Wednesday, August 31, 2011

So Long, Summer.



So, here we are on the cusp of another summer's end. It's always a little sad to see any season come and go. Okay, some of you may break into song and dance when winter finally calls it quits, but you get my drift. Now that school has started, though, I do feel ready to move on into fall. I love the fall and I'm hoping it will bring me out of this funk I've been in lately. The aforementioned funk is the reason I've been keeping a low blog presence. I don't think anyone would appreciate too many angry rants or mournful sentiments.



Anywhoo...to bid farewell to August my family spent a wonderful evening in Nashville this past Saturday eating and dancing and I thought I'd let you in on it.. Well, my daughter and niece did most of the dancing. The rest of us just sat and watched.



First up, dinner at The Farmhouse @ Fontanel. Because you're just dying to know, I had the pan seared troutt with capers, string beans, and mashed potatoes. It was quite yummy.





On weekends they have live music after 6ish. Unfortunately, these guys took a little long to set up and we weren't able to stick around to listen.





My parents - who HATE to have their picture taken. I know my mom was probably thinking I wish you'd get that camera out of my face.


Ren and Megan, my niece. The LOVE getting their picture taken. They were probably thinking Do you need an extra SD card?.





Then it was on to Centennial Park in downtown Nashville. Each Saturday during the summer a Big Band is featured at one of the pavilions. They play a lot of the standards from the mid-1900s. Below is Ren with some guy who was dancing with all the ladies. She asked him, though...and didn't tell him until the song had started that she didn't really know how to dance. But, you couldn't tell it.


John-Heath even got in on some of the action. Of course, he enjoyed getting in on the action of an orange snow cone even more.




We actually had a lot more fun than it appears in this picture. Maybe what I need is to hire a professional photog to follow us around and capture some great shots. Wouldn't that be funny!






Ren enjoying the music. John-Heath enjoying that orange snow cone I told you about.


So long picnics, big bands, and swimming pools. See you next year.




Monday, August 22, 2011

What's That You Say, Sonny? Granny Can't Hear Too Well.




Okay, I will admit that I may be somewhat overdue for a girls' night out with my friend Clairol, but I think some youngster needs glasses.

Tonight, at the JV football game John-Heath was playing at the top of the bleachers with one of his little buddies from 1st grade when he got just a little too rowdy for my taste (he wasn't being bad, mind you, but the barking and squeaking sounds he was making at people passing behind the bleachers had to stop), so I sent his dad up to patrol. While there, John-Heath introduced John to his friend. Here's how that went down.



John-Heath: This is my dad.


Friend: How old are you?


John: 48.


Friend: Wow! My grandpa is 52. Who's that down there (pointing at me)? Is that your mom or grandma?


Yep. Some kid is definitely going to fail his school vision screening.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

We Want to Know. Q and A.

Photobucket



{1} Did you live in the same town or move around a lot as a child?

I surely did, and still do. I am 100%, Grade A, homegrown small town. Living in a town like mine has its good points and bad. A plus... we have few traffic jams, unless you get behind someone riding their lawn mower to the grocery store. I tell you no lies, people. Negatives? Well, I can’t mention them here. People know where I live and I don’t want my house to get egged or something. Seriously, though, I live in a pretty swell little place and there are only a few things I’d change.


{2} What were your parents like?

They were and are the salt of the earth. I thank God they’re mine every day, although, my mom needs to chill a bit. Nobody’s house has to be THAT clean. A little dirt is good for you... builds your immunity. No wonder I came down with tonsillitis every year as a child.

{3} Do you have any siblings? What were they like growing up?

I have one sister and I haven’t a clue what she was like growing up because she was almost 17 when I was born. I do know that she was a majorette in the high school marching band (that means she twirled a baton -heehee-) and pretended to play the saxophone in concert band. Oh, and she wore these really funky, pointed, dark-rimmed glasses. I’ll post a picture sometime. Then she’ll be sorry she never reads my blog.

She has also always been my second mother and is my daughter’s second mom, as well. I thank God for her, too.

{4} Share a short story from your childhood.

