Memories of 9/11

Yesterday there were a lot of tributes and remembering of 9/11. I've been sorting through my memories since.

I do remember exactly how I found out and my reaction. The school secretary come to my room and told me that the first tower had been hit by a plane. They (the new media) wasn't sure if it was and accident or done deliberately at that point. Scary, but I had class to teach, then she came back a few minutes later with, "We are under attack the second tower has been hit by a plane. This is awful....."

The TV in the school library was turned on and teacher and classes began to gather there to watch and wonder. Replays of the planes hitting the buildings and live shots of people running and the chaos. Teachers were crying, apprehension filled the air and I just wanted to go back to my room shut the door and get back to teaching.

I couldn't do anything about what was happening, I was helpless and I wanted it get away from hearing about it. I gathered my students up and took them back with me. "Class we have to learn this was," my attitude. Nouns are more important than what is happening to our country. Not really I know, but I couldn't stand it --- I couldn't do anything --- I couldn't even watch.

That evening I attended a prayer meeting like many around the country to pray for the victims and their families, pray for the men and women who were searching for survivors and bodies, pray for safety for all of us, and pray that those responsible for this would be found and made to pay.

I remember --- and the feeling that is still with me is how helpless and defenseless I felt.

Twenty Years Ago

All of these people sending children off to college has me remembering. The following happen twenty years ago almost to the day.

"Mahhhhm, we can't take Donna to school then. That's when we have the big pep rally for the boys and I HAAAAAVE to be there. I am A CHEERLEADER afer all and I HAAAAVE to be there!" she whined and flounced off.

Just one of the minor/major problems of juggling the schedules of the oldest daughter ready to go off to college at San Angelo State and youngest daughter going into her eighth grade year as one of the cheerleaders in a small school where the junior high and high school cheerleaders did a lot of things together.

There was a lot of discussion on what to do and how to do it.

I knew I needed to be there for Amy. She had worked hard to become a cheerleader and this was their first big event. But my Miss Independence, who suddenly didn't want to go, was reluctantly heading off some 450 miles to college and I really needed to be there too. What to do, what to do?

It was finally decided that we would pack Donna's Mercury Linx and she accompanied by Carrie, the middle daughter going into high school, would drive down during the day and that Robert, Amy and I would leave after the pep rally driving all night with the rest of Donna's stuff to unload when the dorms opened the next day.

They left early enough that they could arrive just before sun down in San Angelo and check into a motel at which I had made room reservations. Little did I realize that the motel wouldn't let them check in as minors or some nonsense like that. In the days before cell phones it took Donna calling the sheriffs office to contact me at the pep rally to call the motel to okay them checking in on my credit card and that I would be coming.

The pep rally, bond fire, ice cream social and clean up ended about 10:00 PM and we
headed out on our six or seven hour drive. We however didn't make it to San Angelo. As we passed through Brownfield about 3:00AM I felt the car slow and stop. I opened one eye to ask why we were stopping and Robert announced he couldn't drive any further.

He had pulled in to a very seedy looking motel, got out and checked us in. Sleepily I walked behind him to the door of the motel room knowing we were only going to be there a few short hours and then on our way again.

I didn't sleep in that motel room, although Robert did. When he turned on the light the orange carpet and bed spread suddenly disappeared under the face boards. I didn't even step in. Amy and I just went back to the car and curled up to sleep in less than total comfort.

Four hours later, Robert came out and our journey continued. We met up with Donna and Carrie.

The rest of moving her in is a blur. I'm sure we did some unpacking and arranging of items. I'm sure I gave more input than necessary or wanted, and I'm sure there was hugging and tearful good-byes when we left. I don't remember those.

I do remember thinking though, "How can this be? Where has the time gone since I gave birth to that little red haired girl?"

Twenty years later, I'm still wondering, "How can this be? Where has the time gone since I gave birth to that little red haired girl?"

A Time to Gather

In the morning - late morning - I'm headed to the panhandle.

It is time for the annual Bain Family Reunion.

The reunions started about 30 years ago as birthday parties for Robert's grandfather, George Omah Bain, and were attended by just his sons and their families.

