My Life!

Shante's Dream

2009-10-30T12:59:00.000-07:00

Azaria was talking to me the other day about listening to God when He tells us the right thing to do. She said, "Some people call it your conscience, but when I hear it, I know it's God." I agreed. And I was reminded of a dream her momma had when she was a little girl, even much younger than Azaria, at 12 yo, is now.

I told Azaria about the dream, and thought I should write about it in my blog, yet another memory not to be forgotten.

When Shante was somewhere between the ages of 6 and 8 yo, she came to me one day, and she told me she'd had a dream about Jesus.

I asked her to tell me more. She said, "Well, I dreamed I went into my closet and then I went up." I marvel even now at this first part, because what I know about Shante is that she has always had a prayer-life. I remember when we both worked at the Red Cross at the same time, when break-time came, Shante was not to be found outside smoking cigarettes with the rest of the staff. No, she closeted herself in one of those small little rooms with a cot where one could go lie down for a bit if not feeling well....and she prayed.

Then she said, "I went up, and I met Jesus. He sat me in His lap, Mommy, and He told me right from wrong. And, He had blue eyes."

As it turned out, I remember reading a letter that was supposed to have been written by one of the very Roman soldiers who were present at the crucifixion. He described Jesus and.....he said.....his eyes were blue. I imagine that was of some note, since most of the eyes of people born in Israel at that time would certainly not likely have been blue.

Azaria said "How come Mommy never told ME about that dream." I said, "Well, honey, why don't you ask her about it?"

Me? I never forgot Shante's dream.

Thing That Goes Bump In The Night !

2009-10-08T23:50:00.000-07:00

Although most of the stories I write for my blog tend to point up the humorous side of life, there are times when I just feel it's time to write about an important something or other that passed our way in order to memorialize the moment and the characters. This story is about Bump, formally known as "Thing That Goes Bump In The Night." It's also about my beautiful and wonderful daughter, Shante. Reader, read on.

Bump was our dog back in the day, that day being during the mid-70's. I know. That was along time ago. Yes, it was. But I'm much older now, and if I don't put this down in words, it may not be remembered....at all.

We lived in Newport, Oregon at the time. Joseph, my husband, Shante's dad, was a woodsman. He loved the woods. His prized possession was his great big ol' Stihl chainsaw....and his pickup truck. At that time he was driving a 1952 yellow Dodge pickup. That man loved old trucks and was one fine "shady-tree mechanic". He could always keep 'em runnin'. I do remember (as an aside here I must note this) however, that when those darn trucks broke down, and Joseph had to work on them for hours on end, he would walk into the house, plop down, exhausted, frustrated, and say to us all....."It happened again. I've got those "One Bolt Blues." This was code for a supremely stubborn bolt stuck in one of those ol' rigs that just WOULD NOT come out! And there Joseph would be, him too, stuck, worn out, and he would just have to quit til a better day came along.

Now, Bump always went with Joseph when they went to the woods to cut firewood. He rode in the back of the truck, of course. Lance, my #1 son, always went with Joseph to the woods, too. They were a team, a mutual admiration society.

Bump was a blond German Shepherd mix....good-sized fellow he was. Not quite as big as a full blood German Shepherd, but almost. He really was quite beautiful, faithful, and loyal. He was definitely bonded with our family. We'd had an incident that had occurred a year or so before we moved to Newport with Bump. That was the night he truly lived up to his name, "Thing That Goes Bump In The Night." I'll tell you about that before I tell you about the 'other thing.'

This part of the story takes place in Depoe Bay, Oregon, where we lived just before we moved to Newport.

One night we all went out for hamburgers at our favorite haunt in Lincoln City (about 13 miles to the north of Depoe Bay), Joseph, Lance, Brooke, Shante and myself. Shante was about 3 years old. When we got back to our apartment in Depoe Bay, Bump was waiting for us at the top of the stairs on the landing (the stairs being outside the building and the landing being our porch) and was, as always, so happy to see us he was just wiggly all over. Shante went up the stairs first, with her brother, Lance and sister, Brooke, following close behind. The railing along the landing was made of 2x4's, uh, spaced apparently a little tooooo far apart. Bump wiggled against Shante, as she got to the top of the stairs and onto the landing, and not only knocked her down, but knocked her THROUGH the opening between the bottom slats and the landing / porch flooring. Yes, THROUGH. From two stories up....down this little bit of a little girl, our Shante, went....falling to the asphalt pavement two stories below. Joseph was still coming out of the garage, so he was the first to reach her. I was on the stairs and of course, I freaked, running back down and over to her. It was late, very dark out, I remember. I froze. Shante lay on the ground, Joseph was hovering over her, and she wasn't moving. Joseph scooped her up in his arms and carried her upstairs. We called the hospital and asked them what to do. There were no broken bones, and Joseph said her arm was positioned such underneath her that it apparently broke her fall. She had a nasty bump on her forehead, though. The hospital said to absolutely not let her go to sleep, to keep her awake, and bring her to Lincoln City where the hospital was. We did. They checked her out at Emergency in Lincoln City, at the same hospital where I later bore Joseph's son, Eli Jestin Symons, on April 1, 1976. Shante was released and we were told to watch her closely. The doctor said to keep her awake as much as possible.

We drove home, back to Depoe Bay, and went up the now infamous stairs to our apartment overlooking the bay. When we were back inside the apartment, Joseph asked Shante, "Honey, what do you want?" To which, she immediately answered, "Hamburger and French fries!"

We all laughed. That was our girl.

