This is the Life That Is

Larry's Excellent Adventure Pt. 2

Today marks only a week since we took off from home--no--it must be two weeks--?

Larry finally got to fly, all the way to the Horace Somebody Airport in Chapel Hill!  What a neat little airport, with tiny airport charm.  And, just like where I work, it is continually threatened with closure.  Unlike where I work, there was no prom, no limos, just a $50/day KIA tiny little no-power-anything rental car.

Which is where a couple of people who have no reason to be as nice to us as they have been come in, AGAIN.  This time, in addition to the letting us stay in their home, while we talked with people about building a house, they let us borrow their character-abundant automobile.

And around about this time, Mz. Smlph informed me that she is having major dental work done via "Sedition Dentistry"in nearby Raleigh a few days after we had planned to return home.

And then our unexplainedly good friends offered to not only put her up, too, but to drive her to/from the dentist, since she is "not to be trusted", let alone drive, for 24 hours after the sedition.

Which is when I suddenly woke up and thought, wait a minute!  I should be doing this stuff!  After all, I AM Mz. Smlph' mama.

But MEANWHILE. Last Sunday we saw a poster for a theremin contest, to be held that night in campus town, at a place called "The Cave".  I will suffice by saying that it was without much doubt the weirdest way I have ever spent an evening.  Jason, the owner/founder of Thereminworld.com
was there, along with the emcee, an interesting man named "Hoppy", and a small coven of thereminists.  If you don't know what a theremin is, look it up, or be happy knowing that it is an electronic instrument that is played without physical contact and makes very strange, creepy noises.

I have chalked that experience up as one of those "this will become part of who I am" things.  I am so happy that we went, even if the place reeked of smoke.

Then there was the job interview that I arrived at frantic and sweaty, wearing pretty unprofessional clothes, with Larry in the back seat of the '85 Volvo...

And then the trip to Roc*ky Mou*nt, in the poor ol' Volvo, to join Mz. Smlph in her Habitat for Humanity effort.  Another character builder, when the wiper blade detatched itself in the driving rain and rode
back and forth for miles sideways on the windshield.  Arrived safe and sound, tho, and Larry got to meet Mz. Smlph's roommate,
TGRE.

The H for H experience was everything Ka*tie had said it would be, really nice father-figure southern guys AND the opportunity to learn how to hang vinyl siding.

I don't generally have premonitions, but I had a bad one about the car as I started it for the drive back to Raleigh and Chapel
The Triangle.  Windows down, not too hot, I turned around and noticed that Larry's feathers were being strongly ruffeled in the breeze.  Had also noticed that the windshield wipers, AND the radio, didn't work at all.

Pulled over at a "Kangaroo" Station (yup, that is really a place) in Nashville, NC, to roll up the windows, assess Larry's condition, and get a cup of coffee.  And that is when I became a blight upon our friends, if I wasn't already.  The Volvo wouldn't start (BUT the radio and windshield wipers did).  One of three kindly strangers assessed the situation quickly (starter burned out) but said it would take an electrical person to fix it.

Enter AAA and Hale's Towing.  The Volvo rode in style for over 70 miles, and I met a 37 year old one time farmer with 3 boys, the oldest of whom had just broken his collar bone in 3 places.  The driver had hardly slept for the past few days, staying up with his son, but maneuvered the gigantic flat-bed truck down narrow streets, backing it up between a fence and parked cars with inches to spare.        Larry went for his first tow-truck ride and then waited patiently for our beleagered
host to pick us up at the Volvo repair place in Durham.

Today dawned at 6 am, when Kat*ie (aka M.S.) and I drove to the land of no memories.

When I arrived 5 hours later at the dentist, to "fetch" her, poor Ka*tie was sitting, blank-faced and teetering, blood caked on her lips and teeth, on the dentist's chair.   6 hours later, I am re-re-repeating the story of what transpired in that place, as best as I can understand it.  It reminds me of when Kat*ie and A*my were little, and they wanted me to tell them over and OVER about something they had done...

I "carried" (NC speak) Mz. S home in her own car, after strapping her in, and called ahead for back-up from, you guessed it, one of the most gracious people I have ever met. He literally, almost, carried her down the steps of his home to a waiting bed.  A quart of blue jello later, the Tylenol PM has kicked in, she is happy, pain-free, and about to go back to sleep...

It's been a week.  I'm glad that I lived it.

I Actually Have TWO Daughters...

"Post to your blog!" Kat*ie tells me.  If it were only that easy.  Returned last night from a trip to central Illinois--land of endless, flat, straight highways, snow fences, and Burma-shave style signs touting the merits of gun ownership and use.  I had forgotten how vast the farm land there is, especially before it is all planted to corn and soybeans.

By far the best thing about returning to this part of the country, and my life, is seeing my daughter Am*y.  (We really didn't give our kids names with asterisks in them...it's just that Ka*tie has made me paranoid.)

