A Real Live Nut!

Upon reading my most recent newspaper column,  http://www.wvgazettemail.com/life/20151206/write-your-own-column-none-the-worse-for-wear
my friend, Carol, texted this:

"You are a nut!! A real live nut!!  What is it with you and your shoe heel?"

I laughed sooo hard!

What both of us were remembering was my visit with her in Florida about four years ago when I arrived with a broken shoe heel. One could hear me coming in the airport long before he/she saw me, as the noise of the floppy shoe heel rang out loud and clear... clickety-clack, clickety-clack. But, I sashayed along as if it were perfectly normal to make a noise like that with each step, even though everyone was staring and whispering behind their hands.  :) (paranoia, anyone?)

But never let it be said that I'm not courageous!  Carol's significant other repaired the shoe while I was there and I wore the very same red shoes on the return trip home!  :)

www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton 

Memories of Chocolate Drops

What is it about Christmastime that stirs up memories? It takes only a simple everyday happening to trigger a wonderful long-ago mind picture!

For instance, this evening, when I made a cup of coffee in my Keurig, I watched, biting my lip, as the coffee kept coming until it was even with the rim of the cup. I was prepared to clean up the mess it was bound to make, but, lucky for me, it stopped just in time.

Instant flashback: my dad sitting at my kitchen table while I poured him a cup of coffee. When I stopped pouring, he pushed the cup toward me and said, “Give me a cup of coffee!” I laughed and finished filling it to the top of the cup. It was a pet-peeve – people who gave him three-quarters of a cup of coffee.

Remembering that led me to other memories of him that are just as sweet.

When I was a little girl, many stores had candy counters where they sold loose candy by the pound. They’d weigh out the amount you wanted, put it in a bag and charge you accordingly.

Every Christmas Eve morning, as far back as I can remember, Daddy would get up early, have breakfast and head out to do some shopping. When he returned a few hours later, he not only had some secret purchases, which he immediately hid, but he also had a large white bag. I always knew what was in it and watched intently as he took individual white bags out of the large one. One contained chocolate drops, (remember those?) another, chocolate covered peanuts, which I loved, and yet another had assorted hard candy. There were candy canes, cinnamon drops, and thick chunks of fudge. Even though my mother always made fudge, it was part of his tradition to buy it too. He also delivered bags of candy to some less-fortunate children in the area. He was a kind man.

Even though he’s been gone for many years, much of my life still revolves around recollections of him.

At Christmastime, whenever I feel overwhelmed and a little out of sorts, as we all do at times, all I have to do is think of my father and the things he'd be doing if he were here – and I smile.  Quote found here.

www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton

Can You Go Home Again?

When I was growing up—and when my children were young—holidays were celebrated one at a time. What a unique concept that would be today!

Only after celebrating the last summer holiday, Labor Day, with family get-togethers, picnics, boating and other activities, did we begin thinking of the next special day – Halloween.

Most people loved Halloween, especially children. It was enjoyed thoroughly and we didn’t even consider the next holiday until this one was over. Thanksgiving, one of the most important days of the year, finally arrived! It was anticipated with excitement by almost everyone. It was a day of giving thanks for our many blessings, and, for most families, it meant a huge feast, football and unforgettable family gatherings.

Then came the big one! The major celebration of the year! The cherry on the sundae...

Christmas!

Believe it or not, part of the beauty of each of those holidays was anticipation. One by one, we savored them – sucked as much enjoyment out of each as possible before going on to the next.

If you sometimes say to yourself, “Holidays aren’t what they used to be.” You're right. When they all run together from the Fourth of July through Christmas, something is lost to be sure.

C’mon, admit it. You’ve been seeing Christmas decorations in stores since early September, haven’t you? About the same time they put Halloween paraphernalia on the shelves, they go ahead and add Christmas items, too. Makes it easier, I suppose.

Everyone I talk to says, “Oh, my! the time goes so fast! It’s just whizzes by!”

Well, of course, it does! We measure time by holidays. Before one is over, we’re already into the next, and the next, and on and on.... Practically everyone I know had their Christmas tree up either before Thanksgiving or the day after. When I was a child, Thanksgiving weekend ushered in the Christmas season. There was no big rush. It was the ultimate “savoring” season.

Ahhh, to experience that feeling just one more time!

Thomas Wolfe wrote the words, You Can’t Go Home Again, but that doesn’t make me long for the past any less. 

Common sense tells me it’s not possible and that I must let go of the past, live in the present and look forward to the future.

But, unfortunately for me, “The mind can't erase what the heart won't set free."   

 www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton

Memories~

Mr. H. and I were discussing our early days this evening while eating dinner. The subject came up about how far back we could actually remember something concrete. I said, “I remember when I was five because I started school that year.” Mr. H. said, “I remember age five, too. Not many details; just that I started school and remember my first grade teacher’s name.”

