Hospital

I admire nurses.  I have spent time with a relative, sitting by her bed, and watched how much they work with patients in a day's time.  I could not do their jobs.  First of all, I have very little stomach for blood.  Second, I have little patience for waiting on people and I'm sure sometimes patients push those buzzards when they don't really need to.  Last, I am always thinking the worst rather than the best.  I have to think of all who walked out healthy rather than those who didn't.  I admire their work and thank them for what they do.

storms

I like storms.  Not dangerous ones but just the occasional thunderstorm that brings a few flashes of lightning but does not knock down trees or split telephone poles.  Because my mother was deathly afraid of storms, one might think I would be too.  Not the case.  The times she made us children sit on the feather bed or the times we had to make sure our feet weren't on the floor only caused me to wonder about her obsessive fear.  When she was widowed at a much younger age than I am, she headed to my house if she thought "a cloud was coming up".  I guess I didn't want to be like that and told myself the value of a storm outweighed the problems it caused.  I have sense enough to respect bad weather, but a good storm is actually quite beautiful.

Paint and food

There is no way I can paint without painting myself.  You see these pert little women on HGTV painting in their designer jeans and silver jewelry and I'm thinking, "No way".  Who are they kidding.  I have never painted anything without the signs of the product being on my arms or in my hair.  Sort of like eating.  I always wear home what I had for supper.  The price you pay when you're too big at the top to keep your top off the table.  

Senior Citizens

When is the last time a senior citizen got in your way?  At the grocery store when she forgot a loaf of bread and sent the bag boy to the other side of the store to get it, holding up the line?  When she chatted too long with a clerk, telling about her aches and pains or grandchildren while you waited behind her.  When you sat down in an office, waiting for an appointment, and an elderly man began telling you how old he was so you would say, "My, you don't look your age!"  Could it have been when you were in a hurry to get to work and a senior driver was poking along in front of you.  In America, we are impatient with senior citizens, aren't we.  I was very impatient..until I became one!

Intrusive Thoughts

Have you ever been busy, enjoying yourself at whatever you were doing, and without warning intrusive thoughts sneak in your mind that make you feel sad?  The thoughts may be of nothing in particular, but a shadow falls over you like a blanket of sorrow.  Can't explain what just happened or why it happened, but it did.You can be with a room of people or alone.  At the beach or sitting in front of the TV.  In a car headed for vacation or at work.   The mind of a women is a curious thing.  I don't think most men have these moments like we do.  We brush them off, but we are never sure when they will return.  No wonder half the world is medicated and the other half need it.  We're all a little depressed, aren't we.  I think I'll get busy now.

Ice Cream

My name is Carol and I am an addict.  I am an ice cream addict, that it.  Addicted to vanilla, but will eat any flavor.  My best source is Dairy Queen but it is no longer serving..closed...gone. My next source is McDonald's.  The problem is it takes three cones to make one good one.  I might order two and pretend it is for someone else.  I hide and eat.  Been known to buy a cone and drive out to Bowling Park and watch the ducks as I eat.  From whom am I hiding?  I don't want to be licking on my cream while driving and take a chance of being seen by some skinny woman who points to me and tells her children to look at the fat lady eating the ice cream.  There, I'll told the truth.  Wish I had a cone right now.

A Stranger in My Own Hometown

I don't know, sometimes, if I am a stranger in my own town or if my town is full of strangers.  Who are these people in the grocery store, walking the aisles and smiling at me with that smile given to strangers?  I don't know the people I meet going in and out of the post office.  I don't know the people working at McDonald's or the new Dollar Store.  (Well, some I know by face and a few by names, but the most are strangers.)  Did they move here while I was buried in a classroom and didn't know there was another world?  Even at church, I'm having to learn more names than the names who were once there.  "Now, who is that," I might whisper to Guy as if he might know.  He looks at me like, "You think I know."  I could honestly have moved to a new town and be no worse off because all of a sudden I am a stranger in my own hometown.

