I was happily married and sharing the love in my heart with my husband when I wrote the sequel to A Girl's First Love for my Dad, Sugar, in honor of Father's Day.
Still A Girl's First Love
It's been over ten years ago
Since I wrote the poem for you,
That said you were a girl's first love
And today it still holds true.
Although my teen years are over,
It makes no difference that I'm grown.
I still cherish very deeply
The love you gave me there at home.
I'll always be a Daddy's Girl,
Though years come and go.
My love keeps getting stronger
For one of the dearest men I know.
Although you aren't the only man
Who's in my heart today.
You fill the same special spot
And there you'll always stay.
So often I get on my knees
And thank the Lord above,
That I've been blessed with Sugar
Who's still a girl's first love.
Peggy Chrusciaki, Circa 1976
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Timberrrrrr!
Robin and I were outside last night when this tree in a neighbor's yard decided to come down with a thunderous crash. It didn't startle us, even though the crash that followed the first one was so loud it shook the earth. No, we'd been watching this tree since late August when we heard a loud crack and saw the damage. Every morning while having coffee on the patio we'd hear more cracks, some faint, some loud. Within a few weeks, the tree had split in half at least three feet and would have tumbled down if not for other trees holding the weight. But last night the other trees grew weary and weak under the weight of this larger tree and they all came crashing down.
This heavy limb that broke apart is not through doing its damage. It's still pulling away from the tree with constant creaks and groans, and will do further damage if it isn't corrected in time. The neighbors tried to bring in a small crew with chainsaws today, but other neighbors weren't home and the damage involved three other properties besides their own. They needed consent before they could clear this out.
This is the small corner of our yard that is affected. A portion of the tree fell over the fence and is resting in our yard. The fence behind it is swaying and will fall soon enough.
This yard is next to the one whose tree fell. The white crushed metal under the limbs used to be a shed. It was flattened. Other loose limbs are still caught in other, stronger trees and will fall with the first wind. It's a real mess.
So why didn't we warn these neighbors about impending disaster? We don't know them, but that's no excuse. We had a similar problem once with another one of their trees that came through the fence. We called to see how they wanted to handle it. We were told that it would cost $900 to cart away the tree and mend the fence. He said he would split the cost with us. We told him it was his tree. He told us there was no point in one person carrying the whole expense. So, we fixed our own fence and let him worry about the limbs on his side.
When we noticed another one of his trees meeting a similar doom, we just watched and waited. Five weeks later it caused damage in four yards. Extensive damage. Maybe this neighbor is ready to mend fences.
This heavy limb that broke apart is not through doing its damage. It's still pulling away from the tree with constant creaks and groans, and will do further damage if it isn't corrected in time. The neighbors tried to bring in a small crew with chainsaws today, but other neighbors weren't home and the damage involved three other properties besides their own. They needed consent before they could clear this out.
This is the small corner of our yard that is affected. A portion of the tree fell over the fence and is resting in our yard. The fence behind it is swaying and will fall soon enough.
This yard is next to the one whose tree fell. The white crushed metal under the limbs used to be a shed. It was flattened. Other loose limbs are still caught in other, stronger trees and will fall with the first wind. It's a real mess.So why didn't we warn these neighbors about impending disaster? We don't know them, but that's no excuse. We had a similar problem once with another one of their trees that came through the fence. We called to see how they wanted to handle it. We were told that it would cost $900 to cart away the tree and mend the fence. He said he would split the cost with us. We told him it was his tree. He told us there was no point in one person carrying the whole expense. So, we fixed our own fence and let him worry about the limbs on his side.
When we noticed another one of his trees meeting a similar doom, we just watched and waited. Five weeks later it caused damage in four yards. Extensive damage. Maybe this neighbor is ready to mend fences.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Rhyme Time
I'll be sharing poetry every few days and giving a brief history about each one. This one, A Girl's First Love, is probably not the first poem I ever wrote, but the first one I kept. I was sweet 16 when I wrote this in honor of my Dad and slipped it under his bedroom door after he went to bed. I awoke to his hugs and kisses the next morning, assuring me how much he appreciated it.
A Girl's First Love
They say a girl's first love is a happy one
Filled with everything nice and gay.
They say it happens in her teenage years
On a very special day.
But a girl falls in love when she opens her eyes
And looks in her father's face.
A man who dressed his baby girl
In flannel gowns and lace.
A man who spent each spare moment
Teaching you how to sing.
A man who's brought more happiness
Than any man can bring.
You love this man who spent a day
Teaching you how to ski,
And you burst with pride and glad to say
He really belongs to me!
He's watched you grow out of some childish things
That we all must overcome.
He's watched you bite your nails, tease your hair,
And smack a wad of gum.
He's also sat through a long row of hours
While you were on a date.
Maybe he's afraid that little boy
Has taken your heart to break.
Your tears may fall, your world turns sad,
You think life is wrong.
But Dad is waiting patiently
To cheer you up with a song.
Oh a girl's first love never dies,
It lingers on forever.
Because a girl's first love is her father,
And he will leave her never.
Peggy Chrusciaki 1966
A Girl's First Love
They say a girl's first love is a happy one
Filled with everything nice and gay.
They say it happens in her teenage years
On a very special day.
But a girl falls in love when she opens her eyes
And looks in her father's face.
A man who dressed his baby girl
In flannel gowns and lace.
A man who spent each spare moment
Teaching you how to sing.
A man who's brought more happiness
Than any man can bring.
You love this man who spent a day
Teaching you how to ski,
And you burst with pride and glad to say
He really belongs to me!
He's watched you grow out of some childish things
That we all must overcome.
He's watched you bite your nails, tease your hair,
And smack a wad of gum.
He's also sat through a long row of hours
While you were on a date.
Maybe he's afraid that little boy
Has taken your heart to break.
Your tears may fall, your world turns sad,
You think life is wrong.
But Dad is waiting patiently
To cheer you up with a song.