Then the reunions grew bigger. G.O.'s brothers and cousins began to come and then Aunt Norma went on a quest to find every Bain in the country that might be kin to G.O. At times there were to 150 or more people there all claiming to be kin to us in some way.

There were years that I skipped the reunion. I could always find little things to have to be doing on that Saturday. And the Great State of Texas helped out a few years by making that very week-end tax free for school supplies and back to school clothing. Well, I had to go shopping didn't I!

Now there are only two brother still living, Robert's dad, Gene, and his Uncle Joe. The numbers have dropped greatly with the deaths of these patriarchs. Extended families don't make the effort to come anymore.

The Bain Reunion is now more a gathering of Gene's and Joe's families with a few of the other first cousins and some of their children there.

I expect to see familar faces and wonder which cousin's child is newly married, or divorced, or expecting. Gossip about the how much weight so and so has gained or lost and wonder why someone else is not there. I have wonderful pictures of the fantastic cruise we took our crew to show and I have a picture album of Bain Reunion past to share.

I will take pictures and enjoy another year of being with family that I only see once each year. It seems more important to be there now. I'm not sure the reunions will continue much longer and in a way that makes me sad.

I've Never Done That Driving

I was out and about this morning and of course that entailed crossing one of several sets of railroad tracks that cut across our town. Most of the crossing have flashing lights and barrier arms to keep everyone safe. This morning there was no train so I sailed right across the tracks. No flashing light, bells clanging or arms decending as I crossed, but a childhood memory came flooding back. A memory of flashing lights, bells clanging and arms that had decended.

My grandparents lived in Amarillo and attended Grand Avenue Baptist Church. To get from their house to church meant driving over a set of thriple tracks. These tracks were protected with the same kind of flashing lights and barrier arms as the double track I cross many times a week here.

On this particular Sunday I was riding home from church with Granny. I remember she was in a hurry to get home because the services had run long and the roast in the oven was probably burning. When we got near the RR crossing the lights began to flash and the bells were clanging. The red and white barrier arms were coming down fast.

But to my horror, Granny didn't slow down. She sped up. Yes, my Granny sped up. She said, "Don't you ever do this when you drive," and she whipped over into the left-hand lane going around the barrier then back into the right-hand lane.

I'm sure my eyes were the size of saucers when I heard the train whistle, and my short life passed before me. It seems like it was inches from us, while as an adult I like to think it wasn't.

The only other thing I remember about this whole incident is her saying, "It would be better not to mention this."

Oops, I just did.

And the Beat Goes On

I've had several people ask about how we are doing since that fateful day in May when we found out that there was no joy in Mudville.

I have a puppy, a man and no pressing issues on my hands. We get up each morning and walk, we sit on the patio, we visit and we play with our puppy and we wile away the day.

We decided that this is just going to be an at home vacation for now. A preview of what real retirement might be. (I say real retirement because Robert was able to start drawing his company retirement.) So that is how we are treating each day. We have gone to the beach a couple of times to work on tans before the cruise in July. We have gone out with friends for meals and been to committee meetings. But mostly we are just taking life as it comes, doing the things that need to be done, and the things we want to do.

We are waiting to hear if the job with the bank will come through. If it doesn't then we know we will have to make a lot of decisions that neither one of us wants to make right now. We have time, and I think we are going to take advantage of the time we have before any of those things have to thought about.

Life Is Full of Adjustments

I knew when we decided to get a dog (okay truth when I decided I wanted a dog and Robert consented) our life would be different. Then before this sweet puppy could join us POW Robert is terminated from his job.

Yep, life is full of adjustments.

We are adjusting to having a wee one to look after, worry about, fret over and play with. She seems to consume a lot of time and energy even when she is sleeping, which she does a lot of except at night when we want her to be sleeping.

After the first night of literally getting very little sleep because we put her in the kennel/carrier/crate/room/den/home/bed that we got her right there in our room. She whined, cried, whimpered, and begged to get out all night. The next night Robert insisted she sleep with us. Wonderful idea. No whining, crying, whimpering or begging. Only problem, Robert slept because puppy was up against me all night. Pushing and sighing. Then I had the best idea ever -- put her in the guest bathroom. Small, nothing she can hurt (except maybe the back of the door), tile floors -- yes, a perfect solution.