I think you can probably use your imagination and figure out the rest of the story. Or do I need to do a "Paul Harvey?" Of course, we all piled back in the rig and drove back to Lincoln City (about 13 miles) to the all-night hamburger joint (just north of Taft - wonder if it's still there!) and fixed her right up!

First of all, I have to attest to the miracle that happened that night. And thank You, Father, for the plans that You had for my daughter, and how the enemy's plans were thwarted that night. I have always also wondered if that fall had something to do with what made Shante so incredibly smart! As she grew, I really thought she was going to be a lawyer and introduced her at one point to a rather well-known attorney who advocated for kids in our fair city and conducted a TAG class / proxy court for young teens to learn about the law. She's such a wise, extremely intelligent, negotiator! I'm glad she's in my corner against the world! I love you Shante!

So,,, here we are,,,,and back to Bump's own story.

Joseph, as I mentioned, was a woodsman. He always had a job, but he loved to cut firewood on the side. Many's the time we rolled together in one of those old fine rigs into the mountains on some permitted BLM land to cut down trees, chop them up into cordwood, and load that truck to perfectly stacked capacity. Only then would we offload that wood into a giant pile and reload it again with what we called a "throw-on" load. We usually would get three "throw-on" loads out of one trip to the mountains. He sold each one for $85 at the time. It was good work and the whole family participated in one way or another.

As I also mentioned at the beginning of this tale, Bump always rode with Joseph and Lance to the woods and back.

And as I mentioned too, we were living in Newport, Oregon at the time of this part of the story. We lived in a big ol' two story house, bedrooms upstairs, a boiler turned into a wood-burning stove downstairs in the living room to heat the place. Brother, did I know how to make a good fire. Joseph taught me, using the firewood he cut, of course. First start with some fir - burns hot and fast, makes a bed of fiery coals. Then top it with a cross-hatched stack of green alder. I could stack that stove up to it's very tip top with green alder and that sucker would burn allllll night long! Kept our house toasty even in the coldest winter months, and left me a nice bed of hot coals with which to start the morning fire all over again.

And Bump,,,,well, Bump would climb up on the couch in that toasty living room every night after we'd all gone to bed and sleep there. That big' old yellow dog! And every morning when I woke up, I was the first one down the stairs to go put on the coffee for breakfast. The first thing I would do as I was coming down the stairs, seeing ol' Bump on the couch again....was to yell, "BUMP, get off the couch!" Of course, I knew he had been there all night, but still,,,,it was my God-given duty to get that big ol' yellow dog off our sittin' couch, please!

Joseph came home from the woods this one day, this one really unhappy day. There was no load of wood in the back of the truck. No. It hurts still, to this day, to say this....No...Bump was in the back of the truck. And Bump was gone. I didn't have to ask Joseph what happened. He told us. He said, "I was felling a tree, an alder, and Bump....well, Bump zigged when he should have zagged." Joseph said, "I held him and I watched the life-light go out of his eyes."

Bump was a good dog. We buried him there by the sea in Newport, Oregon that afternoon. We cried our tears....funny, there are some even now as I revisit this memory....and the "Paul Harvey" of this story you can also probably figure out.

The next morning, as I came down the stairs, I yelled out loud, "BUMP, get off the...." and with a catch in my throat, I swallowed back the rest of those words, and realized Bump really wasn't there anymore to yell at.

Kinda Hard to Report This!

2009-09-29T00:26:00.000-07:00

Just watched a commercial - or rather heard, more than watched - for Ambien CR.

In fact, probably, had I watched it, I would not have heard as clearly as I did....about all the "possible side effects." (Don't you wonder about all those side effects sometimes, anyway? The ones they print in that really tiny print you can't read without a magnifying glass. Or say so fast on the TV you can't possibly catch it all. Uh-huh. I do.)

Well, this time they really got into it...I heard: "You might have abnormal behaviors such as being more outgoing or more aggressive than normal, also confusion, agitation and hallucinations may occur." (Do you suppose that's why they put the rooster in the commercial...just to let you know if you keep seeing a rooster in your office, or in your bedroom, or in the driveway, not to worry; it's just a harmless hallucination, compliments from Ambien CR !)

"If you drink alcohol," the commercial continues, "these behaviors may increase. Oh, and "allergic reactions such as shortness of breath, swelling of the tongue, or throat may occur".....and by the way......"in rare cases.......this may be fatal."

Not to mention, if you take this stuff, the commercial further warns,,,,"you might have dizziness, drowsiness and headache."

(I'm hooked....what? I'm asking....what did they just say? Now I've rewound the tape / DVR.)

There she is....while the voice over is talking about the rotten day you are about to have....you'll probably be dizzy and have a splitting headache, honey.....there she is....the little Ambien gal, waking up to her little sunshiney room, in her cute little pink nightie, and her sassy, wavy bright red hair, smiling and stretching her arms, and oh so pleased with herself for having that great night's sleep. The commercial goes on to warn that if she was depressed, when she takes Ambien CR, she might "become suicidal".....well, that's a small price to pay for that 'good night's sleep', isn't it?

Last, but not in the least bit least, the commercial finally warns, "If you experience any of these behaviors or reactions, contact your doctor immediately."

Wasn't one of the possible reactions.........death?

Be sure and contact your doctor immediately, if you have that one!!!

Like Bill Engvall says, "Here's your sign."