Oh a girl's first love never dies,
It lingers on forever.
Because a girl's first love is her father,
And he will leave her never.
Peggy Chrusciaki 1966
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Mammary Dairy?
PETA, whose views are sometimes extreme, really knocked the socks off of me today. They wrote a letter to the owners of Ben & Jerry's Ice cream and suggested that they substitute cow's milk with breast milk. Huh? They reported about a company in Switzerland who is doing that very thing. And, of course, PETA bemoaned the fate of baby calves who had to give up their milk for human consumption, and relayed the health risks associated with dairy products.
Now, I have nothing against breastfeeding. I've always been a strong proponent, having nursed all three of my children. Breast milk is rich in nutrients and provides a wonderful start in a child's life. Nursing is usually convenient and the mother/child bonding can't be matched. I'm totally in favor of breast milk. I just don't know that I want it in my ice cream.
The letter went on to say that cows had to be impregnated too often so their supply of milk would be readily available, citing the stress this places on cows. Again, an animal has been exalted to a supreme plane, far above that of the human race. What about the stress on women's bodies? Would they, too, need to be impregnated every nine months to satisfy our sweet tooth? Do we take milk away from our babies so calves will have enough? Aren't there milk substitutes that would work as well as mother's milk? We're talking ice cream, folks.
I'm having a hard time picturing a herd of lactating women being hooked up to industrial breast pumps. And what if those pumps just so happens to malfunction? Does it become a manual job? Oh, the poor guys who have to work at the Mammary Dairy. I'm sure Robin would apply.
Although I could sing the praises of breastfeeding all day long, I just don't want to pump me up a warm glass of the stuff to have with my oatmeal cookies. It's a mental thing. I'm used to pouring milk on my Cheerios and adding it to the freezer when I make homemade ice cream. It's always been that way and I'm used to it. I'm not used to thinking about breast milk being an important ingredient in the foods I eat. It just doesn't sound right. Ewww. Also, I'd rather have a grilled chicken breast than the obvious alternative.
Fortunately, Ben & Jerry's declined the thoughtful suggestion and will continue using cow's milk. That's a relief. I don't know where they would find that many lactating women who would be willing to part with the juice anyway. During my nursing days there were times when I could have fed four sets of triplets and have milk to spare. Then, there were the times when the well was running dry. For those like Cheryl who need a daily ice cream fix, a dried up woman would be a license to kill.
Thanks, but I'll stick with Elsie.
Now, I have nothing against breastfeeding. I've always been a strong proponent, having nursed all three of my children. Breast milk is rich in nutrients and provides a wonderful start in a child's life. Nursing is usually convenient and the mother/child bonding can't be matched. I'm totally in favor of breast milk. I just don't know that I want it in my ice cream.
The letter went on to say that cows had to be impregnated too often so their supply of milk would be readily available, citing the stress this places on cows. Again, an animal has been exalted to a supreme plane, far above that of the human race. What about the stress on women's bodies? Would they, too, need to be impregnated every nine months to satisfy our sweet tooth? Do we take milk away from our babies so calves will have enough? Aren't there milk substitutes that would work as well as mother's milk? We're talking ice cream, folks.
I'm having a hard time picturing a herd of lactating women being hooked up to industrial breast pumps. And what if those pumps just so happens to malfunction? Does it become a manual job? Oh, the poor guys who have to work at the Mammary Dairy. I'm sure Robin would apply.
Although I could sing the praises of breastfeeding all day long, I just don't want to pump me up a warm glass of the stuff to have with my oatmeal cookies. It's a mental thing. I'm used to pouring milk on my Cheerios and adding it to the freezer when I make homemade ice cream. It's always been that way and I'm used to it. I'm not used to thinking about breast milk being an important ingredient in the foods I eat. It just doesn't sound right. Ewww. Also, I'd rather have a grilled chicken breast than the obvious alternative.
Fortunately, Ben & Jerry's declined the thoughtful suggestion and will continue using cow's milk. That's a relief. I don't know where they would find that many lactating women who would be willing to part with the juice anyway. During my nursing days there were times when I could have fed four sets of triplets and have milk to spare. Then, there were the times when the well was running dry. For those like Cheryl who need a daily ice cream fix, a dried up woman would be a license to kill.
Thanks, but I'll stick with Elsie.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
This is Too Creepy
I learned some disturbing news from my Mother today. It seems they have an unwanted visitor in their home. My Dad was in the basement today and spotted a 2 1/2 to 3-foot long snake skin on the lower kitchen floor. The snake that lost its skin could not be found, even though my Dad and one of my brothers did a thorough search of the house.
The most disturbing thing about all this is my Mother appeared undisturbed. One daughter-in-law told her that most women would refuse to live in the house until the wretched thing was located. Not only located, but the entry point was also discovered and sealed. Mother laughed it off. She's never been one to squeal and carry on about things. I've never been one to squeal and carry on about things, either. Unless it's a snake.
During one of my many childhood trips to the lake, I remember how we were all sitting by the campfire one night. Mother calmly announced that a snake was crawling over her feet. All eyes turned to her just in time to see her raise her feet as the snake slithered off. She didn't scream. She didn't refuse to camp out again. She didn't even run. She just calmly made a statement as if to say the moon was exceptionally bright that night.
Then, two years ago, the day before her 80th birthday, she told my Dad as they went to bed that a mouse scurried across her arm. He told her she was dreaming. It happened again and she told him a second time. He turned on the light just as the furry imp jumped off the bed. Again, no theatrics from my Mother. And more recently, they found a live frog in one of their houseplants. I'd be demanding to know how this many unsavory creatures found their way into my home. And I'd be staying at the Hampton Inn until it was found and fixed.