The first night in the bathroom she cried and whined quite a bit, but being across the house from us and behind two closed doors the whining and crying didn't seem so loud nor did it last as long. The next night we decided we still want her to think of the kennel as her place to sleep so we put it in there and I sat with her until I thought she was asleep. Oops she wasn't, then I decided to leave the door open so she could come and go as she wants. That seems to have worked. She only seems to be crying now when she needs to go out.

We have had to make several adjustments as to what we are doing, and I'm sure we have several more that we will have to make before Heidi reaches adult dog. And even though I have a book to help with things, there is no teacher like experience.

Starting tomorrow we make another adjustment in our life. Robert doesn't get up and go to work. It will seem strange. We have decided to look on the next few weeks as a vacation. Time for him to relax and refresh. He should hear something about the job at a local bank before the end of June. If that doesn't work out then we'll adjust our hopes and expectations and decide what path we will follow.

Thing is we'll just keep adjusting because life is full of adjustments.

New Addition Is Now With Us

I picked Heidi up yesterday afternoon from the breeder, my friend Anita. My what chaos that puppy was used to. Five adults and eight puppies climbing over each other and playing. Anita seemed perfectly at ease as the we walked in and was greeted by all this. She opened the sliding glass door into the back yard and said,"Big dogs out, little dogs stay." The were was confussion as the big dogs went out and the puppies were trying to decide what to do. Some went out (I guess they thought they were big) and some stayed in. After a few more seconds they were all sorted.

Anita scooped up Heidi and handed her to me as she scooped up a couple of other pups sweet talking to them while all the time giving me instrustions about my little miss. And telling me how this dog and that dog acted.

I then signed a couple of papers for her. Wrote a check, wrapped Heidi in her snuggle blanket -- a gift from Anita to all her pups as they leave and headed out the door.

Heidi was secured in her carrier which we call her den and away I came. I was serenaded by a whining, crying puppy nearly all the way home -- a 30 minute drive.

It was a rough start for us --- We both had a long night and I'm a little concerned because she isn't eating or drinking like I think she should and right now she is just curled up sleeping but shivering. Is that normal puppy? Should I be concerned? Oh, so much to learn and that darn book doesn't answer these questions. I think we'll be fine, but this is much like bringing a baby home from the hospital. No matter how prepared you think you are ----- YOU AREN'T.

A is for Apple or Abigail

Heads or Tails the Tuesday meme (it is still Tuesday isn't it?) has the theme of *A* today, and because it is heads the writer can post anything about *A* that catches their fancy. *A* may be for apple, but the apple of my eye is my granddaughter Abigail. Also known as Abby, Abs or Miss A.

This little girl captured my heart a six and a half years ago.

Meet Abigail Marie just a few moments after she was born. She was the first child I had actually watch be born. (My girls were each born when mom's was half out of it and presented to the mother in a state of near clean.) I found the whole process of birth and her fascinating.

This is Abby one year later on her first birthday. By then we were pals. She knew I was hers. She was happiest when I was sitting in the floor with her and she had my undivided attention. Yes, I indulged her every whim whenever I got the chance and today I indulge as many as possible.
This is Miss A as you might find her today. Riding bikes and being all of six. Ready to graduate from kindergarten. She is in the top of her class, an eager learner and a ready reader. She still likes for me to play with her and we spend time with books, at the park where she wants to swing higher and higher, or doing girly things like her giving me a make over or doing our nails. Tom boy and princess rolled into one.

A Mother's Brave Acts

May 19th edition of Heads Or Tails

This week the coin landed on "Tails" and the topic is brave. The assignment tell about a time when you felt brave or showed bravery. (This is TAILS so it needs to be a true/real post from your own life.)

Bravery is being able to stay calm in the face of adversity. To make rational decisions when those around you are falling apart. Bravery is what firemen exemplify and what soldiers are. I am neither a fireman nor a soldier but I am a mother and I have had to be brave on numerous occasions.

