Men In Line Buying Flowers at the Grocery...

I always get a bit of a chuckle when I see a man in line at the grocery, with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He's standing there in his sweats, or business suit, head down, maybe slightly embarrassed?
I wonder.
What did he do?
What is he trying to make up for?
Too many late nights at the office while his wife handles 2 kids under the age of 4, while 'baking' yet another heir to the throne in her belly?
Maybe it's their anniversary...and she insists on red roses every year.
Perhaps he forgot her birthday, and is trying to make it up to her?
Maybe he hopes to 'get some' by bringing her a single red rose?
Did she just give birth? (That is a no-brainer, boys. Ya bring her flowers ASAP!)
I love flowers.
I have been a floral designer, and perennial gardener, for, (good Lord), 20 years.
Wedding bouquets, mantle pieces, floral wreaths....centerpieces. Landscape design...etc.
Flowers are alive...they are intricate sculptures of God's imagination...and if they are fragrant? Ahhh...all the better.
Flowers are selfless. They have sacrificed their lives to bring joy.
Flowers bring joy. They can't help it.
When someone is given flowers, watch their face light up.
Maybe their eyes will tear up...
(Guys, score big points and send them to her at work where she has an audience.)
All the same, flowers bring joy.
If I were a man, I would bring flowers to my gal all the time...
It wouldn't matter what day, or occasion, it was. Second Tuesday of every month? Whatever.
I would never let the ones in the vase fade away before bringing in replacements.
Flowers bring life in to any home.
I am actually not picky about flowers.
My favorites are anything that looks like they were picked from a meadow....and anything fragrant.
Gardenias (Heaven Scent...and sent from God), Star Gazer Lilies...Casa Blancas...daisies (though not fragrant) are just plain happy flowers to look at!
I am not a fan of the roses.
Being a gardener, roses are too high maintenance...and they die off quickly.
Give me some good 'ol hydrangea blossoms, some lavender,phlox, daisies, and a lily to add fragrance...delightful.
Boys, make your gal happy, and bring her flowers 'just because'....it is the foundation of love.
Don't wait for a 'special occasion'...everyday is special...and so is she.
(Just sayin'.)

It's been lovely, but....

I really have to SCREAM now!

I was recently hired by a national retail store to be a Visual Merchandiser...something I am MORE than qualified to be.
I don't make 'squat' as far as cash on the barrel head, but I love to Merchandise, and I do love my mannequins.
The 'Company' has recently made cut-backs.
So, I am delegated to the sales floor. Yuck.
I do enjoy helping people get themselves 'together'....however, as a Designer, it grates my nerves when someone holds up a pair of black pants and says: 'what goes with this?' (seriously?)
Tonight I worked 7 hours...on my feet, running my ass off because they have cut back on floor staff.
Whatever. I am working because I have to pay bills...not because it is 'fun' and I can buy clothes at a discount. OK?
But tonight, people were kinda patronizing to me....and it ticked me off.
I want to make a button to wear at work that says:
'I have a Bachelor Of Fine Arts in Fashion Design. I went to school for 6 years. I studied in Paris at Parson's School of Design. No, this is NOT my first choice of jobs right now. I have my own Jewelry Design Company, and THAT is what I want to be doing right now. However, my husband was laid off his job in August...and I HAVE to work this retail job so I can pay bills, pay child support to my Xhusband who makes over $100,000 a year. And to top it off, I have no health insurance. I am not here working this 'menial job' because it is my 'passion'...I am here because if my 5 year old gets sick, we have to pay out-of-pocket.Somehow, I have to put food on the table. And, guess what? I'd rather be at home putting my 5 year old to bed, and snuggling up with her, than folding down 500 articles of clothing, or digging through boxes to find your petite medium turtleneck!'
However, I don't think that would 'fly' with company policy.
I am more than thankful for my 'job'....however, I really wish people would see us 'retail sales people'...as PEOPLE.
Next time you are in a store, please be nice to the person helping you. Everyone has a story...and everyone deserves kindness.

My Christmas Memories (before I forget.)

(Again, yall, this is a post for my 3 kids...before I forget, or get hit by a bus.)