That conversation didn’t last long, but my mind wandered on...

More memorable than starting school was the special birthday party I had when I was five years old. Seventeen kids attended.

It was a nice day and the party was outside. Actually, after a few games, we got a little too warm and my Aunt Betty urged me to go in the house with her to get a drink of water.

While we were inside, she wandered into my mother’s bedroom and decided to splash on some of her cologne. Turning to me, she said, “Here, let’s put some of this on you, too.” There was just one drawback, which we realized too late. It wasn’t cologne. 

It was fingernail polish remover!

Bad scene! We were wearing beautiful new dresses that were bought for the occasion. They were made of taffeta. Hers was blue and mine was peach. We often got dresses alike. I guess our mothers thought it was cute since we were so close to the same age and size.

When Betty saw that her dress was wet, she started wiping downward on it with both hands. I did the same. Oh my! The dresses started coming apart  - dissolving might be a better word. Betty began crying. I followed suit. So there we stood, our beautiful new dresses in shreds, both bawling like babies when my mother came in.

“For the love of Heaven! What have you two done?” she shrieked. 

“We thought it was perfume,” Betty said, wiping at her tears. 

“Are you mad?” I said, a question that was always uppermost in my mind. It was never a good thing for my mother to be angry! 

Without answering, she said, “Get out of those stinky dresses; you’ve ruined them! I’ll find you something else to put on so you can go back to the party.”

After that, the party wasn’t much fun. We played a few more games, had birthday cake and ice cream and I opened presents. But the luster was gone. And soon, my friends were, too.

Before they left, my mother took a picture of me with my party guests. But one thing was missing – the beautiful peach and blue dresses Betty and I had worn to the party.

Some memories live forever – no matter how young you were when you made them. 

 

www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton

 

Familiar Stirrings

And the rains came.

According to the latest weather report, we can expect rain every day next week except Monday. And since Monday happens to be the first day of October, that works out fine for me.

Is it really here – my favorite month? Is it time, once again, to enjoy thirty-one days of splendid color, clear blue, cloudless skies and cool sunny afternoons? Time for those familiar stirrings inside?

I’ve had those stirrings in October since I was very young. I once attempted to describe them to my grandmother and got back an interesting explanation.

“Wanderlust!” she said, in a rather disgruntled tone.

Bear in mind, I was only about eight to 10 years old.

“What’s wunderlust?” I ask.

“Itchy feet,” she said. “It’s what your great-grandpa Morgan had. You don’t want to give in to it. My daddy went to the store for Mama one October day and never came back! I was only six and my brother, Dan, was three.”

“Where’d Grandpa Morgan go?”

“Who knows? We haven’t seen nor heard from him since. He was a dreamer, like you. Sat around daydreamin’ all the time, talkin’ about seeing the world. Sure couldn’t get no work outta him! Mama was better off without him, if you ask me.”

“What about Grandpa Hester?” I asked her.

“Well, he’s better than nothin’, I guess. Married Mama and helped her raise us kids, he did, but she never got over John Morgan. When his name’s mentioned, her eyes soften like those of an old beer drinker and she tries to hide the smile that turns up the corners of her mouth.”

“Wonder what happened to him?” I persisted.