Walking

If I could hire someone to walk for me and exercise, I would.  I hate both unless I'm walking the streets of a city or digging holes for flowers.  When your doctor says,"I'm more worried about your health than you are," it may be time to worry.  With Spring in the air, I need to change my attitude about the security of having no health problems and pretend I do.  If I pretend I do, then maybe I'll get out in the fresh air and walk.  That doesn't mean I want to, but I guess if my doctor cares enough about me to worry, I should too.

Eating

I do not like to watch people eat, do you?  How can you help it when a person dining with you tells you something between bites.  I catch myself, sometimes, doing the same thing.  Eating mannerisms are interesting.  Some people wipe their mouths after each bite.  Some put the napkin in their laps while others put it beside their plate.  Some each wings with their fingers while others try to use a fork.  While some eat like a thief is going to take away their plate, others lolligag over their meal until I am ready to say, "Eat up. We have things to do."  I think watching kids gulp their drinks and ravage their food at school has made me detest eating with a bunch of strangers in restaurants where we are put elbow to elbow. 

 Maybe I'm just strange.

Twitter Me

I am finished trying to keep up with the latest technology.  Over and done.  Finished.  I have always been a gadget person since the onset of computers.  I am surrounded by printers, cameras, two computers, and a host of other necessities.  I joined facebook and thought I was up-to-date.  Not so.  Now I am a left behind because I am not a twitterer.  Not only am I not one, I have no clue what to do or how to do it.  Do I even want to be.  I chose not to text because no one I know is in to texting very much.  Twittering is the new wave and I am drowning in the lack of advancement.  Someone tell me, do I need to twitter?  I can't imagine why, but if I need to, I will learn.

No School

The phone rang at 10 o'clock.  An automated voice said, "This is to inform you that there is no school in Metcalfe County tomorrow."  Whee!  That is wonderful news.  A snow days like this one is such a surprise because who would have thought it would close a day of school.  No school on Friday...a long weekend.  Can you hear me rejoicing, singing, jumping up and down?  Wait a minute.  I don't have to go to school anyway.  Why am I still in the system.  I'm retired. Oh, well, I'm still happy for the teachers and the students. Old habits are hard to break. 

Have a spree

When is the last time you went on a spree?  A shopping spree?  A mad spree?  A ranting spree?  I like to have one now and then, but the end results are not always good.  A shopping spree can end in overloaded credit cards and items of clothing that will hang in the closet with the tags for months.  The thrill in buying ended when the item went into the bag.  I don't have many mad sprees, but when I do I am pretty quiet about it.  Although I want to throw dishes, I know who would have to clean up the mess.  One time I slammed all the kitchen cabinet doors, but no one was at home but me.  What good did that do?  As for ranting, I do that best.  "What in the world did he/she mean.  That was the dumbest thing I've ever seen, etc. etc."  Ranting sprees are safer than shopping and mad sprees.  Safer, especially, if those who annoy you are not around to hear it.  We all need to have a spree once in awhile as long as we don't hurt anyone.  A good spree gets the blood flowing.

Not Finished

The best line I have heard recently when discussing someone who passed away at an old age is "maybe he wasn't finished."  My uncle was buried today at the age of 90.  I never thought of him as old.  He housed tobacco until five years ago.  Never spent a night in a hospital.  He walked straight was a stick and never complained of any ache or pain.  His voice of wisdom was sought by children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews.  He was one of nine and the second to pass away. To live together with brothers and sisters all these years is remarkable.  I once asked why he thought they are got along so well.  "We don't meddle in each other's business."  Meddle was he key word.  He was concerned about all of us, but did not meddle.  His funeral was a testimony to his life.  A long line of cars following this man to the end.  I am forever better because Russell Reece was my uncle and I will miss him.

Topixs

I have only viewed the local topixs once or twice, but that place scares me.  Any place where nameless people can leave harsh, cruel remarks is not a place I want to be.  One of the times I looked I saw where someone was asking if someone else was gay. That's hurtful and gossip spreading.  If he were, maybe he didn't want it all over the county.  If he weren't, he might as well be by the time anonymous readers finished with him.  I hate confrontations and lies about people.  Do you know it is harder to prove a lie false than the truth true?  I know people who look everyday, hoping their names won't be there.  Not all of Topixs does this; some of it is informational.  BUT....