Now, I'm not afraid of mice or insects. But I do get startled easily if something like that catches me by surprise. But I'm not one to squeal and flap my arms if I happen to see a spider on the wall. I have no problem disposing of it. Snakes are a different story. I'm terrified, and won't even get close enough to dispose of it. There's just something so hideous about them. I don't like the way they look. I don't like the way they move. They have no redeeming qualities. And one is loose in my parents' home and they have not vacated the premises.
I can understand why Dad, being the big, tough man of the house, is staying there and refusing to let a harmless little snake force him from his own home. Providing that it is, indeed, harmless. They live in a rural area where venom can be found. But venom or not, a snake is a snake and my Mother should be concerned when she crawls into bed tonight. I am not my Mother's daughter. That disturbs me the most.
The most disturbing thing about all this is my Mother appeared undisturbed. One daughter-in-law told her that most women would refuse to live in the house until the wretched thing was located. Not only located, but the entry point was also discovered and sealed. Mother laughed it off. She's never been one to squeal and carry on about things. I've never been one to squeal and carry on about things, either. Unless it's a snake.
During one of my many childhood trips to the lake, I remember how we were all sitting by the campfire one night. Mother calmly announced that a snake was crawling over her feet. All eyes turned to her just in time to see her raise her feet as the snake slithered off. She didn't scream. She didn't refuse to camp out again. She didn't even run. She just calmly made a statement as if to say the moon was exceptionally bright that night.
Then, two years ago, the day before her 80th birthday, she told my Dad as they went to bed that a mouse scurried across her arm. He told her she was dreaming. It happened again and she told him a second time. He turned on the light just as the furry imp jumped off the bed. Again, no theatrics from my Mother. And more recently, they found a live frog in one of their houseplants. I'd be demanding to know how this many unsavory creatures found their way into my home. And I'd be staying at the Hampton Inn until it was found and fixed.
Now, I'm not afraid of mice or insects. But I do get startled easily if something like that catches me by surprise. But I'm not one to squeal and flap my arms if I happen to see a spider on the wall. I have no problem disposing of it. Snakes are a different story. I'm terrified, and won't even get close enough to dispose of it. There's just something so hideous about them. I don't like the way they look. I don't like the way they move. They have no redeeming qualities. And one is loose in my parents' home and they have not vacated the premises.
I can understand why Dad, being the big, tough man of the house, is staying there and refusing to let a harmless little snake force him from his own home. Providing that it is, indeed, harmless. They live in a rural area where venom can be found. But venom or not, a snake is a snake and my Mother should be concerned when she crawls into bed tonight. I am not my Mother's daughter. That disturbs me the most.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
My "Dream-on" house
by Dee
Sunday my hubby and I had a double date with our friends, the Ramseys. First we went to brunch! I know, don't be jealous! Then it was off to a million dollar home tour. And what a tour it was. These homes ranged from the high 1 million all the way up to 2.7 million. The outdoor living spaces were so beautiful! I want an outdoor kitchen! I want a pool house! I want a jacuzzi located in the garden of the master suit! I want to make the money required to maintain a home like that!!!
One of the houses had the coolest princess room. This little girl's room was so fantasy fantastic, I even wanted to sleep in it. The room is painted in chalk board paint and the murals are done in...are you ready for this...chalk! The bed was the coolest. It was a play in the princess and the pea story. The bed was hanging from the ceiling with multiple colored thin mattresses stacked on top of one another. The bed was a swing! Not good for a precocious boy's room but perfect for a little princess who would never think of making this swing really work and taking it for a real test drive.
I could not imagine being able to live in one of these homes! And what kind of children would mine become after living a life like this? Would they grow up and graduate from college expecting to maintain the same lavish life they have become accustomed to? Or would they live in a modest 1 bedroom apartment and work their way up like their good hard-working parents did? That is why here and now I will proclaim that I will never subject my children to such a dilemma! Yes, that children's book is going to sell and make my sister and I multi-millionaires but I will stay in my same cookie-cutter home in the burbs with my 2 car garage. My garage will NOT be climate controlled, with a chandelier and better textured floors than the rest of my home. I will NOT have a media room that rivals the Cinemark I use to go to every Saturday night as a teen. In fact I will reward my hard work by blessing my mom with all these luxuries.
That's right Peggy Poet, pack your bags! You are moving on up!
Monday, September 15, 2008
A Date with Michael
Patty surprised me with tickets to a Michael Buble concert. We will be jazzing it up on October 11. I don't know what it is about me and these younger men! Oh yeah, I like their voices in song.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Nearing Hunting Season - Woman Style
Patty and I are already counting the days to hunting season. It officially opens on November 1. However, if one enjoys bow season, the fun begins a month earlier. The Great White Hunter bought a crossbow recently so I am assuming Patty and I will have an extra month to enjoy.
Contrary to what the picture of me depicts, I will not be spending my weekends at the deer lease. I don't shoot Bambi. I don't eat Bambi, either. And a gigantic drawback to hunting is that you can't wear perfume. It alerts the prey of your presence. Therefore, deodorant is taboo, also. Cooking is allowed and I don't get that. Grilling a thick venison steak should scare off the deer more than the scent of Burberry. Then there's the accommodations. An outdoor shower in November? Even worse, an outdoor bathroom? An old, musty camper? No internet connections? Cooking in cramped quarters and sleeping near the hunter who left his deodorant at home? No, thanks. I'm not a happy camper.
Oh, but I love slumber parties! And that's exactly what Patty and I do every hunting season. We luxuriate in the absence of a schedule - meals, laundry, etc. - and indulge in free time and all that we enjoy filling those minutes with. It might be shopping (we usually fit in some Christmas shopping), reading, playing games or doing puzzles. The point is, we don't have to be doing anything unless we want to. That's the beauty of it.
