Great News!

It is a wonderful thing to have Nancy Simpson nominate me for the Fabulous Blog Award!

As if that wasn't wonderful enough, she tells me I'm one of her Friendship Award Bloggers, too!

Is there such a thing as Wonderful Person Award? Nancy must surely be the winner. I've got to get my five, plus, now, eight more awardees lined up and notified. I'm not the swiftest blogger on the block.

We Had Birds On our Mind

Today was special at Phillips and Lloyd's Bookstore in Hayesville, enjoying another "Coffee With the Poets." Nancy Simpson and Janice Moore were reading selections from the new book, "Poet's Guide Book to the Birds". Both talented ladies had some of their work selected for publication in this highly esteemed publication, which contains works of poet laureates and Nobel Peace Prize winners, as well. We congratulate them on this honor and look forward to owning the book and soaking up all the wonderful poetry relating to our bird friends. Most of us brought some of our own bird poems to read at Open Mike. The tiny creatures are a never ending source of inspiration and delight. Here's one I wrote one Sunday morning when I was dragging my feet getting ready for church. The big window beside our bed offered a delightful view of a robin on the ground right outside. I could see him, but he didn't know I was looking. I felt a bit like a Peeping Tom:

The Voyeur

Half-dressed, sitting on the side of the bed, I watch
the lone Robin, almost within arm's reach, scratching.
Up to his knobby knees in dew soaked grass, he turns an ear,
listening patiently for Worm to make the wrong move.

The window and tree shadow hide my common human form,
muffle my involuntary breathing, while he sets mind to task,
unaware his privacy is being invaded.
Oh, now, he looks up, but I remain still, and he
returns to his breakfast foraging.

We are here together, bird. You do not ponder
religious philosophy this Sunday morning, yet you seem content.
You are in no hurry to sing your praises, and you have all morning
to poke and piddle around, scratching and talking to yourself.
Your feathers look perfectly pressed.

Grandma would say the Devil is sitting on my lap, keeping
me idle, watching you, Robin-what do you think?
Oh, I prefer to believe the Creator gave this gift of you to me.
What? Listen, I cannot watch you longer. I must heed the call of husband,
who waits, with motor running, to whisk me off to sermon and song,
where I shall be tormented by self-righteous underwear and pinch-toe shoes.

Good bye, bird--I envy you!

How to Cure a Cold

Sundays are always beseiged by little Devil gremlins around my house. They simply don't appear on other mornings, and I haven't found their hiding places, though I suspect there's one in every room. The alarm doesn't always go off on Sunday mornings, and I know I wind and set that little Baby Ben every night. I've never had a zipper break except on Sunday, or poked my thumb through my last pair of pantyhose except when trying to get dressed for church. I suppose that I shouldn't have been surprised when my throat started feeling scratchy as I sat in the choir loft this past Sunday.
At least I didn't sneeze during the service, while we were being videoed. The silent Rhino virus was well at work by the middle of the afternoon, and I just had to face the impending misery. It had started snowing big time, but nothing was sticking, so when it slowed to a halt, I sent Norm out for cold remedies. Luckily, we are very close to town. In fact, some Saturday mornings he wakes up feeling like Tarzan, and wants to go out and gettum our breakfast. He strikes out to buy one Bacon, Egg, and Cheese Croissant, one Plain Egg Croissant, one small French Toast Sticks and one medium Tater Tots, and returns in less than 10 minutes. So, I don't feel too badly about sending him to the drug store five minutes from here.
There on the kitchen bar I lined up my Airborne tablets, Mucinex, Tylenol, Riccola Cough Drops, Vicks Vaporub and green tea bags. Somehow I put soup and sandwiches on the table, but my heart was not in it. By nightfall, I am wrapped up in quilts like a doodle bug thoroughly medicated and thoroughly miserable. Eight times out of ten, I get bronchitis with a cold, and I am allergic to so many antibiotics that I really do hate to catch one.. Meantime, ole Norm is not feeling so hot, himself. His knees are arthritic, so I am worried about him, too. He's complaining of a dull pain in his right side. We had this discussion: "One of us has to stay well so we can take care of the one who's not!". It's not funny, but we laughed, anyway.
Monday, I awakened to discover the Rhino had his big foot on my chest, or, at least it felt that way until I got up and hacked and coughed and spit til I felt some relief. Norm's had a rough night, too, so we tried to figure out what to do about him. He called his regular doctor, who was out of the office on Mondays. He had an appt Tuesday with a new orthopedic man he hadn't seen before, so I figured he might at least get some relief with his arthritis. The other pain we didn't understand. I almost got dressed, but my housecoat is so warm and cozy, I just pulled some corduroy trousers up underneath it and kept my legs warm. I continued with my OTC meds and added stewed prunes. Norm's appetite is poor and he is running a low grade fever. He's looking around for pain medication.
This morning, Norm had his appt with his bone man, and he shot some good stuff in both knees, which I hope will help. This Doctor advised him to get in touch with his regular Doctor about the pain in the side. Unbelievably, I was feeling some better this morning, so while he was gone I actually ran the vaccum and tidied up a bit. After our lunch, Norm called to try to get an appointment with his regular Doctor. No luck--no afternoon office hours! So, first thing in the morning, Norm's going over to his office and park himself in his waiting room until he has to see him. He's always been so healthy, and this depresses him. Tarzan hates getting older. He keeps saying, "I never thought I'd be like this--I'm not worth a damn!"
Oh, my dear, you are so wrong! Somehow, I am going to put my miserable cold on hold and devote my time to getting you better! I've never had a 3 day cold before, but that's all the time I can allow for this one. God willing, I'll be the one that's well enough to take care of the one that's not!