Bachelor

The news, in general, has been bashing and rehashing the Bachelor.  Does it cross our minds that all this is staged?  All this was part of the hype for the show?  I do not, for one minute, think all three parties were not involved.  Makes for good TV.  Would Jason go on every network talk show if he was such a rat?  Surely not. If he had two girls on his mind (and hot tubs and everywhere else they were) then he was conflicted and only proposed because of TV.  Then TV took a twist and wow, we're all watching.  Frankly, I think the theme has run its coarse.  Will Melissa be the new bachelorette?  I'm not watching anymore.  Had it, had it, had it.

Talk

If we all talked less, then we might hear more.  I think that is a lesson the ladies on The View need to learn.  They talk "over" each other to the point that I leave the room in disgust. Women, I hate to say, are notorious for talking at the same time.  We all, I guess, are afraid we are going to forget what we were going to say so we jump right in.  Could that be because we have had to jump right in to be heard? Growing up did we have to talk louder than our brothers to get the attention? Blame everything on our youth.  It works. Hmm.  

As the day ends, Fluffy is posted beside me as I write.  He, the little dog that he is, feels the need to watch over me.  Today he has been bothered by a cat on the back porch, two cars passing the house, a pup howling in the distance, the washer getting one-sided in the spin cycle, and food he wants to eat from my hands.  He sleeps when I sleep and roams when I roam.  He expects Guy to feed him at six and for me to get up at seven.  I am a prisoner to my Maltese. 

Snow Tease

This snow tease is killing me.  I long for a knee-deep snow that will not stick to highways for the safety of those who work on the weekend.  I don't want to play in it or walk in it, I just want to look at it.  Many years have gone by without a "good" snow.  A traffic stopping snow.  I've almost forgotten what one of those was like.  Weather channels tease us about a snow, but the flakes usually move on to the east.  Just this one time I wish I would wake up in the morning to the silence of a "good" snow.

What Would You Do?

The cynical would call me foolish and too trusting.  Maybe so, but what you you have done.  I pulled up to a gas station with a friend of mine and she put the hose in the tank and jumped back in the car.  A young man came to our window from the car at the next pump.  He need to get home and didn't have any gas money.  He looked like a clean-cut boy who hated to ask.  Old car, no gas, no wallet, had taken baby to mother in Glasgow, needed to get to Danville.  (We were in Russell Springs.)  What did I do?  Gave him $6 to buy enough gas to get there. (The only other option was a $20 and I wasn't that nice.)  What would you have done?  

The Price of Silence

How can we Americans live with the idea that there are tent communities springing up across our land where people like us have no home, no jobs, and no money...lost it all to this economy.  What to do?  I don't know.  Here I am with a retirement check -although not a large one- that is guaranteed, a home that I am not in danger of losing, and a way to pay the bills.  I am lucky, but I should not be so blind to others.  Surely we that are somewhat safe and secure can find a way to help those who aren't (that doesn't require money).  No one I know has extra money; just extra time. Seeing those tent communites rattled me. Any ideas?

Out Of The Mouth

The President doesn't use the right pronoun when he says "give it to Michelle and I."  The TV preacher doesn't use the right verb when he says "I learnt".  I seen, I done, I blowed, I have gave, it was froze, he has spoke, the pilot has flew, and he has went (and many others) DRIVE ME NUTS.  Anyone who graduated from high school knows better.  If people know better, then why don't they do better? Why is it important?  Your intelligence is judged as soon as you open your mouth. Kentucky gets a bad rap because of those who find the camera and speak like they went to the third grade.

