Nature Songs ~~~~
MARCH, 2002, continued ~
March 8, 2002 - Dazed Days ~~ With plenty of new ideas to rush out and use for avoiding a Writer’s Block there is nothing to fall back on and say, “I don’t know anything to really write about.” I have six weeks’ worth of materials that would keep one using ink, pen and paper for many, many days. My comment would sound more like, “Oh man, these lists and questions lead to so many more areas to write about. There’s all sorts of story starters here at the tip of my fingers.” Life has much to offer.
The Java Script Class has offered so many new techniques to put in use and get more acquainted with all the possibilities to incorporate on all my webpages. The roll-down list I had done before. The mouse over I’d played with some. With this course I was able to hone up my skills and understand the workings behind the finished product. Hence, the desire to alter my process of presenting my writings. This way, the pages load quicker and there are less places to click in order to surf through the pages. I really like my mouseover additions of adding some words along the bottom of the page where the URLs generally show up for the flag, picture of the bench looking out over the mountains, and one more sharing a tidbit of interest.
Taking the Not Using 90% of Your Brain Power Class for the second has brought along new memories and ideas. This has been a time of introspective investigation and having to come to terms with those areas of my life which I control and can change for the best. So many of the others in the class have come forward and shared much with the rest of us. Yes, I made a few entries along the way as well.
It’s that other class that is creating a chasm so wide within me that it’s hard to make the leap of life to the other side. It has been a really soul-searching situation through the weeks we have shared together on the message board. I’ve realized many new avenues to travel along the way. Some of them, I’m not ready to travel; even thought I’ve taken this one twice now and still have so many new ideas shared by other members of the class.
Quite by accident, I chose to check by the message board and only a few had made new entries since the class has ended. One of those entries must have been written with me in mind. He was stating that even when you don’t feel worthy of writing anything at times to go ahead and write something - anything. At some point you realize that you’ve written a book and need to decide what should be cut out in order to make it shorter. I have already experienced that inasmuch as I’ve written a book for each year I’ve been journalizing ... not that any of it will be published or saved .. or read in the years ahead.
March 9, 2002 - Precision In Life ~ Something struck a familiar note with me last night. I am my Father’s daughter and so much of his time with me still lingers with an inborn tenaciousness. His was a more organized life than my own. For him everything had a place and was always put back in the exact spot each time it was used or moved. Each day he would be dressed and ready for whatever may come. Yes, he worn ties a lot, but even on the days that he was tie-less he was immaculate. Gentle reminders were given to me when he would be ready to go somewhere and I would comment that I needed to change, fix my hair, or whatever ... His outlook on life was to be prepared to meet anyone at any given moment and be proud of how you were dressed. He did that even when he was sick which was often.
Because of his health and the need of my grandfather to have someone to help with him, I lived more with my grandfather and aunt than I lived at home with my family. Even after my grandfather died, I stayed on with my aunt and was “sort of” the daughter she never had since she never married. It was filled with many bouts of upheaval and disagreements since she was always wanting me to do everything as she said and never allowing me to think for myself. So much of the time I was more of a puppet than a person. It gave her great pleasure to get me out in a very public place and make derogatory statements for me; especially about my hair, how I stood or my clothes. I was never able to satisfy her in whatever I would do and had more tearing down of my confidence than being encouraged - all in the name of “it’s for your own good.”
“We always cover our knees when we sit down.”
“Keep those shoulders straight. Don’t let them round like that.”
Oh, I really loved this one: “You have on too much lipstick. Your mouth reminds me of the rear of a bird pooping.”
“Did you wash your hair this morning? It’s greasy looking.” Some days my hair would be washed two or three times to keep it from stinking or looking oily. I used Tide Soap to cut the oil that I was destined to have. The beautician would tell my aunt that washing my hair so often only encouraged more oil.
I guess the worst for me was when she would get a pan of water and a washcloth to work on my knees and feet to get the ground-in dirt off with the help of lye soap. It was not dirt at all and I was left with sores where she scrubbed so hard. I had psoriasis and as the places began to leave deep bleeding cracks as the weather turned cold, the doctor stepped in. I traveled to Morganton by bus each week for x-ray treatments to control the psoriasis.
