Back in Time

The thermometer reached 80 degrees today.

It was the kind of day that took me back in time – to a wonderful time when my children were young.

If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can still see it.

Summertime.

Most days were about the same.

As soon as they were up, they had breakfast, got dressed and headed outside to meet up with neighborhood friends and play until lunch time. There was never a lack of fun things to do. They rode bikes, hiked up into the woods not far from our house, waded the small creek that ran through our neighborhood and anything else they could invent to entertain themselves. It amused me that my children hated going to school, yet, during summer vacation, “playing school” seemed to be great fun.

Ours was a new subdivision and the building was temporarily halted two houses up the hill from ours. That’s where the woods started. The kids loved going into the cool green forest to explore and, some days, when they sensed it was lunchtime, they came home and asked me to fix lunches so they could have a picnic under the trees. They still talk about those picnics in the woods today – a lifetime later.

Whether they shared their lunches with ants under a large tree in the forest or with the family dog at the kitchen table, afterward, they went back to their play and didn’t come home until dinnertime.

But they were never so far away that they couldn’t tell when it was time to go home for dinner. Whether it was instinct or the fact that fathers began coming home from work, they knew. And home they came.

With dirty faces and hands, grimy clothes, shoes that had to be removed just inside the door, and with ravenous appetites, they came!

After clean-up, everyone was seated for dinner. Our kitchen-dining room combination made it necessary for the children to sit at the kitchen bar and Mr. H. and I at the dining table. This meant that two of the children had their backs turned toward us—a recipe for mischief to be sure.

In his working days, after a long, tiring day, Mr. H. wasn’t one for a lot of foolishness at the dinner table, but for some reason, that’s when some of the kids felt like a little fun and games. The eldest girl, Toney, sat with her back to us and thought it hilarious to make her older brothers laugh while pretending to be innocent of any part in it herself. Once or twice was okay, but after several times, Mr. H. would tell the boys, in no uncertain terms, “Stop the foolishness and eat your dinner!”

That only fanned the flame of fun that had already begun to burn. Toney made funny faces until the other children almost choked struggling not to laugh. To pay her back, her brother, Kevin, sometimes rolled bread into little balls and dropped them into her kool-aid or milk. This caused such a stir that everyone got in trouble and, since none of them would say who did what, they all got punished by being told that no one was to speak another word until dinner was over under threat of not getting to go back outside if they did.

This was extremely difficult, even for me. I could see them straining not to laugh and would talk aimlessly to divert their dad's attention. 

Thank goodness, Mr. H. always left the table first, eager to settle down in his recliner and smoke his pipe. The kids dawdled over whatever they didn’t want, spreading it thin over their plates until I’d finally say, “Great, you cleaned it all up!” and excuse them from the table. I can’t count the number of times I found a ring of peas under the edge of my daughter’s plate when I picked it up, and pretended not to notice.

Dinner over, it was off, once more, to find their friends.



Our neighborhood was loaded with kids who gathered in the evenings and played outside games for hours. But when it was almost dark and porch lights began to dot the neighborhood, signaling them that it was time to go home, they exchanged “good-byes” and “see ya’ tomorrows” and trudged toward their homes.

After hot, sudsy baths, sometimes our little urchins had a snack or played a board game before bed, but more often, they were tired, happy kids ready for a night of battery recharging before waking to another busy day.

It was so easy keeping kids happy in those days – even without i-pads, i-phones, or computers. Looking back, it’s hard to believe how contented children were who had less to entertain them. They had to entertain themselves. What a unique concept! And they managed it beautifully. 

It was an amazing time! I’d like to go back there for a visit.

I believe I just did!

 

The Art of Waiting Patiently



Mr. H. went for his pre-op testing today. Things went so badly that now I’m wondering if I’ll ever get him back to the hospital for surgery next week!

The weather didn’t help much either.

About the time he had to leave for his 1:45 appointment, black clouds gathered overhead and, in a matter of a few minutes, it was as dark as night! Torrential rain poured from the angry looking clouds and I, for one, didn’t enjoy it. Storms frighten me.