Hmmmm. Okay, I have two that have just come to mind…one about a chicken and another about being a chicken. I’ll have to go with the story about being a chicken. The actual chicken story just makes me sound like a serial killer in the making, so I better leave that one alone for now. Calm down, PETA people. I wasn’t very old at the time and I did feel remorse for what I almost did.

Anyway, back to the story about being a chicken. I was afraid of the dark. I was 5. No wait, I was 6, 7, 8, 9, ...15, 16, 17,.... Again, I tell no lies. Just ask my mom who still slept with me (at least until I would fall asleep), even until the night before my wedding. When I was but a wee chick I would start the night off by myself in my own bed. Once my parents were asleep, I would crawl out of my bed and across the floor until I reached their room (we lived in a small house, so it was a short trip), where I would pull my mother’s robe, also called a housecoat, off from the end of their bed to use as a blanket. Then I would settle in to sleep on the floor at the foot of their bed. I did this most every night. And every night I was caught just after I covered myself with my mom’s robe. I think that’s why she just started sleeping with me until I would fall asleep. It was easier on them, and definitely easier on my knees. And should I ever wake up in the middle of the night? She was always on call. “Maaamaa.”



{5} What did you look like?

Mostly, I always looked like I was up to something. My son has inherited this quality.

Me, circa 1973 or '74

Possibly in some early form of "time out".




This post is participating Mamarazzi and Alicia's "We Want to Know" series (#18)

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

It's All Bread and Circuses

...the people now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses.


- Juvenal, circa 100 AD



Sighhhh. I worry about my children. I worry about my children’s future children, to the point of even encouraging my teenage daughter to never have children. At this point in my life I am fine with never having grandchildren. For starters, at 41 I am still way too young to be called "granny", even though the grey creeping forth from my scalp may say otherwise. Mostly, though, I just worry about what their lives will be like in another twenty years plus.


My worry comes, not so much from a lack of confidence in how they will manage on their own as adults, but rather from what I see as a breakdown in a large segment of society around them, and as someone who works in the public sector I have had a front row seat to this breakdown for the past 18 years. It’s not pretty, and it’s getting uglier with each passing year.


Simply stated, too many today care only for, and expect, every entitlement available, yet feel responsible for absolutely nothing! When people willingly put themselves in a position of being supported by others, caring only about immediate gratification and no longer value the virtue of hard work or civic duty, they do a disservice to everyone around them – themselves, their neighbors, and their children.


Unfortunately, today’s society is breeding a new generation of those who want, but will not do. No country, at least not one in which I would want my children or grandchildren to live, can survive this way for long. Don’t believe me? Just go back about 1,900 years ago and ask the Roman Juvenal. He could tell you a thing or two about bread and circuses.





A few post-notes...


1. Entitlement comes in many forms.


2. Growing up, if I ever got in trouble at school, I was in trouble at home.


3. Education was stressed. Neither my father nor my mother graduated high school, yet they knew the value of a high school diploma and college degree and pushed it, knowing that it would make my life easier than theirs had been. Only once did my mother ever call the school to voice her disagreement with a teacher.


4. My father worked in construction. Some years were lean, painfully so for my parents, but never noticed by me due to the way my parents handled the situation.


Monday, August 15, 2011

Hmmmm...

1.) Would it be bad of me, I mean really bad, if I were to take a personal day after only being back at work for 6 days?

2.) Why couldn't the kind of weather we've had these past couple days have stopped by for a visit in June or July when work wasn't intruding on this thing called my life?

3.) Why didn't I develop and organize all my pictures this past summer as I vowed in May I would do?

4.) Speaking of pictures, tomorrow is picture day at school. Oh, joy! (You did detect sarcasm there, right?) I think most people reach an age where they no longer enjoy seeing themselves on glossy pieces of paper. I, myself, reached that age about 22 years ago.

5.) If I had banana pudding in the refrigerator I think I'd partake of a bowl. No pudding. No bananas. I guess I'll just go to bed.


Thursday, August 11, 2011

The Game.

I enjoyed my years in high school. I had good friends and we enjoyed good fun. Even so, ninety-nine percent of the time I would not want to go back, especially in the atmosphere that is society today. It's tough being a teen. I know. I have a teenager. A teenage girl, to boot. Ohhhh, the drama. I'll just leave that one sitting right there. Like I said, I did love high school - just not enough to make me want to return - until yesterday.