Through all of this my Dad was always giving me what encouragement he could. He was always there to sit at the table with me when I ate breakfast each morning. No matter the weather, if he was not too sick, he would walk over to be there and drink a cup of black coffee as he sat across the table from me.
Mother usually worked six days a week - at least five and a half - to make money for them to live on along with my brother. Some weekends I spent with them. But never spent much time with Mother. Her mother was the one that taught me to sew and cook whenever I spent time with her in the big white rambling house atop the hill. This was where I learned about making lye soap, caring for cows and chickens, picking figs from the shrubs outside the dining room windows churning butter and such ...
Mother’s family were the first to have a T-Model Ford in the community. They were the very first to have a telephone put on the wall in the hallway. It was just out of my reach for turning the knob to ring up the operator. Later, it rang when other families were added to the line. Up to twelve homes would be put on one line and each home had its special ring. Everybody knew who was getting calls and it was not unusual for families to listen in to the messages of others. Sometimes it was hard to get someone to hang up so you could make an emergency call as well.
March 10, 2002 - Checkmate ~ Chess is a game played by many that are willing to challenge the wits of each other by moving the various pieces on a board. One would think that I would be able to comprehend and challenge others. Try as they may, so far no one has been able to instill in me a love of the game. NascarKid taught himself to play at an early age by reading a book about it presented by his Aunt Cotton one Christmas. Personally, when I sit down to the board, instead of knights, kings and the such, all I seem to assimilate is a checkered board of red and black disks trying to be the first to be crowned and win out over the opponent. Checkers has won out over chess! That is the limit of my game of chess ability.
Writing some thoughts down yesterday turned out much different from what was in mind beforehand. Thinking of how much of my Dad is inborn in me was the main idea. Some things are destined to be a part of each person and for Dad and me one of them is having a bowl of ice cream at bedtime. There are times I will not allow myself to buy ice cream knowing that it isn’t the best food in the world health-wise. If there is some in the freezer, it has a way of beaconing me to come and partake of it. Dad always had some. It was bought each week with the groceries and Mother would bring him a bowl to savor as he propped against the pillows on the bed.
Strangely, as thoughts of my aunt were brought to mind and I was typing them down, the phone rang. Mother called to say that she had been thinking of my aunt and how she wished that I had not been left to live with her for so long. There the two of us were with the same thoughts of deeds done in the past, but not once did I let her know that I was experiencing some of those same thoughts at the same moment. At this stage of her life, Mother doesn’t need me browbeating her about things that cannot be altered. Her thoughts are atonement enough.
A ride down to Hickory Thursday past took me to see the surgeon about my finger. The splint came off and now we see how the finger does on its own. I’m dismissed as long as the finger does okay - after an unusual three and a half months. So far, I am unimpressed with the use and look of this newly deformed index finger. It is swelling some, but guess that is to be expected since it has been protected for so long and has all that new skin to be toughened up. The end joint does move about some. It makes a noise sometimes when the bone (or bones) shift and there is more pain than I care to confess. More surgery is not wanted by me any more than it is by the doctor.
Allan is out of work on disability for now and maybe forever. He injured two disks in his back during a recovery from a wreck. The vehicle had gone down a steep bank and the person had to be brought back up on a stretcher. Somewhere from the bottom to the top climb, Allan hurt his back. Now he has to see a neurosurgeon for his verdict. The fact that pain is radiating down both legs is not a good sign.
BingoKid said to me the other day, “Now don’t you go and do what Uncle Allan did, and hurt your back.” Ha! I wish. Allan is 41 and facing the unknown of back problems. I was 29! I’m really trying not to mention myself too much right now. The last thing he needs to hear me say is, “Now you know what it’s like to have back problems.” ... living with a low back strain that does not leave; low back pain myofasciitis; degenerative lumbar disc disease; radiculitis lumbar thoracic; neuritis of the leg; plus the mallet finger ... I don’t wish it on anyone ... I do wish it could go away ... I think? I do have the two total knee replacements working for me!
