Happy 2020!  I had to planned to take a vacation from blogging during the holidays, and unfortunately spent much of it ill with a runny nose, cough, and lethargy,  However, now I’m ready to write some silly stuff again.

As many of you know I had a delightful winter garden, my zucchini, beans, and tomato plants were in full bloom.  I went to Texas to see my mom for three days, and when I returned…a frost had put an end to my would-be garden.  Curiously, all that survived were broccoli and copious amounts of weeds.  Of course, broccoli can survive a frost, but weeds?  They seemed to relish the cold weather.  Why?  I don’t know.

On an entirely different note, have you noticed “what goes around, comes around”? Certainly, we see that in fashion trends and hair styles, but there’s an age old trend raging now.  I remember when I was a child, the milkman, mail man, and newspaper carrier delivered to our door step.  Once in a while, the big yellow truck would show up at our door selling tin cans of potato chips and a variety of ice creams.  Though some things were purchased from catalog stores, the vast majority were purchased through in-store shopping.

It seems “home delivery” has exploded!  Busy families have little time to wander the grocery store aisles for commodities.  Order on-line, delivered to the front door.  Not only groceries, but dry cleaning, prescription drugs, fast food restaurants, the list is endless.  On-line shopping further has expanded to clothing, cars, dog food, and practically anything anyone could ever want.  No doubt; I’m a fan of convenience shopping, except for the grocery store.  Indeed, I’m a grocery store addict. I squeeze the Charmin, I thump the watermelon, I inspect the steaks and the fish, and I always manage to add more to my cart than originally intended.

I hope I never get so busy or so infirm I can’t go to the grocery store. How will I be able to peruse the rag newspapers at the checkout?  Aliens? Stars on their death beds? Divorce rumors? Killers?

Happy New Year!

Earlier this week, my sister was sitting on her patio, when what to her wonderous eyes would appear, but…a guinea pig! Given we were raised to be kind to all living creatures, she immediately scooped up the very tame invader.  Made it a safe haven in a large, plastic storage box, went to the store and bought it food, and posted on all of the neighborhood websites.  No one contacted her. Another 24 hours passed.

It was obvious either the guinea pig had escaped, or someone just let her go.  Another day passed.  Then my sister posted a free, to good home only ad on a neighborhood website.  Within an hour, she was contacted, and Miss Piggy went to swank new home replete with every rodent amenity.

For some reason this event danced in my mind.  I do not accept the Bible literally; I believe it to be a compilations of stories written over 500 years after the birth of Jesus.  These stories were designed to teach us morals…like Aesop’s fables.  Thus when St. Luke writes: there was no room at the inn for Joseph and his pregnant wife,  the lesson was really?  There’s always room for more.  More guests at the dinner table, more dogs to adopt, more children to be loved.

Certainly, my sister could have shooed the piggy away, but her morality forbade it.  May we all embrace the spirit, instead of:

 

 

Thanks to my dentist brother, I no longer need my two front teeth.  Mine are porcelain and hopefully will last until the day I depart.  No, I not going to comment on the current political climate.  After all, it’s the most wonderful time of the year.  Who wants to engage in that drama?

I want All children to have:

• A bed, clean clothes, and enough to eat
• A free, public education of quality and opportunity
• Access to higher education, whether it be career tech or university
• To be judged by the content of their character, not their color, language, nor disability
• To live without fear

Now if that’s not enough, my personal Santa list is:

• Nothing I can’t wear, use, nor eat.  I’m in no need of dust collectors.  In fact, a case of paper towels or toilet paper would be great, as would a Christmas card or a phone call. (Please no fruitcake.)
• For all of my friends and family to make a charitable donation to those in need.  Be creative: animal shelters greatly appreciate your ragged towels and blankets; donate your unused canned goods to a food bank; give a beggar a McDonald’s gift card.  Donate used books, toys, clothing, etc. to a shelter.  Every public school in America is in need of something–pencils, paper, crayons, books.  Figure it out.
• Remember our animal friends.  Feed the birds, adopt a puppy, kitten, or a goldfish.
• Spread the spirit.  You don’t have to be a millionaire to help those less fortunate.

As I was driving home today, the radio DJ said: I LOVE this time of year because people are so kind and nice. May you embrace the most wonderful time of the year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Since I no longer go over the river and through the snow to my grandparents’ farm, I hosted a very small feast.  And yes, I was left with a mound of leftovers, even though each of my guests took home a “to-go” box.  In fact, I’m eating a turkey sandwich, as I blog.

