads and writes stories now, he will shine, period!!
But....don't you want him....not to be bored??
"Ward will never be bored, I refuse to allow it, and I have faith in teachers."
Teachers testing, "Are you sure?"
"Oh young teacher that you are, I am so sure. He is the best, the brightest, so smart and he needs to just be regular, like I said he will shine!"
Ward would make good grades all of his life, even all through college. He never had to study, he was gifted.
He was also socially not right, and would still be labeled with ADD, Autism , depression, OCD, the kid had it all. He was gifted, and it came with some other things. Such is life.
He was a challenge, and a joy. He was a square peg and there was no hole to fit in.
I just needed a few more days, I think.
Maybe he was just done, he was so gifted.
Ward your mom,( me) is still suffering some neurosis, a little depression, a few character disorders or two, and a lifetime of joy.
Seven years seems like a minute, and a lifetime.
But I will be OK, you see, you left me your gifts.

7-Eleven, Big Gulp

 Summer in my life is very much like, I think, a Big Gulp drink would be. A 7-Eleven, Big Gulp! I have never had one, because I would have to pee six times before I left the store. However, they seem to be the granddaddy of liquid, thirst quenchers. To me, that describes my cup that is full and running over, with summer.
   Summer stirs the memories and awakens my inner child, who is never truly asleep!
   There is just so much to do, to see, to listen too, it's MORRISON cafeteria after Sunday church.
   So to say that I may be scattered, is oh so true, and I don't care, because its summer.
   Just this week, crammed full of joy and thoughts, took me to my knees on several occasions.
Let me share a few.
When I see the sign for any farmers market that is open, my heart rate increases. Fresh farm food, and the stories that come with it, are to die for. Yesterday I tasted all kinds of olive oil and vinegar, until my tongue was sore trying to get it off my teeth, so I could continue to talk. Then I went to the goat cheese man, and heard his stories of milking the goats that morning, as I was licking my sampling stick of honey, orange goat cheese, that caused me to praise Jesus out loud. We strolled to the bread, and my only request was that is was crunchy but soft, so she let me touch a few. The lettuce man, had arranged his Bibb lettuce to look like a flower arrangement, that went in my bag, after I asked him if he could cook collards and come home with me.( He was from Vietnam, do they know collards?)
 The peach, pecan jam, was the last to be picked up, and we headed home from heaven, to eat our summer fix. ( I had already gone to the tomato man, at another stand.You see I am a loyal girl to my vegetable/fruit people)
I must have said a hundred times, this makes me so happy!
  The week had been sad with Maya Angelou's death but so exciting to read her words again. My big gulp was getting full of her beautiful words of wisdom and love. Then I had a friend turn me on to a video about Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings that thrilled me to my core, I love this friend and Marjorie, so I pulled my first edition of "The Yearling" and read it again. My son text me about a documentary on Calvin and Hobbes writer, so I jumped on that and it made me cry. My kids and I love Calvin and Hobbe, and I remembered that I had received a letter from B. Watterson, so I went to our basement to search for it. I just feel so good, about how many times I wrote people and got an answer. A letter, and I saved them, add that to my summer fun, it is never ending joy around every corner!
 Then when I thought, after the Farmer's Market, that nothing could top that, Bill and I turned on the tube and found, The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction. Three, yes three hours of music and I only had to grab my chest three times!! One for Linda Ronstadt, memories of singing her songs in PE, to drown out the smell of the locker room! The camera scanned the crowd and I saw Jackson Brown and almost had to take a pill, my heart stopped. We all age....he still looks grand to me. But what caused me to cry like a newborn was Cat Stevens, honestly I almost became a Muslim, just to hear him again. Yusuf was warm and the same, but different, and my loved remained steady.
   Glorious summer fun, fills my cup, and I did not even have to go to the 7-Eleven.
   Joy will find you, just open your eyes and ears, and taste buds. Let the sunshine in, and if that does not work, get a Big Gulp! Drink up!
 