2009-09-19T22:31:00.000-07:00

Cow Chip Boogie Motorcycle Fest

Recently I had one really great time / experience. Some motorcycle riding friends in the CMA invited me and some of the "boys", our musicians at church (two guitarists, a bassman and our drummer, all of whom have some fine licks to offer) to head up to Castle Rock, Washington to sing for the Sunday morning Christian service at this THANG called the Cow Chip Boogie. We heard it's one of the biggest motorcycle rally/parties in the Northwest. Well there was every kind of motorcycle rider there you can imagine...and they'd all been up the night before until 3 am & more, partying!

The place had a HUGE, covered, fantastic stage, concrete floor covered with a buncha oriental carpets, MEGA amps - way taller than twice or thrice of me - and they said we could use their sound system ! There had been a rock n' roll/metal group playing the night before; in fact, one of them was still on the stage in a sleeping bag, uhhh sleeping it off. ;o) Oh my word! The amps were so powerful they kept setting my car alarm (which car I had parked about 20 ft or so from the stage) off ! I finally figured out what was causing my car alarm to go off repeatedly, and moved the car up the hill!!

Well I have some gospel blues singin' to offer and we had some fine tunes to dress up a Sunday morning service at a motorcycle fest, believe you me! I have one the Lord gave me called "Look For Me, Jesus -- I believe I'll make it home!" We tore it up and had a great time....even if I did have to get up at 4 a.m. to make it up there in time for a 9 a.m. service. I'd do it again in a hot minute.

When we were all the way done, the sound man came up to me and told me more than once I had a beautiful voice. Wow! Hard to stay humble when you receive praise you just didn't expect. I just PRAY that someone heard the message that God DELIVERS!!!!!"

Have you ever heard of Jeff Fenholt? He was on broadway in Jesus Christ Superstar, and sang for a time with Black Sabbath, went thru some hellish times, and then got "born again." He is an awesome, very very down to earth man with some stories that make your hair stand on end. Well, I was on the praise team last Sunday and he was at our church last Sunday as a guest speaker,,,,and after the song service, when he was speaking to the congregation, he lifted his arm and pointed at me, and said...."Great worship service this a.m.....and you, you have a great voice!" Then in the evening service he was in the foyer and asked me if I was going to be on the platform again. When I told him 'no, not tonite',,,,he said he was disappointed, and that he wished I was, and said that I had a great voice...again.

Ok....I gotta tell you, I'll enjoy those two compliments for the rest of my life. Made me smile real big! I love to sing. And I love to bring the dynamic the music calls for to the song!

Oh brother! ...they coulda taken me away.....

2009-09-09T17:57:00.001-07:00

Finally! I have a story to post on my blog.

First of all, my friend, Carol, says it seems like everyone is on edge these days,,,,just plain like...ready to be mad about something and don't even know what.

I think she's right.

And as it turns out, I'm no bloody exception.

Sooooooo.....yesterday, I took Carol and her little dachshund out to Gresham as she was flying out today to go visit her family in southern Cal and little Cooper was staying with friends. I needed to get some gas, and asked Carol where there was a gas station on the way back down Powell. She knew of only one and we pulled in.

I got out of the car to give the attendant, a (ok I KNOW I am going to get in trouble here,,,,but I HAVE to describe the situation IN DETAIL so you can picture it....ok?) thin, Asian fellow with a tan ball-cap on, my locking gas-cap key. When I did, he asked me "Card, or cash?" I don't really care for these stations where you have to go inside to pay, so I usually avoid them. I answered, "uhhhh," as I took a second or two to register that this, indeed, was one of those stations. And while I took that second or two, maybe three, this fellow...just grabs the hose, puts it in my car, turns on the gas, and simply walks away, without waiting for my answer. I was bewildered and questioning..."What just happened?"

I thought, "hmmmmm, maybe I'm just supposed to put the card in myself, like at Costco." I started to put my card in the card reader, and he walked back over towards me, and said, "You have to go inside and pay." I looked at the guy, and said, "You didn't wait for my answer." He said, "What do you want me to do now?" Then he walked away again. How rude, I thought. This guy is really rude.

Well, I went inside and approached the counter. Ok. Again, I have to say this just to give a complete description of what happened. At the counter was an Asian woman. I said, "I'm really really irritated at your man out there. He asked me whether I wanted to pay by card or cash, then he just walks away and doesn't wait for my answer. He was also very rude." She just looked at me, took my card and ran the sale. Everyone was acting like nothing I had to say about anything was even being heard. I got even MORE irritated. Then, I looked down at the counter, and there were these caramels sitting in a little box. You know the kind. Those little "home made" caramels with the twisty wax paper wrapping? Those are the ones. Well.....oh Lord, forgive me.....I reached into the box, took out a caramel, and said, "You know what? I'm taking this caramel for how irritated I am!" And I walked out. I got in my car, turned to see the thin Asian man with the ball-cap walking very briskly across the area towards my car, yelling at me all the while. "You can't do that! You can't do that!" Oh I was really fired up by now! I opened my window and THREW the caramel at him, hit him right in the chest with it,,,,,and said, "You're a PUNK!" To which the thin Asian man with the ball cap retorted, "And you're a thief!"

When I told this story to my daughter later, she said, "Oh my god, Mom, what did you do then?" I said, "I peeled on out of there."

Winnie the Pooh-Poo

2008-05-29T13:33:00.000-07:00

Oh gee! I had this fish! Ok, I had more than one fish. I have about four. Nothing big, mind you. Just four little Danio's in a little 2 1/2 gallon tank located in my downstairs bathroom. That all started when my granddaughter won a goldfish at an Easter thing at church, and what do you do with one goldfish. By the way, I am reminded to tell you, that first goldfish had a name. It was "LaFisha."