At 4:15 AM Friday morning, my cell phone blared an emergency alert: Tornado warning. Seek shelter.  For the next hour, I watched the bizarre tornado event blow through my casa.  True limbs flew,  thunder rolled, rain pelted the skylights. Thankfully, by mid-morning, the storm abated, and I was left with broken tree limbs, a filthy patio, and a filthier pool, replete with two floating patio chairs.  My outdoor Christmas lights were askew, and I was grateful I had not put up the inflatable.

The wind remained, and this transplanted Arizonan found it far too cold to work outside.  Yet, I did manage to retrieve the floating chairs.  I slept well knowing my pool cleaning system would work its magic and deliver a pristine pool by Saturday morning.

Saturday morning.  Time to go clean up the leaves and limbs.  Oops, I’ll check the pool.  WTF?  Still trashed.  Lord, I had all new equipment installed 8 years ago.  I checked, I troubleshot, I threw breakers–all to same result: system failure.  My pool guy came within three hours, “Sue, condolences.  Both your pump and motor are dead.”

Dead?  Irreparable?  “Sorry, Sue.  This equipment has been discontinued by the manufacturer given its many problems.”

“How much will this cost?” I asked.

“$1,500 minimum.”

Hmm.  I get $44.00 a month Social Security. (Long story)

“Hopefully, I can get the new system in by Wednesday.  Certainly, before Christmas.”

“Ok. Do it.”  In the past eight years of my new life, I’ve always bought a special, Christmas present for myself; however, rarely do I splurge to $1,000+ on myself…until now.

As a parent, aunt, and great aunt, I’ve sat on the sidelines and watched.  No, not just the athletes on the field, but their parents.  I never cease to be amazed by the behavior of adults at a Little League, Pop Warner, etc. game.  Really?  Yelling at the coaches, referees, and umpires–but worse, many of them scream at their child who drops a pass or fails to catch a fly ball.

Last night, I was at my ‘hood bar and grille for weekly trivia.  I’ve been a regular for about two years and have met so many nice folk.  The prizes are “bar bucks:” $25, 15, and 10.  Certainly,  not my motivator, I just go to have fun and the food is fabulous.  Unfortunately, last night I witnessed obnoxious and over-the-top rude behavior.

Now, as in any game, there are rules.  The DJ doesn’t dictate the number of team members; she just wants everyone to have fun and abide by the rules of no cell phone usage, and time limit per question.  Fair rules I think.  Late in the game, with 3 questions remaining, both my team and another turned in our answers after the buzzer.  Hey!  I get it, our answer (which was wrong, by the way) was not accepted as was the other team’s answer.  I KNOW the rules.

Eruption!  A member of the other team began screaming the f-word at the DJ.  Not ONE of his teammates tried to shut him down. At first, the DJ was calm, but the f bombs continued to drop, as her four-year-old witnessed.  By now, the remaining teams were saying, “Cool it” “Sit down” “Stop!”

Then, our very tearful, shaken DJ closed her computer and announced: The game is over.

I remain stunned, saddened, and mystified by this disturbing incident.  After all, it’s just a game.

As some of you know, my mother turned 95 on October 1.  When each of her grandchildren phoned with birthday greetings, she told them: I just wish we could all be together again. An event that hasn’t occurred in 7 or 8 years!

Her wish was magnified this past week, when numerous touch-and-go health issues arose.  In fact, all we could do is pray, and thankfully, given the miracle of medicine our mom/grandma is healing.  All of us found this situation so anchoring that we decided to grant her wish.  On Boxing Day, (December 26), we will come from Pennsylvania, North Carolina, South Carolina, Arizona, and California to Houston and celebrate the joys of family and the true essence of the holiday spirit.

I don’t know how many of you have enrolled in your local Next Door Neighbor site, but on the advice of my youngest I did.  Given my ‘hood, I’ve over 1,300 neighbors.  In my greater area, I’ve more than 20,000.

This is a most curious web site: people post items for sale, recommendations for restaurants, landscapers, handy men, and even contractors.  Need your pool cleaned? Call—. A car tuneup? Hairdresser? A house or a car?  Thankfully, political opinions are taken down immediately.

Neighbors also post instances of criminal activity, which brings me to the reason for this blog.  Thanks to video cameras on October 31st, there were a vast number of robberies in my ‘hood.  Video indicate the perp was the same 25-30 year-old dude.  He targeted lighted, decorated front doors, as many folk just left bowls filled with treats outside for the goblins.  But the Halloween Grinch stole the entire bowl full!  And to add insult to injury, had the audacity to sell both the candy and the holiday containers the next day–about 2 miles from his crime zone.