BB

    While wandering the halls of the Amsterdam airport, I had a couple of hours to look worse than I already did! The flight home look, is always one of bag lady, homeless looking street walker. This trip was no different, I was ready to go home.
    So we went in several lines, that I have blocked out. I just tell them to point me in the right direction. I become a traveling zombie, and my Bill is chipper. Thank God, he is my Sherpa.
   So we were getting close, to showing our passport again, when this male child, looked at mine and said, " B.B., Bridget Bardot." ( remember how I look) I slowly looked him in the eye and said, " Did you just say I look like Bridget Bardot?" ( Bill is pulling my arm, at this point) He whispered, " We can not talk about the way a person looks, I was ....." When of course I stopped him, "Just answer yes or no, do I look like the YOUNG Bridget Bardot?" He smiled and mumbled "Yes" I then asked him what his name was, so that I could use it as my flight mantra.....and some other person told me to move, so she could frisk me.
   I felt so beautiful, until Bill said, " You know he was just mentioning your initials were the same as Bridget Bardot." I may have grabbed him by the throat, or just growled, when I calmly told him, " One, I don't want the truth! and let this be a lesson, I will not be using the name "Bill" as my in flight mantra!" AND..( you knew I would not let this go) always tell your wife and other women how beautiful they are. ( What did they teach you at Princeton !) Especially before a flight, a nine hour flight .
   Don't ever burst my bubble, that is just not nice. You are a lucky man, married to Bridget Bardot.
   Well, we settled into the cramped seats, and proceeded to not enjoy the flight from hell.
   We were in horrible tornado winds for three hours over the ocean. How do I know this? Because my husband, the scientist likes to read all the information about the flight. I had my eyes shut, made my peace with Jesus, was saying my mantra "Paul" ( my new friends name) with hopes of putting myself in a state of bliss, when Bill shook me, and told me we were in 140 miles per hour trade winds, or something like that, and that an F5 tornado is 200 miles per hour. BILL, we have survived being married a long time, on the fact that you understand that there is much that I do not want to know! and this would be one of them! I looked at him, and just smiled. The flight was horrific, and after three hours, I thought I could take a breath. In case it was my last one, I nudged Bill, who is now on this third movie!, " Who does your wife look like?"
" The young Bridget Bardot", good answer. Merci husband, another great trip.  

Cheese and Churches, and No International Incidents

  We are headed to the shore tomorrow, somewhere called Katwijk Aan Zee, because I need to see a beach, even if the high temp will be 57. I will be fully clothed and under an umbrella.  This is our last leg, before we catch our flight out of Amsterdam and head back to Atlanta. I miss my animals, my plants and my children. ( not in that order, but I like to keep them guessing!) People need to hear the sound of their own floors creaking. Something called home.
   The trip continues for a couple more days, to have been fun, for the hubs and I. There has been an abundance of Cheese and Churches. 
 Also, no real international incidents. ( Thank you, VB for being on stand-by for me, with bail money )
  I must confess to some close calls.
             1. Ann Franks House, that was on my bucket list, I may have caused a ruckus. We waited for hours, and then went inside, and the people taking your money looked at little like Hitler to me. Very Blond scary German looking, I asked Bill, " Could they not have some Jewish people working in this holy place of my friend Ann." I started to panic, a tad. I began to walk on bricks that she had walked on, into the house and out, I sort of fell on my knees and rubbed my hand over them, I could feel the pain. Then we turned a corner and four or five big pictures of this child, from school were hung in the dark room, with minimal light!
AND the ceiling was near my head, "Bill, I have to go." Husband, " Are you kidding?"
at this point the color of my skin is green, and I think I hear the Germans ( which I did) " No, I will wait for you in the lobby, this is just too much, I will visit with Ann in spirit, in the lobby." So I did, told her how sorry I was for things in this world, and I don't know why bad things happen, and I love her. Bill took his sweet time, and I asked him could I have done it, gone through, and he said "no." I felt better, I had waited so long to see it, and I didn't need to see it, I know the story in my soul.
           2. This one was close, because there were more people around, we were in the Rijks Museum.
I was enjoying the great art, in a grand place, when odors started to bother me. That's right I have a acute sense of smell! I looked and looked, and it started to get hot, and the smells got worse, with the increasing flocks of seagulls( people, I was started to go to la-la land) Bill was just in the middle of the thousands of people, I was on the outside trying to get a peek, when I yelled, not really YELLED, but.... " Bill I have to leave, this place smells like farts and body odor!"  He looked defeated, " but don't you want to see......" I was out the door, how can I enjoy art with all those smells, its impossible. So we sat in the gardens for a spell and looked things up on Google!
         Bill was just happy that, no police were involved. ( and Vicki held onto her bail money!) ( girls there are still two more days)
         It is not easy to travel, but what is easy? Nothing is easy, but look at the stories.
         Now let me go pack my suitcase, and be happy that I have someone willing to carry it for me.
         Thanks Dr. Bill, as always.