Christmas seems to always bring out the 'crazy' in all families. If your family has a Norman Rockwell Christmas, and yall are still speaking after New Year's Eve---well, then congratulations!
However,my family--whom I adore---puts a little crazy (the good kind) in to Christmas and the Holidays.
Ever since I was a baby, my mom and I have flown to Lexington Kentucky for the Holidays. It was the once-a-year sojourn back to her home town of Versailles....(pronounced 'Ver-SAILS', not the French version.)
I was always so excited to fly.
In the early days, it was a non-stop flight from Norfolk to Lexington---full of sailors going home for Christmas. I always got to have hot chocolate, and it always burned my tongue.(but it was still a big deal!)
When we arrived at the Lexington airport,we actually had to walk across the tarmac to the airport building. Mom's hair would blow all around, and she'd get flustered. My grandfather and grandmother (dad's parents) were there to greet us. I was always ecstatic to see Jay C.---he wore a dark overcoat, a fedora, and smelled like cigars. He had big bushy eyebrows, and a wonderful smile and laugh.
We would gather our luggage while Jay C. went and got his boat of a vehicle, and pulled around to pick us up. I remember it always being so cold outside!...and I wished and wished for snow---since I lived by a beach, and hardly saw snow.
Driving to my other Grandmother's house (mom's mom) was a beautiful ride...Keeneland, horses, and beautiful horse farms.
When we drove in to Versailles, it was picture perfect, movie set, small town magic. Everyone had Christmas lights either in the windows, or on the lawns. There are a lot of beautiful old historic huge houses that would be formally decorated...magnolia wreaths, and white candles in the windows...but I always liked the colored lights---and if they flashed? Even better!
For years, we went to mom's childhood home---a really beautiful, two story, white house on Montgomery Avenue.She had a screened in front porch, complete with a swing. I loved it there. They had stairs! (we lived in a one story at the time.)It was the coolest house...My grandmother Virginia was the best. She always looked so pretty, and was so glad to see us. She always had dinner ready for us all when we arrived...I loved her broccoli casserole...which for me, at the time, was astonishing!
She always had scented candles going. Her home was always very warm, and smelled like fresh baked goods, turkey and cinnamon. Everyone smoked---indoors---back then. So, to me, the smell of cigar/cigarette smoke was comforting...still is.
After a good dinner, I would color in my coloring books, half way listen to the grown ups talking, and play with her white cat.
Christmas Eve, my mom would go to midnight Mass and I was forbidden to go downstairs.
(It was a long night!)
(When I got old enough to go to 'late church', my mom always insisted I 'dress to the 9's'...that meant a skirt, sweater, stockings and pumps---do you know how cold it is at Midnight in Versailles? I always wanted to wear pants, but was not allowed. I was quite envious of the people in church who got to dress warmly!It took 2 days for my feet to thaw out.)
I remember Christmas mornings as a little girl...I had to wait for Jay C. and Peggy to arrive before I could go downstairs to see what Santa brought me. I remember looking out the window watching for them---for what seemed like forever! Then, they would pull up, honk the horn, and I would fly downstairs to greet them...looking sideways to see if Santa really had come! (The 'Big Man' never let me down!)
After we opened presents, and had some breakfast---mine being the little Morton heated cinnamon donuts and apple juice---we would head to Danville to see the rest of the Family---'the Greeks'.
I was always in the back of Grandmother's Buick with my new favorite doll...my mom would drive. My Grandmother would smoke, with the window slightly cracked, and my mom would complain about the smell...ha! ha!
In the early days we went to my Uncle George's restaurant, The Town House.
It had red carpeting, and Country hams hanging from the ceiling of the entryway...
My family knows how to celebrate. All my cousins, and uncles, and aunts were there...all the people I had not seen in a year. We ate Greek soup...and had a blast.
I used to play with my cousins Barry and Mike.
Barry was really funny, and Mike picked on me...(yes, you did Mike...do not deny it---I have pictures of you trying to kill me in the snow!)
Later we switched the celebration to my Uncle Bill and Aunt Ethel's home---a super cool Victorian...I remember Uncle George had a movie camera with the brightest light on it. I am sure we all look like we are staring at the sun in the films.
I thought my girl cousins, who were older, were so pretty with their straight hair, frosty eyeshadow, and cool clothes.
We would go visit Aunt Carty's house---the best Aunt ever.She loved Christmas. She was so full of joy.She was always laughing about something! Her home was Christmas decoration central---and where I got my fondness for all things sparkly and magical. I remember one year she had a white Christmas tree with blue lights...and it spun! So cool! (I will have one, one of these days!)
Carty was also an amazing cook---her fudge was to die for. She,(like all of my family), was huge animal lover, and had herds of stray cats that she fed out her back door.
We all always ended up at Uncle George and Aunt Theresa's home.
One of the funniest memories ever, was when my cousin Mike put 'loads' in Carty and Grandmother's cigarettes. ('loads' for any who do not know, are like small fire crackers you can hide in the end of a cigarette...when it is lit, the end explodes like a cartoon.)We were all sitting around having a grand time, when 'BLAM!' Carty and Grandmother's cigarettes exploded. The looks on their faces were priceless...I thought everyone was going to pass out from laughing so hard...Carty and Grandmother went after Mike...it was hilarious....
(funny thing is, the next morning, when my Grandmother woke up, and lit up her morning cigarette...BLAM! She was cussing Mike, and all the animals in the house ducked for cover!)
My birthday is three days after Christmas, so we always celebrated in Kentucky. The celebrations were always modest, but fun!
And of course, at an early age, I learned how to shop after Christmas sales with mom.We always had a really good time, and ate lunch at a restaurant. I love the malls at Christmas---again because of the decorations....and people are not nuts in a pre-Christmas rush.
These are just a few of the many memories, kids...there are many many more.
I am not able to go back to Kentucky right now because I have three kids of my own...and we 'stay put' on Christmas.
However, I do miss my family this time of year...especially.
As crazy as all the travelling, and schlepping was, it was the best.

