Pickin' and Grinnin'

So I was on my way to rehearsal last night and
I looked in the rearview mirror to check my nose
because something was tickling it,
and I was driving and checking, and kind of wiping,
NOT picking,
and I look down and there is a couple walking their dog
and the man is looking right at me.

I made a left turn and I'm thinking,
"SHOOT! That guy thinks I picked my nose!"

Well I am here to state emphatically that I
was NOT picking my nose last night at 6:55pm on Grand River
just before turning onto Elm.

Checking your nose in the rearview mirror
just before meeting with people is a long-standing
practice and should be encouraged in my opinion.

It doesn't have anything to do with picking your nose.
When people pick their noses, they lean their head DOWN.
Think about it.
They do not angle their noses upward,
which is proper nose-checking procedure.

Nose-checking: acceptable, desirable behavior.
Nose-picking: completely different and I was not doing it.

Thank you.

*

Tractor Pull

Time for the annual Pedal Pull during Fireman's Field Days in our little town.
This will be the last year that the twins can compete.
We never really stand a chance against those farm guys and gals.
Fun anyway.

I lost track of twin boy, but soon spotted him in a tree.
Silly me, I was looking on the ground.

There he is, waiting anxiously in the 4 Square shirt...


There he goes!

She's so excited!


Good Sports.

Now the real contest begins...the Tractor Pull

This is serious business.

Small Town, U.S.A.

Style

I like the idea of everybody having a style.
Attractive, repulsive, popular or weird...I think everybody does.

When I was teaching first grade, the bad kids always intrigued me.
I loved their style.
They were so tiny. Such little people,
and yet they were distinctive - different - they stood out in the crowd.

Not their clothes or their face...
their style.

I knew they were naughty, incorrigible,
sometimes stinky,
erratic and compulsive.

But they had a certain flair to them.

Being the big person in the room, it was easy to step back
and see them for who they were.
Little beings just pounding around inside their bodies,
trying to get noticed, trying to yank some love out of somebody.

They fascinated me.
I secretly loved their style.

I had to carry one down to the office once and he kicked me in the leg.
It was easy to love him. It barely hurt.
And it sorta felt like...he finally reached out to me, you know?
Even if it was his sneaker to my shin.

How come it's so much harder to love big people?
Maybe it's because we're the same size,
in the same class,
competing for the same attention.

I betcha it's not so hard for God to love people.
Big ones, small ones.
Dirty, selfish, proud, silly ones.

He'd probably like to help us out more than we let him.

He probably really likes our style.

*

When They Can't Sleep

When they can't sleep, it goes like this:

I cuddle them for a few minutes,
listening to their sad tale of bad dreams
or scary thoughts, or stuffy noses or just general discomfort.
I make low, sympathetic noises and nod my head.

Then I suggest that they put a pair of pajamas on,
instead of the jeans and shirt that they are still wearing.
I say maybe the ponytail can go too.
I ask about whether the teeth have been brushed and then
send them on to complete these tasks, asking them
to come back down when they're ready.

I give them my full attention after that.

I point to the dog and say he needs to go out.
When they come back in I show them
the laundry by the stairs because it needs to be folded.
And after that I send them down to the basement
to throw the wash into the dryer.

As they complete each thing, they return to me a little slower,
a little more sleepy,
a little less happy about being out of bed.

Finally they ask me
if they can try to go to sleep again,
and I let them,
because I am a good mamma,
and my babies need their sleep.

*

Grocery II

Just a few comments this morning about grocery shopping:

1. I love shopping at Walmart, because I don't feel like I have to comb my hair or anything before I get there. This isn't a commentary on the people who work or shop at Walmart, it's just the subliminal message Walmart seems to send to all of us, like the good old church tune,

"Come Just As You Are."

2. I saw these Slipper Genies again, (pictured) and stopped to check them out.
Last time I was there my kids begged me to get some for myself. I can just imagine from their point of view what it would be like to have a mother who glides across the floor
in her Slipper Genies to clean it instead of kneeling on hands and knees, muttering to herself.
Such a happy picture.

3. Cereal is way way way way overpriced. Seriously, 7 bucks for two boxes of cereal?? Seriously??
I got oatmeal.

4. Jiffy's Corn Muffin Mix is still one of the best buys around.
I bought 2 boxes. I don't even need any Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix.
I just wanted to buy something that cost 33 cents.

5. I didn't injure myself, but the incident of the day was making a big pen mark on my face with the ballpoint I was holding. I had my cell phone in the same hand and tried to make a quick call.
Sigh.
I spent a couple of minutes hiding in Office Supplies rubbing it off with my finger and some spit.

Have a great day and Happy Grocery Shopping!

*

Cookie

I haven't had a cookie in a really long time.