But hospital tests beckoned so Mr. H. drove on.

At the hospital, he had to park a long distance from the entrance, but fortunately for him, the rain had almost stopped.

Inside, he registered, was given a number and told to have a seat and his number would be called. He put the paper with the number 15 on it into his pocket and sat down to wait.

And wait he did!

At the beginning, there was only one woman waiting besides him.

This shouldn't take long, he thought.

But that was wishful thinking!

He watched while at least four new people entered the room, received a number and sat down – only to be called in very soon. They came, were called, and left with cotton taped to their arms all within a matter of twenty minutes or so while Mr. H. continued to wait.

He was beginning to feel ignored and about ready to leave when a nurse burst through the double doors and said, “Number fifteen.”

Mr. H. didn’t move. Finally, the young woman shouted his name. He jumped up and started toward her saying, “That paper’s been in my pocket so long, I forgot what the number was!” and then he added, “I was about to leave.”

She said, “How long have you been waiting?”

“An hour and twenty minutes,” he said.

“Oh, you’re lucky!” said she. “That’s not long at all!”

Lucky? How can you call waiting one hour and twenty minutes “lucky?”

And so... he had an EKG and a blood test and was finally on his way home, seething.

“If one more thing goes wrong,” he told me, “I won’t be going back!”

~~~

Neither of us is good at waiting. I once left a dentist’s office after a 45 minute wait. I went to the receptionist's desk and said, "I can't spend my whole day here. I'll come back when he has time for me." I was younger then and figured my time was just as important to me as his was to him. But after the dentist apologized profusely, I felt bad and vowed to be more tolerant in the future.

However, I’m still not sure I've mastered the art of waiting patiently.

And it’s clear that Mr. H. hasn’t.  

Ah, what exciting times lie ahead!

 www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton

Awakening Senses

  
 Early morning rain seeps into thirsty

     earth releasing a pleasant

 Aroma that is evident only in this season.

     From my window, I

 See golden daffodils dancing in the gentle

     breeze and

 Hear the cheerful twitter of returning birds;

     Warm sunshine

Caresses my face, delighting my senses
     as I

Taste the delicious sweetness of Springtime

      at last!   
                 ©2015 Peggy Toney Horton~                   

Are You Easily Distracted?

Gazette Columnist, Karin Fuller, recently wrote an interesting column about people who are easily distracted. I loved it!

So curious was Karin as to why some people have trouble staying on track that she did some research and learned that there was a study done by the University College London that found those who are easily sidetracked have “too much brain.”

“According to these researchers, those who get distracted have larger than average volumes of gray matter.” This was supposedly based on test scores and MRI results.

Karin wrote that she finds the condition to be extrememly frustrating, as it regularly interfers with her life.

I understand totally.

Mr. H. often says, “Why don’t you finish one thing before you start something else?”

My son chimes in, “Mother, it drives me crazy when we’re talking and you say, ‘Did I tell you the latest about your sister and her husband... hold that thought.’ And off you go to another room, leaving me to wonder if what happened to my sister was good or bad. What’s worse is, when you come back, you start on a whole new subject. It’s exasperating!”

I suppose their complaints are valid.

Just a few days ago, I walked into the kitchen and saw a text message on my phone. I couldn’t quite make it out so I went looking for my glasses, which I often misplace. Ending up in Mr. H’s den, I told him I was looking for my glasses, but had a few other things to discuss with him, so I sat down and talked for about ten minutes before resuming my search. As I passed the bedroom, I gathered a few dirty clothes and took them to the downstairs laundry room. I started a load of laundry, cleaned the cat box, and got meat from the freezer for dinner before going back upstairs.

In the kitchen, I put the meat in the microwave to thaw, then turned around to see the text message still waiting for me to read, but guess what?

I hadn't found my glasses.

When I went back to the den and told Mr. H. what had happened, he started giving me his usual speech, but I promptly ran and got Karin’s column, which I’d saved, and told him to read it. When he’d finished, he said, “Well, I agree with her about one thing. It certainly is maddening living with a person who is so easily distracted!”