How Did We Survive Childhood?

We should all be dead---seriously.
I was born in the mid 60's,and am amazed that I, or any of my buddies, made it out alive.
Today's emotionally, and physically, bubblewrapped, 'helicoptered' kids have no idea what we 'went through' growing up...
Our playground equipment was metal...steel.
It froze your fingers off in the winter, and scalded your legs in the summer. I can still feel the blisters, and smell the metallic residue, it left on our hands. We were allowed to climb to the top of everything, and swing from it. If you fell off, you landed on compacted dirt...not 14" deep mulch or spongy rubber chips.The only goal was to NOT land in the mud puddle under the swings...or at the end of the slide.
We played on rusted out teeter-totters, and climbed trees.
We built forts...real ones constructed from found plywood, sticks and brush.
When I went over to a friends house, we played outside...the whole day.
(You were allowed to come inside---briefly for triage---if you were obviously bleeding.)
We were allowed to come in for bathroom breaks, and lunch...and that's pretty much it.
We rode on bikes that were way too big for us---sometimes with someone on the handle bars. And helmets?---nah. Why would we need helmets? We were not playing football...
We played outside barefoot...we had splinters in our feet from the dock, and we occasionally got stung by bees.
My friends and I had free range of the neighborhood.
We actually had to keep ourselves occupied!
We jumped on other people's trampolines---with no safety nets or pads around them. We 'double bounced' people.
There was a rope swing that went out over Crystal Lake that we were all quite fond of...although, in the winter we did get in trouble for swinging out over the water.
We obeyed and respected all grown ups. We followed directions. We listened.
If someone's mom made you a liver sandwich for lunch---you ate it, and said 'thank you'. None of us had food allergies...we ate peanut butter, drank whole milk, and ate food that had real fat in it...and we all hated raisins and broccoli.
We ate raw cookie dough!
We used soap and water to wash our hands...we actually had to sit at the table to eat.
We usually ended up with some kind of scrape,or skinned up knees, from rollerskating(on 4 wheels strapped to your sneakers), skateboarding (again with no helmets) or playing tag on cement.
The only 'time out' was to get a wet paper towel (handed out to you from the back door) to clean off scraped knees or elbows---the objective was to get outta there before a mom came at you with the Bactine spray, or Iodine.
We listened to the radio and played cassette tapes...we thought it was super cool when the 'boom box' came out.
We danced, and sang out loud---all of us!
The phone was attached to the wall---and you had to actually dial the number. We had to ask permission to use it...no one had an answering machine...you were either there...or not.
And the biggie? Only 3---yes three---television stations!*gasp*
(Oh, it was just 'miserable'!)
The one really good thing?
We did not have to walk 6 miles barefoot in the snow to get to school---like our parents did.

