Dress Code Blues

Labor day is just around the corner and you know what that means. No more Summer Business Casual.

That's right girls. Pack away your carpi's and go buy some pantyhose. It's time to join the ranks of the uncool. I know it will be 101 in west Texas until late October, but the boss has spoken.

I do hate to see summer go, but I can not abide white shoes after September 1st. It's just how I was raised. So please, if you must continue to wear sandals, no white.

And yes there is that little paragraph in the dress code about"appropriate hosiery". I cringe at the thought, and I know I'm not the only one. Someone from the pantyhose industry has done something terrible and angered the fashion world. Have you noticed no one wears them anymore? They are hot and uncomfortable, especially the tummy control, but admit it they make all legs over 19 look so much better. And they do help to cover those ankle tattoos. I would like to have a tattoo but not on my leg. I think it would look like just another broken vein. Maybe it just broke in some mysterious shape like the Virgin Mary or something. Then I would become a tourist attraction. But that's off the subject.

Another thing no one wears anymore is maternity clothes. This really bothers me. It's hard to tell the pregnant from the fat. Especially since the young girls don't try to hide their fat anymore. I spend hours looking for jeans that fit well. If you get the waist too high they are "mom jeans" or look like you bought them in the 80's. If they are too low you have a muffin top, spare tire, or love handles, whatever you call it, it's not pretty. But I see so many young women who just don't seem to care. Maybe that's a good thing. I would like to be that comfortable with myself. I'm just sayin'...

Music To My Ears

I signed onto the Internet the other day, and a story popped up about Madonna. Apparently she is on tour, and while in Bucharest, Romania made some political statement about the bigotry against "Romas" (Gypsies), and was booed by 60 thousand people. Well now I agree that hatred and bigotry toward any race of people is a terrible thing. But I believe the real question here is, why would 60 thousand people go to a Madonna concert? I have never understood how a person so talent free could become such a big star. A few years ago, I was having some problems with my shoulder, and started seeing a physical therapist. I'll call him "Joe". Well Joe got into the habit of playing Madonna's greatest hits every time I was there. He would apply the heat or timms unit to my shoulder, turn on the CD and leave the room. I would leave every session more tense than I started. When I finally complained he changed the music to Air Supply, and tried to sell me Amway. I eventually quit going but I developed such harsh feelings toward this man, to this day, I must resist the urge to spit at the mention of his name.
I tell you all this just to say I am a Music Nazi. I know this is not exactly a virtue and I am certainly not proud. But if there is a 12 step program for such a thing I want no part of it. I enjoy my inability to listen to crap. It makes the good stuff that much better.
I would love to have my own satellite radio station. I have always taken such pleasure in inflicting my music on others. I would start our broadcast day with something light and optimistic like Lyle Lovett and "I live in My Own Mind". And no, Lyle is not Country, I don't care what anyone says. From there it depends on how my mood progresses. Maybe early Jackson Browne and Neil Young or we may go straight into Led Zeppelin and then Robert Plant and Allison Krauss. At midnight it would always be B B King "the Thrill is Gone", followed by the entire Eric Clapton E C Was Here album. Somewhere I would have to insert some John Prine and Little Feat. It would be a very good day. I'm just sayin'......

Bell

People have changed over the years. There was a time when the sight of a family of ten in an Oldsmobile, with a trunk full of chickens, broken down on the side of the highway would hardly seem strange. Today, well cars are not that big , but it would make you think. This is how another one of our vacations to east Texas ended.
My Grandma Bell, the giver of said chickens, was the strongest woman I ever knew. Her given name was Rosie Bell Burnett Patridge Woodson Harris. When she died she was buried with a husband on each side, and her surviving spouse was to be buried somewhere near by. She loved her children and they worshiped her.
My last summer with Grandma Bell, was special. There were always so many people around, I don't think I ever spent time alone with her, until then.
Now, I always had a little car sickness on these trips but this year, well I threw up from Plainview to Sulphur Springs. And it continued after we arrived. My brother, Steve, made things worse, as usual, by describing the chicken soup my grandmother made, as having the skin, beaks and toes in it. It may have, she wouldn't have wanted to waist any part of a good chicken. Well ,with the heat humidity and throwing up, I ended up in the Sulphur Springs hospital. I was lying in that hospital bed, with my eyes closed, so sick I thought I was dying. When suddenly I felt like someone was watching me. I opened my eyes and my brother, Joel was standing there, and I swear this is the truth, he said "You ruined our vacation." No kidding , he said that. And I had five others just like him.
When I was released from the hospital my parents were exhausted, so Grandma Bell let them sleep and she took care of me. We talked about her life and my daddy, and how I should always act like a lady. A lady should never ever prop her feet up, even if she has been hoeing cotton and taking care of babies all day. That would make her appear to be ungrateful.
My sister used to tell me Grandma Bell loved me because I looked like my daddy. I know she loved my brother Greg because he looked like my daddy. And She loved my daddy because he looked like his daddy, the love of her life. That's what I learned that day.
When I think of her now, I think of porch swings, and chickens running in the yard. Then I think of sweet ice tea and blue willow dishes. But mostly I'm just proud to be the granddaughter of a strong Irish woman named Bell.