So I bought this little teeny aquarium and then a couple more fish, Danio's they are, and you know how it goes. What are Danio's. Danio's are a little itty bitty coldwater fish. The ones I have are kind of zebra-striped. They don't require much care, not like a tropical fish where the water has to be a just-so temperature and maybe even needs to be saltwater...oh, no way, none a'dat. When I asked the fellow at the "fish place" about caring for the little Danio's he said they were so hardy they could probably survive in chocolate milk!

So.....about this one little Danio.

When I got him, I noticed he was a little pig. Every time I put food in the tank, that one little Danio would go up and eat everything in sight! I could always tell him from the other fish, too. He was wierd looking. He had pointee snout that looked downright evil. Not like the other fish, who looked normal. So he was an evil, deformed, pig of a fish and he ate so much his belly was really big all the time. I got so irritated with his bad behavior that one day I even fished him out of the tank and put him in some water in a paper cup and told him I was taking him back to the store. But....I relented, and compassion took over, and I put him back finally to live in my home another day.

Inside the tank there is some gravel, a small air filter, a little aquatic frog, a snail, a bit of greenery, and a pretend-rock cave with some nice big holes in it. You know the kind. And the fishies like to swim in and out of it, the frog hides in there sometimes, and once in a while the snail travels in and out of it as well.

Uhhhhh....I have now discovered the rock cave has some "little holes".

I was in the bathroom two days ago, and I looked at the tank, and for pete's sake, what do I see,,,,,but that little evil, deformed, pig of a fish,,,,,,stuck in one of the little holes in the rock-cave, wiggling for all he was worth to get free!!! He's stuck half way thru the thing and he couldn't get out !!!!! Gooooooood grief! What do I do? What do I do? I thought, "Good Lord, if I put my finger against his 'nose', I am liable to crush him!" Well, I began to panic, and finally, I thought, "I will just reach in there and shake him loose, I guess!" And I did. I reached in and took the rock cave in my hand and began to create a rock cave earthquake, tapping it against the gravel bed backwards so as to free that little fish. Suddenly he broke free. I looked at that little fish, and sure enough I thought an evil thought. I thought, "Goood grief, little fish, you ate so much all the time that your belly was too big for you to get all the way thru that little hole in the rock cave!"

I thought to myself, "Fish, you now have a name. You remind me of Winnie the Pooh, when he ate so much honey at Rabbit's house, that he got stuck in the rabbit hole when he tried to leave and he couldn't get out! Your new name is Winnie...Winnie the Pooh." When I told Sis Bee the story she said his name should be Winnie the Pooh-Poo." Don't tell I said.

End of story: Winnie the Pooh-Poo did not survive the ordeal. He was buried today, not without a bit of sadness, where all little passed away fishies go. Well, he will be remembered. Of all the fishies I've had,,,,I guess I can say that for him at least.

The Bracelet

2008-05-28T19:45:00.000-07:00

I go to a great church! I started going there in the late '70's (does that make me old or what!) when my kids were still kids. Ok,,,I went to some other churches from time to time, moving around and all, but this church, well this church is home. And there are still so many folks from whenever I started going there that are still there, it's downright heartwarming. One of those people that I treasure, always have, is my special friend, the pastor's wife. Most everyone calls her Sister Bee. I call her Mom. She's been like a Mom to me for as long as I can remember. And I love her with all my heart.

You need to know this. Sis Bee loves jewelry.

This Mother's Day her beautiful daughter gave her something really special---the loveliest, shiniest, flashiest bracelet and necklace to match. The bracelet was similar to a tennis bracelet, but the cubic Z's were "O's" and the links were all silver "M's"...so it spelled "M-O-M-O-M-O-M" all around her wrist when she wore it. The necklace was a circle on a silver chain, and it, too, spelled "M-O-M-O-M" as the letters formed the circle in silver links and cubic Z's. Just plain stunning!
And as sweet a lady as Sis Bee is, I told her, the "M-O-M's" turned upside down spelled "W-O-W-O-W", too!

Now the story.....

This last Sunday evening at church service a number of the young people were going up for prayer. The Holy Spirit was moving in a mighty and precious way, and believers all over the auditorium were worshipping the Lord, lost in the Spirit. Some of the young people began to return to their seats, and I noticed one little girl was dangling a flashy-looking piece of jewelry from her fingers. My first thought was, "That looks like Sister Bee's bracelet." But my rational mind took over and I didn't act on the thought. My second thought was, "That's quite a flashy-looking bracelet for such a little girl to have." Again, my rational mind took over and I didn't act on the thought. A third thought flitted through my mind, "Put the nab on that little girl and ask to see that bracelet." Gee, you think by now, my rational mind would have gotten a clue, but no, I did not act on that thought either.

But, God was not finished yet.

A few moments later, several of these little girls who had gone up for prayer, were now back over by where I was sitting, and they began to raise a bit of a ruckus. They were running back and forth, just being a little wild and silly. By now, I had forgotten all about the flashy piece of jewelry the one little girl was dangling around. What I did notice was that all the adults who normally keep an eye on these little kids were pretty much all lost in the Spirit of the Lord and the little ones were getting a bit out of hand. My friend next to me commented that someone ought to do something. Well, I just got up, and went up to the group of little girls who were acting up and said in as nice a way as I could, "Girls, please go sit down." All the girls began to settle except for two. They took off and headed for the foyer of the church. I was a little concerned - what if they went outside, I thought. So I followed them. Hopefully they were just headed for the bathroom. They saw me, and they did head for the bathroom. I followed the girls into the bathroom, and spoke to them. "Hi girls, how are you doing?" "Fine," giggle, giggle. "My name is Marilyn. What are your names?" I asked them. "Miciah," one said. "Samantha," said the other. "It's nice to meet you," said I. "See you back inside, okay?" said I, and I left the bathroom, and waited til they came out and headed back inside the sanctuary.

