Saturday, July 07, 2007
Another Chance
It was mid-morning on a recent Friday. My husband was at work and my boys gone until late afternoon. I finished the daily "thing to be done" and suddenly paused - I was, for all intents and purposes, caught up.
It was an odd sensation for it rarely happens. I was not quite sure my next step for the day. . .
Then she arrived. My project manager called us into a meeting. Most of my people arrived expectantly, although there are always the few who seem to come just for the sheer joy of dispensing guilt.
We all agreed the cleaning lady deserved the day off. Although there were, as always, some deep cleaning projects that needed attention, she had been so consistent during the week that things looked great. The deluge of rain falling outside pretty much left outdoor projects for another day. The baker half-heartedly offered for a day of baking goodies. The fitness trainer cleared her throat in the background - she is SO sassy!
The project manager decided it was time for a walk through. Expectations were high as we began. She quietly moved from room to room, stopping in my bedroom. As she surveyed the room her eyes stopped in the corner. An audible gasp was heard - surely she would not allow that! But allow it she did. She walked to the corner, picked up the large cardboard box and walked to the front room. Scrapbook girl had been given the nod.
My people are leary of scrapbook girl. Her record is far from shiny. In fact, the cardboard box has stood as a testament of her shortcomings for a couple of years.
It was probably the summer of 2005 when the real saga began. My boys had taken a trip with Grandparents and a cousin - a really cool trip that had allowed no parents. . .even though we asked. . .and offered to pay our way. . . . . But I digress.
The trip was in the summer of 2004. Of course it was the summer of the next year before scrapbook girl had all the pictures developed and supplies gathered to begin working. She suffers from delusional tendencies (another reason we are so leary of her) because she was certain the boys would want to help her with the project. Even though they protested greatly, she continued to believe. She spread the entire project out on the dining table. She tried to draw them in with questions - they did not budge. She began working on ideas, sharing them with the boys who continued to not be interested. And in one last moment of complete delusionality, she decided to leave the project out. Afterall, in her idealistic world, they couldn't resist for the entire summer! (Once again, do you see why we are so leary of her?)
But the boys, being boys, did resist the entire summer. And for the entire summer the project lay spread out on the dining table. School eventually began and the cleaning lady began her usual "getting the place back in shape" routine. With a heavy sigh and a roll of the eyes at scrapbook girl, she gathered up every last piece of the project and dumped it in a large cardboard box. The very cardboard box the project manager had just brought back to the dining table.
Scrapbook girl was determined to redeem herself in the eyes of my people. Over the last several months she had been buying more paper and supplies that she was sure would inspire her even more if the project was ever allowed out again. (We try to control her, but perhaps it is becoming obvious to you that is quite difficult.) She set to work immediately and, I am proud to say, has accomplished quite a bit.
She is trying very hard to be respectful of all my other people. The window cleaner, cleaning lady, cook, and myself (the all-purpose, in general, responsible adult) have all pretty much accomplished the necessesities of the week. Scrapbook girl is taking great care to not become the "I AM READING THIS BOOK" girl - she is way out of control!
And so today I applaud scrapbook girl, putting in writing her accomplishments. She is happy and sad about this knowing that news of the project is spreading throughout the land. Happy for the accolades. Sad for knowing that such knowledge also brings accountability.
She journeys onward.
simple faith
It was mid-morning on a recent Friday. My husband was at work and my boys gone until late afternoon. I finished the daily "thing to be done" and suddenly paused - I was, for all intents and purposes, caught up.
It was an odd sensation for it rarely happens. I was not quite sure my next step for the day. . .
Then she arrived. My project manager called us into a meeting. Most of my people arrived expectantly, although there are always the few who seem to come just for the sheer joy of dispensing guilt.
We all agreed the cleaning lady deserved the day off. Although there were, as always, some deep cleaning projects that needed attention, she had been so consistent during the week that things looked great. The deluge of rain falling outside pretty much left outdoor projects for another day. The baker half-heartedly offered for a day of baking goodies. The fitness trainer cleared her throat in the background - she is SO sassy!
The project manager decided it was time for a walk through. Expectations were high as we began. She quietly moved from room to room, stopping in my bedroom. As she surveyed the room her eyes stopped in the corner. An audible gasp was heard - surely she would not allow that! But allow it she did. She walked to the corner, picked up the large cardboard box and walked to the front room. Scrapbook girl had been given the nod.
My people are leary of scrapbook girl. Her record is far from shiny. In fact, the cardboard box has stood as a testament of her shortcomings for a couple of years.
It was probably the summer of 2005 when the real saga began. My boys had taken a trip with Grandparents and a cousin - a really cool trip that had allowed no parents. . .even though we asked. . .and offered to pay our way. . . . . But I digress.
The trip was in the summer of 2004. Of course it was the summer of the next year before scrapbook girl had all the pictures developed and supplies gathered to begin working. She suffers from delusional tendencies (another reason we are so leary of her) because she was certain the boys would want to help her with the project. Even though they protested greatly, she continued to believe. She spread the entire project out on the dining table. She tried to draw them in with questions - they did not budge. She began working on ideas, sharing them with the boys who continued to not be interested. And in one last moment of complete delusionality, she decided to leave the project out. Afterall, in her idealistic world, they couldn't resist for the entire summer! (Once again, do you see why we are so leary of her?)
But the boys, being boys, did resist the entire summer. And for the entire summer the project lay spread out on the dining table. School eventually began and the cleaning lady began her usual "getting the place back in shape" routine. With a heavy sigh and a roll of the eyes at scrapbook girl, she gathered up every last piece of the project and dumped it in a large cardboard box. The very cardboard box the project manager had just brought back to the dining table.
