Thursday, June 27, 2013
A Bug's Life...Lesson
I walked out of my door to find a pre-historic era bug upturned on the concrete path to my door. My first thought was "Omg, what the hell kind of bug is that?" My second thought was that I would literally rip my own skin off if that thing had landed on me. I eased up on it only because of it's precarious condition. Not the dreaded Palmetto Bug, this bug was huge, thick, dark brown with a shell that looked crunchy and hard. It was two inches long with antennas as long as it's body. Beetles on Botox?
Bugs make me do weird things, temporary turrets syndrome at church picnics, erratic driving and to the horror of my kids... pulling my shirt over my head at a baseball game when a June beetle flew into my neckline.
Too big to smash, I walked away. I had a brief tug of guilt for not up righting it. But, as the world turns... I swear the same bug I save will be the one that causes me to wreck on the interstate by coming out from under a seat. So, on with my day. I will let nature take care of itself. I mean it wasn't like I turned it over. It would eventually die of it's weird predicament.
I swear I couldn't get that bug out of my head. When I got home six hours later, I could see that the bug was still there as I walked up the path. It was still, it's antennas not moving.
Ok, I will just go inside now and surely a bird will swoop down soon and this drama will be over. Another pang of guilt, now I wanted it to be gone, because it reminded me that I did nothing to help it, I let it die.
I peeked out the door about an hour later. Still there. Ok, I will sweep it into the yard where the birds can see their dinner. I whisked it with the broom, it landed upright and it's antennas started twitching! I felt a small leap of joy. I guess 7+ hours on it's back left him a little wobbly, but it started inching it's way to the edge of the concrete. I shut the door quickly before that bird that I had been silently beckoning all day would swoop down and change the moral of this story.
I felt weirdly happy that the bug didn't die and that somehow I could change the course of nature and myself by simply offering a hand/broom out to a struggling bug.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Fear No Weasel
Don has been creative as a weasel in winning me over to his likes. e.g, Accidentally getting hot sauce on my lasagna, the wrong cut with the pizza cutter equals a tad of anchovies, The fan logically became acceptable white noise as it drowned out the TV when I went to bed first and then the latest, the crickets... They came in stealthily one night after I went to bed. I heard them several times through my dream fog and thought that a chirper was sitting on the window sill. When I woke the next morning I realized the chirping and was dronefully repetitive and coming from an app on Don’s Iphone and not the windowsill.
So after 25 years, Don has yet to convert me on beans with ketchup and scary movies. He picks out the movies, mostly because I will scroll through the movie list for an hour, A to Z to find one. He does a good job most of the time. 9 out of 10 choices get a Siskell and Ebert-less thumbs up. But, I believe it is his mission to find the end all movie that will turn me into zombie loving, blood sucking, fear seeking adrenaline junkie that occasionally and accidentally shouts the F bomb at the TV. So, every now and then a blacklisted movie will slip into the house in the guise of a misrepresented presentation that would go something like this.
Me: "What kind of movie did you rent Don?
Don: "It's a mystery"
Me: "Not scary?"
Don: "No, just eerie."
If I don't trust his shifty pose or non-committal gaze, I will further ask what the review says. To which his reply would be "Oh the usual, some violence, 13 or older with adult supervision." A few have left him on the couch alone with a whole bowl of popcorn for himself, while I entertained myself in another room.
He seems to have realized he has used the same terminology for 25 years and needs to be more creative. Christmas was a good example. When I asked him what we were going to watch this year, He answered simply "A western." Well, he didn't actually lie. But Christmas Day...Django?????
Me a grown woman, sat with my fingers laced over my eyes and fingers in ears. I looked around the theater at the wide eyes of other women, duped as well. When we got home, I didn't know whether I had seen the worst or best movie ever. I wasn't sure whether to take a shower, read the Bible or take a drink. I had to watch I Love Lucy re-runs to go to sleep.
Well, obviously enough time had passed since Christmas and it was time for the bandit to strike again. But, he stooped to new lows.
While getting drinks and a snack together I asked the usual. "What kind of movie did you find?"
