Missing my kids this morning as I sit here sipping coffee. My baby girl brought a hot pink frog and rock to grace my garden. This frog can only be seen from inside my side yard, lest someone decide it might look better in their garden. Once upon a time I had a lovely flower pot adorning my front porch with cacti in it. My grandchildren gave the pot to me and I was quite partial to it. It disappeared in the night. I hope the cacti fought back while being stolen.
Every time family visits I intend to get a picture. It never seems to work out. I want a picture with everyone in it and know that I could ask one of my campers to take the shot. But, the only time we all seem to be together is when they are leaving and no one else is around. Chad is not in the photo because he is taking the picture. Note that the dog in Gavin's arms is not the granddog, Max, but Wall-E. Papa still refuses to part with the dog.
The dog and boy share a special bond. Papa no longer exists when Gavin is in the house. Wall-E sleeps with Gavin and protects him from his own dog, the cat and all who would dare to harm his boy. When Gavin leaves, he goes back to being Papa's dog. Of course, throughout it all, I am the one who feeds and cares for the dog, along with the rest of the pack.
My old dog Oscar is becoming less active and sleeping much of the time. He gave me a scare last night. He was trembling and listless, with a warm nose. His breathing has been audible for some time now. He is fat and slow moving, but food is his greatest pleasure late in life and I cannot refuse him treats. Last night, though, he wanted nothing to do with his most favorite treat. I fell asleep with him in my arms. I know his time is short, but cannot bear the thought of losing him right now. He is back to his same old self this morning, demanding more breakfast. Thank goodness!
Wishing my boy, Gavin, was here to help Gramma shovel gravel today. Gavin's team won third place in their baseball tournament. Chad was his coach. I am proud of the boys!
This day started too early. I awoke with a start and realized that it was, indeed Saturday. Time to schlep my wares down the road to the flea market. He Who is not a wizard with a measuring tape constructed a PVC pipe clothes hanging device on which to display my many creations. When I noted that one side was taller than the other, he calmly explained that he planned it that way in order to better show off all that I had to offer, saying it would be more obvious that there were two rows of merchandise.
Clever guy, He Who makes it up as he goes. It was a mere 2 inch difference. Enough to notice a mistake had been made in the measuring, but not enough to do what he claimed. Does he really think I fell for that? I appreciate his efforts, though. I sold enough to pay for my space for two weeks and actually make a profit. Got a special order, too. All thanks to Barb, the famous eyeglass guru, owner of Here's Two Eyes, who not only shared her space, but did the selling so I could come back and carry on with my kampground duties.
That is the good part of my day. I came back, made the coffee, cleaned the restrooms and started my day. It was only 8 AM and by my calculations I still had one glorious hour of me time before my 12 hours behind this counter began. Two cars come into the park. Neither paid any attention whatsoever to the STOP sign or my speed limit. I watched from the garden I was thinking to weed.
Sighing deeply, prepared to give my "why I have a stop sign" speech and tactfully move into the reason for the speed limit, I approach the front of the building and cheerfully ask if I can be of assistance. A swimsuit clad woman is exiting one car, while talking to her friend in the other car, not yet out of her vehicle. She looks over at me, as if I am disturbing her and announces, "We are here to swim."
I push down the words, "No you are not." that are trying to escape my lips and explain to her that the pool does not open until 11 AM. She looks at me disgustedly and shouts "What?!" So, instead of my traffic sign speech I lapse into my litany of, "The pool is open daily from 11 AM until 7 PM, it is $3.50 per person. Upon paying and signing in, you may leave and return later if you choose." Again, stopping more words from leaving my mouth, I don't add "I hope I didn't use words you do not understand." Because she is now looking at me as if I am levitating to another dimension right before her eyes .......
I know right then that today will be very interesting, if somewhat annoying. The next incident occurs outside, also. I decide to check on the supply of paper product in the restrooms. This is important, because people will not tell me if the toilet paper is running low or completely gone. They will simply move the paper towels to the stall and use them and flush them and create an entirely different problem. Before I can go back inside, two girls in the pool call to me, "Hey, lady, we caught your bullfrog." Until then, I was blissfully unaware that I was the owner of a bullfrog. A young girl, looking to be around 12 or 13 comes running to me, across the freshly cut grass, pool net and long pole in hand. She wants to introduce me to the frog she assumed was my pet because he was swimming in the pool. A younger girl of about 6 is in hot pursuit to witness the owner and frog reunion.
