Wednesday's Wanderings:Colbert Hollow

I've taken you on the road to the Walmart in Lafayette before (a lovely fifteen minute drive), but today I took a few of the side roads off of that road and saw some wonderful new things.

It was a gorgeous Fall type day in Georgia, and I seriously got a little bit lost both in my wandering and in my thoughts. We've lived here since December 2005, and I still never cease to wonder at how beautiful this rural area is, even though bigger city type things are only fifteen or thirty minutes away. I love the trees, the 'oldness' as shown in the barns and houses that they never seem to tear down, the 'feel' of the whole package.

I know I always do too many photos in my posts, but I can never seem to narrow them down! I did, however, remember to upload them in medium this time so they wouldn't take up so much room, and now I'm sorry I did because it loses all the detail, which means that you really do need to click to enlarge so that you can see what I took the picture of - and that's a pain in the butt and time consuming. Sorry! I know I could put them on a slideshow, but since I only have two columns I don't know where I would put it. Oh, on the 12th photo with a white spot in the field - that's an abandoned white bus!

(P.S. I just remembered you can change the size right there on your computer ... not text size under 'view', but down at the bottom right (on my computer). It says 100% with a little magnifying glass, and if you click it it says 'change zoom level'. See if you have it - it helps a lot!)

I hope you enjoyed the drive, and that you'll come again for another visit.

Friday's Favorites: shelf over desk

I threw a dart at the My Pictures folder to pick a favorite for today. In the folder, I have a sort of inventory of my favorite things, and I closed my eyes and picked whatever my arrow landed on.

It's not the shelf itself that's my favorite, although I'm quite fond of it and it has served me well. It's the things on it and above it. You know, those things that you display for sentimental reasons, or because the color or texture is just right, or the item says something about who you are. You'll notice, also, that if you squished the items on the shelf together, you would have the muted colors of a row of old books on a shelf, which is pretty much my color scheme throughout the house.

Starting above the shelf, there are photos of Melody on the left and me on the right at about the same age. One of my favorite things to do when I had a child was to compare her photos with mine along the way, because at the time I had never had anyone to compare myself with. You do things like that when you're adopted! Whereas most people know they have Uncle Joe's ears or Aunt Sara's nose, Grandpa Martin's temper or Dad's artistic nature, we know nothing and are starting with a blank slate. So anytime I found a photo where my daughter and I looked similar, it was cause for celebration! (She has her dad's coloring and Aunt Alice's long fingers, but most people say they think she takes after me in her general appearance. We have no clue who she got her straight hair from.)

In between the photos is one of the wreaths I made to go around the candles on her wedding reception tables. We wanted them simple and inexpensive, and they really looked quite nice in the glow of candlelight.

On the shelf itself, beginning on the left:

There used to be six appertif glasses that belonged to my adoptive grandparents, and my cousins, who inherited their possessions, let me have these. One got broken accidentally by a friend of Melody's. I love the look and color of them, and they're so delicate, which is why they're up high where the boys can't get to them.

Next is a porcelain bell that belonged to my mother-in-law. I don't think it had any particular sentimental value to her, but I love it because it has two birds sitting on a branch, and butterflies, painted on it ... and, of course, the grandsons always make me ring it for them.

Third is a hummingbird globe that David bought me. It's rare enough that he actually buys me something (he's not a shopper, or at least that's his excuse), but that he bought something related to my love of hummingbirds was nice. It's plastic, made in china, and still has the $7 sticker on the bottom.

The photo of the three of us circa 1974 is the only professional family photo we have in her infancy or childhood, the next being when she was much older. I think it was a 5x7 in an 8x10 frame with a mat. It was on my buffet (see another post about it) until I had a temper tantrum during a fight with Melody and threw somthing (not at her) and knocked it over. Unnoticed by me was that somehow a liquid, probably from a plant cutting in a vase, got on it and seeped into the frame. Then that dried, the mat and photo stuck to the glass, and I had to peel it off and resize it. You might have to click to enlarge this to see poor baby Melody almost lost down there at the bottom. (If you've read my Demented Mawmaw post, you know that I have already documented my history of tantrums.)

The light blue candle lamp is just a dollar store find and I liked the color. But if you light a candle in it, you sure don't want to touch that glass!

Second from the right is a little Aynsley fine bone china bowl called Cottage Garden, with a beautiful rendering of some of my favorite things - flowers and butterflies. It was a gift from my cousin Nancy from a trip she took to England.

And, finally, on the far right, just another dollar store find of a mirror framed with roses and hydrangeas, two of my favorite flowers!