Observations From Across The Pond

These notes were scribbled a couple of days ago, so if I can make them make sense, great! If not, jet lag, and too much cheese could be the culprit.
  Bill and I are in Amsterdam, getting ready to go get a car and head to Brussels and god knows where?
  There is nothing on our bodies that do not ache, from walking.
  We have been living on a houseboat for several days. It is beautiful, wonderful to open the windows and visit with the ducks and sea gulls. ( Yes I have named them!) Boats skim by and wave, very interesting group of people, these boat people. We check out tomorrow. ( remind me, to tell you of the boat that hit our houseboat and there was no one in the boat! It was like Pirates, Bill was taking pictures, I was asking him if he saw a body!) ( Too much Criminal Minds TV) ( It continued on its way, this rogue sea vessel, only I would get hit by a boat!) ( we called the owner, he was not alarmed) ( guess I have told you everything, pictures to follow)
 One of my house boat stories, is freaking at the litter in the canals. Bill was getting nervous when I began to look for a rake, and asked him to hold my feet while I hung out a window! How can people litter?The canals do not smell bad, and in the morning are lovely. Then you begin to see the plastic bags, and bottles, people don't litter, anywhere on this planet.
  The city is charming, architecturally amazing. We took a canal cruise, and learned so much. The streets have too much litter, and that I just don't get. ( A young girl dropped her napkin at a cafe we were sitting at, and she did not even flinch to pick it up. I picked it up, my uncle was head of sanitation in Jacksonville for years, I don't litter. Another of my thoughts, random thoughts is......
 The smell of urine. I think that Europeans have adapted to this smell, but I have not. Amsterdam have, what I like to call, pee-round-abouts, for men. Which I will use if needed! that reek. If fact all the bathrooms smell. Lysol, do they not have these products? I have a spray can in my purse!! No urine smell adaptation for me. Even the smell of funky pot, does not mask this smell.
  Their pot smells like an old ladies bad perfume, like Tabu !! rotten Tabu! Where is the pot smell of the 60's and 70's, I think I may have  aged too much for this city of youngsters. Not really, but...the buildings make me high, and that makes me happy!
  Bill is looking at me, like I have been on his computer too long, its raining and we are waiting it out, which will not happen. Weather always wins! ( we have been very lucky, sunny and mild)
 I will not have time to blog, blog, blog, but I will take notes and try to get back to you readers whom I love.
 Stories to continue.

Everyday When I Open My Eyes, It's A Saturday

    David Gray, a singer and songwriter, sang the above words this morning, that are the title of this blog.
    Not only did I and do, feel like its a Saturday, but I felt so blessed to hear him this May 1st morning.
    All our days, should feel like that.( and that is not easy!)
       I go to let Lucy, the lab, out this morn and there was a chill in the air. The curse words were flying out of my mouth, when I took a breath and said, "It's Saturday Morning Bon, get it together!"
       I have much to do, and lets do it with a Saturday mentality!
       ( Don't all people talk to themselves? or just us special ?? ones???)
    I drove to Florida last weekend, ( Yes, Emma you drove more, blah blah) and this weekend we fly to Amsterdam and Brussels for a few weeks. We certainly have spring fever, travel bugs up our bottoms.
    I need to be packing but... I was thinking about you, the reader. I finished that book I was talking about, and you need to hear the rest.
    Under Magnolia: A Southern Memoir by Frances Mayes
        So it continues,
                     * pine scented disinfectant, worn out shoes ( my grandmother sprayed Becky and I with lysol because we had strep!)
                     * Decent, she said. You hear that word all the time in the South: a decent person, a decent meal, a decent amount of time, that's decent of you
                     *For years when I went back home to visit, I broke out in hives
                     *Ponderable, yes much to ponder
                     *flat out ornery, peculiar, unto themselves folks
                     *bone lonely
                     * Ah, the mythic South, the only swath of America not strangled by the deadly literal mind
                     * Their lay-my-burden-down branches touch the ground
                     *Teeninny, cussed out, pray tell, cut the light, mash that bug, done did, doodly-squat, take ahold ( wonderful slang)
                       * All southern writers have to be drawn to the eccentric language of the South, the rhythmic loops of the narrative, wild metaphors and hyperbole, larger-than-life figures in local legends
                  
            I could just keep going, but I will stop with this line, "How do learn to talk without saying anything?"
            "It's an art, " I replied.
             This Frances Mayes is speaking my language. Yes she touches on the ugly of the South, we all know it still hides around every corner. Its not all capezios and crinolines, (her line, wish it were mine) the racist have not evolved. And Jesus and the Lord are still hauled out to fix the kitchen sink and lower the confederate flag. The South, you can love it and hate it, in the same breath.
            I do both, and this book reminds me, of all the love I have for this canopy of humidity.
            Its my home, its my people, good and bad, fallible and fragile. It is a place where stories are told, and continue to be told, and I love them. We have to let go of our quest to appear normal, The South is anything but that, and there is the love.
           Everyday is Saturday in the South