After service, I started to leave. I had even gotten into my car and started it, when I remembered I had not said "goodnight" to Sister Bee. I reparked my car and entered the church again, and found Sister Bee on the platform. The first words out of her mouth were, "I lost my bracelet," she said very downheartedly. I instantly had a revelation, "Oh my word!" I said, "I know who has it."

And I told her the story. It was Miciah who had the bracelet. And God had made sure, that if I didn't listen to any of His other prompts, that at the very least, I would find out her name. And I did. Sister Bee immediately called the gentleman who transported those children to and from the church for that evening's service. He ended up going directly to the home of that little girl in a matter of minutes, and he brought "Mom's" bracelet to her that night.

I talked to Mom about 11: 15 pm that night. We were both headed for bed. And I couldn't help but marvel at how our God is soooooo in the details. I also thought, "If He is so careful about these little things, why is it we can't trust Him with the big ones."

Jesus said, in Mark 11:22 "Have faith in God."

In fact, the organizers of the Bible, where the chapters and the verses begin and end and all, must have considered that verse so important, they gave it a verse all it's own!

The Tinfoil Tulip

2005-11-10T20:28:00.000-08:00

There's a popular restaurant here in Portland. It's called Montage, located under one of the bridges over the Willamette River, and open til 4 a.m. Very popular with the late nite crowd, and great most anytime simply because of some of the unique aspects of the place. Their specialty is Cajun fare, and it's very good, and it's just a fun place to go -- has a seating concept that's rather unique. There are long sets of tables, covered in white linen table cloths, nice little glass held candles providing a charming lighting decor. When you are seated,,,,say there are just two of you,,,,you may indeed find yourself cozied up next to the couple to your left or right and before you know it, you may find yourself chatting away with your new acquaintances. And while you might be chatting away, the kitchen, which is in plain view, may be flaming away some new fiery dish, and the chefs can be heard to yell at the top of their lungs,,,whatever it is they might be yelling about at the time. The whole event is an experience you are not likely to forget, and probably one you will find yourself not only telling your friends about, but encouraging them to join you after a late movie, a night out....or....just for lunch or dinner. Doesn't matter. The fun goes from opening til close, and the food is always good. Oh, and for the price, definitely one of Portland's "cheap eats."

One more thing the Montage does that is especially fun in its own way is ... after you finish your meal, if you have leftovers, and -- well, let's say you SHOULD strive to have some leftovers -- you would like to take them home, just tell your waiter so, and he will take them to some magical place where he creates a tinfoil sculpture with your leftovers, the likes of which you have never seen. Ok. Maybe not never.

The other evening my daughter went to the Montage with some friends for a bite of dinner, and sure enough, she came home with her own, very own tinfoil sculpture, the likes of which you've never seen. This one was a good three and a half feet high, a long, tall stem with a giant tulip fashioned at the top. The whole affair was quite lavish and fun. Now I was hanging out in the family room when my daughter came home with this flamboyant thing,,,and she had a dilemma. She wanted my grandaughter to see the tinfoil extravaganza in the morning when she awoke for school, but at the same time she wanted to have the leftovers for her lunch. Well, she couldn't very well just leave the sculpture out all night for my grandaughter to see it without risking the little -- very little, mind you -- ball of leftovers at the bottom of the giant tulip -- which little ball of leftovers created a rather stabilizing base for the otherwise would-be very floppy tulip thing. My daughter mulled over the dilemma in the kitchen, and expressed her puzzlement out loud, "What should I do?" I thought for a moment and said, "Well, we could get a pan of ice, put the tinfoil tulip in a strainer on top of the ice,,,that would let the cold come up and keep your leftovers chilled,,,and that should work!" Hmmmmmm, we both thought. Worth a try. So we did just that. And there the tinfoil tulip resided throughout the rest of the night.

Now comes the morning. I heard about this later, by the way. But it was just as funny in retrospect as it must have been at the time. Apparently my grandaughter saw the creation before my daughter had a chance to "show and tell." So my 8 yo grandaughter came to the bottom of the stairs and called up to her mom.

"Mom."

"Mom?"

My daughter came to the top of the stairs, and answered her, "What?"

My 8 yo grandaughter says to her mother, "Mom, what's up with the foil flower!?"

The Airport Garage Story

2005-10-13T07:51:00.000-07:00

Got up at 5 a.m. and got to the airport at 6 a.m. My daughter's flight left at 7 a.m. Had some nice goodbye's - of course my grandaughter had a hard time holding back the tears. She loves and already misses her mommy.

I totally screwed up leaving the airport though. Typical. They have a new system now. In the old system you took your ticket upon entry, and paid at the toll booth when you left. Not anymore. You take a ticket upon entry, and then there are automated ticket pay stations at the elevators in the parking garage where you pay when you go back to the parking garage. So we put our ticket into the machine, AND our money, and the machine gave us the change and off we went. Wellllllll, when I got all the way down to the exit area, there were big green signs that said "PAID TICKETS". Well my ticket was paid,,,so off I go. Only to come to ANOTHER machine that says "Insert ticket here". And a gate down in front of me. Great. I have no ticket. I paid, got my change, and that was that. There's a yellow button on THIS machine that says "?". Yeah I got a question. How the heck do I get outta here??