He replied. "You will like this one. It's a romance, girlie movie." I plop on the couch as the movie begins. The screen rolled the movie title "Warm Bodies" as a blue skinned, bloody mouthed zombie lumbered through an apocalyptic airport.
I give Don the eye, he throws popcorn into his mouth and says "Watch it, you'll see"
I just shake my head in disbelief. Girlie movie. I believe I have as healthy an affection as the next person for dead people. But, when I open my eyes, I want them gone. If not, I want a cache of silver bullets, garlic and wooden crosses. I just can't grasp the moaning and stumbling incessantly throughout the eternity and there is nothing sexy about pointy teeth and blue skin.
Saying that, somewhere after the young, possibly once good looking zombie ate the heart of the alive girls boyfriend and started having feelings for her, I busted out laughing.
I enjoyed the movie more than I thought, but mostly because of Don's tenacity to sneak one in. After all these years it's nice to know there are a few surprises left. I might even put a dot of ketchup on my beans this week.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Sixteen Candles
Would she still want to hang out with me when she was 16?
- When she was 3, she put her shoes on when I pulled into the yard with a confident cock eyed stare at her mama that said "I'm going with grandma, just sayin."
- When she was 5, we took a stroll one evening, Abby saw the dark cascading line of the mountains at sunset on the horizon. She wanted to walk to them. I explained that we couldn't make it that far. To which she replied "You sit down and rest Grandma, I will pick you up on the way back."
- When she was 7, On a drop in visit. "Grandma can I stay the night tonight?" she asked. "Sweetheart you didn't bring any clothes" I replied. "That's OK, I can wear a towel."
- When she was 10, "Grandma I want you to be my roommate when I go to college."
- When she was 11, "I don't want to go trick or treating. I want to stay with Grandma and Paw Paw." She just never grasped the whole trick or treating thing. She's the only trick or treater I know that rang a doorbell and asked to use their bathroom, much to our chagrin.
- When she was 12, I was bringing the girls home for a Slip & Slide party/cookout when a quick thunderstorm came up. Abby was frightened by the thunder. The conversation between the girls and their friends went like this. "Abby, it's ok it's natural, God makes storms." her younger sister Alana chided. "I don't like natural." Abby replied, sinking down into the seat when as a clap of thunder rolled. "Abby don't you want to see God?" her sister asked. "Yes, but not today." Abby replied.
- When she was 14, she would text me, Grandma, u awake? I miss u. luv u
- When she was 16.......My daughter called from NC and told me Abby wanted to spend her sixteenth with us. She brought two friends. During the fun teen time of the weekend, I realized we hadn't really been alone. I had a brief moment of sadness, quickly broken by peals of laughter from teen girls. On the last night of their visit, we were driving away from Towne Centre when they saw a shop they wanted to go into. I pulled into the lot and begged out of going in. I rolled the window down and settled in for a good little wait. Minutes after going into the store, Abby came back out by herself and climbed into the truck with me. She said she had a little stomach ache. Or did she? We sat and talked about life's dilemmas, I offered a little sage advice and we shared some giggles. When the friends walked out of the store. We glanced at them laughing and coming to us. We looked back at each other. Time froze briefly, I knew our bond was deepened in those few moments. I thought to myself later.. My life isn't a measurement of years or months or even days. It is a collection of moments and what we choose to do with each.
I can still see her clomping down the hall with my heels on, her mouth garishly painted outside of the lines with my L’Oreal #502. Although she has physically grown into those big girl shoes, she has a few little girl hoorahs left. As I pondered whether she was too mature for her age, I walked in on them emptying her huge ~Sweet Sixteen~ balloon that Paw Paw proudly wrestled through the store to purchase, they squealed "Hey Grandma" like hobbits and the worry is gone.
Abby, there are shut boxes beckoning to be opened, closed doors as well. Keyholes are portals. Mistakes are imminent and risk's are recommended. Never let money or lack of it determine your happiness. Look for life's magic in the moments, the bubbles, the raindrops, the fallen feathers, equip yourself with the ability to see what's real and the audacity to imagine what's not.
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