  I am a grammar snob; I know that, especially when it comes to public speaking or public signs.  Dr. Phil's show yesterday was entitled, "How to not get scammed."  (Split infinitive)  Surely with the staff he has put together, someone would know that "not" should have gone before the "to".  A sign in town reads "Year's Gone By"  Years not year's.  Some mistakes are so small they go unnoticed, but the flagrant ones are as bright as a neon sign.  It is never too late to change bad habits.  For the sake of not being taken lightly, we all need to be aware of how we speak.  Dialect is one thing; bad grammar is another.  I'm stepping down off my stump now.

Who Is In Charge of Happiness?

Every woman I know is in the business of pleasing.  I have been tempted to answer the phone with, "Hello, this is Carol.  What can I do for you today?"  We want to please our children, of course, because if they are happy, we are happy.  We want to please our spouses or boyfriends because if they are happy, we are happy.  Who tries to please us?  When is the last time you were first?  When was the last time you ate first?  When was the last time you were first to sit in the chair while someone else prepared a meal?  Someone else cleaned the house?  Someone else drove the kids to activities all over town?  Someone else put the kids to bed so you could go soak in a tub?  

As long as we live we will be trying to keep everyone else happy.  We know that if we don't, the atmosphere around us will not be a good one.  Who is in charge of happiness?  Women.  Not all women, but most.

The Winner Is.

I am an Oscars follower.  Deep down I always wanted to win one myself.  In order to do that, I would have had to have been in a movie.  In order to do that, I would have had to have been an actress.  In order to do that, I would have had to have left Edmonton.  In order to do that, I would have had to have been an orphan with no ties.  I guess that is why I am not nominated tonight and why I will never get to Hollywood.  Too many ties.

Plastic Surgery

Have you ever seen ANYONE who looked good after plastic surgery?  Their lips are too puffy, their eyes too fix, they jaws too stiff, and their smile too strained.  Beautiful women ruin themselves and not-so-beautiful ones...well, let's just say they don't do themselves any good.  There is a reason it is called "plastic".

A Twig

Have you ever felt like you were a tree limb clinging to a branch, which hangs on to the trunk for dear life?  I'm looking out the window at a tree limb, sagging toward the ground, and thinking about how each of us can relate.  Sometimes we must be the trunk; hold up strong for others.  Often we are the branch, stretched between our parents (especially if they are elderly) on one end and our kids on the other.  The parents are the fragile end, the twig, and our kids are the truck because they are now the stronger generation.

As the weather goes, so goes the twigs.  Sometimes I feel fragile and ready to break when so many things come along to weaken me.  However, what would happen if I did?  My day will come to be a twig, hanging on for dear life, literally, but for now I must be a branch and provide what I can for both the young and old.  Does this make sense?

Decorating and Redecorating

I must not have won the HGTV Dream Home.  No one has called me today, so I guess that means it wasn't me.  I had my heart set on moving to California and into that 2 million dollar home.  Would I have moved into it?  You bet I would have.  Who says I couldn't stay there six months and in Edmonton six months.  The problem would have been paying the taxes on that home.  I would have had to sell mine to pay the taxes on that one.  I guess it was best that I didn't win the home, but I sure had a feeling I might.  So much for my feelings.

Why am I never satisfied with my interior.  Nothing I can do about the exterior, but the inside is constantly a sore thumb.  I have redone every room two or three times since we built our house in'80.  I circle from one point to another and am never satisfied.

I shouldn't go to the home show in Bowling Green tomorrow, but I plan to go to get some new ideas.  As long as I can buy a gallon of paint, I can change a room.  The question is...why do I want to?

"I Love The Rainy Days"

Eddie Rabbit knew my heart when he sang, "I Love The Rainy Days" because I do too.  I feel cozy when it is raining and like the sound of the rain.  When I have nowhere to go or nothing to do, rain is company to me.  I even like thunder and non-threatening storms.  Last night was a good night because I got both.  Maybe I feel this way because my mother was terrified of storms.  Determined not to be, I might have gone too far.  I have enough sense to respect them, but I am only scared when a storm turns into a violent rage.  Enjoy your rainy day.

