Sunday, August 26, 2018

Crowded Up and Still Spinning

I have a long list of obligations that have stacked up over time. They are taking up some serious space in the back of my brain. I've been chipping away at one of them these last two weeks, but it's really only a 1-day job. That tells me that I must be living highly-interrupted days. Either way, Lord willing, I'm finishing up that thing tomorrow morning and getting on with the rest of my life. My husband's brother and his wife are coming for a visit Wednesday so I've gotta get crackin' with that messy porch I keep whining about too. It's been twenty years since they've visited. Company is always the best excuse for getting my house in order. Sometimes I plan big parties, just so we'll get the furniture dusted. It's really a dumb idea, because the house is a terrible mess after everybody leaves anyway. But I did get my 118-year-old ceiling fixed last year when we planned for the whole family to come for Thanksgiving. So there's that.

I think we've been in some kind of summer-solstice-ending celebration for a week now, having eaten out every day with different people. I need to fast until Thanksgiving to get this mess off of me. Daddy's birthday dinner is tomorrow, company on Wednesday, then two closings (with inevitable celebrations) at the end of the week. Just roll me on over to the other side. I have a feeling that neither Tums or my new fancy wedge pillow are going to help with the heartburn. I'm planning on seeing all eight of our grandchildren (and of course their parents) in the next few days, so there's nothing that can top that. But somewhere in there, I have to find time to work, the moon will rise, the sun will set and the New York Stock Exchange will keep on humming. Just imagine.


Tuesday, August 14, 2018

Misty Mountains and Eyes

There's a lot of psychobabble out there about every subject under the sun. Especially when it comes to health. If I believed and acted on every email that came through my box, we would be broke. We almost are anyway, from the many supplements and health gimmicks that I already fall prey to. There are books about "the cancer personality" (hoping I don't have that one), how to peel ten years off your life, how your problem is the carbs, the meat, the lack of probiotics. Makes you just want to run screaming to the drive-through at Dairy Queen. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. That might not be a good option...

They say your body responds to stress, that it "tells" you when it's had enough. I'm afraid it's true. After a harrowing week of real estate, with four deals tipping precariously at the edge right up to Friday night, they all tipped back to the right side. That hardly ever happens that way. We had a weekend trip planned, babysitting three of our grandkids and spending some time relaxing in Helen. Fortunately, all was pinned down just in the nick of time as we pulled out for our jaunt.

Oh Helen, Georgia...that interesting place. In the early 70s, my parents took us up there for a trip. As we pulled into the motel parking lot and opened the car doors, a bear roared loudly from the top of the mountain. I remember the magic of those few days. Us kids played in the Chattahoochee that was bubbling behind the motel, collecting smooth river rocks and looking for crawdads. We wandered through the Alpine-like village, ate fudge and fried fish. The cool night air enchanted us with possibilities. The whole place was a great idea and for years it was overflowing with tourists, yuppies, tree-huggers and rednecks all. Then it seemed to fall into disrepair. The downturn hit it hard. When our youngest son made his trek to college a few years ago, it seemed on its last, tired legs. 

I am happy to report that the revived economy has also turned Helen around. It is buzzing with new paint, new shops, re-energized old stores and hotels. People crowd the sidewalks, laughing, noshing on treats and generally having a good time. The beer gardens full, lights twinkling everywhere and the ole Chattahoochee rippled sweetly through it all, with all sorts of folk paddling through with their inner tubes. The beautiful mountains all around are still full of mystery and my heart fell content, glad to be shed of some of my recent stress. 

When we pulled in to Cleveland, our dear grandbabies tumbled raucously out of the house, sweet hugs and kisses all around. Poppi was the hit of the day (he's "Poppi" to some of our grands, "Papa" to the others), letting down his hair a bit to show them his crazy side. No one can prepare you for the exhaustion that makes up a day with three grandkids aged five and under. We definitely need to get crackin' with that marathon training. But there also is no bliss like the tender eyes of said grandchildren misting up when it's time to go. Time is short. Eat it up. 

Tuesday, August 7, 2018

Melancholy Porch Thoughts

My porch is still covered with last spring's pollen. The spiders have taken up all the edges and spun their creepy webs. There are wrens' nests in both corners. My cantankerous cats have sprayed in various places, trying to take dominance over each other. All the beautiful pillows that I bought last year are sticky with nature. The light fixtures are thick with dust. 

You'd think I would do something about all that.

I'm cranky. I'm hot, it's gluey out here, and there's not a swimming hole in sight. Besides, I'm fat. I bought two ceiling fans a year ago that have never been put up, and you know I ain't gonna do that. I also have the most darling set of twinkly lights that I bought for it too. You can't go out there without fans and mosquito spray in this summer swelter. It's very tragic, to look forlornly out this 118-year-old wavy window and not have the where-with-all to clean that mess up. It's August and I have betrayed the most Southern of heritages: our front porch. 

The list includes: Put all the furniture in the yard. Remove all cushions and pillows. Throw the (huge) rug out there too. Haul the hosepipe halfway around the house and squirt everything off, including the furniture and all areas of the porch. Have fight with husband about how I did not put the hose back correctly. Head to the laundromat with said trappings. Forget the laundry soap. Go back home and get it. Forget the cash for the machines. Go to bank and get some. Laundromat again. Spend half the day washing and drying them. Take them home and lay them all over the house because they didn't actually dry properly. Mop the porch floor. Two weeks later, put everything back. Meanwhile the rug got soaked by rain three times. 

Do you understand why I don't want to do this job? But after it's done, I will make a jug of sweet tea, call up the kids and we will munch on food and swig that stuff and it will all be worth it. Is there a twelve-step program for this?