I might have tried to plead my case, but I was already on the computer researching “gray matter.” 

www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton

 

Such is Life



My brain locks up when I try to imagine the quantity of snow Boston has had this winter. As I watch TV news coverage and see snow piled as high as lamp posts and watch people digging their cars out from under several feet of the white stuff, I feel as if I’m watching a sci-fi movie or at least a scene from the movie, Dr. Zhivago.

And I am reminded of the disappointment I felt when I learned recently that the well-known 1965 classic – one of my favorite movies – was not, in fact, filmed in Russia, as we were led to believe, but was actually made in Spain, Canada and Finland. Furthermore, the icy cottage, with its dinky icicles and plaster snow, was built in the mountainous region 100 miles northeast of Madrid at Soria.

I suppose the betrayal I feel is my own fault for taking things too literally – not checking facts. Still, the movie was more romantic when I believed it was filmed in cold, dreary Russia where the illicit lovers struggled to stay together during the turbulent years of the Russian Revolution.

Oh, well. Such is life!  C’est la vie!  Ni modo, así es la vida.

No matter the language, it means the same: there’s nothing we can do about life’s little disappointments!

And nothing we can do about the weather.

Here are a few pictures of Boston’s recent snowfall.

 

 

 

 

Unexpected Events Can Change Your Day

As I opened my sleepy eyes, I saw that Mr. H. was already up and dressed for the day. His look told me something was wrong. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and waited to hear what unexpected event might change the course of our day.

When you’ve been married as long as we have, you learn to recognize an “all is not well” look on your spouse’s face, and sometimes my heart skips a beat until I know the details. Like the morning I awoke to see that look on Mr. H’s face and almost had heart failure when he told me our son’s home had burned to the ground. I couldn’t breathe until he made it clear that everyone got out safely.

Another morning, I awoke when Mr. H. sat down on the side of the bed. The look on his face told me he had something to tell me that I didn’t want to hear! I wanted to close my eyes and ears and go back to sleep, but Mr. H. put his arms around me and said, “I’m afraid I have bad news.” And he proceeded to tell me that our doctor had called to tell me that my mother had pneumonia (along with several other serious conditions), and he wanted me to make a decision whether to put her in the hospital with a feeding tube or take her home and call in Hospice!

Yet another time, I opened my eyes to see Mr. H. dressed in layers of clothing and thought it strange until he said, “Our heat is off.” We’d had a heavy snowfall during the night and many tree branches had fallen across power lines in our area, wreaking havoc with life as people knew it. The fact that it was only a few days until Christmas made it even worse! Our power was off for four days. I’ve never been that cold in my life!

The most recent incident happened seven months ago. Mr. H. stood at my bedside looking grim. My stomach turned flip-flops as I asked, “What’s wrong?” And that’s when he told me there was a message on our answering machine that our youngest daughter had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. She was screaming in pain! She was in the hospital eight days and is not well yet.

With episodes like these in my memory, you can understand why I feel a little anxious when I see “that” look on my husband’s face. I wonder why bad news almost always comes in the morning. I think God must know we can deal with things better after a good night’s sleep.

***

Fortunately, the problem we’re dealing with now is minor compared to the others, but still an inconvenience and somewhat upsetting. “The refrigerator is off,” was Mr. H’s news of the day for me. We’ve been having problems with it for several months, but I’m not much on changing things. I wanted a new refrigerator about as much as my cat, Liza, wants to take a long, hot bath!

Lucky for me, Mr. H. is a refrigeration man and has kept the near-20-year-old fridge limping along for quite a while, but it occurred to me that it’s probably a little tired and ready for the appliance rest home.

Perhaps I should rethink buying a new one.

We have a smaller refrigerator in our downstairs utility room that comes in handy at holiday time when the house is full of kids and grandkids.