Nothing Shocks Me

Sarah Palin's daughter was on Greta last night.  She, as the teen would, stumbled through the questions Greta asked about teen sex and having babies and what her parents thought, etc. I don't really know the purpose for the interview, and I felt sorry for the girl.  There was a time, not so long ago, when an unwed mother was sent to a home and the baby taken away and she came back from a "vacation" with a relative.

A thirteen year old boy in England fathered a baby.  Pictures on all the major networks showing the child kissing his child and Mama, who was probably no more than 30 herself (no father in the picture) beaming over her grandchild.  We have some boys who fathered children when they were fourteen and fifteen right here in this county.  There was a time when a thirteen year old would have been playing cars; not having sex.

I have to admit that nothing shocks me anymore.  Gay couples kissing in public, the bachelor rolling around in a hot tub with three women, a single welfare Angelina Jolie look-a-like thinking she can raise 14 kids under the age of 8- I don't blink anymore.  What does that say about me?  If you are exposed to something enough, it ceased to shock you.  Maybe a little shock would be a good thing.

I Don't Want...

I don't want anyone messing up my hair.  Guy will come behind the recliner as I am sitting back watching Oprah or Dr. Phil and ruffle up my hair.  I have told him not to do that but he thinks it's funny.  I'm going to hurt him.

I don't want anyone stopping a conversation with me to answer their cell phone unless it is an emergency.  That is why I hate call waiting.  Who is more important?  Me or that person on the other line.

I don't want someone to tell me what is good for me.  "Oh, you need to walk; it's good for you."  I know what is good for me and when someone else tells me, I don't like it.  Makes me not want to do it.  

I don't want anyone telling me I shouldn't give my children advice.  What is a mother supposed to do?  We are advice givers and they are advice ignorers. 

I don't want a student fresh out of high school calling me Carol.  I never called Ms. Ennis, Ruth.  I didn't call Mr. Gilley, Wilbur.  Call me Carol after you hit thirty.

I don't want what I can or cannot do.  Hey, I can do pretty much what I please.  Can't you?

Valentine's at Chuck E. Cheese

I spent Valentine's Day at Chuck E. Cheese.  I happen to like Chuck E. Cheese if there were none of those crazed kids around. Saturday night there were hundreds of little ones with their grandparents.  We had three-year-old Joseph.  Chuck sat down with us and Joseph was frozen for a few minutes.  Then after pizza he joined in with the rest.  It was all Guy and I could do to keep up with him.  By the end of the two hours his little shoulders were slumped so we left with the tickets to the junk trinkets.  He had rather play with the tickets.  

I have never been one for rides at the fair but I always liked the games.  Toss pennies in plates, throw baseballs at cans, pick up a duck, etc.  My favorite are the shooting games.  There is one at Chuck E. Cheese that requires shooting water at a fire.  I put out lots of points in flames.  Joseph wasn't interested in that game.  Did I feel foolish?  Maybe, but nobody down there knew me.  Sometimes it is nice to be in a place where no one knows your name.  We drove back home late Saturday night and it was probably the most fun I've had on Valentine's Day in years.  I love my yellow roses, but they can't compete with Chuck.

After watching the 20/20 piece, I may not be able to close my eyes without seeing that football player and those other children.  How can we go through life, as good as we might have it, without trying to figure out a way to help those who are at the door of emotion devastation?  We are in the 21st century, for heaven's sake, and these children of the mountain deserve better.  One little girl talked about food running out and then flashed to a picture of Mama and Grandma on the porch smoking.  I am just plain mad and more than anything sad that we have people living right here in my state of Kentucky worse off than some in third world countries.  I hope President Obama was watching.  I hope the world was watching.  I'm so sad.

Out of Poverty

Diane Sawyer did an indepth piece for 20/20 to air Friday night about Children of the Appalachians (Kentucky).  It will be hard for viewers to believe that anyone in the US could still be living this way.  It is hard for me to believe.  However, I have seen some places right here in my county that knocked me down, so to speak.  A carboard shack, trailers with no heat, families piled up in one house and on welfare.  Usually everyone in the family smokes, eats junk food, and drinks soft drinks by the liters.  I know that is not fair to all who live like that but, in general, it is true.  The poor kids come to school starving for good food.  We have a high poverty level right here in South Central Kentucky.  We also have a lot of "bad backs" and "disabilities" that run in families.