I find myself thinking of Amy as my "quietly determined" daughter.  From the moment we found her by the side of the road as a toddler (just kidding!) she has been an individual.  When she was about the age pictured, I went to check on her in bed before I went to sleep, and found that she had applied at least 15 band-aids to her finger AFTER  I thought she was asleep.

Amy didn't answer the telephone until she was probably 10 years old--even if she was right next to it when it rang.  Asked why, she responded, "What would I say?"  She has always resisted doing things just because they are expected.

Amy has quietly gone about getting good at things that I can only imagine.  She is proud of her work but not obvious about it.  To watch her deftly rolling out a clay slab, making vegan scones, or frosting a cake, I have to realize that she has far exceeded me in many areas, and all when I wasn't looking.

The daughter who seemed
afraid to even use the phone now confidently tells off telephone solicitors at work, and has worked vegan items into the menu at her job, where she is now acting kitchen manager of a vegetarian coffeehouse.  Without pushing her ideas, she gently steered us toward a better diet, for which I am very grateful.

She knows what she knows and applies it without needing to let YOU know she knows it.  But look out, if you push her too hard...or too far...

Anyway, this young woman, who shares so many of my interests and some of my passions, has tended to be overlooked in this blog.  I was reminded again this last weekend how proud I am to be her mother, and how much I enjoy being with her (and her husband, Ch*ris, who is 'just like Am*y, only a guy'.  Not really, but real neat anyway).

Wish I could see them more often.

Momeries

Driving home today, I thought of the bathroom that I am re-wallpapering, and how thrilled and amazed my mother would be to know that her daughter lived in a house with more than one bathroom.  That had been my mother’s dream for as long as I was aware.

She’s been gone for so long that I don’t think of her often, don’t miss her in a sentimental way.   She was a practical, efficient woman, who worked in the business world from the time she was 19 until she retired at 63.  She loved me dearly, this was clear, and I her, but I mostly saw her as my number one fan, my ace-in-the-hole, my “plan B” if something had gone wrong and I needed a place to go.

Perhaps she set the tone by telling me that having me was her best friend’s idea, to have someone to keep her company when my dad was traveling for business.  She was past 40 when I was born.  She regarded me, it seemed, with awe, saying things like, “If you didn’t look just like your father, I’d think we got the wrong child”.  They seemed so old that I grew up in mortal fear of her, and my father, dying, leaving me an orphan. 

As time goes by, I remember her mostly in sound bites, which come so automatically to my mind that I think she must be channeling them to me.

“Some people’s children!” (said in a mixture of exasperation and awe—she never took a child psych course but seemed to know just how to boost my ego AND get her point across).

“Never forget that you’re a McCormick!”, which was drilled into her as a child as well.

“If you light a cigarette, the bus will come.” (she should have known—having plenty of experience with both)

“Don’t plan a picnic, or it’ll rain.” (not that we EVER went on a picnic…that was something my friends’ families did, to the Chicago Forest Preserves).

“This too shall pass” (I think this is actually an AA slogan).

“Chickens lay; PEOPLE lie.” (used to reinforce proper grammar).

“IRregardless…” (used to point out that the word ‘irregardless’ is NOT a word….)

“RR-- remove right” (proper way to clear the dishes after a dinner party—take them from the guest’s right side).

“Don’t hit your teeth on the fork when you eat” –advice regarding proper etiquette.

“If it ain’t one damned thing, its another.” (philosophical approach to life)

“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” (variation on the above)

“You can put more (salt) on, but you can’t take it off.” (a rule to live by)

The longer I live, the more I understand her.  Were she alive today, I don’t think that understanding would have been something we could talk about…she just wasn’t a touchy-feely communicative type.  I realize now that the reason she let my disadvantaged best friend spend most of the summer at our place when we were 5 and 6 was NOT out of compassion, but practicality—to keep me company.

And she was NOT running from the dinner TV trays because of coughing fits (that ended in sobbing) on the evenings that my father’s speech was slurred by 7 pm.

I wish that I could have told her how her periodic reminders of where the wills were kept REALLY made me feel.

And how much I appreciate her having commuted (via bus and train) TWICE  in a day to work so she could attend my monthly  hour-long school assemblies.

But I’m GLAD that her (and my father’s) morning routine of coughing was a familiar comfort to me, as a child, and not an indicator of the bronchitis, emphysema, and ultimate lung cancer to come.

I guess that I really DO miss my mom…and I sure wish that she could have lived to stay in our 2 1/2 bathroom home.

Sleep with One Eye Open...

Here is the floor on which I slept (on a comfy air mattress) during my visit to NC.  Kinda sinister, aren't they?  You should see the one with it's eyes rubbed off...

Amy probably wouldn't be creeped out by them...I wasn't either, until I saw them in this large group...

On the Road Again

I think those who have said there should be a minimum "interesting" requirement for people to have/use a blog are probably right.  But, since this is already paid for, and was a gift, I'm going to use it anyway.

It doesn't seem to matter how often I travel--it still always seems like a big adventure, especially by myself.  Well, maybe not driving to Illinois, at least not once you hit Ohio.