The day I heard my daughter's blood chilling scream as the door slammed on her finger. When I saw the arch of blood arch across the ceiling where she had yanked it out of the door slicing the tip of her right index finger off on the metal weather strip. Calm kicked in. I grabbed her, insisted she stop screaming, then wrapped her finger in a clean wash cloth and ushered her out to the car while giving directions to her two younger siblings to go stay with the neighbor until I got back, and to tell Debbie to call Robert.

Those evening when lighting would flash and thunder sounds right on top of it and you can feel the electricity in the air. When I want to scream and cry because I hate thunderstorms like that, but instead I gather three little girls up and hold them then laugh when they start to cry and sing silly songs and talk about how pretty the candle light is. And secretly cringe with each rumble and crash.

When a big icky spider crawls across the ceiling or down the wall and stops to survey the room and one person in a room of 20 spots it and begins to point and then the room burst into squeals of fright or laughter, but chaos has gained reign. Even though it is a small, but really ugly spider I face it down. I take a shoe and smash it when I would have rather it just crawled away.

When everyone in the house is sick. Every trash can has been a receptacle for vomit. When every toilet is splattered with diarrhea and the only one to do any cleaning is Mom. Mom is calm. Trash cans are cleaned, toilets are cleaned, beds changed. Brows are smoothed, medicine is dispensed. Quiet is restored, health is regained.

I'm not a fireman nor a soldier. I'm just a mom, but I can be brave when facing the challenges of all those little things in my role as such.

Life Sucks Sometimes!

For the past eight years I've had a very contented life. I got up each morning to go to work or not depending on the time of year. That has always been my joy in teaching --- that summer vacation. It has always been my time of rejuvenation -- but that is a whole different subject and not what I going to focus on and make myself write today.

Life has been good to me. I have had no complaints that are serious. Yes, we have had minor things happen -- Robert's hair all fell out, but has grown back. We burnt the well house down, but we built a new one. We sold a house, but moved into a better one. We have worried over our children and grandchildren, but they are solid strong young people whom we see surviving. We have been able to help others in times of need. We have offered up prayers for the health and well being of others.

See our life was rocking along very pleasantly, no major problems, no major worries, almost boring or mundane. Then Thursday happened! Robert came home for lunch as was becoming our custom and I cheerfully asked, "How are you?" fulling expecting the answer "Fine." which I usually got, but instead I got, "Unemployed."

Shock, disbelief, then reality hit full on. We knew that with the merger of the company he worked for and another there would be people let go, there were would be offices closed and people moved. We knew it, we had even played the game where others were given that notice --- selecting those we thought would be gone first --- we just never figured ourselves into that picture.

Now we are playing another game -- the What the Hell Are We Going to Do Now -- game.
We played this game fifteen years ago, have weathered three mergers and four name changes and aged since last played. I don't think any of the rules have changed though. The rules: send out resumes, think carefully before spending money, pray a little differently, and try to keep a cheerful outlook.

Oh, and keep in mind all the cliches
Life isn't fair
Hard work isn't always rewarded
When God closes one door, He will open another
When life hands you lemons, make lemonade

Got any other? I am fresh out at the moment.

And That's the Way the Ball Bounces

My thought went to basketball when I read the challenge. We are in the midst of the NBA playoffs, with the Houston Rockets holding their own against a more touted Lakers team. My heart is with the Rockets, but I have doubts as to their ability to match step with the Lakers for much longer -- but who would have thought the 50 to 1 Mine That Bird would have pulled off that upset at the Kentucky Derby.

Then my thought travel back to my own days as a basketball player. I played three years. Two years in junior high and one in high school. They were fun years, trying years, years that left an impression on me.

I learned about team work, about being a part of something that mattered and I learned that hard work isn't always fairly rewarded.

Here's the story and yes, I'll still sound a little bitter as I tell it.

My freshmen year we had an awesome team. Those junior and senior girls were just awesome. We all took to the court and worked out each day. The junior varsity and varsity worked together side by side. Coach would pull his jv aside each practice for a few minutes after warm-up drills and go over plays that the varsity opponents would be running. We would then work out against the varsity trying to give them the competition that would prepare them for the next game.

These were hard workouts for a bunch of girls who were also playing jv games of their own two times a week. But this was the sport, this is what you did, this is how you got better ---- That and the fact that we didn't know any different.