Someone starts talking to me from inside the machine. So I explain my dilemma. The voice says "the cashier at your far left will help you." Thank goodness no one was pulled up behind me...or how else would I have gotten out of there (needing to back UP, of course) to GO to the cashier at my far left. Oh hell yes,,,you KNOW if there had been someone behind me, and they had to raise the gate to let me out.....I woulda made a break for it. Stop ME. Go ahead. What are you gonna do? Put me in airport jail??

Hmmmmmmmm....on second thought....

LOL....so.....I back out and go to the cashier at my far left. Now I have to explain. And explain. And wait. While she is on the phone. While she is asking me allllll kinds of questions. What machine did I pay at? Was it at the first sky bridge or the second sky bridge? Was it at the machine on the left or the machine on the right? Lady, I have NO CLUE. It's not even LIGHT out yet. Ok. Ok. I tried. I tried very hard (with my grandaughter's help) to answer her questions while she transmits alllllllllllll my $3.00 paid ticket information to whoever was on the other end of the line. That "whoever" who holds the KEY to the GATE that is still DOWN in front of me. She comforts me with, "This happens a lot." I let her know I had no idea I was going to still need the ticket. I thought the machine ate it. It gave me my change! Heck, I'm gone! Ok. I'm trying. I'm trying. Patience. FINALLY, she says, "ok, he's going to open the gate for you." So my grandaughter and I drive thru the gate, and you can hear me muttering,,,,"So tell me please,,,,,and there was WHAT other OPTION????"

Me n' Sandy Go To The Beach

2005-10-08T00:21:00.000-07:00

So for my birthday the family and a few friends rented this really neat beach house we like to go to on the Oregon coast. We planned to stay several days, and we always look forward to these holidays. The core family goes, and then different friends have gone with us at different times. This time my close friend, Sandy, decided to join us. I was pretty stoked, (I love Sandy bunches and looked forward to hanging out with her and my family for my birthday holiday) and Sandy even agreed to take her car, which was fine with me. Now what you gotta know is,,,Sandy doesn't really drive out of town all that much. Oh sure, she runs all her errands in town and all, but when it comes to going out of town, her husband usually does the driving. So for Sandy, well, it's just not really her thing. But this time Sandy said she'd drive. Cool. I planned to relax, and enjoy the scenery.

I remember at one point the thought crossed my mind to warn Sandy to watch her speed especially in Washington County because I knew Hiway 26 was pretty well patrolled. Uhhh, I'd been pulled over...is why. But then I remember a counter thought crossing my mind, something like, "not to worry, Sandy won't be speeding."

HA!

So here we are, on the LONELIEST stretch of highway on Hiway 26. Nothing but two lanes, the coastal range, not a whole lot of cars, and us. And here's Sandy comin' down this longgggg hill, which bottoms out at a crossroads to Vernonia, and Sandy is clippin' right along, let me tell you. At the bottom of the hill I notice a whole pack of cyclists congregated on a parking strip to our right. Immediately after we cleared the intersection we were back in the trees. And then the scenery changed. A car pulled up behind us, and the lights began to flash.

Oh my heck, we were being "PULLED OVER!"

Well, little did Sandy know, but I had just read an email that my daughter had forwarded to me about a woman who had been pulled over in the middle of the night (hey! not unlike our situation - it wasn't night, but by golly we were in the middle of nowhere!) by a FAKE COP. She had managed to talk her way out of a VERY SCARY situation, and as it turned out, just ahead, was a REAL COP who witnessed the false stop. The real cop forthwith arrested the fake cop, who turned out to be a security officer, and yes, that lady was VERY blessed to have gotten out of that in one piece. She found out about it when the real cop drove into her driveway when she got home that night and questioned her about what had just happened. Another woman my daughter works with actually knew the woman who got stopped.

So...here we are, in the middle of nowhere, nothing but trees whizzing by and I'm saying to Sandy,,,,,

"DON'T STOP. DON'T STOP! We don't know who that is! We don't know if that's a REAL COP!"

Now Sandy is panic stricken. (AS AM I already for heaven's sake!) Sandy is considering what to do.

And we keep going.

We pass a driveway, a wee bit of a driveway with no house in sight.

We pass another.

The lights are flashing. Then I hear a siren.

I begin to think, "If we don't stop, this cop is going to start shooting."

I think, "Maybe I need to turn around and show this cop....HEY! It's just two ladies in this car. We're NOT CRIMINALS. We just don't want to stop. We don't know who YOU ARE!!!"

Sandy, now panicky, pulls over, in the absolute worst spot ON THE FREAKING ROAD and nearly runs us off the road over an embankment.

The cop gets out of his car, and no dummy is he. Sandy is so close to the highway that if he came up on HER side, he would probably have been hit by the first moving vehicle that passed. So what does he do? He comes up on my side of the car. Heck, I don't even open the window!! He taps.

I finally......open the window, and the first thing I say to this man is, "You don't know what we've been through!"

Sandy is asking him what we're being pulled over for. He lets her know she was doing over 75 miles an hour coming down that grade, right past the cyclists, and explains all the basic rules of the road to her. He asks for her insurance card, which of course she doesn't have an updated one, her registration, which of course she asks me what that is, and I suggest it MIGHT be in the glove box.

And me, I begin to explain to the cop about why we did NOT want to stop and THE EMAIL.