The Disappearance of Thanksgiving

Hey? Where did Thanksgiving go?
Over the years, have yall noticed that Thanksgiving has become a stepping stone to Christmas? We go from Halloween decorations being put out in July, to Christmas 'stuff' being put on display before Halloween...Thanksgiving is slowly becoming a 'non-event' in our society. It is like a dance that must be done, and instead of staying on tempo, it is switched to 'double time' to just get through it---and on to Christmas.
As a Visual Merchandiser, I have seen Christmas arrive earlier and earlier...as early as 'company directives' coming in September, and pre-season 'sales' being pushed out in late October.
This makes me sad for Thanksgiving...a real celebration of Thanks...for the basic 'gifts' of life: health, family, peace, love and friendships.

Thanksgiving is actually my favorite celebrated holiday.

(Yes, I love Christmas...fond memories abound.The season of 'good will'...the celebration of Jesus being born...caroles...cookies...and sweet snuggles under the tree at night...all that.(plus my birthday is 3 days later---mark your calenders.)

However,Thanksgiving is the most heart felt 'holiday' for me. It's not about the 'stuff' but the 'gifts' we receive from this life, and living it. The memories of family here now, and those who have left this life.

When I was little, mom and I always went to Thanksgiving at a family friend's home after my dad was killed in '68.(The posted picture is my first Thanksgiving...laughing with my dad.)
Every year was the same from the time I was 3 until I was in college.I could always count on a day of wearing church clothes, tights, and my 'noisy shoes'---I hated dresses then...dry turkey, unrecognizable side dishes---which I now crave, and Mrs. MacConachie's Trifle...which had sherry in it and I thought I was big stuff eating 'grown up' dessert! It was very formal. Classical music, starched linens, real china.(Although I do remember a break in the formality one year, when their son tried to open a jar of those little tiny pickles, and somehow they flew all over the kitchen...it was spectacular!)
I learned the proper silverware usage at a young age...and to sit up straight and keep my elbows off the table...I got in trouble one year because I took off my black patent Mary Janes under the table...(they had hardwood floors, and I was big in to 'skating' in my tights.)
I am thank-filled for their generosity, love, and teaching me how to be a 'lady'.

In college, mom and I started going to another family gathering at another friend's home.(The MacConachie's no longer had the big dinner since they were getting older and their kids had families.)
This was always more laid back. (I could wear a skirt.)The kids there were more my age, and we watched TV and ate snack foods before 'dinner'.It was buffet style, and not so many forks to navigate...and yeah, they drank beer and watched football after the meal. The 'menfolk' would retire to comfortable chairs, kick off their shoes, and let the 'turkey coma' set in. The gals would clean up the meal, trade dirty jokes and nonsense stories in the kitchen---and laugh a lot.
I am thank-filled for the relaxed spirit of that family, and the opportunity to be a part of their family celebration.
My first marriage was a return to the formal Thanksgivings again...but I was 27, and I could drink wine. (just sayin') They had 'staff' to cook and clean up...it was a wee bit pretentious I must say. My fondest memories of those days, were when I would hang out in the kitchen the 'staff'(the beloved Mary Anne), and my father-in-law,'Big Stan'. He was the epitome of giving, and love. He was a big,burly man, with a booming voice and a generous heart...sitting at the kitchen counter on his tall stool,drinking his Jack Daniels (on the rocks with a whisper of water---I know, because I was his 'best cocktail waitress') He and I would sneak hors d'oeuvres (sp?) off the trays before they were 'served'...we would laugh at the dog, trade limericks, and just enjoy being together.
I am thank-filled for those times with him, my babies, and Mary Anne.
My second husband's family is a mix of both casualness, and pretense. We usually spend the day on the beach daring each other to get in to the freezing ocean, and building the season's last sand castles. The guys drink beer and watch football all day. Then we have a 'formal' sit down meal around 3...(ok, why do people have Thanksgiving meals at weird times? I vote for lunch or dinner!)It is a good mix of everything and I am thank-filled for nice in laws, and for learning when there are too many Chiefs in the kitchen, and not enough Indians.
I hope my kids will always have fond memories, and give thanks for the things in life that cannot be bought---but are shared and given as love, generosity, compassion, grace, and humility. Family.
I am not one to ever forecast in to the future because I believe one needs to 'be here now'.
However, I cannot help dreaming of a day, sitting at my table with my 3 kids, and their kids and spouses...eating a meal that I cooked, holding one of my grandchildren in my arms,giving thanks for all the blessings of my life---and yeah....we will be wearing jeans, and eating at a real dinner time....