Lookin' For Harvey

My husband always talks about these great family vacations he went on as a child. The Grand Canyon, Disney land, Canada......... Not my family. We had the same vacation every year, year after year. The big family reunion in east Texas. But, I am certain our vacations were better than his. As a small child I adored my grandparents, and loved being in their home in Cumby Texas. Cumby is a pretty little town in north east Texas, with tall trees and black dirt.
I talked Jon and Lauren into taking a little side trip to Cumby a few years ago when we were moving her to Durant for school. I had not been there since I was about eight years old but it looked exactly like remembered. I think I even found my grandparents house.
After that, we took another side trip to Achelie Oklahoma. One of my uncles told me, that was where I would find my grandfather's grandfather's grave. His name was Harvey Bacon and he was a missionary to the Chickasaw Indians. We had our directions but we weren't getting anywhere, so we asked a couple of different people in town and they said "oh you're lookin for the reverend." like they knew who he was. So our directions took us across a cow pasture in the middle of nowhere to this group of trees surrounded by an old wrought iron fence. We got out of the car climbed over the fence and everything changed. It was an old grave yard just like in the movies. The trees were so overgrown there was barely any light, and the grass was like thick yellow straw. There was something moving under the grass, and we joked that it was probably chiggers. My uncle had told me to look in the center of the cemetery for the biggest tombstone and that would be Harvey. But Harvey's tombstone had been stolen and was replaced by a newer and smaller one. That was disappointing, and really who would steal a tombstone? Any way right next to it was Frances Bacon, his daughter in law and the woman who raised my grandfather. His wife, my great great grandmother was not buried there. This cemetery was for whites only, and she was a Chickasaw, as were their children. What a crazy world. Anyway it was fun and scary and we had a great time. Time spent with Lauren I will never forget. One more thing. We had so many chigger bites, Lauren and I both ran fever that night. You don't joke around about east Texas chiggers. I'm just sayin.....

Baseball Lullibies

Right now the Rangers are leading the Yankees 8 to 5. I hate the Yankees, and I just want this too much to watch. I am a true blue Texas Rangers fan. I will stay with them all season knowing it could end in heartbreak. I've never understood those people who are fans of whatever team is winning. And where do all those Red Sox fans that fill up half the ballpark at Arlington, come from?
Baseball has been a part of my life, I guess since I was born. My father, an Astros fan, lives and breaths baseball. I grew up with six older brothers, that's right, I said six, in a neighborhood full of families with multiple boys and a vacant lot right next door. It would have been nice to have a little girl to play barbies or dress up with, but I do look back fondly on those never ending baseball games. Of course, I was the audience. The baby sister of six boys could only watch, from a safe distance, in a dress that was probably pink. But really, I think they played every day. I'm sure they tell their kids they were picking cotton or mining coal, But it was baseball day after day.
My mom died from A L S in 1997. I remember when she began to show signs of the illness, she would watch the movie "The Sandlot" all the time, and when she tried to explain something she would say "it's like in that movie The Sandlot". I believe it reminded her of my brothers and the past and it just made since. It was comforting.
I have so many baseball memories with my own little family. From the time we almost died in a flood at the old Arlington stadium to the time we were almost killed by lightning at Mile High stadium watching the Astros play the Rockies. I will never forget how hot and sticky it was in ST Louis at the Cardinals game, when I turned and looked at Eric and Lauren eating ice cream out of those little batting helmets, and letting it run down their chins and necks. They were so happy, and I just wanted a bath.
Then there was family night at the Rangers game, back when Palmero was doing the Viagra commercials. You know, he said "I take batting practice, I take fielding practice, I take Viagra". Well that night, family night, they were all introducing their wives and his was very young and very blond. Just then Sarah turned to me and said "He takes batting practice".
Anyway, I love summer and I love baseball. My mind is filled with memories of hot mosquito ridden nights and Little League, and old black and white photos of boys in baseball uniforms, standing proudly with my dad. And sleeping with the windows open in a house lit only by the red glow of my fathers radio, the only sound, the AM static of a baseball game being played somewhere far away. It's like a lullaby. It's comforting.

Esther, or Miss Persia 483 BC

This summer I attended a Beth Moore study on Esther. Tonight was actually the final lesson but after being canceled a couple of times I kind of lost interest and decided to stay home. I do feel guilty about it now and was thinking about what I was missing, got out the book and re-read some of it. What have I learned? There are are lot of deep spiritual lessons in the story, but here is something that stands out in my rather synical mind. There have been millions of beauty pageants since then but this is still the only one that ever mattered.
Pageants may have launched the careers of Diane Sawyer, Gretchen Carlson(Fox and Friends) and Texas own beloved Phyllis George, but do you remember, who is Miss Whatever now? And do you care? Can she save an entire nation, or just represent it with a big smile and a shaky platform?
"The Jews had light and gladness, joy and honor" Esther 8:16 Now that's a platform! I'm just saying....

My first step

Ok, I am taking the first step and creating a blog. I first thought about doing this after my youngest daughter, Lauren, died suddenly. She had blogged for sometime and I always enjoyed reading hers. She was so funny but she could also make you think. I thought I would write about her and the loss we all were feeling, but I know I wouldn't want to read it, so who would? Life is too sad. This is why I hate Country music. I can find enough to cry about in real life, thank you, without being manipulated by some whinny redneck. Well I do like that song that says "God is great, beer is good and people are crazy" but that is just so true. Anyway, if you can give me a chance I will try to keep it light and only talk about the happy times with Lauren. Oh, and by the by, you can't suck in back fat is a quote from Lauren.
I have a lot of questions, like will anyone read this? Does blogger have spell check? What if I misspelled spell check? Maybe spelled it like spell chick. And hey, do they still teach typing in high school? Because I have had young people ask me what a typewriter was. They can't use it unless they can hold it in their hands and type with their thumbs. I, on the other hand , type very slowly with my thumbs. Why can't we just talk instead of texting? Wasn't the telegraph like texting? I'm just saying.......