Two By Two

Power nap, cat nap, thank you, love you, happy birthday, you won, found it, light's green, no traffic, good night, wanna share, pay check, bonus time, Merry Christmas, Happy Thanksgiving, my turn, your turn, his turn, dark chocolate, more chocolate, bed's made, laundry's done, home maker, well fed, I'm stuffed, hug me, kiss me, cutie pie, best friend, face book, planet Earth, island home, tree top, mountain stream, slim jim, just kidding, ray bay, phi mu, cracker barrel, toy land, krystal burger, root beer, ice cream, they're sisters, we're friends,  I'm fine, not hurt, ask me, tell me, what happened, start here, it's done, bless you, missed you, let's order, turn here, turn right, turn left, turn around, pied piper, pigs feet, front seat, back seat, middle row, up front, in back, sign here, no wait, good time, great time, first kiss, first date, first day, one step, how high, high enough, really cool, way cool, do over, that hurt, not much, name it, call it, own it, treasure it, what's it, who knows.

Truth's Sadness

My three-year-old Daisy unfolded laundry faster than I could fold it--and that was "helping." My one-year-old Birdie sucked her thumb so hard, it wrinkled. And my heart and mind held the raw emotion of a mother. That's when I finally ripped a page from my bible. It wasn't one filled with verse, but rather a full-color illustration of a family, complete with toddlers, praying for deliverance while cowering before lions. Ever since I received that bible, as a nine-year-old, the picture chilled me. That family, heaven-bound or not, stood moments from a public shredded death. And finally, when I saw the picture through mother eyes, I had enough of looking at it. The bible contains a lot of darkness, most of it isn't illustrated. This week, I found a verse so graphic I want to tear it out. Psalms 137:9 "Happy shall be he who takes your little ones and dashes them against the rock!" Brutality, savage warfare, autrocity and oppression defined the time in which this psalm was written. Nations were annihilated or assimilated into oblivion. But knowing the facts doesn't soften the blow. I will not rip the page today, but I acknowledge its enduring truth. It is possible to push good people so hard that they lose themselves in bleak and vengeful darkness and believe hatred and violence is what God wants.

The Garden

It's autumn in my Obama garden.The okra still blooms, high enough that its pods loom out of reach. A few eggplants, purple streaked with green, remain to be picked. The tomatoes turn pale red, then stop. After an experimental dig, I'm thinking that the crisp green sprigged carrot crop is all top with no bottom, but I'll know for sure in a few weeks. A fountain of purple and green foliage promises a rich crop of sweet potatoes. Already I have clipped some tomato plants to ground level. Dropped tomatoes, tattered bits of fabric ties, sneaky maple seedlings and weakened newspaper mulch show. I think I should feel sadness as the garden winds toward winter, but my mind leaps to next year. No carrots, more broccoli, maybe some squash, tomatoes (of course), okra, perhaps zucchini, and possibly watermelon. I hope the garden enjoys its rest. Next spring, it's back to work.

Privileged

Daisy's college keeps sending money. In three days, the mailman delivered three checks. Nothing on the checks tells me why they were written. I think they are Mizzou's way of saying, "Thank you. Daisy is such an enjoyable, motivated student, we will pay you for the privilege of having her." Someone else might suspect the checks reflect adjustments in meal plans and class credits. But I'll hang on to my "Thank You" theory and keep checking the mail.  

The View

Smile

It's October, so I decided to give my blog "a new look." I also gave my profile pic a makeover. Selecting the right photo took awhile. I wanted one that showed my thinner side. Apparently it doesn't exist. There were photos of me with a rose gripped in my teeth and chomping on a daisy. I found lots of photos of me with multiple desserts...maybe that explains the no thinner side photos. And there were a lot of close shots of me with wine glasses, those I don't remember. I found a close-up featuring my hair full of foil; also one where I'm decked out in a trenchcoat, peering into a mausoleum. And I've always loved the image of pajama-clad me sitting beside our camping port-o-potty. Amidst all the weird ones, I found a few of the expected family photos with Big Guy, Daisy and Birdie. Those ordinary ones remind me: Thank goodness they love me even when I live life the way I like it.

Waiting Time

Parent-teacher conferences are tonight at Birdie's high school. The teachers are arranged alphabetically at individual tables throughout the cafeteria and gym. Parents wait in line for seven-minute meetings. The harder the class, the longer the line and the more often a seven-minute meeting stretches an extra three. On my first time through, five years ago to meet with Daisy's teachers, I thought I'd never figure how to work the system--squeezing in seven-minute meetings with teachers while spending as little time in line as possible. Then I found a reason to slow down. All that waiting allows me to reconnect with friends. Some I haven't seen since Birdie and Daisy started driving. Others I have somehow missed running into since elementary school. Our conversations are always the same--"How are you?" "Can you believe how long it's been?" "I remember when they were little!" Asking questions and listening to answers is only the background noise to a greater shared truth. On this one night, while waiting together, we know that we have made it this far as parents and managed to raise a decent crop of kids.