If my children were having to live in poverty, I would make it the best situation I could.  I certainly wouldn't be buying cigarettes, playing bingo, or renting movies. I have seen the parents of these neglected children with their pull tabs and cigarettes. One pack of cigarettes would buy a big sack of beans and a gallon of milk.

I am interested in what Diane will show us, but I have been there so I know how mountain people live.  My brother was a trooper in an Eastern Kentucky town and I saw houses with no doors, filth, and indifference.  Sometimes we have to wonder why they don't leave for the sake of their children?  They just don't know where to go.  I will be watching but I know already that whatever people once thought of Kentuckians will be enhanced even more after this program.  What others don't see are those who don't live like that.  Who go to school and find a way out. Getting out of the hole of poverty is a slow climb but after all these years, wouldn't you think we'd be rid of it?

Old Flame

When Alabama sang Old Flame at the first concert I saw, I knew I would never experience anything so memorable.  That was the first time I had seen cigarette lighters flicker across a massive arena.  They were playing in Rupp back in the 80's and Carla, my daughter LOVED Alabama.  Vowed she'd marry Randy Owens.  I told her he was my age; that didn't matter.  She was 12.  I kinda thought he was cute myself.

That song is one of the best loved hits of all times.  Why?  Because so many people I know have never gotten totally over their "old flame".  One or two even talk about or ask if I have seen them lately.  A first love never leaves.  My first was in the second grade.  A little redheaded boy who made my day by just showing up.  I sat at a table across from him and he entertained me.  He liked talking to me and I took that as liking me.  Second grade-imagine.  Then I fell hard in 7th grade but when I would not let him kiss me on a school trip, that ended that relationship.  I liked several boys and several of them would be old flames.  I'm grateful not to have married them, however, because the best one was just around the corner.  The problem with old flames is that if you do the rejecting, the flame goes out.  If they do the dumping, the flame still burns-just a little.  Do you agree?

Messed Up

Michael Phelps messed up.  I am sorry for his mother.  According to what I heard and read, she spent her life helping him prepare for and participate in a lifetime of sporting events that led to the Olympics.  How dare he embarrass her?  How dare he act in such a way as to lose the respect of adults who want their kids to try hard like Michael Phelps; go to practice if they want to excel like Michael Phelps.  I don't want to hear this nonsense that he is human.  That he is young.  That everyone makes mistakes.  Bull.  At his age, he is a man.

When you work hard for something and throw it away for a puff of pot, you are inconsiderate of those who have invested in you and disrespectful to those who have bought your name and most of all, you have disgraceful yourself.  A puff of pot is more than pot; it is a symbol of one's lack of maturity in the face of consequences.  Geraldo claims everyone he knows has smoked pot except Bill O'Reilly.  Well, so what.  Everyone I know, with the exception of perhaps a few, have NOT smoked pot.  

I always feared consequences of doing anything that might embarrass or disgrace my family.  Was he thinking about his mother?  Not one bit.  Someday he will look back at what could have been and how he blew it (or smoked it).  I hope it was worth it.  I don't blame his sponsors for dropping him.  Everyone makes mistakes but that also means we pay for them.  Whether or not he smoked pot doesn't bother me; the fact he disgraced and hurt his mother does.  She deserved better.

How Great Are YOU?

Unfortunately, I can't think of one thing that is am great at doing.  I'm ok at a lot of things, pretty good at others, and maybe a little toward proficient in others, but not great.  Some people are great cooks, some are great at public speaking, some at decorating, others at managing their money.  I cook basic meals, shy away from public speaking, never satisfied with my decorating, and don't even try to manage what little money I have.  