I know we just finished a week in a condo with total freedom to be lazy. It wasn't enough. I think my body is trying to tell me it is time to retire, to sleep late and stay up all night with a good book, to laugh often with friends, to empty my mind of any and all distressing things. I plan to listen. Sorry Bambi, but I love hunting season.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
The One That Got Away
The Great White Hunter nabbed another critter, Rocky Raccoon. This big guy had attitude. He hissed and growled each time we got near his cage. After a night in confinement, he was mean and angry. City animal control tried to get him from our cage to theirs, but he fought hard. Since no one wanted an encounter with his teeth and claws, he managed to escape during the transfer. I don't think he will fall for the bait in the trap again. I hope, at least, he chose another back yard in which to take up residence.Saturday, September 06, 2008
A Design Snafu?
Before our trip, Patty and I were looking at pictures of our condo online. We were shocked to see the picture of the master bedroom and bath. As it turned out, while in Galveston we were placed in the Presidents quarters which are spacious. But our condo in the Hill Country had the odd bedroom and bath design.
The bed is on the right and what is next to it, on the left? The bathtub and shower. It is only separated by a half wall, a plate of clear glass and a shower curtain. Oh, and mirrors on two walls just in case you didn't know how awful you looked in the nude while showering.
This is a close up of the shower that could actually be used as a nightstand. It's that close to the bed.
There is absolutely no privacy. Sure the curtain is drawn while the shower is running, but you step out of the shower and wallah! You are suddenly in the master bedroom with only a towel and an embarrassed look on your face. This design might be perfect if one is sharing the room with a husband or wife. But friends? Not so much. No wonder Patty wanted her own room.
The bed is on the right and what is next to it, on the left? The bathtub and shower. It is only separated by a half wall, a plate of clear glass and a shower curtain. Oh, and mirrors on two walls just in case you didn't know how awful you looked in the nude while showering.
This is a close up of the shower that could actually be used as a nightstand. It's that close to the bed.
There is absolutely no privacy. Sure the curtain is drawn while the shower is running, but you step out of the shower and wallah! You are suddenly in the master bedroom with only a towel and an embarrassed look on your face. This design might be perfect if one is sharing the room with a husband or wife. But friends? Not so much. No wonder Patty wanted her own room. Canyon Lake, Part 5
Our final day at the condo was bittersweet. Home sounded good, but so did a few more days of not having to think about anything but having fun and relaxing. When all the luggage and sacks were loaded into my car, we went back inside for pictures of the condo as clean as we found it. OK, there were piles of dirty linens and towels, crumbs on the floor, and a few toenails from our pedicures, but it really didn't look too bad.
This was my comfy perch the whole time we were there. I was often curled up with a blanket and a good book, or watching the news, or playing a hand-held electronic game.
Patty had the sofa as she enjoyed the above-mentioned activities.
This was the view from our patio. Not exactly the view from our balcony in Galveston, but quiet and serene.
Patty on our patio with the lovely view of the fence. At least we could sit out there without getting eaten alive by mosquitoes.
This was Patty's bedroom. I offered her the master bedroom but she wanted this one. It had a small kitchen for the times it is leased as an efficiency. Of course, the kitchen wasn't used. We were on vacation.
This is the main kitchen, used only to keep things chilled or a random use of the toaster. The stove and oven were never turned on. What a waste.
Notice the sleigh coffee table in our living room.
The TV stand shows just how rustic the Hill Country decor can be.
More of the kitchen and the table. What a fabulous trip! We're all ready to go again!!
This was my comfy perch the whole time we were there. I was often curled up with a blanket and a good book, or watching the news, or playing a hand-held electronic game.
Patty had the sofa as she enjoyed the above-mentioned activities.
This was the view from our patio. Not exactly the view from our balcony in Galveston, but quiet and serene.
Patty on our patio with the lovely view of the fence. At least we could sit out there without getting eaten alive by mosquitoes.
This was Patty's bedroom. I offered her the master bedroom but she wanted this one. It had a small kitchen for the times it is leased as an efficiency. Of course, the kitchen wasn't used. We were on vacation.
This is the main kitchen, used only to keep things chilled or a random use of the toaster. The stove and oven were never turned on. What a waste.
Notice the sleigh coffee table in our living room.
The TV stand shows just how rustic the Hill Country decor can be.
More of the kitchen and the table. What a fabulous trip! We're all ready to go again!!Canyon Lake, Part 4
We had so much fun playing miniature golf that when we finished the 18th hole, we played another game. I got a hole in one on the first game and Patty got one on the second. Aside from those two great accomplishments, it was downhill all the way. And, oh, how we laughed!
We both took turns hitting the ball totally out of the greens. Wouldn't Tiger be proud?
It was not unusual for the ball to roll backwards to its original starting position.
I'm right-handed but have always felt more comfortable playing golf left-handed. Go figure.
Patty taking a small reprieve as we crossed a bridge for the next hole.
This is Patty's putting iron. No, she didn't get mad and fling it. No, it didn't just whirl out of her hands as she hit the ball. She merely leaned it against the bridge so I could take her picture and the iron fell through the cracks. She had to climb down there to get it. Her ball also ended up in a water hazard. Unfortunately, we were too busy cracking up to think of the camera.
Obviously, I learned from Patty's mistake and kept a firm grip on my iron for the picture taking.Canyon Lake, Part 3
Canyon Lake is gorgeous. I've never seen such turquoise water in a lake. An ocean, yes. A lake, no, not before this.
Absolutely beautiful!
We traveled the "dam" road to get this picture of the dam. The back sloped wall is enormous.
Patty with a view.
Patty snapped this picture as a huge hawk flew overhead. We need to submit this one to National Geographic Magazine!
Now the big news: I carried out our trash in broad daylight, wearing pajamas, NOT wearing makeup, and deposited it in the receptacle down from our condo. Actually, it was a few yards from our porch, but still ... one for the record books.
Absolutely beautiful!
We traveled the "dam" road to get this picture of the dam. The back sloped wall is enormous.
Patty with a view.
Patty snapped this picture as a huge hawk flew overhead. We need to submit this one to National Geographic Magazine!Now the big news: I carried out our trash in broad daylight, wearing pajamas, NOT wearing makeup, and deposited it in the receptacle down from our condo. Actually, it was a few yards from our porch, but still ... one for the record books.