Sweet little girls, in touch with nature. Is that what you are thinking? Not me. I am thinking more practical thoughts. Thoughts like wet feet, loose grass, algae in the pool. She proudly shows me the frog, then asks if she should return him (do frogs have genders?) to the pool. Seriously. Her innocense is touching. I tell her she can just release him to the grass and to wipe her feet off before getting back into the pool, lest she be the reason the pool closes early. She turns to go and whacks her little sister in the head with the long pole.
I can see it happening in slow motion and try to grab it before it hits her. I fail. I hear the hollow echo as it conks the little girl on the side of her head. "Oh, no. Sweetie are you okay?" I say. The little slip of a girl turns and says, "It's okay, I got hit in the head a lot when I was a little girl."
I stood there pondering this as they scampered back into the pool surround and both carefully toweled the grass from their feet before returning to the water. "When I was a little girl" ....... she is a little girl right now. Maybe I did actually levitate to another dimension.
Okay, last but not least. I was taking inventory of the Pringles (my biggest seller, don't know why, but folks around here can't seem to get enough of these chips from a tube) when I heard the door open. Finishing my task and saying "I will be right with you", I turn to see the side view of a woman at my counter. Given the fact that she is clad in a skimpy bikini, I know immediately that she must be a swimmer. But, that is not what caught my eye. The triangles on her bikini top could barely contain her enormous breasts. They were impressive, these obvious implants. The woman was not a big woman, in fact her frame was very petite, making her look as if she would topple over any minute. As I pull my eyes away from the perfect, non-sagging globes adorning her small frame, my eyes were immediately drawn to her midriff. It was loose skinned and flabby. More familiar to me. I have one similar to that, although I think mine may be more well toned.
I go to my side of the counter and ask my normal questions. "Swimming today? How many?" She looks up from signing her group of names onto the list. Her face is over tanned and very wrinkled. She has the tell-tell wrinkles of a life long smoker around her lips and looks to be about my age. As she leans over to get her money, one of her enormous chest adornments is smashed into the counter. This thing doesn't change shape at all.
I am not done yet, stay with me. While my mind is wondering what kind of plastic surgeon implanted these too perfect, too firm mounds on this woman and told her she looked good, she opens her mouth to speak. All I can say is that she should have used that money for dental work, although, I am certain that her implants may serve well as flotation devises!
When Gavin arrived for his visit, he was eager to show me his golf cart driving skills. He was quite proficient and a very careful driver. I was impressed as he drove me around the park. I promised he would be able to drive in the parade as long as an adult was with him.
His cousins arrived the next day and the golf cart logged many miles as this was the favorite activity, along with the pool. Are you thinking "Uh-oh, what happened to the golf cart?" about now? It was my son, not my grandson was piloting the machine when it happened. I have heard many versions of what happened from each of the young riders. There was speed and a bump involved, bringing back a memory of a fender bender He Who is an impatient driver had many years ago when our oldest son was about 6.
My husband hit a car that had started to go at a stop sign and apparently changed her mind at the last minute. I was not there. He Who has been known to tail others too closely swears that she was in the middle of the road when she stopped her attempt to turn. Like I said, I was not there. A ticket was given to the woman, not the man. The man whose child was asked what happened by the police officer (who knew the man, coincidentally). The child replied, "Daddy was driving too fast and wasn't looking where he was going."
Anyway, my golf cart, was out of commission. Gavin was disappointed, but took it in stride. He was all set to adorn my cart with patriotic decor. Our sweet camper Nan gave him permission to decorate her cart.
He adorned the Nanny Mobile with red, white and blue. He did not utter one complaint about not being able to drive in the parade. Things happen and you go with the flow, right?
He sat on Nan's cart and admired his handy-work. Then the unexpected, generous act happened. Nan relinquished her cart to Gavin and he was able to drive! Did I mention how much we all love our Nan?
Gavin explained to me later that he really liked Nan's cart. One thing in particular he liked that mine does not have was the rear view mirror. Next time Gavin comes, the golf cart will be running (it already is. New battery and a new battery terminal was ordered and received and applied.), but it will be sporting a rear view mirror.
The baby birds have all flown away. They are still in the park, swooping up, then down as they provide an air show for us. I was sitting on the porch as the parents fed them last week. They could sense the approach and would open wide for a meal. We all know what goes in, must come out. I will be cleaning the sunshade and the porch with bleach and water today, soon as the sun withdraws from the sky.
Meet my granddog, Max. Such a sweet little dog. He is an easy going little guy, taking it all in stride. He claimed Papa's chair as his resting place. This is Toni Louise's spot. She argued a bit, but finally let him have it. She is easy going, too. They romped around the yard together. Toni was happy to have a playmate with endless energy.