Maybe being great at something places a burden on a person.  A great basketball player is in the spotlight; a great scientist is never finished, a great singer can lose her voice and there goes a concert.  Greatness, to me, is making a mark so as to be remembered: Abe Lincoln, Martin Luther King, Jr., Oprah, Paul McCartney, etc.  When every age knows your name, you must have done something great.  Oh, that may not be true.  I guess the name Charles Manson is well known too.  Ok, maybe know my name for something good!  I guess I just wanted to be great at something.  Maybe it's not too late.

Do you ever wake up and wonder what you are going to do worthwhile today?  The beauty of retirement is waking up whenever you wish; the downfall is not having a plan when you do wake up.  I don't like not having a plan.  I know there are worthwhile things I could do; visit the shut-ins, go to the nursing home and read to people, but how awkward would that be to show up with a book.  I don't want to grow stale, yet I don't want to do what I don't want to do.  Does that make sense?  I should be thankful to be so lucky to have a choice as to what to do with my day.  There were years when I wanted to be free to do that and now I am.  Guess I'll quit whining and do something.

Have you thought about what you want to be when you grow up?  How many of us have "been" what we thought we would be when we were fresh out of high school or college.  I didn't know then what I really wanted to be and still don't.  Not that I didn't love my job-most of the time-but true passion is a job you look at as total pleasure.  Is there such a critter?  Even in the best of times, as we all have learned, there are the worst of times.  Being in a play is great fun, but the practices aren't.  Playing in a game of basketball is great fun, but the practices are not.  Everyone says, "Follow your passion."  That is true, but sometimes the passion for something doesn't pay the bills.  I might have a passion for painting a wall, but I couldn't do it well enough to make a living.  I guess if I painted enough of them I would become a distinguished wall painter, but then would I lose the passion.  Just a thought.

My grandson is in his baby bed as I work on my computer.  He is singing.  I always heard that a singing child is a happy one.  Why wouldn't he be?  Before he went to bed (at 10 o'clock), he had a bowl of grapes and a peanut butter sandwich (I'm hungry, CiCi.) Then he ran up and down the hall just enough to get a spurt of new energy.  Finally, I put him to bed with the agreement that I would sit with him until he went to sleep (at my computer!).  Wouldn't life be grand if we could all be treated and treat each other the way we do three-year-olds.  Cater to them, make sure they are safe, fed, clothed, and happy.  What happens to parents when a child grows older?  Evidently the cute wears off and so does the catering.  Doesn't make sense to me.  I hope I will always cater to my grandchildren and my children.  Maybe I could use a little catering to myself.  Couldn't we all?

I want a stimulus package.  Give me some money and I'll show the world how to use it.  Why not give every person a check and forget all these other handouts.  Give us $200,000 each and we'll get the economy going.  We'll pay for homes, buy cars, pay off debts, send kids to college, eat out, buy clothes, go to movies, buy more food at the grocery store, more CD's, go to concerts, trade old computers for new ones, redecorate a room, buy new furniture, hire people to do yard work, house cleaning, baby-sit, increase insurance, buy a dog and dog food, donate old items to charity, and have our teeth fixed.  The point is that the only way to truly help jump start the economy is to jump start individual families.  We know what we need and we need the money in our hands, not in the hands of Washington.  Here we go again.

This day reminds me of the storm we had years ago that crippled our community.  Guy and I actually played cards in front of the fireplace for days.  Finally, we slid out to a friend's house who had water so we could take a bath because she had electricity for a minute or two.  It was a terrible time, but one I actually remember fondly.

I believe in giving every man the benefit of a doubt, but I am not sure if I can do that concerning the PRP football coach whose player died from over-exposure to the heat during practice.  I have been in situations or known of situations when athletes practiced with high fevers, ran so much they threw up, practiced in extreme heat, and the list goes on.  If parents put their feet down and say, "You're not going to practice", the players fear punishment.  Sit out a game or run laps.  Is there ever a time when a kid should participate in any activity with a heat index 107?  

Coaches are like gods to players and what they say is the supreme word.  Go against that word and they may pay the price.  In this case, the price was the boy's death.  Maybe other coaches who make poor judgments will learn from this.  