Ren came home in a very chipper mood and at one point while sharing the events of her school day, let it slip that several of her buddies have been part of a group playing a new game (not all her friends, mind you. Some people are just too cool for such pursuits). It's called Blow Dart, and was developed by one of her friends who is recently returned from a mission trip to Africa. The gist of the game is as follows...


1.) Someone calls your name.


2.) You turn to see who it is.


3.) The caller then pretends to shoot you with a poisonous dart.


If you are part of the group playing the game you must drop where you are and lay still. You have, afterall, been felled by a poison which has affected your central nervous system.


4.) You are allowed to get up only when someone comes along and pulls the pretend dart from your body - or when a teacher begins to question why it is you are laying in the middle of the hall.


Luckily, players are given a means to avoid the darts. To do this, one must, upon hearing their name called, place two fingers on their neck before facing the caller. This seems to create some sort of invisible force field and the callee remains protected.


Now, you're probably thinking that this seems like such juvenile behavior. And you'd be right. It is nothing short of juvenile behavior. After all, they are juveniles. But even as forty-somethings John and I had to laugh. The image of a boy reciting words in Spanish class, suddenly dropping over on his desk and then immediately picking up where he had left off when the girl behind him took pity and removed his dart, was priceless! So, too, was the teacher who was curious as to why so many kids were checking their pulse.


Yep. It's when I hear stories like this I wish I could go back and revisit school for a day or two - or just long enough to be shot with a dart.



P.S. Of course, all good things must come to an end, including The Game...especially now that the AP knows about it.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

The County Fair

What one does at the county fair can often depend on the age, gender, and interests of one's children. One of these days I fancy that I might like to enter something from my garden in a contest and win myself a blue ribbon. Of course, I would probably produce something that would give Aunt Bee's pickles a run for their money.

Our county's annual fair was held this past week and and we were there on Thursday evening -first, to support Ren in her attempt at the Teen Fairest of the Fair crown and then, if he promised to be good during the pageant and sit somewhat patiently, to take John-Heath around to ride some of the rides.

Ren wore the same dress she wore in the Strawberry Festival and, although she came up a little short this time, still looked beautiful and did such a good job. A couple of my friends from school were there and one of them said that was not the Ren he knew.

She decided to go down just a smidgen in her heel height this time from low to extra low. When you're almost 5'11 you don't need a tall heel. I also chose not to spray paint these shoes gold to better match her dress as I had her old ones. I don't think it made a big difference, though.

If there's one thing I wish I had done differently, it would have been done months ago when we bought the dress. We bought it off the rack at the shoppe. I have learned since to ask the store to order one in the correct size, and not be suckered into keeping the one they have on hand. The store took a large-sized dress and said that it would be faster to just alter it to fit. Being new to the whole pageant thing I didn't think it would make a difference. It does. Even though it's a beautiful gown and looks lovely and graceful on her, it still just looks too big in some areas.



I wish I had a picture of her with her fan. The fair board gave all the girls old-fashioned "church fans" to use in an attempt to stay cool as they waited under the tent to go on (the heat index was 100+ that day). We knew how hot it would be and how much our daughter sweats (like the proverbial mule). So we purchased her a portable, battery-operated fan and it was the best $8.99 I've ever spent. Another of the girls had one just like it, too. It reminded me of something Suzanne Sugarbaker would have done.




When it was all said and done, she placed as the 2nd runner-up. Here she is with the other winners. See what I mean about the dress being a tad big?




And here she is with two of her very best friends.







And with my niece Megan - Ren's personal make-up artist. Megan has many titles and tiaras to her name, including the 2006 Fairest of the Fair.







Finally, it was time to get out of the dress and just sit back and relax while watching the Miss division of the pageant. Here's Ren with my aunt and cousin who were there to watch the pageants, too.






And, last but not least, it was John-Heath's turn to have some fun. John got him started and I caught up with them a little later. He loved the slide and rode it over and over and over and ov...






How can you go to the fair and not ride the carousel?