Nap time is the middle of the hot, long day. So peaceful.
Can you imagine not loving that little face? He usually sleeps with Gavin, but Wall-E would have none of that. Gavin is his boy and he wanted exclusive rights. He ended up in my bed with the other three. Fit right in. My daughter offered to leave him here and her dad and I said okay. She was kidding, of course. He is supposed to be Gavin's dog, but, really, he is hers. Wall-E will always be Gavin's first choice.
The new dog, Cujo, was very confused. New people, new dog, then more new people. He tried to hide and remain as inconspicuous as possible. He was not all that keen about the new dog in his midst, but the four grandchildren really did him in. This dog is not a puppy, though tiny, he is full grown and by the looks of his teeth, at least three years old. House broken, not so much. He is a dribbler when scared. He gets sacred a lot. He seems to be afraid of children.
He nipped two grandchildren. One deserved it, one didn't. They both left him alone after that, which was his goal. He liked my daughter and she fell in love with him. She wanted him to go home with her. I would have given him to her. I only wanted to make sure he was to be taken good care of and my children all take good care of their pets. She decided he would not be a good fit with his dribbling problem. Okay with me, as he seems to have become my dog exclusively.
He is scheduled for surgery this Thursday. He will be a bit lighter when he comes home. I was holding him in the back yard while the granddaughters were here. Zara is five and not able to grasp the whole "gentle" thing. He nipped at her and she was content to play with Toni Louise. So, as I stood there with the little guy tucked in my arm, 8 year old Jada came up and lifted his puppy making equipment in her hand and asked, "Gramma, what is this?" I tried not to laugh and simply replied that it was his testicles. She looked mystified until Gavin told her a simpler term. Then she was embarrassed that she had so nonchalantly cupped them in her hand. There was hand washing involved. All her pets are female. Now that I think of it, though, how many fully equipped dogs have you seen lately?
I am still recovering from my very long and stressful week. My mother-in-law was buried yesterday. We spent many hours trying to get flights arranged from many different destinations. The fact that it was a holiday weekend did not help and airlines no longer offer discounts for family emergencies. In the end, I decided for my husband that he would not make that trip alone. We will be going to her grave together in October to have a memorial as a family. This will give all of our children and their families time to make arrangements, as well as us.
When my son died, we had to delay his memorial service until November. Death is rarely convenient. He who grieves has handled it in his own fashion. He prefers to be alone with his thoughts. Not easily accomplished here. He stayed on his mower quite a bit. When he wasn't mowing, he was weed whacking. Both noisy chores that would eliminate the need to accept condolences. I think he was relieved when we told him he could not go alone. As much as he wanted to be there, he was dreading the trip. He is still subdued and sad, as anyone would expect. I am so glad I insisted he make the trip in March to see her. Better that he got to visit with her while she was still in this world.
Quiet moments have been hard to come by this week. Not only is it the busiest time of our season, slap in the middle of a big holiday weekend, but I have had the pleasure of seeing four of my grandchildren. Four lively ones, with all the chaos that comes when you have two nine year olds, an eight year old and a five year old in your house. Or should I say tiny house .......
Sleep eludes me. Insomnia has not visited lately, I just need opportunity. Sleep deprivation leaves me a little(?) cranky and critical of my fellow man. Today is going to be one of those days. I keep putting one foot in front of the other, but I am weary. I warned my family that I will either be civil, or Sybil.
Everyone is treading lightly, including the canine contingent. At 4 AM, the boy cat, known as Martha, tried to climb onto Gavin's cot. Gavin's dog Max,who sleeps beside him at home, was in bed with me and 3 of our dogs. Wall-E was in bed with his boy, claiming his rightful place, as protector. He barked a warning to Martha, which alerted ALL the dogs into "kill the intruder" mode. I jumped from sleep and raced to the room Gavin was sleeping in and removed the cat and tried to shush the dogs.
Adrienne and I were up and got all warm bodies back to their sleeping spots. The men, you say, where were the men. Asleep. Blissfully unaware of the commotion. How they managed to not hear a thing is beyond me.
So, today, as I string all the kites and direct all the traffic and explain the concept of darkness a thousand times, I would like to recognize all those who seem to want to make me miserable .......
Thank you to the mother or father who left the swim diaper on the floor of the rest room (it wasn't just wet) ....
Thank you to the person who ate ribs at some point and decided to empty your plate in the bathroom trashcan and encourage all the bugs to start a trail in ......