Frankly, I’m confounded.  What kind of jerk would do this?  The same kind of guy who injects Swedish Fish with THC, needles, or slivers of wood?  The same kind of guy who subscribes to the mantra:  If I can steal it, it’s mine?  

I far too old to understand why folk behave in this manner.  WTF?

 

First, don’t get your knickers in a knot.  I adore my two, highly successful daughters.  They bring joy and happiness to my life.  But my years of child-rearing are far behind me.  Thus, with the adoption of my newest puppy, I share my thoughts.

Dogs have attributes humans don’t have. They love unconditionally.  When I arise from bed, I look like a bag lady, with my messy hair and half-awake eyes.  Yet, they gaze adoringly at me.  When I walk down the driveway to get the mail or make a quick trip to the grocery store, they greet me, as though I’ve been gone for months.  As I write this blog, they all lie at my feet.  My kids never did that.

Secondly, my dogs are not divas.  They’ve never asked for my credit card to buy trendy shoes or purses.  Nor do my dogs want Michael Kors, Kate Spade, Mark Jacobs, Louis V. clothing and accessories. They’ve never asked for a ride to cheer practice or tennis lessons.  They never asked for a ride to the mall or for money.  (Once, my eldest called when she was in college requesting money.  Whoa! She got a monthly allowance, so I phoned and asked why she needed money.  Her answer: You don’t know how expensive it is to eat out In California!  True, I rarely ate out.).  My dogs are fine with their non-designer kibble.

 

My dogs don’t talk back;  they know I’m the alpha. None of them have ever called me a name, yelled at me, nor called into question my opinions or advice.  They willingly follow my leadership,  And I’m most grateful, they didn’t go through puberty, nor endure the petty girl spats and lack of dates with dreamy, Joe Jock.

So in my golden years, I’m living the dream with my six companions, who adore me–in spite of my flaws and warts.  Seriously, my life couldn’t be more wonderful…in the company of dogs.

 

 

• General Mattis’ performance at a New York benefit dinner where he humorously took down the President with such one liner’s as: I earned my spurs on the battlefield while Trump earned his spurs from a letter from a doctor, made me curious about the former Secretary of Defense.  Mattis wrote a letter of resignation, which questioned the President’s policies. However, the President’s spin was: You’re fired.

My curiosity was peaked. Who is this General Mattis? A college graduate from Central Washington University who rose through the ranks of the Marine Corps during the Gulf War, War in Afghanistan, Iraq War, and the two battles of Fallujah.  He’s described as intellectual, urbane, and polished.  (A DC rarity).  He trained all of his Marines in cultural sensitivity to Mid-Eastern ways.  In fact, as his troops were monitoring Iraqi protests, he insisted they give Iraqi citizens bottles of ice water–hard to throw a rock at someone’s who’s given you a cold drink on a 120-degree day.

According to some who served with him, he forsook his plush quarters and spent nights in the trenches with his men.  (Hmm. No comment.) Further, General Mattis, a bachelor, is described as a devout Catholic and chooses not to talk about it.

Finally, he advocates for international foreign policy.  He’s stated that his own troops have been affected by climate change, not to mention the ravages of terrorist groups, whom prey on innocent citizens.

America has had 12 Generals elected President from Washington through Eisenhower, so this is not a new idea.  Yet, let us pause to imagine a culturally-sensitive, humble, urbane, intellectual President. Could he heal our fractured America?  Unless, you can sell me on someone else, I’m voting Mattis in 2020! (I just wish I had enough money to convince others.)

• 

I realize it’s been a number of weeks since I blogged.  No, thankfully, I’ve not been ill.  Just too busy doing “must dos.”

My eldest just moved from Phoenix to Aiken, SC for a new position.  Was it traumatic or dramatic? Of course, I’d spent over two years being back in her life.  Now, both of my girls reside east of the Mississippi, and I’ve no family here.

I cried and felt sorry for myself…alone again.  (Except for my dogs, whom adore me.)  My recovery came last night.  I recalled a phone conversation with my maternal grandmother.  “Grandma, I can hardly believe, my youngest is going to kindergarten; it makes me weep.  I’ll no longer have a baby.”

She retorted, “Sue, that’s silly and stupid. Just be glad she has sense enough to go to school.”

And so it is with parenting.  As a parent, my sole responsibility is to raise morally and ethically good citizens, whom contribute to the proverbial greater good.  Who are educated and empathetic to those in need.  Who care more about the plight of others, who are not insular, who never give up in adversity.  Just like the larva, who leaves the cocoon and morphs into a beautiful butterfly, my job is to set my kids free!

Besides, my kids probably are delighted to have escaped their cantankerous, crazy mom.