Wait, I had one at church a couple of weeks ago,
but that doesn't count because I hadn't had breakfast
and I was starving, foraging in the church kitchen
right after I played music for the service, but before the service got out.

It's like my regular little jaunt after walking off the platform.
I just keep going, right out the back door of the sanctuary,
on down the stairs, in search of a bathroom, some coffee and stray food
before I go back in to sit with the family.

So anyway, the cookie doesn't count because I was so hungry
I barely even recognized its edible-ility
before I mashed it into my mouth and swallowed it.

Sometimes I get like that.

Anyway.

Do you know how sometimes you just
need a cookie?

You can be washing dishes, or typing on the computer
or walking up the stairs and suddenly it just washes over you and you think,
"I need a cookie."

That happens to me a lot,
but I can almost never find a cookie right at the very moment of
my greatest need.

Until tonight.

I was sitting here checking my mail when suddenly that familiar feeling rose up.
I was about to push it back down, because there are never any cookies around here,
when it dawned on me that in the bread drawer was an entire package
of Cool Mint Creme Oreo cookies.

I had bought them for Company yesterday, unsure of whether there would be enough desserts. The ice cream and cookies were the dessert back-up plan.

It was too good to be true.

I wanted a cookie,
and I had a cookie.

And I have never tried a Cool Mint Creme Oreo Cookie before.

I took a bite of it.
A slow warmth spread through my chest.

"This is wonderful," I said as I took another bite.

I looked at the little piece left in my hand.

"You are wonderful," I said to it, aloud.

The dog looked at me funny.
The Teenager called, "What?" from the other room.

But I am not ashamed.

*

Grocery

It is a known fact that when I go to the grocery store, there will be an incident.
I can't help myself, I am incident-prone.

Yesterday, dropping in after church to pick up Ice
and one other thing that I could not remember no matter how many aisles I wandered,
I checked out.

Except that I zipped the ribbon from my shirt-sleeve into my purse.

Immediately I was surrounded by store personnel.
One was carrying my Ice,
one was holding my receipt,
one was asking to help.

I said to none of them in particular, "This is awkward."

The bagger was kind and forthright,
treating my incident as completely normal.
His large fingers closed on the tiny ribbon and expertly yanked it out of the zipper,
sending me on my way.

I think he had been standing there waiting for me.
Maybe they had all been alerted as soon as I stepped into the store.

Would she upset the pyramid of pears?
Would she have another incident involving a shopping cart?
Might she injure herself today?
Will she become light-headed in produce
or hyperventilate while choosing cereal?
Will she run over her own foot or
catch the edge of the diaper display as she is rounding a corner?

Will she even make it out alive??

*

Funky Blogger

I'm so fickle.
But I love that the blog allows me this.
It is a free expression of me - not a job, not a requirement, not an expectation,
not a duty.
There is a beauty about being able to leave it undone, without consequence,
when I need to.
That's probably why I've kept up with it,
not left it abandoned like so many other projects in my life.
Because I don't have to do it.

All that said, here I am back again.
If you read this blog, you'll find that sometimes it lets you down.
Doesn't follow through.
Doesn't keep up.

There you go.

Today is a Saturday and ahead of me are two hours
of sitting under the Spirit Tent
selling Spirit items.

I don't know what these things will be.
Maybe insulated soda can holders.
Maybe t-shirts and hats and keychains.
Maybe a big foam "number one" finger.

I will sit there proudly, with the cash box.
I will pretend I am one of the gang of mothers
who always volunteer at these games.
I will nod and smile, waving "hey" to passerby acquaintances.

But I will always be a half-step out of sync
with the rhythm of this rec league machinery.
My head will not really be in the game.
My Spirit shirt will be a little too new,
and my hat will not quite be broken in.

She will look over for reassurance
that I am there.

And that is why.

*

Conflicted

Okay.

Sometimes I think the word verification
is completely and randomly computer-generated,

and sometimes I just don't know what to believe.

*

Quote of the Day

At Walmart, walking cheerfully through the home improvements section,
twin boy glanced up and read the sign aloud,

"Do It Yourself.

(pause)

Boy, that's kind of rude."

*

Unplugged

A few days ago, we felt the storm coming.
So we went out onto the front porch and watched it blow in.
The trees bending with wind gusts,
lightning flashing, the air growing still again, sky slightly green...

We stayed out there until the power went off,
and then trickled inside to light candles and wait for bedtime.

I got my guitar and the children grabbed theirs and we each played something.
And we really listened, enjoying each other.
Because there was nothing else to draw us away.

Then we started singing a made-up song,
and twin boy invented a little descant,
and we kept singing it over and over,
making little changes each time.

And it went something like this:

Summer rain is falling down.
And it lights up the night sky.
We count one-two-three, Mississippi.