So – kitchen fridge emptied and its contents moved downstairs, we went  shopping for a new appliance. I even managed to get a little excited – until  I surveyed what was available and the price tags! Especially the price tags! Good grief! The fridge we bought almost two decades ago is better quality at half the price!

But that’s not the biggest problem. After we walked what seemed like miles looking at the same ones repeatedly, we finally chose one, had the paper work done and it was scheduled to be delivered the next day. Wonderful! you’re thinkin’.

But it was not to be.

When we got home, I walked into our kitchen and looked at the old fridge and the space it was in. It struck me instantly that the new one was just a little taller. I called Mr. H. and sure ‘nuff, when he measured the space, we were short three-quarters of an inch; the new one wouldn’t fit! So... back to the store he went to cancel the order.

A whole afternoon and a lot of energy wasted!

That was several days ago and we’ve exhausted every possibility at every store online looking for that one white refrigerator that is exactly the right height for our space. We’ve come to the conclusion it doesn’t exist – unless we want to go to a much smaller capacity fridge, which we’d rather not.

I don’t understand why everything has to be such a problem. We had a similar problem a few years ago when our microwave went out. Took us forever and a day to find a white one! But we hung in there and finally found it. I’m convinced we’ll find a fridge, too. Eventually.

Just you wait and see! One morning soon, I’ll wake up and see Mr. H. standing by the bed smiling, and I’ll know he has “good news” for a change!
 

 www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton 
 

The First Olive

The first day of February! Can you believe it? One month of our brand new year gone like smoke in the wind!

My mother used to say, “We got the first olive out of the jar – the rest will be easier.” I hope that’s true for this year, although January wasn’t so bad weather-wise. We hardly had any snow at all – only a few light snowfalls that barely covered the ground and lasted only a few hours. However, we did have some single-digit night-time temps.

Cold weather doesn’t bother me; I’m one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to get up and go out to a job every morning. I just sit in front of my fireplace, drink hot tea and do the things I love, like reading or writing. But when those sizzling 80 and 90 degree days of June and July hit, along with scary thunderstorms, I’d like to be a big black bear and hibernate – in reverse, of course.

My son and daughter are completely different. They both live for the hot summertime! I’m sure they were mixed up with other babies at the hospital; neither could possibly belong to me! Just as soon as the holidays are over, Daughter starts making plans for summer vacations (yes, that's plural!). Forced merriment, I call it! According to her, everyone must enjoy the sun, sand, surf and sea. Also seafood, which I could live without from now on!

She already has reservations for the first vacation of the year for herself and her husband. She sent info the other day to show me where they’ll be spending their March mini-vacation. http://www.excellence-resorts.com/caribbean-and-mexico-destinations/excellence-punta-cana

She hasn’t yet divulged where their mid-summer vacation will be – nor the “last farewell to summer” escape that comes oh, about mid-September... or sooner.  But that's not all. Between vacations, they spend weekends at Lake Norman, boating. 

I don’t begrudge her any of this. She and her husband are hard workers. They deserve every good thing that comes their way. I just have trouble understanding why they never take a winter vacation. Skiing and ice skating can be fun, too!

Oh, well. To each his own.

According to Son #One, everyone enjoys planting and tending flowers and growing a few vegetables - vying for the most beautiful yard in the neighborhood while soaking up vitamin D and getting all tanned and healthy looking at the same time. 

He's been trying to convince me since New Year’s Day that spring is almost here. He already has bulbs and seeds planted and is talking about planting tomatoes soon. He swears the days are longer and refuses to believe that we’ll have any more snow. “It’s too warm,” he says.

I remember having snow in March and April a few times, but I don’t argue the point with him. He enjoys his dreams of sunny spring and hot summer days so much that I wouldn’t dare spoil it for him.

My children seem to be getting happier by the day – planning their warm weather activities, so I’ll let them do that.

But, secretly, I’m still dreaming of that one snowfall – just one – deep enough for me to lie down in and make just one snow angel! One! Or a snowman.

That’s not too much to ask, is it? 

Happy February!