Thank you to the person who peed in the bathroom trash can, I so enjoyed spilling it on my foot, not to mention the entire roll of toilet paper you stuck in it, yes, thank you.
Thank you to all the drivers who fail to stop at the stop sign and look offended when I bring it to your attention. Yes, I do realize you are not a child and I am not sorry I spoke to you like I was speaking to a child. I assumed that you did not know how to read and that I should speak very slowly so that you would absorb my message. Yes, I do realize you did not care to hear what might happen should you hit a child on a bicycle when you failed to stop at my stop sign. I had to assume that you had never given practical reasoning a thought and could not seem to help myself as I decided to educate you.
Thanks to the man who swore to me that he was "just idling along" as he flew by the the office leaving a trail of gravel dust in his wake. I am not sorry that your child witnessed your reprimand. Perhaps I won't have to correct him when he begins to drive. Yes, I was serious when I suggested that you keep your foot on the brake as you "idle" by. I was also seious when I suggested you take your vehicle to a mechanic to see why it speeds as you idle.
Thank you to the person who put two ice cream bars on top of the ice cream freezer to melt. I always enjoy taking a profit loss and cleaning up your mess. It is because of people like you that prices go up.
Thank you to all those of you who decide to toss your candy wrappers and ice cream sticks and yes, even your McDonald's trash all over my park. I have you to thank for not having to empty all the trash receptacles we placed in various locatrions for your convenience .........
It is not even noon yet. The day is young. Now that I have unburdened myself, I think I might just make it. Maybe. The day is still so very young.
My mother-in-law passed away yesterday. I won't be able to attend the services and am spending a quiet morning remembering her.
She must have had many reservations about her son marrying a woman with two young children. She never shared them with me and accepted my children as her own grandchildren. I was welcomed into her family and never felt unwelcome at her house.
She was known as Nana to her grandchildren and me. Nana was a crafty lady. Always with a skein of yarn close-by. She would find a comfy chair upon her arrival to our house and sit knitting away. Until a meal was served and the clean up began. She would be up to her elbows in dishwater. You had to be quick to beat her to the sink and even if you made it there before her, she would manage to push you aside and take over.
It was a given that Nana would try to wash all the dishes, including those that were disposable. I find myself doing the same thing at times.
I mentioned her craftiness. She was a saver of raw materials to accommodate her passion for crafting. Pinterest would have made her crazy with ideas. I remember when my oldest needed an egg carton for a school project and I had tossed all of mine. Off to Nana's we went, sure that the problem would be solved straight away. She offered up a stack of egg cartons taller than my first grader. He took them all and the teacher was ecstatic. Said she would have enough for many years of children who forgot to bring one to school.
I started a wooden spool collection. Still have all the spools. Nana carefully wound her thread onto empty plastic spools in order to add to my collection. I am sure some of the thread was beyond using for sewing, but she saved it all just in case she might need that particular color one day.
Nana was a giver. She loved to give things to her children. She was often heard to say that her children didn't ask to be born and it was up to her to make sure she gave them everything she could to make them happy. I hope she knows that she succeeded in that respect.
She loved a good party. She out-danced all of us at my daughter's wedding. She was the life of the party and was there to help with the clean-up at the end of the night. A week later she was in the hospital recovering from by-pass surgery. That was nearly 14 years ago.
She never really bounced back from that surgery. Her memory was impaired by the anesthesia and I worried about her ability to keep her meds straight. She seemed to forget to take one altogether, or take one and forget she had taken it and then take it again. She was on a daily regimen of blood thinners and I was particularly worried about that one.
I realized that she wanted to maintain her independence and we did not live close enough to take an active role in her day to day life. The decisions were not mine to make, as she was not my mother. I am just the daughter-in-law that loved her and grieves for her. I am thinking of her today, as I did all day yesterday. Paying my respects from afar.
I am left with a little hole in my heart as she leaves this life and moves on to her next adventure. We saw lights in the sky last night as we made s'mores with our grandson. I think it may have been Nana entering heaven and saying goodbye.
The week has begun with the arrival of my baby girl and her family. Papa has his mini-me in residence and all is right with the world. Gavin displayed his talent for driving golf carts.
Round and round the park they went.
Again and again. Gavin will be the lead driver in the golf cart parade on Saturday.
He spent time with Gramma, too. He shoveled gravel and helped me in the garden. We took a stroll yesterday morning and inspected the trees. We looked at the progress of the fruit on the peach tree and the apple trees and the crab apple tree.
"What does this tree make, Gramma?" I told him that tree he was referring to was a maple tree. He nodded and said, very seriously, "Oh, I see, the maples aren't on it yet."