She is scared, and wants to go inside.
But we beg her to stay for a little while.
And we count one-two-three, Mississippi.

In the darkness we play our guitars.
And we watch the candles burn down.
We count one-two-three, Mississippi.

Autumn soon,
Winter next,
Spring then,
Summer now.

Summer now.
One-two-three, Mississippi.
Summer now.
One-two three, Mississippi.

*

Ribbit

We've had tadpoles living in an outdoor plastic "pond",
and recently have begun letting them go 'cuz they're jumping out.



Freedom is a scary thing.



But new friends await.

Slugfest

Last night, a mission to destroy the bean-plant-eating slugs
with salt.

Had to wait until after dark.
Had to use flashlights.










Mission accomplished,
headed home.

And home always looks so good,
'specially after hard work.

A Walking Run-On

Walked behind the twins on rollerblades, dragging the dog,
carrying books and the water bottle, past Kalamink Creek and the deerfly
who always circles me, buzzes me, bites the top of my head
until I am safely past the Gardziella's house and into the village limits,
tugging on the dog leash at every shady tree where
the dog goes prone and pants, begging for rest, when finally we reach
the library and deposit books and rummage a styrofoam cup out of the garbage
to pour water into, helping the dog revive,

and starting back we cross with the light and call out to Mr. Nack who is unloading
industrial furniture into the school, and he waves back, recognizing the twins
because it is a small town, but I am still surprised at that after all this time,
and then we are kind to Duncan, the white retriever who is tied to a tree by
giving him a wide berth and stepping into the street but he still barks with hysterical joy and our dog keeps his head down,
until he sees at the next house the black lab behind the invisible fence, resting demurely, and then our dog is all snarls and raised ruff,

and now we stop talking as the heat bears down and walk the last stretch of road
circled by Brandon on his Huffy, and stopping only to estimate the worth
of the riding lawnmower parked for sale in a yard and we deem it not worth a
hundred bucks, but quietly, because we are silent walkers now intent on home and
rest and shade,
for our water is gone and the deer fly is back.

*

A Close One

If I hadn't cleaned the fridge last night,
I may not have realized how dangerously low we are on
parmesan cheese.



And jelly.



phew.

*

Slug Strategy

We are getting rid of our garden slugs by drowning them in beer.

Apparently they smell it,
are attracted,
slither in to the little beer-filled tins
and drown.

Getting ready to go out and add a few more tins around the bean plants,
I asked twin girl if she thought we ought to pick out the dead slugs
that are already floating in the existing tins....

Middle child piped up that yes we better do that,
in case some slugs happen to look in there and go,

"uh oh."

*

How I Do It

Let's say you have to fill in a form
regarding the number of hours driven for Driver's Ed,
the number of minutes read for the library summer program,
or the amount of time spent studying your spelling list each week.

Let's just say that you hadn't been completely diligent
in keeping these records along the way,
but you are really, really, mostly sure that
the numbers you are filling in are nearly and probably mostly accurate.

Let's just say that you fill that form out in one sitting,
like before you dash out the door to school,
or idling in the library parking lot or whatever.

I feel it is useful to use several different color pens,
crayon or pencil to fill in the circles,
varying the style of your shading -
sometimes on the diagonal from left to right,
sometimes right to left, and sometimes in a circular manner.
No more than three circles filled in with one color at a time.

It lends credibility to the completed form.

This is my method.

*

Pain

I don't ever cry when I think I should.
Sometimes I seem cold, even to myself.

But life has always felt like a dream to me.
So when pain comes, I become an outsider,
looking in, observing.
Disbelieving, really.

I try not to make any sudden moves.

I don't want to jar something loose,
or dislodge anything that might just be
holding me together.

My friend.

I have not really cried for you.

But today I found myself stopped,
as the heaviness grew heavier
and heavier,
and I crawled into bed,
turned off phones,
put the fan on high,
and buried myself.

I could not move.

The heartache that has been placed in your hands
is too much for my mind to comprehend.

But something in my body knows.

*

My Fifteen Minutes (okay maybe forty)

I finally have time to write down the saga....

Wednesday night we were interviewed by Channel 6 news and met Karl the awesome videographer (found out he is a musician too). I wanted to decline the interview, but instead found myself listening to, "Okay don't look at the camera, just look at me, what is your name and how do you spell it?" I still haven't seen the tape but my sister says I actually spoke some coherent words.

The next day we met again to rehearse, have some video taken, and then load up for the Common Ground Music Festival.

After a very strange vehicle procession of three cars trying to stay together, lost parking passes and the assurance that we could "talk ourselves in", we finally made it to the grounds, and unbelievably talked ourselves in! Apparently an SUV filled with amps, guitars and music stands was enough to fool the security guards.