Well, guess what?

This cop looks at me and says, "I know about that email. You see I was the officer who arrested that security guy. And if you had read the rest of the email you would remember that it said if the car had RED AND BLUE LIGHTS, it was really a police car, Madam."

I think I shrank to about the height of a very small bug.

But, the good news is, that cop, bless his heart, only gave Sandy a warning.

And we had a GREAT TIME at the beach....and a GREAT STORY to go with it.

What a birthday!

How WAS that cobbler, anyway?

2005-10-05T14:51:00.000-07:00

Someone who read my blog asked. Well, for one thing,,,,SPEAKING of BRAND NAMES,,,,,the can of cherries inside was the Knott's brand. Hey. That counts !! However, the cobbler topping needed butter and cinnamon added to it, IMHO. That will go for box #2 without saying.

Yesterday I worked on my room some more,,,,digging into all the corners, routing around in the closet, bagging stuff up into donation bags, and vacuuming in all those places that were under things. (eeeeyeeewww!)

I think I reallllly bogged down on that whole idea and project at the point just following when my daughter redid the "family room" in the house. The futon that was resident in there ended up in MY room, and worse yet, on top of my BED. Hello...my bed already had 1) a nice, soft, thick albeit somewhat sunken-in-the-middle pillow-top mattress; 2) a foam topper; and 3) a feather and down "feather bed" on top of all that! I felt like the old fairy tale about the Princess and the Pea; you know, the story about the princess that had to sleep on top of 20 mattresses. I swear I needed a ladder to get into (let alone OUT OF) bed. Ok. I'm not real sure about the "princess" part. I then discovered I had to prop my 27" Panasonic TV up on telephone books on top of the stand it was sitting on....cause I couldn't see it over the edge of my now sky-high bed!!

Well I finally revolted and took the thing OFF my bed -- folded it in half -- and shoved it into the space between my bed and the wall. I've always been one to leave a space on the other side of my bed even if the room is small so I can get in there and MAKE it. (Uhhhh...not anymore!!!) Now it was filled up with folded-in-half-futon! My daughter and I kinda chuckled about the whole thing. Honestly, we didn't know WHAT to do with that darn futon. My daughter, the comedianne, said, hey it was ok, tho, just an extra "bumper".

Thank goodness my girlfriend bought the darn thing and came over Sunday and got it. The futon being GONE was kind of a corner I could see myself turning, and the leaf that I was waitin' on to turn over to do all this.

It is already making me feel much better as I get truly organized and I continue to go thru the things in my room. Plus we now have a brand new storage unit,,,,with NOTHING in it yet. LOL...we'll be fillling THAT up. No problem.

And yep, in answer to the other question I got...I got allllll the stashed stuff at that same thrift shop the day I went back for my Senior Discount. hehe Now I'm filling a bag of stuff from my room-- donations ya know -- and guess where I'll be taking it. Ya think it's guilt?? :o)

The Cherry Cobbler Story

2005-10-04T14:16:00.000-07:00

So I'm at the Dollar Tree this last Friday, and I see this box, one of those mixes where everything is in the box,,,for "Cherry Cobbler". It has a can of cherries, and this streusel type topping in the box. And, like you ALWAYS say when you're at the Dollar Tree -- "it's only a DOLLAR!" Shoooooot, I bought TWO !!

When my daughter came home I showed her my find. She was chuckling, cause I was pretty excited about it. When I told her I got them at the Dollar Tree, she frowned a little, came over and looked more closely at the box, and said, "What kinda cherry cobbler you gonna get for a DOLLAR?" I looked back at her in astonishment, and said,"But, look! It's Banquet!!!"

My daughter retorted, bent over laughing, "BANQUET AIN'T NO BRAND!!"

We both fell out laughin' ! And these are the moments, they are, they are...

Changes...

2005-10-04T09:31:00.000-07:00

This was such a good thing. Monday nite I totally rearranged my room. My room is 9'x12'...I measured it. I got out some graph paper and started a whole mathametical process to determine where the queen size bed could go, where the 27" TV could go, where the 5'x3' table my computer resides on could go, where the dresser could go, and where the TRUNK could go. Then as I began to plot it out, I got one thing drawn on my graph paper,,,,my bed,,,just move it from the wall by the window, straight across the room to the inner wall. I suddenly could see it all. Simple. Just DO IT! Move the TV (which sits at an angle) over to the window area, and move the trunk which was in the hallway by the door, next to the bed, and yes, the dresser had the same "footprint" as the trunk, just lots higher,,,,so,,,,it could live nicely in the space in the hallway by the door. Don't move the 5'x3' table at all. Wow! And, I did it!!!!

My daughter and my grandaughter both loved my new digs. Heck, my daughter came in and hung out til she practically fell asleep on my bed, while I sat in the chair at my "desk" (table) and we watched a sit com together. She said, "it's so much more welcoming, inviting,,,,why, it's feng sui !" Or however you spell that feng shway thing!! It was so nice having time together in my new digs. :o)

I have plans to box a LOT of stuff up and get it OUT of my room. My room had become the "storage" place for a lot of extras. Christmas decorations, gift wrapping boxes, I think of it, and I wonder what in the world...how did I ever CRAM all that into my closet and still have room for ME.

Changes. A good thing.

an evening at the thift store

2005-10-03T14:17:00.000-07:00

Last nite the family decided to make a stop at one of the better local thrift stores. It must remain nameless, however. You'll see why. And, trust me, better means many of the clothing items are brand new...you can tell by looking at the tags...many of which have obviously never been worn.