Canyon Lake, Part 2
After a relaxing shut-in day of reading, and steady news about hurricanes and politics, Patty and I headed out to the quaint town of Wimberly. To get there, we drove on the Devil's Backbone, a winding scenic route with incredible views of the Hill Country.
We turned on the hazard lights and parked beside the road for pictures.
Can you tell it was windy? I don't know why it destroyed my hair and not Patty's.
Lucky Patty! She found the Yellow Brick Road!
This was a cute shop in an old home. This room was full of little girl frills and stuff. Very pretty.
The kitchen in the same home was stocked with beautiful plates and bowls, and other kitchen items. We visited one kitchen store that carried all kinds of cute gadgets and every conceivable thing needed to furnish a complete kitchen. I hate to cook, but I love to browse kitchen stores.
By the way, we miss Donna and Shelley terribly!
We turned on the hazard lights and parked beside the road for pictures.
Can you tell it was windy? I don't know why it destroyed my hair and not Patty's.
Lucky Patty! She found the Yellow Brick Road!
This was a cute shop in an old home. This room was full of little girl frills and stuff. Very pretty.
The kitchen in the same home was stocked with beautiful plates and bowls, and other kitchen items. We visited one kitchen store that carried all kinds of cute gadgets and every conceivable thing needed to furnish a complete kitchen. I hate to cook, but I love to browse kitchen stores.By the way, we miss Donna and Shelley terribly!
Canyon Lake, Part 1
Patty, my ulcer and I made the long trip to Canyon Lake. I was so ready to get in the condo and find some relief. Surprisingly, it worked. I was finally ready for a relaxing few days after a horrendous week of newsletter, final touches at work, laundry and packing, and the ever present threat of Gustav. Once we were nestled in the safety of the Hill Country, with no schedules or commitments, my stomach cooperated and decided to enjoy the rest of the trip. We did nothing that day but rest. We had a few groceries left over from Galveston and we were happy to settle for those.
When we did get out, we needed to replenish the milk we hadn't taken with us when we fled the island. That's a story in itself. Let me start at the beginning. Patty and I were enjoying the view from our 4th-story balcony when we heard our neighbor sneeze. Patty said, "Bless you," and the woman laughed and told her thank you. A conversation began. We would direct our voices to the wall that separated our balconies and talk to a person whose face we could not see. She and her husband decided to leave early, too, and go to their home in Conroe. Since that was a short distance, we offered them our milk that hadn't been opened and other perishables, which they were glad to receive.
Later, back in the condo, Shelley was slapping at mosquitoes and other insects on the wall and I reminded her we had neighbors in the next unit. We all laughed about how that must have sounded to the other vacationers, actually one of those moments you had to be there for to fully grasp the humor. We arranged to knock on our neighbor's door early the next morning and deliver our groceries and swap cell numbers to keep them alerted about the traffic.
It was still dark when the four of us left our condo and knocked on the door. I was concerned. There was a staircase between our condo and the one next door and I wondered how this woman we had chatted with could have sounded so close. Anyway, no one answers and we knock again - on both doors that are side by side. Finally, a door is slightly cracked and then shut again as the four of us stand there in the darkness looking totally innocent, I'm sure. Time was running out and we wanted to get on the road, so we left those sacks of groceries by the door. In the parking lot we encounter the woman's husband who is walking their dog or allowing it a bathroom break. We told him where we left the groceries and he informed us that they were on the floor BELOW us, not next door!
Yes, Patty and I felt a little ridiculous knowing we had directed our voices to a wall instead of the floor. Donna hurried up the elevator to get the groceries and deliver them to the man outside. I can just imagine the words that will be written on the comment card that we all fill out after our trip. This resort is gated with a guard at the entrance. Our unfortunate neighbors who endured knocks on their door before daylight should have some choice words about their stay in Galveston. Oops.
With the Galveston fiasco behind us, Patty relaxed in the condo at Canyon Lake with a book about Obama, while I read a novel in a comfy chair next to the sofa. Nothing like no routine, pajamas and a good book. Peace at last.
You can tell by the furniture that Canyon Lake opted for the rustic decor while the Galveston condo was a beach theme. Both were perfect for the setting. The resort is a sprawling complex of three-story buildings on both sides of the highway. It has a big activities center with a grill, a movie theater, large selection of games and movies to take back to your unit, 4 pools and one indoor pool, and a miniature golf course, shuffleboard, tennis courts, and an arcade. The only ones we took advantage of were a hamburger at the grill and two games of miniature golf. Our tenure as golf pros will be a post in itself!
When we did get out, we needed to replenish the milk we hadn't taken with us when we fled the island. That's a story in itself. Let me start at the beginning. Patty and I were enjoying the view from our 4th-story balcony when we heard our neighbor sneeze. Patty said, "Bless you," and the woman laughed and told her thank you. A conversation began. We would direct our voices to the wall that separated our balconies and talk to a person whose face we could not see. She and her husband decided to leave early, too, and go to their home in Conroe. Since that was a short distance, we offered them our milk that hadn't been opened and other perishables, which they were glad to receive.
Later, back in the condo, Shelley was slapping at mosquitoes and other insects on the wall and I reminded her we had neighbors in the next unit. We all laughed about how that must have sounded to the other vacationers, actually one of those moments you had to be there for to fully grasp the humor. We arranged to knock on our neighbor's door early the next morning and deliver our groceries and swap cell numbers to keep them alerted about the traffic.It was still dark when the four of us left our condo and knocked on the door. I was concerned. There was a staircase between our condo and the one next door and I wondered how this woman we had chatted with could have sounded so close. Anyway, no one answers and we knock again - on both doors that are side by side. Finally, a door is slightly cracked and then shut again as the four of us stand there in the darkness looking totally innocent, I'm sure. Time was running out and we wanted to get on the road, so we left those sacks of groceries by the door. In the parking lot we encounter the woman's husband who is walking their dog or allowing it a bathroom break. We told him where we left the groceries and he informed us that they were on the floor BELOW us, not next door!