And since he's nuts about planes anyway, he had to give them a whirl. But I think his favorite part of the night was getting to go inside the portable command center set up by the city police. They stocked him up on plenty of sticker badges (one of which made its way onto one of my kitchen cabinets) and ID kits.






My little girl left happy. My little boy left happy. It was a good night.







P.S. I usually try to proofread before posting, but I'm tired. Getting back into the routine of things these past two days has hit me hard. I'll try to correct mistakes tomorrow. So if you should find some tonight...well, if you're as tired as I am you won't notice them. Goodnight, friends.

Monday, August 8, 2011

School Days, School Days...

...dear old Golden Rule days.

Well, my friends, we've started back to school in my little corner of the world and this is what is has looked like for us.


Sleepy mornings. He is his mother's son.



All dressed up for his first official day (with students) as a high school AP. This was registration day and we had to take our traditional back-to-school-in-front-of-the-front-door pictures.





Ren's first day as a junior in her denim and pearls - sans make-up due to a pageant scheduled for later that same evening.



Mr. Eager Beaver making sure he had his 2 boxes of Kleenex ready to go.


One of the last times I'll be taking her to school. She'll be driving on her own before long.



Anxious to get back and meet up with friends to claim their sitting place in the hall.



Then it was John-Heath's turn to go meet his teacher and see which friends were in his class.


It's official.



And, finally, today...the first full day of school.



Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Why I Will Never Again Feel Carefree Getting Into My Car!

Now, unless you're a newcomer to TireSwings, you know I am no fan of snakes. Actually, I am scared to death of them - even to the point that I rarely see much of my beautiful 150 acre backyard for fear of seeing one of them. Seriously, unless it's the middle of winter and the temp is waayyyy below zero, this gal won't be found more than a couple hundred feet from her back door. Thankfully, this type of thing is not inherited so my children are able to appreciate the great outdoors more so than I.


And now my heebie-jeebies have found a new place to reside. My automobile.


Those of you who live in my neck of the woods have probably already seen this as it made the local news, so I apologize for regurgitated information, but I couldn't pass it up.






Actually, I was quite impressed with how steady the driver kept the car. That would not have been the case with me. I'm not kidding ya. The screams would have been much louder, windshield wipers would have been going wild, and we would have all landed in a big pile of dust.


John assures me there is a firewall between the engine and the actual inside of the car, but I think he may be lying. He's been known to do that before when he thought it would shut me up. But please tell me he's telling the truth this time. Please.





P.S. Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Setting a Little Something on Your Shelf

Just when I feel life has become a little unblogworthy (yeah, I know that’s not a real word but neither was Google a few years ago) something always seems to happen that makes me want to take pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, and record it for posterity.

According to many polls, one of the perks enjoyed by pregnant women is the enhancement of cleavage. Well, I don’t know who they canvassed for such a vote but it surely had to be only women who enjoyed the benefits of temporary endowments. I just can’t see women who are already blessed in that area being particularly thrilled with more. Why? Well, I could site just how disadvantageous it is to a woman’s health but there’s another area of equal concern. A woman’s wardrobe.

A good friend of mine, we’ll call her Twyla because she’s been known to pass as my twin, happens to have this problem. Not a shirt in her closet has made it through a meal without coming home with a souvenir. Poor girl always manages to drop something... soup, salad dressing, ketchup - she even managed once to land a whole fried apple slice smack dab in the middle of her shirt while at the Cracker Barrel. Her daughter thought the entire episode was quite hilarious. Twyla was just thankful she wasn’t wearing a v-neck.

Anyway, lo and behold today, at the local meat and 3, what does my friend do? She goes and decorates the front of her favorite t-shirt with a stewed tomato. I know. I was there. Others were witness to this as well, including one longtime friend of the family at another table who let my friend know she suffers from the same and, often, can’t eat without setting a little something on her own shelf.

Well, I need to head on to bed. Tomorrow’s my last day of summer vacation and I promised John-Heath I would take him to see The Smurfs. But first, I have a little laundry to do.


P.S.
Oh, and if you have never had macaroni and tomatoes you just don't know what you're missing. They're as yummy as they are messy (to some)!

P.S.S.
P.H., this one was for you ;)