So, what have you learned about me from this small collection? (a) I like birds, hummingbirds, and butterflies; (b) I'm not above displaying dollar store finds with fine bone china and heirlooms; (c) I'm chronically obsessed with being adopted; and (d) I'm prone to temper tantrums when pushed too far by a child.

I don't know what you can or will do with all this information about me and my favorite things, but there you have it.

Wander to the Wayside: This and That

I wasn't really going to do anything for today's Wander to the Wayside, because I haven't been doing much wandering! I looked to see what I had on my camera that I thought had been important enough to warrant a point and shoot to remember it, and there's just not much there. But, since you were so nice to drop in, I'd hate for you to leave with nothing to show for your visit.

My husband, daughter, and I went to lunch today while out running errands, to a little place in Dalton, Georgia called The Filling Station. It's an all you can eat buffet where you pay a decent price for more than you can possibly eat, with the food being good and the atmosphere nice. It looked like it probably really had been a gas station at one time, but we didn't think to stop to read the newspaper clippings in the lobby. You'd think that by now I'd realize that I'm supposed to do that if I'm going to blog about something, wouldn't you? (I could go google them, but am busy watching an excellent documentary about Ted Kennedy. And if I want to get this on while it's still Wednesday, I need to just keep typing.)

The outside isn't much to look at, but it has a nice little court yard with a fountain, which of course I didn't take a picture of, and the inside brick walls are decorated with filling station memorabillia. We were there during the lunch rush, and I didn't think people would want me flashing photos all around them, though I did get a few.

That's a mirror above, right next to our table so that we had to watch ourselves stuffing our faces, and that's a before photo of David's banana pudding that he was too full to finish. I was too full of key lime pie to help him finish it, and Melody was too full to eat more than a bite or two her own strawberry cream pie. Just another case of the eyes being bigger than the stomach, and it's just incredible how much food ends up in the trash at these places.

This was a real gas light, and the pressed tin ceiling was beautiful.

Just a reminder, if you'll click on this photo to enlarge it, you'll be able to see the stuff on the wall better.

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Conner, the almost four year old grandson, spent the night last week. During a torrential downpour, he announced to us that he was no longer afraid of thunder. Which came as a huge surprise to us, because he's been afraid of thunder for three years! He said he wanted to go outside to play, so to reward his delightful to behold pride in himself, I said of course he could go out, and helped him get into his swim trunks and found his Scooby Doo umbrella. I stayed at the door, where my camera and I could stay dry, holding a towel for him.

He joyfully frolicked in the rain and puddle at the end of the driveway, squealing with delight ...

... but in this last photo he's running to the house as fast as his little legs could carry him because of a huge clap of thunder followed by lightening on the horizon. After he was dry and wrapped in his ditty(blanket), he sat in my lap and said "mawmaw, I guess I am still a little afraid of thunder." I told him that that was ok, that I was proud of him for trying to not be afraid, and I was just sure that next time maybe he wouldn't be.

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You know how much I love clouds, so here's the last of what was on my camera.

Thanks for stopping by. I'll have to start doing a little more wandering outside my house ... I need an excuse to get away from reading all those blogs anyway!

Musical Monday: 'Don't Laugh At Me'

Here it is already, back to Musical Monday. Where does the time go? I'm not feeling real inspired this morning to find a song and do a personal journey with it, but as I looked at my Playlist I saw a song that I had put on for the grandsons. I think it's appropriate right now as so many kids are going back to school this month, so I've added 'Don't Laugh At Me' by Peter, Paul and Mary to my Jukebox. Give it a listen if you can while reading this post - actually, before or after would be better!

As I listened to the song, it didn't take much to go back to my own childhood and remember how hurtful it was to be laughed at and ostracized because my adoptive mother was a drunk. I've never forgotten, even these decades later, how the kids laughed when she drove the car thru the garage turned into my bedroom (yes, they all came by to have a look), or when she stumbled into the school with a totally inappropiate sun dress falling off her shoulders and wobbling on high heels, bleached blonde hair with three inches of black roots, and clownish makeup. I guess it would be funny to an outsider, especially to a kid, and yes I know now that they were laughing at her and not at me, but I've never forgotten the sting of that laughter directed at my life.

And then there was the laughter at me for being so pidgeon toed that I couldn't walk a straight line, so they probably thought I was drunk, too! And being picked last for - well, for anything - in gym because I was so uncoordinated. And having terrible acne.

Also, as I listened to the song, I heard a stanza I'd never noticed before. The song starts out singing about don't laugh at me for something that makes them a little different (glasses, braces, fat, handicap), and then all of a sudden it throws in a stanza about not laughing at a beggar on the corner. I thought at first that it ruined a perfectly nice children's song, but as I thought about it I realized that it was totally appropriate for today's circumstances, what with regular people like you and me losing their homes and resorting to all kinds of means to put food on the table, and we don't know the backstory of this person.