The varsity won, and won, and won. They won district and were going on. The school was excited, the town was excited. Our girls had made it to Regional Tournament for the first time in many years.

I can remember how proud I was to be a part of that team. Even though I had never suited up for a varsity game I felt like I was a big part in their getting where they were. I had sweated with them everyday. I had stood my ground and been laid out more than once -- I had learned to rotate the ball almost the same way Springlake did, I had learned to shoot a little jump shot almost like the girl from Kress I had done everything Coach had asked of me to the best of my ability. Granted it wasn't exactly like those other teams but I had worked hard!

Then the news came -- Only the varsity would be going to the tournament to be held in Lubbock, only the varsity would be getting any accolades for all the hard work THEY had put in. Never mind the rest of us who had worked hard, never mind the fact that we had a part in it. I couldn't believe it -- all year long Coach had gone on and on about how we were all part of the team, how each of us played a vital roll in winning. Then this. To be snubbed, to be left out because we weren't members of the varsity.

I didn't get to go to Lubbock and watch any of the games. My parents didn't travel and follow the team like many parents did. I really don't remember if they won the first game of regionals or not. I do know they didn't advance --- and deep down a little part of me was silently happy about that. (You know, if I can't be a part of it I don't want you to win thing going on in the mind of a 14 year old.)

That was the end of my basketball career. I still love to watch the game. But when I hear names of big time players who get all the credit for a win (be they at the high school, college, or pro level) I can't help but think --- okay the rest of you guy just sit down and let them do it all by themselves. If you can't get some of the glory then just let them do it without you! You are a team, it is a team sport and it takes everyone working hard to win! So there.

And here's the to group of girls who didn't get to go to the tournament. We were an awesome bunch. (In case you're wondering I'm second from the left on the back row.)

Saved by a Smart Mouthed Child

Sometimes when I managed to get out of a ticket on the side of the road I wasn't alone and actually the ones with me could be credited with actually having the comment that saved Dear Mom from a ticket. Such was this time.

Senerio #3: The side of the road between Boys' Ranch and Dalhart one Saturday night after being in Amarillo with the girls and Robert all day. Lights flash.

Officer: Evening folks. Where are you headed?

Me: (nervous laugh) Home. Long day.

Officer: Ma'am I need to see your license and proof of insurance. You do realize you were going over the posted limit? (At this point he talks with his partner who had walked up on passenger side of the car.) Also ma'am did you realize you license tag has expired?

Me: (astonished) What? (Whipping around to look at the girls in the back seat. Highway parolman now totally forgotten.) Carrie I told you to put the sticker on the plate. Why didn't you do it?

Carrie: Yea, Mom, blame the kid.

Robert: Where is the sticker?

Me: In the glove box is where I put it. Carrie is it still there?

(Robert looks in the glove box, retrieves the sticker and exits the car.)

Officer: (stifling a smile or was that a laugh) Ma'am I'm just going to step back to my car. Wait here.

Officer: (back at my window) Ma'am I need you to slow down for the rest of your trip to keep this family safe. This is just a warning, please sign and slow down.

Our family was evidently highly amusing to this patrolman or this was the first time he had seen anything quite like the display of Mom, smart mouthed child and calm Dad.

An Unusual Emergency

Before he joined the narc unit and then retired my brother-in-law was a highway patrolman. He once told me that if you can ever give a hi-po an original reason for speeding you wouldn't get a ticket. I never tried to come with anything original, I just told the truth, but I did leave a few patrol men chuckling and a warning in my hand more than once.

Scenario #2. We lived in Texline, a small rural community in the northwest corner of Texas. The closest *big* town with a decent size grocery store was thirty miles away. One day after work I was headed there to buy groceries and get home before tip off time of the basketball game. Lights flash and I pull over.

Officer: (a short round man) Ma'am I need to see your license and proof of insurance. (Pause as I gather things and hand them to him.) Is there an emergency that warrants your speeding?

Me: Well, I don't know about you but my family considers it an emergency. You see I'm on the way to buy groceries because there is no food in the house and they think I should fix supper tonight.