Yes, Patty and I felt a little ridiculous knowing we had directed our voices to a wall instead of the floor. Donna hurried up the elevator to get the groceries and deliver them to the man outside. I can just imagine the words that will be written on the comment card that we all fill out after our trip. This resort is gated with a guard at the entrance. Our unfortunate neighbors who endured knocks on their door before daylight should have some choice words about their stay in Galveston. Oops.
With the Galveston fiasco behind us, Patty relaxed in the condo at Canyon Lake with a book about Obama, while I read a novel in a comfy chair next to the sofa. Nothing like no routine, pajamas and a good book. Peace at last. 
You can tell by the furniture that Canyon Lake opted for the rustic decor while the Galveston condo was a beach theme. Both were perfect for the setting. The resort is a sprawling complex of three-story buildings on both sides of the highway. It has a big activities center with a grill, a movie theater, large selection of games and movies to take back to your unit, 4 pools and one indoor pool, and a miniature golf course, shuffleboard, tennis courts, and an arcade. The only ones we took advantage of were a hamburger at the grill and two games of miniature golf. Our tenure as golf pros will be a post in itself!
Friday, September 05, 2008
Galveston, Part 2
By Saturday, only day two of our long-awaited trip, weather reports suggested that Gustav was aiming straight at Galveston. The local stations warned that we should be prepared and that Galveston Island would be first to evacuate. It was guessed that mandatory evacuations would begin Monday morning. We had no desire to sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic so we met with the resort managers. I asked if I could be moved to another condo somewhere else, and finish out my trip. They graciously complied. I was told I could leave Sunday morning and stay at Canyon Lake outside of New Braunfuls. That was a relief, but I hated cutting an extra day off my trip with Donna and Shelley who couldn't stay the whole week with Patty and me.
We had to spend part of Saturday night loading the cars. Oh, but we managed a lot of girl time! How fun to share a condo with such marvelous women. The only bad part of the trip - besides the threat of Gustav - was the swarms of mosquitoes that tried to attach themselves to every bare inch of skin. Such are the joys of being at the beach.
Finally, jammies and relaxation. Patty and Shelley settled in for the night.
My beautiful sister, Donna, with her winning smile. Her and Shelley's bedroom had a small kitchen in it. Two coffee pots are a bonus!
It didn't take me long to slip into pajamas and join the fun. Allison, Cheryl, and Deborah, you missed one great weekend!
Shelley in a second pair of PJs by Donna, the practical, girl weekend kind.
Everyone says Donna and Shelley favor. I think so, too, and it's a big compliment for both of them. Both are beautiful ladies, inside and out.
Alas, morning arrived early, 5:00 AM and I am not a morning person. But we were up for good reason. Traffic was predicted to get bad with evacuees from Louisiana so we wanted to get on the road. Gustav had turned and the threat wasn't as great, but our plans had been made and we knew a storm could turn again and head for the Galveston shores. We followed each other off the island and met in Houston for breakfast. Then it was time to say good-bye to two people who had made the weekend so much fun.
Thank you, Donna and Shelley, for sharing this time with us. We have got to do this again soon! You two are a blast and I love you both!
Now, a confession: Galveston and I don't mix. We were there in September, 2001, in another condo with Robin's sister and her husband. We were there when we got the news of the terrorist attacks on 9/11. A couple of years later, Cheryl and I got a condo there in February. The shuttle blew up as it entered our atmosphere and we saw a school yard cordoned off with wreckage of the shuttle as we traveled to Galveston.
Robin and I were just outside of Galveston almost two years ago when I was rushed to a hospital for emergency surgery. And on this trip, Gustav almost made an appearance and my ulcer did a number on me and I threw up in Donna and Shelley's bathroom since we were all on their bed talking. The pain stayed with me for three days, off and on, until we arrived in Canyon Lake and I ate a piece of bread to soak up the acid. So, maybe my days in Galveston should be history. Nothing good comes from it.
Oh, I forgot to mention that Robin and my first date was also in Galveston, on a Labor Day weekend like the one past, just 13 years ago. Yep, Galveston and I don't mix. (Just kidding, Baby, not that you read my blog unless the subject matter is sleeping nekked.)
We had to spend part of Saturday night loading the cars. Oh, but we managed a lot of girl time! How fun to share a condo with such marvelous women. The only bad part of the trip - besides the threat of Gustav - was the swarms of mosquitoes that tried to attach themselves to every bare inch of skin. Such are the joys of being at the beach.
Finally, jammies and relaxation. Patty and Shelley settled in for the night.
My beautiful sister, Donna, with her winning smile. Her and Shelley's bedroom had a small kitchen in it. Two coffee pots are a bonus!
It didn't take me long to slip into pajamas and join the fun. Allison, Cheryl, and Deborah, you missed one great weekend!
Shelley in a second pair of PJs by Donna, the practical, girl weekend kind.
Everyone says Donna and Shelley favor. I think so, too, and it's a big compliment for both of them. Both are beautiful ladies, inside and out.Alas, morning arrived early, 5:00 AM and I am not a morning person. But we were up for good reason. Traffic was predicted to get bad with evacuees from Louisiana so we wanted to get on the road. Gustav had turned and the threat wasn't as great, but our plans had been made and we knew a storm could turn again and head for the Galveston shores. We followed each other off the island and met in Houston for breakfast. Then it was time to say good-bye to two people who had made the weekend so much fun.
Thank you, Donna and Shelley, for sharing this time with us. We have got to do this again soon! You two are a blast and I love you both!
Now, a confession: Galveston and I don't mix. We were there in September, 2001, in another condo with Robin's sister and her husband. We were there when we got the news of the terrorist attacks on 9/11. A couple of years later, Cheryl and I got a condo there in February. The shuttle blew up as it entered our atmosphere and we saw a school yard cordoned off with wreckage of the shuttle as we traveled to Galveston.