Anniversary Song

Love Stuff

Perhaps Valentine's Day has just been dreamed up to put a lot of money in the coffers of the Greeting Card companies, but, with all the gloom and doom news we keep hearing, it IS kind of nice to take even one day to celebrate love. One way or another, every human being needs and wants love, and even when we lose in the game, the Bard says, "It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."

After my mother became a widow for the 2nd time, I was comforting her to the best of my ability, and she said something that has really stayed with me: "Not only do you grieve for them, you suddenly realize you're not number one with anyone anymore." She went on with her life, of course, and had lots of love from her children, siblings and extended family, but I knew none of us could give her that special love she missed. That wonderful, mysterious, thing called love between two people that can be immortal, or, sadly, sometimes disappear like a vapor.

Here is a poem I gave to my husband on our 47th anniversary. Almost 10 years later, it still seems to say how much I value being number one with him:

Anniversary Song

We've kept our promises, spoken
or unspoken
in the language life mates adopt.
As birds who commit to mate and nest,
and wait patiently for cheep and sign
to reveal again the reason
for promises made and kept.

And, old love, tried and true, is
our fountain of youth, allowing
love filtered eyes to rest gently,
seeing else but the half that fits
perfectly to each separate,
incomplete soul.

Now, when bluebird calls his mate
in tones soft and scarely heard,
I think of you, my love, and promises
you've whispered to my heart,
and, you must hear my heart's reply:
"You are my life, as long as I live."

Carole

Three Little Words

It occurred to me as I was enjoying an eggplant sandwich today, that words can be compared to eggplants. You either love them, or you get along nicely with as little of them as possible. For instance, I find it very difficult to simply write, "Love Carole"on any sort of greeting card. If I begin to just add a little note, I start out writing normally, then seeing I'm running out of room, begin making my words smaller and smaller, and usually end up writing up and down and around the edges and on the back. When my youngest daughter was in elementary school, she told me one day how she hated to take the "excuse" notes I wrote to school. She said her teacher always put mine last. I fixed that teacher. The next one said, "She weren't there. She were sick." Let her think what she would.

My best friend, Ginny, solved her Christmas card problem. (I don't think she likes eggplant) She orders cards early and has the family name printed below the greeting. She doesn't even initial them. She hands them off to her attorney husband, who hands them off to his secretary, and she runs them through the office postage meter. Done! However, Ginny has kept every little note or poem I have sent her over the many years of our friendship. She does put little three-word messages on my birthday cards: "I miss you" or "I love you". They certainly suffice.

Then, on the way home from Gainesville last week, my husband and I were chatting happily; going slow in the traffic around Cleveland. I remember we were enjoying a debate about whether sour cream cake donuts were superior to glazed raised donuts. My eyes came to rest on a torn cardboard sign nailed to a creosote fence post. Three little words and a phone number were scrawled there in dark pencil: "I Need Work". They spoke volumes. I have grieved for that man and felt utter frustration ever since. I know he is just one of so many that are in this terrible situation. I keep thinking that this person probably has children, and how much those kids would enjoy a bagful of donuts--most any kind.