Except...one band member, stranded at the Saginaw gate and not allowed to come in. I have to say that I will take full credit for rescuing him (commandeering a security golf cart and rushing out to get him while fielding frantic phone calls from the stage saying, "where are you? where's Greg? we're doing the sound check NOW!" )

I may also have to take full credit for getting him stuck out there in the first place, but let's not dwell on the negative...

I ended up going onstage, grabbing a crewhand (they were so great) and pointed out my rig, "I have the 1x12, the 2x10, and this amp. I have to go retrieve a lost bandmate, can you just set it up for me?"
He was on it.
I was on it.
I plucked two credentials passes from Thom and dashed off to save the day.

Finally, we were on stage for the sound check, and did all that jazz. I had my camera with me, and decided to forego the cool rockstar persona in favor of waving wildly whenever I saw a friend in the audience and snapping pictures of them, the sound people, the stage, the gathering crowd, the rafters of the hugongous stage...I was a geek. At one point I accidentally stepped on Greg's guitar pedal and something very very bad happened. A very very loud, very very bad sound reverberated through the echoing canyon of a spectator area. I quickly shut it off and made my sad worried face at Greg but he just shrugged and said supportively, "Glad I didn't do that."



I was also texting my yaya and suddenly looked down to see a picture of them on my phone, standing next to the Common Ground sign. The text said, "Do you really think your yaya would miss this??" They came. Diane from Georgia, swooping in and gathering up Joann so that at this very cool moment we could all be together.

Sorta.
I had to get back to the sound stuff and oh yeah I had a set to do!

But first, supper.

We went to this big tent with a huge spread of all sorts of free stuff to eat. I love free food.
I was standing undecidedly by the drink table when this girl comes up to me and says, "Where's the water?" She had a little ponytail, no makeup, jogging shorts, and looked like she really needed some water. I shrugged, "I don't know," I said. She gestured to the igloo container on the table and said, "Is that water?" I said, "No I think that's fruit punch or something."

And thus ends my entire conversation with Sheryl Crow.
Memorable.

Only I didn't know it was Sheryl Crow at the time.
Thus my stunning repartee.

Sheryl Crow has long blond hair in ringlets.
And she's tall and glamorous.
She's not tiny and cute and regular looking.

Only she is.

Keeping in mind that I had no idea who had just asked me for water, I went to sit down with my bandmates in order to poke my salmon, push my sweet potato slices around on my plate, and gnaw on the pineapple upside down cake, feeling slightly ill but in a good, probably-not-going-to-throw-up kind of way.

I glanced over at the table next to us and then whispered to Jon, "Hey, I think that's Sheryl Crow's bassist." I had done my research and checked him out on her website before the gig. "Yeah, probably so," he says, noting that Sheryl Crow is sitting right next to the guy...

Yes, I saw the tiny ponytail girl sitting there, but I didn't connect the dots.

Later in the dressing room Jon would say, "You mean you recognized Sheryl Crow's bassist but you didn't recognize Sheryl Crow?"

Yes, that would be me, over here in the dork corner.


Speaking of the dressing room, oh my goodness there was a dressing room!
More free food. Free snacks!
Just lead me to the tiny Snickers, the cold bottled water and the soda my dahlings...

I was just standing there enjoying the moment, when another band entered the trailer. They had a room on the other side and we shared the common room. Only they weren't hunkered over the free food panting and fanning themselves, they were solely intent on primping.

And primp they did. I looked down at my outfit, which I had thought fairly stylish and watched the girl singer talk about how she needed TWO HOURS to do her hair and makeup. She had a miniskirt and really long boots and really long hair. She had two girlfriends hovering over her with mascara wands and curling irons.

I had fanned my armpits, lined my eyes and dusted my face with powder to get rid of shine.
Yes, stylin.

Anyway, we dashed out the door and they wished us good luck while adding a couple of extra feet to their already amazingly extended eyelashes. I think I felt one brush my back as I tottered out the door in my sensible shoes.

Well I could go on and on.

Anyway, we played the set and it was amazing - the crowd was so great - the drummers played their heads off (pun intended), we all smiled and just enjoyed the vastness of the moment. It was over way way way too quickly.

After the gig it was so great to be able to pull my yaya backstage for a few minutes, and then to just hang out with the band - enjoying some of Sheryl's show, staying too long at IHOP to just wind down (and to get some food, I was suddenly starving, and kept worrying that my platter would not be large enough,) but oh, viva la french toast it was GOOD at 1am!!

Some of the band members...I have no idea why they are holding shorts.


My yaya...



The entire day was so so so good.
One that I will not likely forget very soon.

My favorite part?

All of the well wishes from friends and family, and those amazing people who actually spent their hard-earned money on tickets for this event!

Wow, talk about cool.
Now THAT's cool.

I'm feelin' the love.


peace!

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