Officer: Well, I can understand that. I'll be right back.

(He walks away and returns grinning a few minutes later.)

Officer: Ma'am I'm just going to give you a warning this time. Sign here and slow down a bit so you can get those groceries and get home safely.

Me: Yes sir, and thank you.

I guess to the short round cop buying groceries was either an emergency or I had given him something new to discuss when the other highway patrolmen because according to the B-I-L they do discuss such things.

I Had to Get Home

If you have read my 100 Word Challenge -- Situation then you know I have a love for driving fast, and that love has gotten me into several situations that I had rather not have been in -- on the side to of the road showing my license and proof of insurance to an officer. I have paid my share of tickets (and rightfully given) and I have received several warning. My thought is to share three times I got warning. One a day. If I get on a roll I might tell more --- I do have several.

Scenario 1: Driving the family van home from Amarillo to Dumas alone, 10:00pm ish. Hubby was in the hospital to have yet another back surgery, but the doctor had not been in to let us know exactly when it was to be. The girls (approx. 13, 9 and 8) were home alone. I was very stressed because they were home and had expected me earlier, but I had been delayed from when I called them last. I did not have things ready for a sub for the next day at work, and I didn't know what time I needed to be back at the hospital. I was driving on a four lane road and yes, my speed had crept past the legal limit - at least 15 miles above the legal limit. I saw the lights come on behind me.

Me: (Unpleasant thoughts.)

Officer: Ma'am is there a reason for your speeding this evening? I'm going to need to see your license and proof of insurance.

Me: My husband is in the hospital and I'm trying to get home to see about my children.

Officer: Are they with someone?

Me: (I begin to cry.) No, I didn't know I was going to be so late getting home. I called them, and . . . I don't know. My husband is going to have surgery but the doctor didn't come in and I've got to . . .

Officer: Ma'am (He interrupts me) Ma'am how old are your children?

Me: (Still crying. More like sobbing.) They are seven and eight and ... and no eight and nine and the oldest is eleven ... no twelve, no thirteen ..... I don't know how old they are I just need to get home. I've got to call my principal and its late and ....

Officer: (He interrupts me again.) Ma'am I'm just going to step back here for a moment and check this out and then I'm going to let you be on your way. But you have to promise me you'll slow down. Everything is going to be okay. Are you okay? Do you understand?

Me: (A little embarrassed but still sniffling.)Yes, I'm so sorry. Yes,... (He walks away.)

Officer: (Returning to my window.) Ma'am I want you to sign here. This is just a warning. Everything is going to fine I'm sure. Just slow down and get home to those girls safely.

I think the poor man thought that if he gave me a ticket he would also have to call for someone to take that blubbering mess home and he didn't want to have to be the one to sit and wait with me.
And he was right. The girls were fine, Robert called right after I got home to say the surgery wasn't scheduled until 10:00 am. My principal was very understand and had actually already lined up an experienced sub so I didn't have to make detailed plans. Everything worked out.

100 Word Challenge -- Situation

Velvet Verbosity issues a weekly writing challenge. This week's word is situation. I've found myself in this situation too many times, not always for this much speed, but for speeds beyond the legal limit.


The highway, long and straight. The traffic, non existent. The speedometer climbs to 90, 100, 110, 120. I feel the governor kick on and the speed begin to drop so I back off just a little and settle for 115. I feel powerful. I feel in control as the scenery flies by the side windows. My eyes are fixed on the road ahead. There are no thoughts, just the road, just the power. Then I see him and know it’s too late. Lights flash behind me. This isn't the situation I want. Indulgence comes with a price.

I Was Accosted by a Monster Mouse

Several years ago --- I just realized that several years ago I must have had a life because most of my stories come from *several years ago* --- Anyway, as I was saying I was class sponsor for 7 seniors in a small rural school in the Texas panhandle.

One of the ways we raised money to take a big trip at the end of the year was to run the concession during basketball games. Of course at the beginning of the season we had to clean said concession stand even though it was supposedly cleaned by the previous years group.

On the day we had decided to do this cleaning we found thing in pretty good shape except for the evidence that mice had been playing around in the store room --- fortunately there had not been any food stuffs stored in there, just some equipment that could be cleaned with bleach water.