'Clear Butterfly Wings...'

My daughter, who is almost 5, has 'clear butterfly wings'...yes, it's true. She told me so.
And she is 'going to sneak out of the house when everyone is asleep and go to Maddy's house and teach her how to fly...'(she said that whole run-on sentence without taking a breath.)
I asked her if I could have some wings too because it sounded like fun.
She said,'...sure mom...I will give them to you when you are asleep.' (nodding very matter-of-factly.)
Well. OK then!
Be it known, as well, that 'macaroni and cheese keeps the wings clear...chicken nuggets turn them yellow.'
(I love my girl!)

Letting Go...for Good.

Yesterday I went to pick up my son in the little town I lived in with my first husband.
We stopped by my old house. My X had cleared out the attic, and 'there were things' of mine that he 'found.'...and I was 'welcome to look through them'. (Gee, thanks!)
When my son and I pulled in to the driveway...and I got that old, familiar, nerve wracking, nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach.
My old house...built in 1928.
MY house. The house that had seen my newborn babies come home, gave us shelter....watched them grow.The house I had lovingly landscaped for 7 years, helped renovate, designed and installed my kitchen and checker board tile floor...My kitchen, where I had cooked many a home made meal from scratch. The trees I had planted in the yard were now 20 feet tall. My precious gardens were overgrown from neglect...another casualty of divorce.
This house had seen much happiness, but more sorrow.
I was startled by it's emptiness when I walked through the door for the first time in 8 years.It was cold...musty. Left behind. My house had always been warm, smelled good, and seemed so big to me when I lived there with my kids. My son, who was standing next to me, was not 3 years old anymore---and almost as tall as I am now.
Maybe that was it. We had all 'grown'.
I got to task with looking through boxes....dusty, broken down boxes...with my handwriting on them...'JB Baby Clothes: 6-12 months'...'C's special dresses Newborn-6 months'...stuffed animals...toys..things I wanted my kids to have for their kids.

I am a 'saver'...some say 'pack rat'...I prefer 'family historian'.

Looking through the boxes and bags was like a time warp. My sons train set he got for Christmas when he was 3.(I can still see him clearly with his red flannel robe and footy pajamas,little boy 'just out of bed' hair, making train noises.) My daughters ragged out, and dearly loved, dolls in various states of 'undress'(Why do barbies always end up half naked with only one shoe?)...her little dresses, and baby sleepers.Books I read to them in the rocking chair before they went to sleep in my arms...I could still smell the baby shampoo on their clean, warm,little heads. It was overwhelming.
I was both sad and happy remembering.
I have one of those weird brains that remembers everything---usually trivial things to an outsider. Each saved stuffed animal, book, or piece of clothing had a special memory to me. A story.My son seemed to take comfort in my memories of the good times.
Eventually, he and I carried the boxes down the 28 stairs to the driveway---(I know it is 28 steps because my mom would remind me every time she visited.)
We walked through the house one more time before leaving. I said my 'goodbyes' to the house out loud. I hope she was listening.I thanked her for being good to me and my kids.
My home was alive when I lived there...with laughter, noise, and kids...not to mention 3 cats and a dog. This house was not my home anymore...and not my kids home. It was still, quiet...asleep.
A new family has bought my old house.They will be only the fourth family to live there in 81 years...81 years! I hope they will bring her back to life.
So,yesterday,finally, I let go of my house for good. No more 'what if's'....no more regrets, or wishing things had gone differently.
Letting go, for 'good'...for better...moving forward. It felt ok...closure.
Some times it is good to let go...I am a slow learner...and I will always have the stories to share with my kids---and their kids.That cannot be taken away, or lost.
I am learning to make room for 'the here', and 'the now'...and the future.
No more dark sadness.
Just light...and love.