Now we had a plan. Mondays are senior citizen discount days. This was Sunday nite. Shopping was at full thrift shop retail. Hey! The discount is sizeable. 40%! So anything that sells for $10 is only going to cost $6. Come on. That's quite a reduction. Nearly half!

We had already called and confirmed that the store would NOT hold any items over nite so that "gramma" could pick them up Monday at the discounted price. So we thought, well, we'll just pick out what we're going to get and then tomorrow "gramma" can go and make the purchases. Ah, just one glitch. HOW to assure that those very items would be available? That was the question.

Well, we dealt with it. I found a dresser and theorized that if I were to put some of the items inside the bottom drawer of this dresser, by golly, they might just be there in the morning, first thing. So in went three pairs of shoes.

Then my daughter hung the clothing items she had found for my grandaughter in amongst the kids' clothing items, and wandered off to shop some more. She had also included a cool pair of brown wide leg pants she found for herself. Shortly after she had hung the items in place, I noticed a store worker with a basket of items standing right in front of our little "stash"! Now it was near closing time. We were hanging out til the last minute to assure our goodies were intact for the next day's shopping. I planned to do that while everyone else was at work and at school. When I noticed the store worker, I panicked. I made a ruse of browsing items directly next to the store worker...some puzzles and games, which kept falling off the shelves, and landing on my feet. Some of them were even heavy and banged my toe. With a sigh of relief, I noted she finally left, and I surveyed our little "stash" was still there. I remember thinking, she's going to see these belong in the women's section or something and take them away. Our plan could be doomed!

Well, AFTER the store worker left, along come these two ladies with their basket...and wouldn't you know,,,,,they stop DIRECTLY in front of our "stash" and the NEXT thing I know, this lady is putting a pair of the stashed pants, a deep red pair, INTO HER CART!!! I was completely panic-stricken by then, and I slowly, nervously, walked over to her cart, and gingerly pulled the red pants OUT of her CART and said, "I'm so terribly sorry, but I just can't let you have these!" Then I carefully explained that we had just hung those items there temporarily while my daughter shopped elsewhere in the store, and I was just browsing nearby (my job? albeit, self-imposed,,,to keep an eye on everything). I apologized profusely, but in the end, I KEPT those red pants in my hands, and then I noticed the other lady was handling the fabric of the brown wide leg pants still hanging on the rack that my daughter had put by earlier. Now I reach past the second lady, and grabbed all the items that we had earlier hung there, two shirts, and three pairs of pants, and heck if I didn't just have to walk away,,,again, being as nice as I could possibly be about it,,,but nevertheless, I was NOT giving up my claim.

After I told my daughter what had happened (naturally my daughter cracked up), we sat down in the easy chairs for sale at the thrift shop, made a list of everything, which also included a dress for my grandaughter's Halloween costume (the theme for which has been determined to be "Ghetto Fabulous"), which we had hidden underneath the most godawful chartreuse polyester knit dress we were SURE no one would give a second glance at until after I got to the store at 9 a.m. to assure the purchases...after we made the list, I found another empty bottom dresser drawer, and in went the shirts and the pants. At 7 pm, closing time, we left, laughing hysterically all the way home over our combined craziness. My daughter called her friend and told her about our ordeal, and the friend said, "Man, what the Symons family won't do for a bargain!!"

Leo killed Laura last nght...

2005-09-30T10:51:00.000-07:00

Proving once and for all that the spirit lives on long after the body is gone.

I was busy doing something on the computer and I could hear Leo in the hallway near the kitchen playing with Laura. Little did I know he was examining, CSI autopsy style, a now dead , small, uhh previously stuffed, Veggie Tales character named Laura. Laura was stuffed carrot with gold braids, and a little voice box inside her that had several "cute sayings". I got up from my post at the pc and discovered the violent nature of the attack had indeed been fatal, and examined her remains. Not much left. All her insides were strewn from one end of the hallway all the way out to the living room. Actually I was not sure it was Laura, because where the remains came from, that is, the shell of Laura, was nowhere to be seen. And the remains didn't tell me much. They looked like any other stuffing one might see - and could not be distinguished from any other stuffing. I didn't examine the contents of the stomach. Had I, I might have learned more about where poor Laura was at the time of her death. Sadly, I gathered up the stuffing and put it in the trash and told Leo in no uncertain terms that he was indeed, a BAD BOY, altho I still had no idea who the deceased was. But it was sure that he'd been up to no good, from the size and amount of devastation at the crime scene.

Later I was in bed, when I heard the plaintive cry, "Good Morning, George. How are you?", and "Let's go say some nice words. Come 'on!" I got up - well, mostly because it was 2 a.m. - and looked for Laura. I know the sound of Laura's voice of course. There was Leo, on the steps, with the shell of the former Veggie Tale Laura. NOTHING left but her spirit!!! (translate, gold braids, an empty velour carrot shell, and a voice box!) I didn't believe in ghosts before this. I think I might now. If he finds her again before Halloween I think we are in for some trouble.

Needless to say, what is left of Laura is resting in peace, on top of the entertainment center. Nothing left but a box, a shadow of her former self. It was the only place I could think of high enough to clear Leo's jump. Especially after the "candy bowl on the coffee table" incident of yesterday evening. At least they were sugarless. (Yes, Leo IS the family dog!)

Brand New Day!

2005-09-30T02:01:00.000-07:00

This is truly a brand new day for me. This is my first blog attempt. Let's see how it goes.