The kids were troopers and put on the rubber gloves and did a great job pitching in, working and getting things done.

But --- there is always a but isn't there --- they got to playing around and visiting and their language became a little less than appropriate with several mild curse word being tossed around. I went into lecture mode about appropriateness of language. About how the language they used was a reflection on them, their family, the school.

It was at this exact moment that one of those dear little rodents decided to make an appearance and ran across my foot. Yes, it ran right across my foot. And as it did in a blink of an eye, I jumped back as if a huge monster had just accosted me, and squealed, "OH SHIT!"

The kids all started laughing and repeating my lecture back to me about using cuss words. All I could do at then was to laugh and assure them that that was an appropriate time to use such language (even though it wasn't).

"Rats" I Needed a Hug

Earlier this week while teaching a reading lesson a student looked at me and asked, "Does it hurt when a rat bites you?"

I was caught totally off guard because we were not discussing anything remotely close to rats. I'm not sure what I answered or even if I did. (I've learned to just ignore some random questions -- I think you can understand why.)

But that question has had me thinking about rats and mice. Those rodents haven't been a big part of my life and for that I'm thankful, but they have on occasion played a part.

One incident was many years ago when a mouse was caught in one of those old fashioned mouse traps that closes on the mouse's head and kills it, but leaves the mouse and trap there for you to deal with. I was a young mother at the time with a very ill husband.

I remember hearing the trap spring and knew I would have to remove the mouse. When I first looked under the sink the mouse was still moving and that in itself really *wigged me out*. So I decided I could let it just wait a bit before I did anything.

After about an hour I looked again and the mouse was still so I got the dust pan and the broom and was going to sweep the mouse into the dustpan and take it - trap and all - out to the trash can in the ally. I put the dust pan down and started to sweep, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Try as I may each time I reached for that mouse with the broom I would start shaking and gag. I couldn't do it. I could not sweep that mouse up. All I could do was cry. I had three little girl, a sick husband, and a dead mouse. I could deal with the girls, and I could deal with a husband who was going through radiation after having a kidney removed because of cancer, but I could not deal with that dead mouse. I just couldn't do it.

Finally I went next door with the story of my dilemma and this sweet little lady came over to help. She of course, swept the mouse up disposed of him and then did something that has stayed with me for all these many years.

This dear lady wrapped her arms around me and held me tight. That is what I needed more than anything. It was that hug that gave me strength to deal with so much more. Whenever I think I can't deal with anything more. I think of her and that mouse and that hug.

It's Just a Name

I could be sleeping. It is Saturday morning -- not early by any stretch of the imagination, but earlier than I have to get up this Saturday.

That said, I've been laying in bed a wake for the past two hours just mulling over things I could write about in a blog. Thinking about the 100 Word Challenge over at Velvet Verbosity and putting ideas together for that little bit of writing.

And I was thinking about names and how the sir names of the children I teach now are so different from the sir names of the children I grew up with.

That took me on a whole different train of thought about how things in our country have really changed and then I was really wide awake so I decided to stop thinking and just get up and write.

Now back to those names. In my class at school there were names like Jones, Baker, Nix, Bellar, Drake, Brown. Then there were Patterson, Cartwright, Flemming, Harper. I think you are beginning to get the picture. We were not a very diversified community.

Oh, we had a handful of Hispanic names. Garcia, Hernandez, and Cantu (ah Frank and his brother. I had wee bit of a crush on Frank. I remember at one school dance . . .that's a different blog) Back to names that was about it.

There were three main churches and several smaller ones, but most people went to the Baptist, Methodist or Church of Christ. There was a Catholic church, but only the Mexicans went there or at least in my little mind's world that is who attended there.

I grew up very WASP. Although I had no idea what that meant and to this day don't know for sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. It is just a label to me that says all our names were easy to say and spell.

Where I taught in the '70s and '80 was a wee bit more diversified and I learned to pronounce and spell a few more Hispanic names and learned a smattering of Asian names.