Scrapbook girl was determined to redeem herself in the eyes of my people. Over the last several months she had been buying more paper and supplies that she was sure would inspire her even more if the project was ever allowed out again. (We try to control her, but perhaps it is becoming obvious to you that is quite difficult.) She set to work immediately and, I am proud to say, has accomplished quite a bit.
She is trying very hard to be respectful of all my other people. The window cleaner, cleaning lady, cook, and myself (the all-purpose, in general, responsible adult) have all pretty much accomplished the necessesities of the week. Scrapbook girl is taking great care to not become the "I AM READING THIS BOOK" girl - she is way out of control!
And so today I applaud scrapbook girl, putting in writing her accomplishments. She is happy and sad about this knowing that news of the project is spreading throughout the land. Happy for the accolades. Sad for knowing that such knowledge also brings accountability.
She journeys onward.
simple faith
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
I Love a Parade
Growing up in a tiny town in the southwest corner of my panhandle state, the 4th of July was a BIG deal. I have so many memories of the fun of those days.
There was always a parade. I am not sure how old I was when I began participating in it. There is a picture of me in first or second grade dressed in red, white, and blue (complete with an Uncle Sam hat made of construction paper by my Mom) riding my bike which was also decked out with red, white, and blue. And then pictures of me and friends on flat bed trailers that had been transformed in to floats that fit the theme of the year. One year in particular stands out as I was a trapeze artist for the morning on a float commemorating the circus theme - those dance costumes were always put to good use. Junior high and high school brought cheerleading floats. And one year I drove my convertible in the parade - a sign on my side reading "Miss Tiny Tot 197?" and a sign on my passenger's side reading "Miss Tiny Tot 198?" with my little sister standing in the seat and waving to the crowd. It was her day to hand over her title to the new Miss Tiny Tot.
Miss Tiny Tot? Yes, one of the many contests held at the park each year. Little girls in swimsuits walking across the stage and doing a little turn for the judges as her name was announced along with the "daughter of. . .and granddaughter of. . ." reading taking place. Before my days in tiny town were over they had also added a Mr. Muscle contest - little boys in swimsuits striking a "show me your muscles" pose as their reading was taking place. Both contests were popular with all the folks setting under the shade trees in the park enjoying their BBQ lunches they had stood in line to get.
Other contests also held old fashioned hometown fun charm. There were turtle races, frog jumping contests, greased pole climbing, and a sand pit filled with change for the finding. And of course the afternoon would not be complete without a free swim at the pool - conveniently located at the park also. For a few years we even did a swim show prior to the free swim. Coordinating swim suit clad girls doing a choreographed routine to a popular summer song. Esther Williams I was not - but it was fun!
Nightfall brought more events. During my grade school years there was a rodeo. And throughout all my years in tiny town there was a street dance. Right on Maine Street and complete with a live band on a flat bed trailer. Folks of all ages mingled that street each year. I always thought it was so cool to watch the "older crowd" dance the night away.
Our family fireworks were usually set off behind my Granny and Papa's house. The large dirt parking lot of the local cotton gin was a great place to assure little damage would be done by our fun.
Memories of such times are wonderful. I am sure time has romanticized them. I am okay with that.
I hope my own children's memories of holidays are romanticized as they become adults also.
simple faith
Growing up in a tiny town in the southwest corner of my panhandle state, the 4th of July was a BIG deal. I have so many memories of the fun of those days.
There was always a parade. I am not sure how old I was when I began participating in it. There is a picture of me in first or second grade dressed in red, white, and blue (complete with an Uncle Sam hat made of construction paper by my Mom) riding my bike which was also decked out with red, white, and blue. And then pictures of me and friends on flat bed trailers that had been transformed in to floats that fit the theme of the year. One year in particular stands out as I was a trapeze artist for the morning on a float commemorating the circus theme - those dance costumes were always put to good use. Junior high and high school brought cheerleading floats. And one year I drove my convertible in the parade - a sign on my side reading "Miss Tiny Tot 197?" and a sign on my passenger's side reading "Miss Tiny Tot 198?" with my little sister standing in the seat and waving to the crowd. It was her day to hand over her title to the new Miss Tiny Tot.
Miss Tiny Tot? Yes, one of the many contests held at the park each year. Little girls in swimsuits walking across the stage and doing a little turn for the judges as her name was announced along with the "daughter of. . .and granddaughter of. . ." reading taking place. Before my days in tiny town were over they had also added a Mr. Muscle contest - little boys in swimsuits striking a "show me your muscles" pose as their reading was taking place. Both contests were popular with all the folks setting under the shade trees in the park enjoying their BBQ lunches they had stood in line to get.
Other contests also held old fashioned hometown fun charm. There were turtle races, frog jumping contests, greased pole climbing, and a sand pit filled with change for the finding. And of course the afternoon would not be complete without a free swim at the pool - conveniently located at the park also. For a few years we even did a swim show prior to the free swim. Coordinating swim suit clad girls doing a choreographed routine to a popular summer song. Esther Williams I was not - but it was fun!
Nightfall brought more events. During my grade school years there was a rodeo. And throughout all my years in tiny town there was a street dance. Right on Maine Street and complete with a live band on a flat bed trailer. Folks of all ages mingled that street each year. I always thought it was so cool to watch the "older crowd" dance the night away.
Our family fireworks were usually set off behind my Granny and Papa's house. The large dirt parking lot of the local cotton gin was a great place to assure little damage would be done by our fun.
Memories of such times are wonderful. I am sure time has romanticized them. I am okay with that.
I hope my own children's memories of holidays are romanticized as they become adults also.
simple faith
Labels: Memories