Robin and I were just outside of Galveston almost two years ago when I was rushed to a hospital for emergency surgery. And on this trip, Gustav almost made an appearance and my ulcer did a number on me and I threw up in Donna and Shelley's bathroom since we were all on their bed talking. The pain stayed with me for three days, off and on, until we arrived in Canyon Lake and I ate a piece of bread to soak up the acid. So, maybe my days in Galveston should be history. Nothing good comes from it.
Oh, I forgot to mention that Robin and my first date was also in Galveston, on a Labor Day weekend like the one past, just 13 years ago. Yep, Galveston and I don't mix. (Just kidding, Baby, not that you read my blog unless the subject matter is sleeping nekked.)
Galveston, Part 1
First off, I want to thank Allison for keeping my blog rolling while I was on vacation. The condo only had access to the internet at the activities center and it was too much trouble. Guess I'm not as addicted as I thought! Thanks, Allison. That little diva prancing on this site in her cute pink boots and prissy hip moves was a sensation.
Our small entourage, three cars driving in from three different directions, arrived in Galveston last week for some girl fun. Gustav, of course, was a concern but we managed to have a great time in spite of all of his hot air. We met at a Mexican restaurant on Seawall Blvd. for dinner, then on to get groceries to stock the condo. I say stock, when actually we were keeping our purchases to a minimum since we knew there was a chance we'd have to evacuate. Oh Gustav, you men have a knack for ruining things.
We had lunch at Joe's Crab Shack. I'm not into seafood so I ordered a hamburger. I'm sure not many people get this huge hankering for a hamburger and pull into Joe's Crab Shack. Odd, but we had a ball as only four women out together can have.
Donna fell in love with this giraffe purse, the "latest rage", so I'm told. She used tremendous restraint and left it on the shelf after Shelley told her it could be bought cheaper elsewhere. Now, we all want one.
Shelley and Patty were admiring all the goodies this store had to offer. Patty bought a pink leather purse and flip-flops for her and me. Donna walked out with the cutest pair of yellow sandals (after paying for them, folks). We browsed several shops on the historic Strand and indulged in an ice cream stop that beat the heat for us tired ladies.
As is the custom on girls vacations, we exchanged pajamas. Patty and I had exchanged ours before the trip, but we had fun watching Shelley and Donna open the pajamas they bought for each other. Actually, the pajamas turned out to be sexy little nighties that would be more appropriate on a second honeymoon trip. They treated us to a style show as they modeled their new nighties and there was so much talking and laughing and we hated for the night to end.
One morning we had coffee on the balcony and spotted some field mice, a rabbit, and a coyote. He was too quick for my camera, but I tried. Patty entertained us all by feeding the seagulls some of the pecan bread we'd picked up at Collin Street Bakery in Corsicana. Those hungry birds aren't shy and came right to the railing to get their treats.
More to come on Galveston, Gustav, and iffy plans as the storm appears to have us on its radar.
Our small entourage, three cars driving in from three different directions, arrived in Galveston last week for some girl fun. Gustav, of course, was a concern but we managed to have a great time in spite of all of his hot air. We met at a Mexican restaurant on Seawall Blvd. for dinner, then on to get groceries to stock the condo. I say stock, when actually we were keeping our purchases to a minimum since we knew there was a chance we'd have to evacuate. Oh Gustav, you men have a knack for ruining things.
We had lunch at Joe's Crab Shack. I'm not into seafood so I ordered a hamburger. I'm sure not many people get this huge hankering for a hamburger and pull into Joe's Crab Shack. Odd, but we had a ball as only four women out together can have.
Donna fell in love with this giraffe purse, the "latest rage", so I'm told. She used tremendous restraint and left it on the shelf after Shelley told her it could be bought cheaper elsewhere. Now, we all want one.
Shelley and Patty were admiring all the goodies this store had to offer. Patty bought a pink leather purse and flip-flops for her and me. Donna walked out with the cutest pair of yellow sandals (after paying for them, folks). We browsed several shops on the historic Strand and indulged in an ice cream stop that beat the heat for us tired ladies.As is the custom on girls vacations, we exchanged pajamas. Patty and I had exchanged ours before the trip, but we had fun watching Shelley and Donna open the pajamas they bought for each other. Actually, the pajamas turned out to be sexy little nighties that would be more appropriate on a second honeymoon trip. They treated us to a style show as they modeled their new nighties and there was so much talking and laughing and we hated for the night to end.
One morning we had coffee on the balcony and spotted some field mice, a rabbit, and a coyote. He was too quick for my camera, but I tried. Patty entertained us all by feeding the seagulls some of the pecan bread we'd picked up at Collin Street Bakery in Corsicana. Those hungry birds aren't shy and came right to the railing to get their treats.
More to come on Galveston, Gustav, and iffy plans as the storm appears to have us on its radar.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
disaster or blessing
posted by - dee
My family and I were enjoying a nice labor day at home and my husband said "did you do this?" I looked up from the cup of coffee expecting to see my purses contents dumped onto the floor ala Sophia but instead noticed that Brian was wading in about 3 inches of water - on our hardwood floors! My washing machine had emptied out the bottom on the machine and there were about 20 gallons of water in our laundry room, 1/2 bath, into the hall-way, into the garage and threatening to enter my kitchen. WITHOUT freaking out I calmly went into the garage and grabbed my steam cleaner and started sucking up water. It was not that hard at first. I didn't even have to move the stem cleaner, the water filled up within seconds. Brian was frantically grabbing towels but there were doing no good. I called my neighbor and asked to borrow his shop vac so Brian and I could attack this in the most efficient way.
Twenty gallons later our floors were really clean but when you walked on the floors water would come up between the slats - not good.
