Love, Grandparent-Style

After spending a weekend with my extended family for a wedding, I couldn’t help but notice just how feeble my grandparents have become.  Still, I can only hope to be as strong as they have been in character and determination.

It was 1944 when my grandmother was busy working in her garden on the little farm my grandparents had purchased.  Their first baby, my mother, was due that summer and my grandfather had just come home from the war for leave until the baby came.  For extra money, my grandfather, a pilot, taught flying lessons.  It seemed like a great idea until one of his students flew the plane into the ground.

My grandmother’s whole world crashed around her.  How did she have the strength at 20 years of age to handle being a widow while expecting a baby?

My mother came along, right on schedule.  Since my grandparents had already agreed to name a boy Junior, my mother was saddled with her father’s name (which is a whole different story). 

Right after the accident, the grandfather I know arrived on the scene.  He loved my grandmother and wanted to take care of her.  Two years later, they were married – despite the protests from his family (this wasn’t the time or age where men married widows and took care of children not fathered by them).  They went on to have two more children, another girl and a boy. 

Next month will mark their sixty-third anniversary.

We should be so lucky to be loved as they have loved each other. 

Black is the new, well, um… black

For the wedding I am attending this weekend, I’ll be wearing my little black dress.

 Not my dress.  But you get the idea.

Along with my fabulous sparkly black high heeled shoes.

And for fun, I’ll be sporting a new black accessory.

 This is a fairly accurate depiction of how my eye looks.

For the record, I blame the Yankees.

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Before anyone gets all excited and calls 1-800-Poor Gal, I need to explain how this happened.  Mr. Strong got all excited about the Yankees scoring some runs and excitedly rolled over to tell me.  In the process, his elbow connected with my eye.  Apparently, my eye is allergic to his elbow.

Randomness Mess

If you’ve been a reader of this blog for any length of time, you’ll know that Miss Poopy is the pack leader a demanding little yapper our precious dog who had back surgery almost two years ago when she became paralyzed after a disc ruptured in her spine.  She was only three years old at the time of her surgery and our whole house changed as a result into a doggy yellowy pee-y river and pile o’ poop abode. 

The miracle is that we let her live she can walk now albeit a bit like slinky dog!

The other day, I found something just for Miss Poopy!

A diaper!  Obviously, Miss Poopy hates loves it!  Please disregard her tail drooping and the fact that she is hiding her head in shame.  Miss Poopy lasted almost 5 minutes in her diaper before she peed it up we decided to remove it. 

For Hanukkah, I’m thinking of getting Miss Poopy a special gift since she has been such a needy good dog.

A Snuggie for dogs!  How awesome is that?!  Are there any other suggestions for gifts that can shame for my sweet doggie?

Thoughts while running

It’s cold. Hope the cheap gloves are warm enough. Wow. It really warmed up. Let’s toss the gloves into this driveway. Hasn’t it been 5 minutes yet? Ugh. I’m not sure I can do this for an hour. Yay! I made it 5 minutes. Only 55 to go. Focus. On something besides running.

Spanish mission architecture. Colonial homes. God, I love the south. Blue skies. Magnolias. Big oaks. Spanish moss. Crap. Did the Spanish Moss touch me? I hope I didn’t get any chiggers. Note to self: Get clear fingernail polish to get rid of chigger infestation. Also, need to get manicure. And pedicure.

Sprinkler system. Magnolia leaves. Slippery as owl crap. Almost fell. Sidewalk uneven. Grass is, too. Puddle. Jump. Almost made it. Squish. I don’t know if I can make it. I’m just pretending to be a runner. Think about something. Anything. Good song. Don’t Let Me Down. Love the Beatles. Still. Remember when Mr. Happy was one? And knew the names of the Beatles? And he liked the word rhododendrons. Rhododendrons. Cool word. Better than azalea.

How much longer? Halfway? I can do this. I think I can. Donut shop. Closed today. Lunch? Maybe a salad. Or soup. And grilled cheese. With ketchup. Wrong to think about food while running. No wonder I don’t lose weight. Pink ribbons. Signs. Save the tatas. Funny. C in high school. B after having babies. A after running. Not fair. No one saved my tatas. Wish it were my rump that shrunk.

How much longer? Did the timer mess up? 15 more minutes? Think about something. Passed someone. With a Mountain Dew. Thirsty. Cars. Refocus. The cars. Not me. Cemetery. Old one. Thoughts of my father. Remember when he went through the health phase? With the bicycles? Sister still can’t ride a bike. She’s been talking to me more lately. Maybe things are better. Looking forward to Thanksgiving. Pumpkin cheesecake. Cranberry bars. Stop it. Quit thinking about food.

