Funny How Things Work Out

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am.

Sylvia Plath

Nineteen years ago, my oldest child went off to kindergarten followed two years later by his younger brother. Four years after that, his youngest brother joined the ranks of student. On the first day of school, they arrived home with backpacks filled with papers for me to peruse and sign, forms to fill out. I hated the big pink ones - where you filled in health info, social security number, who to call and all the other garbage required. Someday, I said, someday, I won't have to fill out these stupid forms.

Someday has arrived. I bypassed the Back to School ads and the watchful eye to identify locker, book, and schedule pick up days for my kids. The familiar angst that summer is over and my days now dictated by defined schedules and childrens events, didn't elapse. Finally, finally, my days of public school over.

Of course, life isn't complete without irony. I no longer have kids in the public school system, but guess who's still there? That would be me. The substitute teacher.

Gave me a very odd feeling to walk those halls of the high school yesterday. I didn't hear the familiar "Hey, Mrs. Anderson" calls. The most heart stopping, I didn't hear "Hey, Mom." Just as his friends that greeted me so warmly have begun new lives at college, so has my Ian. Gave me pause to consider that he is now so far away.

But the boy is doing well. In an effort to grant him his wings, I've only called twice in more than two weeks. Texted twice. Where a little homesickness invaded his world at the beginning, he now says things are going great. Activities joined, classes attended, new friends met. An adventure well on its way.

Ian and his new roommate, Zach.

The family farewell. Ian and I had driven from Austin to Tuscaloosa after flying back from Green Bay. Bob and Jordan drove in from Green Bay. A little rearranging in the midst of schedules gone awry.

I'm not very good with goodbyes, so our last morning whipped by rather quickly. "See you again sometime," is all I mustered before climbing into the car after a quick hug. Shades of the goodbyes my brothers and I shared with my dad, and one my oldest brother, Jon, so eloquently recalled at my dad's service. Thank you, Jon.

A parting glance.

I thank everyone for your most kind thoughts, prayers, and comments from the past two posts. I appreciate the Fragrant Liar's contribution to this blog in my absence. It totally fits that she would choose the photo where she looks best. Ahem! That other blond in the photo? That's our friend, Carolyn, of Backyard Pearls fame.

Okay, now that I've sent you to three different places in one paragraph, time for a bit of relaxation. After my week of solitude spent raking the lake, I had a few friends join me. For some odd august reason, clouds and cool breezes replaced the heat and allowed us to not spend our days dodging the sun. Our focus of the day became taking turns replenishing the drink and food trays. Lazy day indeed.

Just a bunch of old bitties, slacking off. Swimming with the swans.

Back to work.
Cheers!

On Leaving Footprints

Some people come into our lives and leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never ever the same.

– Flavia Weedn

Hello, Friends of Midlife Jobhunter,

Julie is away from home for a little while, spending some precious hours in Green Bay, Wisconsin, with her father, who is not doing well. So she's asked me, Fragrant Liar, to guest post. And though she didn't ask me to roast her, I kinda thought it would be fun.

As a writer, one of my favorite subjects is the relationship between friends—particularly women friends, which is sometimes surprisingly hard to come by and therefore all the more valuable and special when you are blessed with it. I couldn't write engaging four-dimensional characters if I didn't have real-life examples to draw from, like Julie.

What I like most about Julie is that she's down to earth, unpretentious, and says what she thinks. This allows us to cut right through the bull I usually like to sling around. Why, in the 9 or 10 years we've been friends, Julie has been known to say the most loving friendship stuff to me. Here are just some of my favorites:

• Most memorable party invitation: You better show up.


• Most constructive comment on my manuscript: No.


• Best cure for boredom: More wine?


• Best simultaneous activity while star gazing: More wine?


• Most shared sentiment on a group project: I'm sick of this shit.


• On raising three sons (vs my 4 daughters): Pink? What's pink?


• Most dreaded suggestion for joining her at the lake: Don't forget your suit.


• Most useful advice: So did you dump his ass?


• When assigned to create a positive affirmation for ME: I hope I get to come see you in Florida.

Real friends leave footprints in your mind and heart -- sometimes on your ego -- always on your character.

Jules, take care of your pops, and treasure the time you have with your family.

You Say Tomato, He Says Tomauto, I Say Dead, Dead, Dead

When one of my plants dies, I die a little inside, too.

Linda Solegato

I know I won't gather much sympathy from this post. That living in Zone 8 brings me a mild winter with a temp dip below 32 an occasional occurrence. That the majority of the country looks like frozen tundra and even the orange groves are at risk this evening. But I do want some advice, as I so want to grow tomatoes.

You may recall this photo from last summer when the temps surpassed 100 for weeks in a row. Where trying to keep my plants alive became the name of the game. With no hope for the fruit to set when the temp rises above 90, I had missed the window by a few weeks. My plants succumbed to dry, shriveled, ugly, ugly death. Note to self - For summer crop, plant earlier - like March.

In October, I purchased new seedlings from the store. Fresh hope. Varied varieties named Early Girl, Brandywine, Celebrity, Yellow Pear. Planted three in the garden, three in pots. Experimenting.
Results: Cold weather blows in and although plants grow large and the fruit sets, even colder weather visits bringing vicious, frigid winds. Note to Self - For winter crop, plant earlier - like September 1.


Nothing sadder than seeing a thriving plant, die, die, die. A green thumb does not live at my house when it comes to tomatoes. I know people who just stick tomato plants in the ground and they produce so much the planter can't figure out what to do with them all. I want a harvest like that. Perhaps in more things that just tomato growing.This is the big harvest for the season. With the Arctic blast coming at us like a steam engine, I covered the plants for days. Unfortunately, 16 degrees is the limit. I gave in and picked all they wrote. Think I'll eat those baby plum tomatoes tomorrow.

Meanwhile - there are sad hearts around my house tonight. The Green Bay Packer game didn't leave us in good moods. Had to go eat Mexican food to feel better. We love the Pack. Until next year.


And that there in my dining room? That's the Fragrant Liar. Click here to visit her most informational blogsite. Don't go, however, if you don't like to laugh.

My computer is operating way too slow. Signing off for now.