This disaster led me to a hall closet that has been long forgotten except for the occasional tornado warning and water disasters - this is not our first. As I was pulling stuff from the closet I began to go through some of the contents to toss out and make room for more junk. Travel brochures, ticket stubs from trips, my many (ha ha) awards from my previous life as a travel agent/corporate trainer, and oh yes, high school notes that were passed to boys I had crushes on and my BFFs from 20 plus years ago. Then there it was - my box from my dating years with Brian. I looked at the long letters he wrote to me while I was a camp counselor in Arkansas, the little notes still paper clipped to the bows that once decorated the dozen roses he sent to me and all my wedding preparations. There was even a poem that he wrote me during that same camp summer. I vacillated between laughing and tearing up as I read his very creative words.
I started to envy this young girl who had such a love struck admirer. From what I could gather from the words of her long-distance lover she was cute, always had a smile on her face, had big beautiful blue eyes and a body that was POW POW POW! My words - not Brian's. She was sweet, positive, compassionate, loved kids and never-ending patients with her campers. He was tall, tan, funny and handsome with a body that was POW POW POW - my words not Brian's. These love letters were there in front of me as proof that there was life before a father dies, before the never ending grind of the stress of life, work, money. Before we put so much focus on our kids and life instead of each other.
And then I went there! What happens when Brian and I are gone one day and my adult children find this stash of love letters? Will they say "that sounds like mom and dad!" or will they think "mom married a different Brian than the author of these letters!"?
I also came across this rare gem. The poem my pepaw wrote to me on the eve of my wedding. He gave it to me at my lingerie party:
A Gift For Sweetie Face
I felt compelled to get a gift for your personal affair
I searched the town and taxed my mind to find this nightly ware
I knew you'd want the very best to impress the love you chose
So I hurried to get this wrapped and placed with the other dainty clothes
There are a few instructions and warnings I must say,
To keep this garment fresh and clean and ready for each day,
Use bubble bath or Leaver soap when you put it in the wash
Detergent, bleach, or lye soap would be painfully too harsh,
Don't put it in the dryer or hang it on the line
Never try to iron it though you'll find it wrinkles with time.
You'll discover the greatest storage from ten p.m. till five,
Is in between two fresh ironed sheets to keep the texture live.
There may be varied consequence for wearing this attire,
But brave it girl, you'll soon have jumped from the pan into the fire.
If you find this gift is too extreme or material doesn't suit,
You may feel you'd like to trade it for a jogging suit and boots.
Under this typed poem was a picture of a smiley face and his way of saying my most important lingerie was a smile and nothing else.
My family and I were enjoying a nice labor day at home and my husband said "did you do this?" I looked up from the cup of coffee expecting to see my purses contents dumped onto the floor ala Sophia but instead noticed that Brian was wading in about 3 inches of water - on our hardwood floors! My washing machine had emptied out the bottom on the machine and there were about 20 gallons of water in our laundry room, 1/2 bath, into the hall-way, into the garage and threatening to enter my kitchen. WITHOUT freaking out I calmly went into the garage and grabbed my steam cleaner and started sucking up water. It was not that hard at first. I didn't even have to move the stem cleaner, the water filled up within seconds. Brian was frantically grabbing towels but there were doing no good. I called my neighbor and asked to borrow his shop vac so Brian and I could attack this in the most efficient way.
Twenty gallons later our floors were really clean but when you walked on the floors water would come up between the slats - not good.
This disaster led me to a hall closet that has been long forgotten except for the occasional tornado warning and water disasters - this is not our first. As I was pulling stuff from the closet I began to go through some of the contents to toss out and make room for more junk. Travel brochures, ticket stubs from trips, my many (ha ha) awards from my previous life as a travel agent/corporate trainer, and oh yes, high school notes that were passed to boys I had crushes on and my BFFs from 20 plus years ago. Then there it was - my box from my dating years with Brian. I looked at the long letters he wrote to me while I was a camp counselor in Arkansas, the little notes still paper clipped to the bows that once decorated the dozen roses he sent to me and all my wedding preparations. There was even a poem that he wrote me during that same camp summer. I vacillated between laughing and tearing up as I read his very creative words.
I started to envy this young girl who had such a love struck admirer. From what I could gather from the words of her long-distance lover she was cute, always had a smile on her face, had big beautiful blue eyes and a body that was POW POW POW! My words - not Brian's. She was sweet, positive, compassionate, loved kids and never-ending patients with her campers. He was tall, tan, funny and handsome with a body that was POW POW POW - my words not Brian's. These love letters were there in front of me as proof that there was life before a father dies, before the never ending grind of the stress of life, work, money. Before we put so much focus on our kids and life instead of each other.
And then I went there! What happens when Brian and I are gone one day and my adult children find this stash of love letters? Will they say "that sounds like mom and dad!" or will they think "mom married a different Brian than the author of these letters!"?
I also came across this rare gem. The poem my pepaw wrote to me on the eve of my wedding. He gave it to me at my lingerie party:
A Gift For Sweetie Face
I felt compelled to get a gift for your personal affair
I searched the town and taxed my mind to find this nightly ware
I knew you'd want the very best to impress the love you chose
So I hurried to get this wrapped and placed with the other dainty clothes
There are a few instructions and warnings I must say,
To keep this garment fresh and clean and ready for each day,
Use bubble bath or Leaver soap when you put it in the wash
Detergent, bleach, or lye soap would be painfully too harsh,
Don't put it in the dryer or hang it on the line
Never try to iron it though you'll find it wrinkles with time.
You'll discover the greatest storage from ten p.m. till five,
Is in between two fresh ironed sheets to keep the texture live.
There may be varied consequence for wearing this attire,
But brave it girl, you'll soon have jumped from the pan into the fire.
If you find this gift is too extreme or material doesn't suit,
You may feel you'd like to trade it for a jogging suit and boots.
Under this typed poem was a picture of a smiley face and his way of saying my most important lingerie was a smile and nothing else.
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