The other thing about this song that I probably shouldn't mention, for fear of offending some of you, is that the hyperbole of all of us having 'perfect wings in the end' just drives me nuts. That's all I'm gonna say about that, though I guess the image does make the song softer.

Did you have something that kids openly made fun of when you were younger, or do you have a kid that has something that he gets kidded about? I think everyone worries about it, but sometimes it's all in our head, because if it bothers us we're sure that everyone else notices. But truth be told, kids can be so cruel to each other, in small and large ways, can't they? Those of you who are teachers must see it more than most - have you seen anything that you thought was particularly cruel?

As a side note, I'd like to say, if I haven't mentioned it before, that my daughter was one of those kids in school who seemed to gravitate toward those kids who were made fun of (probably because she thought she was one of those being made fun of because of her acne and her glasses). So in her year book they would write things like "you're so nice", and she hated it! She wanted them to say "you are so cool" or "I wish I could be as popular as you!" (though I'm actually only imagining what she would want it to say). I always told her that that was a good thing, to be nice! I told her that someday she would probably end up in a career that would involve her helping people in some way. And sure enough, she went on to become an elementary school counselor!

Well, I guess I was able to go on a personal journey, wasn't I. And I hope you'll join me by sharing your own personal journey of ridicule and cruelty ... (that doesn't sound right, does it.)

Friday's Favorite: Alice

As I was sitting here thinking what I could use for today's Friday's Favorite, my eyes fell on a photo that has been taped here to my computer desk for about ten years now. The beautiful lady above is my sister-in-law, Alice, and she is definitely one of my favorite people.

Alice and I met in 1972 when I was secretary of the Home Economics Dept. at the University of Greeley in Colorado, and she was a Home Ec student. Toward the end of 1972, or maybe shortly into 1973, I separated from my first husband and moved into a house in the country and was looking for a roommate to help share expenses. As luck would have it, Alice was looking to move either out of a dorm or out of her family home, I can't remember which, so she decided to move in with me.

The day came for Alice to move in, and her big brother helped. His name was David, and a year later he and I would not only be married, but expecting a baby.

So, Alice has been my friend for 36 years, and my sister-in-law for 35. During that time, we have gone from acquaintances to friends to close sisters-in-law, to not so close sisters-in-law, to long distance sisters-in-law. I can honestly say that she is one of my longest running friends, one of the people I most admire in this world, and someone I know I could turn to under any circumstances.

David and I left Colorado in 1988, and in the 21 years since I have only seen Alice maybe seven or eight times - in fact, I can probably remember them: (1) David's highschool reunion (2) sister Sandy's funeral (3) brother Corey's funeral (4) family reunion (5) our daughter's wedding, (6) their mother's funeral (7) she and I crossing paths in Texas (8) and her visit two years ago to us here in Georgia. The thing is - and I know you have friends like this - when we see each other, it is just like we were together last week. We pick up where we left off. And, when we part, I am inwardly distraught because I fear I will never see her again.

Alice and I are very much alike, and very different. Many of our characteristics - love of animals, joy of family, each having an only daughter child, books - are the same. But she's an incredibly spiritual person (and I don't mean in the religious way), very into how we work and what we can do to reach our full potential as individuals, and the path she has chosen for herself is basically that of life coach. Well, I don't even have the language to describe it, because I'm very much a heathen and a luck of the draw person who has no path.

We both have some wierd insecurities and self esteem issues, me because of my upbringing, she because of her relationship with her mother. She's almost always busy working on some project, studying, trying different things, and I'm a slug that is pretty much happy just vegetating in my house and garden. She never meets a person who she can't at least pretend to like and who she can't have a conversation with, and I'm a deaf mute who panics at meeting a new person and who hopes nobody takes note of my presense in any way.

Well, that's neither here nor there. The point is that she is one of my favorite people. As I think of her now, at this moment, for no reason other than that she is in my thoughts, I have tears on my cheeks and a lump in my throat. And she's coming to see us this Fall, and I can hardly wait.

She's probably reading this and wondering why I have this particular picture out of the dozens of better ones, or ones of us together, and why one that I so crudely cut into a circle and scanned! Because this is the one that I ran across those ten or so years ago that so perfectly showcased one of the things I love most about her. Her smile.

(I'll add a post script to that ... one of the things I love most about her is actually her heart, and since her smile almost always comes from her heart, it just warms a room by it's very presense.)