I'm sorry for all involved.  I'm sure the coach is a fine man, but the situation is not judging his personality, but his judgment.  All parents of athletes have been faced with keeping their child at home when he shouldn't practice or sending him on.  Most of the time, the coach has more authority than the parents.  It is a tough job that requires more than the knowledge of a sport. 

We Kentuckians have our own way of speaking, don't we?  The buzz today was about the Kentuckian on American Idol whose last words were, "You all be careful."  One of the judges asked him if he was threatening them.  Obviously, they were clueless to our way to responding.  How many times have you visited people and left and someone said, "Be careful"  The judges thought he was threatening them?  Get real.  I'm sure that was staged.

I like our expressions.  "Ya'll come back"  "Be see'n you."  "Don't stay away so long."  "Good to see ya."  "Where you been forever? " Hurry back."  "Don't make yourself so scarce."  If those judges would hang out with us for a "spell" we might teach them how to talk.  "You reckon?"  Dialect is interesting; bad grammar is not.  There is a difference.

I am a sucker for the Oscars and Golden Globes.  Secretly, I wish I were one of those in the audience, waiting for my name to be called so I could wear a long gown and jewels.  There is a little of Cinderella in most of us women.  Unfortunately, some can't seem to find the right shoe.  

(If you read the useless information, realize I didn't write that!)

I envy Michelle Obama.  Not because she is married to the president.  Not because she can live in the White House.  Not because of her clothes, her confidence, her height compared to mine.  I envy her because she won't have to cook or clean for four years.  Now that is living well!

"I do believe I have been changed for the better.

I have been changed for good."  (lyrics from "For Good"

There is a song in the play Wicked, "For Good" when the good witch and the bad witch are parting.  These lines hit a chord in me.  I thought about those who have been in life, whether for a lifetime or a short while, who have changed the way I think about things or changed me for good.  As children, the list is long who help change us, but when we become adults, the list gets shorter because we are less receptive to change.

Who has changed you for the good?  Made you laugh more?  Caused you to see something in a different light.  My friend Becky Bell told about a group of people (I think it was in a Sunday School class) who were told to visualize a horse. (To make a point to go along with their lesson) After some discussion about the fact everyone could visualize a horse, etc. she said, "But we all see a different horse. A horse is a horse, but I saw a black one. What color did you see?  The person near her said, "Mine was a gray one." 

I like to see the horse someone else sees, not just my own.  My friends and acquaintances have changed me for the better and in some cases, changed me for good. I took a look at their horses and understood there are many ways of looking at things...not just my way.  

Think about those who have changed you for the better...changed you for good.  That play did something to me...

Where is the country?  My city relatives refer to where I live as the country as in, "We my come to the country this weekend."  What country would that be?  When I go to the city to visit them, I don't say, "I'm going to the city to visit my cousins."  I say, "I'm going to Louisville or Lexington or wherever they may be. When you live in the country, where exactly do you live? Does that mean wide open spaces? Small population?  Why does this annoy me so much?  Does anyone else feel this way?

Edmonton, Kentucky is a hidden treasure in south central Kentucky. It is hidden because of the Cumberland Parkway passing on its outskirts and 1-65 taking travelers through Bowling Green, north and south.  I never thought about my hometown being a treasure until I aged.  Isn't that the way we all are?  Can't wait to get away and then can't wait to get back.  So many who left straight out of high school can't wait to retire "back home".  

Back home is where we know each other.  An emergency brings out the neighbors to help; not to galk.  A birth is noticed and announced in church.  A death, the same.  A trip to the "store" means going to one of the only grocery stores in town and if you are in a hurry, don't go.  You will run into someone you know and stand in a row of canned goods with your buggy and talk.

Back home is where your relatives stayed when you left.  They live in the same houses as they did when you visited them as a child.  They have added a porch, perhaps, or a bathroom, if they lived in the country, but nothing else has changed much.  The house smells of fried bacon or country ham.

Back home is the place you want to be when you are lonely because someone always knows you...back home.

Carol Perkins Talks About...

Carol Perkins Talks About....
In this blog, I will talk about life in general and life specific to myself and those who find themselves in my words.