The shock came when we moved to the coast. The names here have thrown me for a loop. Not longer is the norm Smith, Jones, Brown, Garcia and Hernandez. Now I've learned a whole new world of names. More Hispanic names and a whole new world of bohemian names. My favorite is Hrncir. For me there just aren't enough vowels. I've learned to ask people to repeat that please and would you mind spelling that. Most don't -- they've been spelling it for you their whole lives. And you notice I haven't listed any names here --- the reason being is I can't spell them and I'm too lazy to go get the phone book.

Now the morning grows late. The hubby is up and distracting me -- I've totally lost my train of thought if there was actually ever one here.

It's All About the Dress and Unconscious Mutterings

Growing up my mother made most of my sisters and my clothes. Most things I really don't remember, they were just the clothes we wore. I can actually remember 3 outfits very well though, partly because they were special to me or because the legend of them has been kept alive by the retelling.

One was a pink dress with gray polk-a-dots on it trimmed with gray rick-rack. That was the dress I wore in third grade to the UIL story-telling contest (which for those unfamilar with Texas story-telling it should be called story retelling since that is actually what you did; not make up a lie to tell). I felt very special in that dress the day of the contest and even more so when I won first place. Many things about that day are etched in my mind to be treasured always.

Another outfit I remember well was a vest and skirt made from a linen type material in a great apricot color. I was a freshman in high school and I just felt so dressed up when I wore it. There are no other special connection with that outfit, so I'm thinking I just felt good in it and it was probably the start of my obsession with being fashionable.

But the dresses in the picture below are the ones my sisters and I all talk about to this day. They were red and white striped and were made for us to wear to the 4th of July fireworks display held in Dick Bivins Stadium in Amarillo, Texas. This was big doings back in the mid 1950s. Mom said the reasoning behind dressing us all alike was so that if any one of us got separated from the rest she would only have to point to the girls with her to tell what we looked like.

To the best of my knowledge none of us ever got lost wearing those dresses.



I'm the one on the far right with her chin tucked down looking like she is about to hurl!




The I say :: You think meme which comes out on Sunday, but can be done anytime.

1. Cups :: saucers


2. Brilliant :: genius


3. Disobey :: defiant


4. Abstain :: from


5. Daily :: grind


6. You make me :: laugh


7. Hurl :: puke


8. Intensify :: increase force


9. F#$%! :: "Excuse me, that will not be said here."


10. Race :: run

Day 10 A Memorable Party

I was looking around Blogspot just a few minutes ago and came across a site that I want to share.
It is here. It is called The One Minute Writer. Each day you are given a prompt and a timer and asked to write for one minute.

What a wonderful way to come up with ideas for blogging the month of November. I read through several of the prompts and each one basically led to some personal event in your life or something you might consider doing.

Today's (well when you read this it will be yesterday's) prompt is *Write about a memorable party or gathering you attended.*

I instantly thought of the surprise party Robert threw for me on my 40th birthday. I think what made it so memorable is that it truly was a surprise. Even the girls didn't know about it.
We had to go to Dumas that day and close on a house we had just sold. I remember being upset with him because we didn't even take time to celebrate after the closing by going out to eat. He said we had to get back home to go to some hokey meeting. I was pouting and grumbly when he pulled up to the fire station (the center of all activity in the little town of 400 people where we then lived).
When we walked in everyone shouted "Surprise and Happy Birthday." My reaction -- well according to Robert I turned to him --- slugged him on the arm and said, "You shit." The DJ began playing then and I had a wonderful time with the whole town celebrating turning old or what I thought at the time was old.

I Say --- You Think

Coverage :: of the election, sports, the new media in general likes to think it gives us up to day coverage of everything -- even things we don't really need to be a part of

Cynical :: how I feel about politicians; CEO's of large companies; and evidently the news media judging from my last comment

Gust :: west Texas winds that blew through my childhood

Improvised :: most meals I cook; have I mentioned I really don't cook much

V :: victory

Guests :: what I wish I had more of; maybe if I were a better hostess maybe actually prepared things for them

Brutal :: winters in the north

Grant :: allow

Pull :: push; if there is a pull sign on a door I will invariably push on the door before pulling

Streaming :: video; although I don't understand what one really is I've heard the expression often in association with the internet and it popped into my head