And not to North Carolina, until you PASS the DC mixing bowl.  Once you're out on the road, however, the adventure begins.

Had to take Honey to the kennel first--she's fine once she arrives, but the anticipation is horrific!  This is the dog who, when left alone in a parked car for 15 seconds, draws mall security, animal rights vigilantes with bottles of water to pour into the opened windows, and police, writing tickets for animal neglect.  Had to laugh as I passed the "Cat House" at the kennel...thru the open screen door I could hear that they were listening to an audio book...

Driving south--noticing that trees were getting that "green glow".  Neat to fast-forward the seasons, kind of like time travel.  Listening to an interesting book--"My Life with Serial Killers", I think, and talking with Patrick from the Helpful Handyman helped pass the time and wake me up.

Woke up for sure when I saw a sign for diesel gas at $2.19/gallon--after I had filled up the day before for $2.41.  That's another pleasure of road trips...I can pretend I'm a trucker and get a good deal on gas.  Pulled into a place near the far border of Virginia, called "Slip In".  Had to use a phone to call and ask that the pump be turned on.  Went in to pay and the place was empty save people apparently re-claiming it...ladies restroom had a dispenser of TOILET SEAT CLEANER mounted on the towel dispenser, AND a machine vending "Love Kits" for only 75 cents!  Gosh--what guys must take for granted!

I guess that was in Emporia, VA.  Every other business at that exit was shuttered--it was a 'ghost-interchange'.  Got over the border into NC and the diesel was $2.33/gallon--for once, my timing was good.

Not long until I arrived in Katie's school's neck of the woods, where I had come to watch tennis practice.  Past miles and miles of jacked-up mobile homes, small patches of cotton (forgotten from the fall?), mini-swamps and some not so mini, and blossoming red bud trees. 

Pulled into the school parking lot with 35 minutes to spare.  Kids, about to board a bus to a track meet, ran up to the car calling, "Hi, Mz. Smlph Mama!"  Got out to walk around, hoping not to be mistaken for a terrorist, and the trite phrase, "I guess we're not in Kansas anymore" kept coming to me.  I had to think how very different the atmosphere here is from where my daughters attended high school...and how strange it is that I am even here at all, being raised in Chicago (but longing for more).  Basking in the 80 degree dusty, pollen filled air, noticing that the grass has already been cut.

And how utterly strange to have an offspring of mine coaching TENNIS at this "predominantly black school", having to ask the team members for clarification on the rules, doling out laps for swearing, telling guys to pull their pants up so their underwear didn't show.

And how polite most of them were, to me, and to each other...overheard one saying, "We GOTTA be good, Mz. Smlph MOTHER is here!", and me, marveling at how incredibly neat typical, normal teen aged boys really are...

The Week in Review

Smiting Averted

Tuesday started out pretty normal, until Katie called just as my Pad Thai arrived at the Tokyo Cafe.  She asked, in obvious despair, if God could/would smite someone who might not even believe in him.  Obviously, she felt persecuted, this time due to an oil change gone wrong that COULD have truly been the beginning of a nightmare.  With visions of a $5000 engine replacement, lawsuit against the oil change people, rental car, etc. I choked down my dinner.  "A mother is only as happy as her unhappiest child"--that's for sure.  Good reason to limit how many children you have...

Bring Your Snake to Work Day


Today was the official BYStW day at my place.  Funny about snakes--people have this approach/avoidance thing with them.  Have to admit, the folks that live where I work are a pretty open and curious bunch.  The person holding Autumn in this photo is our adult education teacher, a woman who seems irrepressibly good natured and up for any challenge.  NEXT week is "Bring Your Venomous Arachnids to Work Day"--which I can't participate in, but at least one staff member could...

Can You See Me Now?

Wednesday evening brought a return to "glass class", where we were reminded that anything we needed could be purchased from the instructor--no need to shop the internet; "patronize your local small business person".  Zing!  Could he tell by LOOKING at me that I had ordered a bunch of equipment from Stained Glass Warehouse the previous Sunday?  It arrived yesterday, and I saved probably 30% or more...

They MIGHT Be Giants (but I doubt it)

On Thursday, our area was psychologically if not physically crippled by 3" of snow, but that didn't cancel the free promotional concert scheduled by They Might Be Giants at the Borders store in Towson.  Was weird to see the skeleton crew of the two Johns and a drummer that they kept introducing and whose name I can't remember, playing an old blond upright piano, one guitar, the accordion, and a drum set that looked like it just came out of someone's basement.  They were promoting their new kids' DVD, and there were indeed kids there, with their parents and the other 200+ people, who knew the songs already.  To keep their fan base happy, they opened with Istanbul, and played Particle Man and Dr. Worm in addition to alphabet songs (!) in their half-hour set.  Must admit that I enjoy them more with the full, amplified band,horns, keyboards, etc.  but they obviously enjoy what they do, and so does everyone who goes to see them.  At least they dressed like they usually do for their concerts....