Uh oh. Dog. Mangy. Barking. Heart racing. Chasing. Screaming. Need pepper spray. What good are leash laws? Wish I could take Miss Poopy for a run. Poor, gimpy dog. How much longer? I hate the voice in my iPod. She is mean. She taunts. She can’t tell time. Slow. Backwards. I. Don’t. Think. I. Can. Do. This.

Five more minutes? I can do this. I can make it. Dyin’ To Get Home. Perfect song. Really. Just around the block. Blue skies. Cool breeze.

I did it!

So. When will I feel like a real runner?

What I love about Sunday morning

My mother would tell you there is something wrong with my wiring.  I can’t sleep late.  I have vivid memories of my mother showing me what the clock had to look like before I woke her on the weekends.  My husband has had the same conversation with me. 

Most Sunday mornings, I run my long run for the week.  Today, I decided to savor the morning and run later in the day. Besides, it is COLD outside!

As I fixed my first cup of coffee, I noticed the message on the Splenda packet.

Be sweet.  Pass it on.

Just as I was sitting down to warm my hands and my soul with some some strong coffee, Miss Poopy sounded out from her crib in the bedroom.  As we stepped out into the cool morning air, the sky was beginning to light up – much like someone turning up the dimmer switch.

A harsh, “Shhh.  No barking!” warning was given to Miss Poopy.  The birds were singing as we headed back in to snuggle on the sofa.  There is something calming about how needed I am to this little dog.  Her sighs, the way she conforms her body to mine, tucking her nose under the blanket give me a sense of things being right with the world.  Breathing in her sweet dogginess and relishing this time I have alone, it dawned on me.  Sunday morning is my favorite time of the week.

When a joke backfires

Yesterday was our last day of school before getting out for two days of Fall Break and a furlough day.  We were giddy with excitement which may or may not have accounted for some of our poor judgment. 

Coincidentally, my assistant principal and academic coach were gone to a training.  Somehow, the idea to do something to their offices was hatched.  My secretaries and I made a pact to blame the ghost that inhabits our school.

This school year, we have a western theme going on and as a joke earlier in the year, I hung up two buffalo right outside my academic coach’s office.  She has commented on them several times.  We decided to wad up brown paper to make buffalo patties on the floor.  In an effort to make it look more realistic, we sprinkled in some grass.  Then we made a sign “While you are gone, you never know where the buffalo will roam.” 

For my assistant principal, we went to one of my new favorite websites (www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com) to print up some pictures to replace in her 18 picture frames cluttering scattered all over her office.

Seriously, this is a much better picture than the one she had of her daughter getting married.

Click on the picture to visit Awkward Family Photos. You won’t be sorry.

We were pleased with our efforts especially since it had been a very busy day.  

Last night, as I was slothing on the sofa, my cell phone rang.  It was one of my secretaries.  She was almost crying because she had just checked her email and our academic coach had sent a message about how disappointed she was and that she didn’t appreciate our BULL and we should GROW UP.  Being the concerned responsible principal I am, I called her.  And when I heard her laughing, I knew the BEST joke had been played on us!

Still, because obviously I’m immature I can’t wait to see my assistant principal’s face next Wednesday morning when she sees her office.

Sometimes we all need a little perspective

Today was Monday.  All day long.  I’m really not trying to be a Master of the Obvious.

The fire alarm was set off twice by the AC repair guy soldering wires in the electrical room.  The good news is that we get to count this as our monthly practice fire drill.  The bad news, we had to evacuate the building in the rain.  Even though the teachers fussed, I had to laugh when the kids cheered about the fire trucks arriving on the scene.

The aforementioned air conditioner is still not working in our Media Center.  This can’t be good for the books all of us during the freak heat wave.  The good news is that we are getting a totally new AC unit for the Media Center.  The bad news is that they think this will be up and running by freaking Thursday.  I wonder if they’d work faster if we all wore our bathing suits.  Then again, they might just pour bleach into their eyes.

Just when we thought things might slow down in the clinic because how many kids can puke at school on one day, little Mr. Why Walk When I Can Run ran into the fence and cut his eye and forehead.  The good news is that it WILL be better before he gets married even if he thinks getting married is yucky.  The bad news is that he needed 8 stitches. 

As the day pulsed on giving no indication of ever slowing down, in walked Mr. Hero donning a Sponge Bob Square Pants face mask.  Mr. Hero was sent home with flu-like symptoms almost a month ago.  When he didn’t get better, the doctor ordered more tests and sent the boy to some specialists.  The end result for this 7-year old trooper was a diagnosis of Leukemia.  Mr. Hero wanted to see his friends at school before he had to go back into the hospital for another spinal tap and chemo.

As I fought back tears, I stood in awe at the strength and tenacity in this little guy.  Suddenly, I realized it had been a great day.