Tbird and DynoKid had strep throat last week. I took DynoKid to the doctor for the first time ever for me. In fact, this was his first visit to the doctor since April, 1999, when he last had the strep infection. His doctor laughed and mentioned to me, “You know, we do have well checks.” I brought him home with me and sent Mom on to a clinic to get treatment for herself. The next morning Dad had to go to his doctor for strep! Nope! The other two at home didn’t catch the infection.
Today, Tbird left me a message that she was taking Dad back to the Emergency Room today because his throat is getting worse instead of better. Would I drive over to Wes’ and pick up NascarKid and take him to school? He was to be at school at two for his induction into the Beta Club. After the hour long program we had refreshments and headed back to Wes’ home. Mom called to say she would come there to pick them up.
I still don’t know for sure what happened with Dad. He was given an IV and some medicines. They took an x-ray of his throat to see if maybe there was an abscess. I do know they sent him home with morphine for pain ...
How do other families go through life with nothing seemingly bad happening? Here in our clan there is always some type of crisis taking place. Least ways, it is never boring ...
March 11, 2002 ~ Stone Cold ~ A thought kept popping into my mind to call Wes’ home and make sure they knew that the Weakest Link had Wrestlers on last night. This is the area of sports that interests BingoKid now and he especially likes the wrestler Stone Cold. Stone Cold has handled himself well in spite of having to be voted off leaving three behind to continue competing. He proudly took his name tag off the front of his podium and paraded off with it held high. His wife Debra was also one of the contestants, but she was voted off much earlier in the game. Stone Cold did not vote against his wife interestingly enough. Even more interesting was the way they worked together and the amount of knowledge amassed by all of them. They earned more money than most of the teams that earn a spot on the program. ~$83,500~ but this amount will go to charity. Kane ended up the winner.
It’s been hard work, second guessing, much trial and error, and most of all patience, but the new webpage idea is working. A few blotches to figure out, but some of the new ideas I learned in the Java Script Class are working. Now to practice more and get the other forms learned into action. Mainly, a good idea for using them without disturbing those wishing to come by to read. Many readers don’t like having to go through extra things to get to the print.
My two canine masters will have me busy this morning. I need to hurry because it is time to take that long trip along the back roads through the country to the Groomer. Yesterday was a beautiful day, a bit of wind, but mostly sun and warmth. Today is to be cooler with a threat of rain. Just so the temperature stays above freezing. Oreo and Charlie are ready for a bath, trim and nails clipped. The verdict is in from the family. they all want to leave Charlie’s hair long instead of being clipped close as it has been for a while now. It takes time to keep him brushed, but he never seems to mind the tugging and bother of getting out knots or bits of twigs matted in with that fine under hair of his. As far as he is concerned one could spend all day brushing and combing his hair. Yes, he has more hair that keeps growing and has to be cut instead of the dog fur that sheds all over everything. Oreo does not like to be brushed or combed. He rather work on his own clusters of caught leaves or a twig. He does a good job at preening his hair. Guess he must be a cross between a bird or a cat the way he works on his long tail hair and washes his face with his paws. Charlie doesn’t have time for any of that prissy preening. He leaves it for me to take care of.
The space on this website is getting a bit limited. I’m going back to the first and begin making some changes. No way do I have any desire to move this journal a second time. Considering the changes made through the years, it appears more like this would be about the sixth time that some sort of change has been made....
All right pups, here we go to get you beautified and smelling sweet. Got the leashes, Charlie’s crate is ready, weather is fine for now. We are off and running.
Slight correction on that! Charlie had other thoughts on getting a bath today. When the go word was mentioned this time he doesn’t bark or run for the door to go along. He tucks his tail under (what little there is, that is!) and heads out his tiny door to his private yard. So ... Oreo gets to run outdoors and exercise while I come back inside to lure His Majesty from his perch once he is back indoors. Finally, he is in his crate and we are heading across the countryside to the groomer. This is the third time he has not wanted to come to this spot. I have to wonder if maybe he got a nail clipped too close or something ....
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