“Just never you mind, child! If he wanted to be here with Mama and his kids, that’s where he’d be. He was no good and you don’t want to be like him. When you feel those so-called stirrings you talk about, you just get them right outta your head and get busy. There’s nuthin’ like work to make you feel better.You hear me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Now, go on outside and find something to do. I’ve got to get back to work.”

~~~

My stirrings were never mentioned again and I’m sure my grandmother thought she’d nipped that problem in the bud, but I’ve always had them. And it’s not about seeing the world. Truth is, I don’t even like to travel, and I’ve seen enough of the world to satisfy that yearning, if there ever was one. Still, it’s something that happens only in October and nobody seems to understand it, so, although I don’t agree with my grandmother’s assessment, I just “go with it.” It’s easier that way.

Once, a few years ago, at the beginning of October, I told a friend I had stirrings inside and she replied, “Are you pregnant?”

I giggled as the words of my grandmother spilled out: “No, it’s wanderlust.”

We both laughed and it was over for her. But not for me.

Never for me!

www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton

Will They Remember Me?

It was a beautiful afternoon. I’d been sitting at my computer for days. But this day, it was hard to concentrate. I kept looking toward the window – daydreaming the way I did when I was a young girl in school. 

The weather will change soon, I thought, and I’ll wish I’d taken advantage of days like this to soak up some sun and get a little exercise.

It finally got the best of me. I wasn’t writing anything worthwhile anyway, so I told Mr. H. I’d save him a trip by doing the banking he had intended to do and then I'd go over to Ridenour Lake and walk around for a while. He said, “Okay.”

So, I grabbed my sunglasses and car keys and off I went – to do something totally out of character.

I went through the drive-through at the bank, saving time and, about five minutes later, I was pulling into the main drive at the lake. The place seemed to be unusually deserted for such a beautiful day. I saw only two people fishing. Otherwise, it looked like I’d have the place all to myself.

I pulled over to the side of the road and parked and was ready to get out of the car when I noticed about five ducks right in front of my car apparently taking a midday siesta. Hmmmm... I thought. Do I dare get out? The noise of the car door will surely wake them and they’ll come after me. I can’t take a chance. So I sat there in my car trying to decide what to do.

You see, ducks have feathers and wings and beaks just like any other kind of bird – and everyone knows I’m terrified of birds! Ducks bite, too! My daughter was at this same lake once and a duck mistook her toe for food. He grabbed it and she thought he’d never let go. Her toe was sore for a long time.

Looking around, I saw – just down over the hill closer to the lake – a gazebo. There were chairs and benches beside the water and it looked so peaceful.  “I’ll go down there,” I said aloud. “I don’t see any ducks.” So I started the car and drove the short distance to the parking lot in front of the gazebo. Just to be safe, I looked out both sides of the car and toward the back before opening the door. No ducks! Great! I’ll go sit on one of those benches by the water for a while and soak up a little sun.

I opened the car door, got out, closed and locked it and, I swear, I didn’t take more than three steps toward the back of the car before I heard them. And then, I saw them... at least six ducks... coming toward me as fast as they could.  

I unlocked the car door and jumped in so fast my head was swimming and I hoped those silly ducks would go back to their swimming, too.

There I was – confined to the hot car again. Might as well go home, I thought. But decided to text my daughter who lives only a few minutes away from Ridenour and see what she was doing.

Me: Sitting in the car at Ridenour. Wanted to take a walk but the ducks won’t let me outta the car.

Daughter: “Lol. I’m on my way.”

She was there in a few minutes. The ducks were back in the water. So, I got out of the car and we took a short walk together laughingly recalling the last time we spent a beautiful fall afternoon at Ridenour. If you’d like to read about it, click here.

It was pretty hot so we didn’t stay long, but we decided we’d come back for a longer walk as soon as the weather cools off a bit.

Some people believe ducks remember certain people. I sure hope they're wrong!
 

www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton
 

X - Rated



The day didn’t start well!

When I first got up, I was deceived by the fact that there were no negative messages on my phone. Normally, I have at least one message that requires my attention or some news I don’t particularly like.

“I can’t believe I have no bad-news messages this morning,” I said to Mr. H.

But, by the time I walked through the house to the kitchen, the phone was ringing, I answered and learned of a mix-up about an insurance policy that I needed to take care of – right now – and it wasn’t a good time because I had an appointment at 2:30 and still had things to do before getting ready. However, after checking records and making three phone calls, the pressure was lessened to the point that it would keep until after my appointment although it wasn’t completely fixed.

That wasn’t all. There were more phone calls and interruptions until I began to think perhaps I should postpone my appointment. It was for a mammogram. Who wants to do that anyway? It certainly could wait another week or so, but my conscience kept nagging me until, with only a half-hour left to get ready (it usually takes me at least an hour), I told Mr, H. I was going to try it. “I’ll have to rush,” I said.

And rush, I did! When we walked out the door at 2:10, my shirt had only two buttons buttoned and my earrings were in my hand (I never go anywhere with naked ears!). I finished getting ready in the car. We had less than 20 minutes to get from Cross Lanes to Kanawha City – approximately 10 miles. Of course we couldn’t make it.

“So, I’ll be a little late,” I said. “I always have to wait anyway.” But we were lucky. It was a nice, sunny day, not much traffic and no road construction! We pulled onto the parking lot at 2:40. I was 10 minutes late.

There was no one in the Breast Center except the workers. It was as quiet as a tomb. I was taken right in and the whole procedure, paper work and all – took only about 25 minutes.

Mr. H. smiled when I came out of the procedure room and said, “That didn’t take long.”

We strolled to the car feeling pretty good about getting this yearly thing done so smoothly since it has, in the past, taken a whole afternoon and worn us out. Actually, I was feeling a little silly and impish, like I sometimes do when things are going well.

We got into the car and I said, “I have something to show you.”

“Okay,” said Mr. H.

(The next paragraph is for women only!

MEN, don’t read this! You won’t understand it anyway.)

I pulled the top of my shirt down just enough to expose what I wanted him to see and said, “Look at these cute little Band-Aids they put on me.”

“Uh-huh,” said Mr. H., and then quite seriously, he added, “I guess everyone has seen them now. There’s a camera on that pole in front of us.”

“What?” I squealed, pulling my shirt up so fast I almost tore it.

Mr. H. broke into laughter and laughed so hard that he shook – and I knew I’d been had!

I owe him one!
 

 www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton