It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

My mother’s Boston fern is gargantuan. It is beyond anything you could ever purchase at a fern supply institution. (Nursery) The fact that it was her mother’s, now passed down to her, and next to me, is a lovely thing. (Okay…maybe to another sib?) I am honored to prune it when I am visiting. At the same time, I think, “This is truly larger than life. It could eat me?”

Thus, I dedicate this missive to my son, who assisted in the production of “Little Shop of Horrors,” a musical which has never been my favorite, yet I am scrambling to find a theme. A giant blood-thirsty plant? Well, I think I get it. The writers/authors/lyricists had their own mother’s plants to tend.

This fern is absolutely deserving of the entire room it occupies..

When the kids were young we instituted the “Penny Patrol” one summer. All of the coins we found on the ground went in a jar, and then at the end of summer we bought ice cream. We probably collected a whopping 79 cents, enough to pay the tax on the outing.

So while purchasing groceries yesterday, the announcement about a national coin shortage came over the speaker system. All shoppers were asked to use a credit card. That’s when I thought, “I should probably reinstitute Penny Patrol for the nation!” Seriously – we live in a city with one U.S. Mint and we are short on coins? It seems absurd. However, I could start collecting coins for our country – that is something I could do.

Ironically, last summer we sold my father’s coin collection. Who knew we should have held on for another year?

So, those of you reading this blog for any edification are already cognizant of the fact that you are NOT learning a darn thing. However, you are exceedingly important in the chain of communication. If you didn’t read, perhaps my husband wouldn’t read? And then…where would we be?

Sometimes this space is used to communicate important things to my spouse or children. Things that occur to me when they are otherwise occupied and I am not. Perhaps something like, “Oh, and by the way, Mom’s floor is really hard and if you drop an IPad on it – it will shatter.”

To be fair, those of us around the table skimmed what the cost for repair would be and concluded a newer version was really necessary anyway. (After all, I am a professional.)

The good news? My husband does read and learned of my faux pas when you did. Carry on!

The best laid plans of mice and men…

The WiFi was not the problem – rather the lack of a tool for writing on this particular journey. I had to purchase a new Apple product, reload, re-passwordize everything, and pair my keyboard with my new device. Additionally, I had to do it all without the aid of a familial computer geek.

I all know is that my mom’s kitchen floor is extremely solid, unyielding to anything dropped upon its surface. I shall be obtaining some new “grippers” for my keyboard and IPad upon my return.

Anyway…that’s the best-laid plan for now!

Don’t ask me why, but I was thinking about college drop-off days on my adventure through the heartland. I remember I cried after dropping my eldest so far away from home. I missed her before we even said good bye. My son – I looked to heaven and prayed that I could muster tears! I would miss him, of course, but hey, I’d been through this and he was just fine, and I would be just fine, and my house would now stay clean. Even my own mother had no trouble seeing us off after the first one was gone. “There were more of you at home.”

Chatting with my beautiful niece, “Pali,” I asked how the first day of school went for her young ones. She dropped the boys for a half day this week and commented that the littlest guy was not a happy camper, putting on his sad face and getting teary. “Good bye! See you later!”

Good job, Mom! The second one doesn’t always get the same maternal emotions in the same way, do they? Nice to think about back-to-school days.

Let’s say you are heading down the highway going 75 – (Unless of course, one of your graduation years ends somewhere in the high 70’s. Then you are allowed to go that speed.)

You’re plowing along and road construction pops up. The first sign invites you to slow to 65 or risk the fine, then 55, and finally you are “crawling” at 45 mph on the interstate. It seems unbearably slow, even though you are making progress. However, your lane becomes further restricted, construction is occurring on an overpass, and all traffic comes to a halt. You have to sit and wait it out with everybody else.

At this point, you are regretting not stopping at the rest stop previously announced. You are recalculating your time of arrival at the destination ahead. You are suddenly starving and hoping food is on the horizon. Eventually, the flag man a half mile ahead gives the go-ahead, and you pray you get to be in that group.

Analogy time. (or maybe extended metaphor?) This is the pandemic. Some of us were flying along faster than the speed limit. Some of us were driving slower and didn’t feel the halting as quickly. And some of us were stopped anyway, so it really didn’t matter. Eventually we get to move and at some point get up to speed. Perhaps we will even check our speed, increase it or decrease? Throw ourselves into our future, or spend thoughtful time reflecting and enjoying the thorny rose bushes? Take the gifts of the rest stops along the way rather than whizzing by them?

Obviously, I had too much time to think on my drive yesterday! However, I did think this is all about making time good, not about making good time. (Not my initial wisdom. I had to read Robert M. Pirsig’s, “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance,” back in that speed limit era.)

So, just making time good.

Yes…Iam setting sail for other lands. (Those lands being the mother-home and “good life” next door to Colorado.) Thus, I am not quite confident in my ability to write a daily post. Well, I could write it, but I might not be able to post it. So, you receive a reprieve!

Let’s all enjoy the vacation….unless I invade your thoughts with mine. Ahoy!

Whilst continuing to tidy up and organize this past weekend, I was privy to the lovely storage-above-the-garage area, largely ignored for the past 15 years. I hauled my heavy duty shop vacuum up the stairs, extended the electrical cords and began to search for treasures as I discarded old boxes kept for unknown uses.

To say that everything stored there is mostly everyone else’s stuff is quite true. To say that what I acquired in the vacuum was mostly mine, is also true. The winner for items other than dirt were: green boa feathers, (Everywhere!) metallic pompon strips, (From days of yore, obviously) floral lei flowers from the self-made PVC pipe “tiki bar,” and of course, grass skirt strips from the costumes matching the tiki bar. Yes, I acquired an entire wardrobe room in that vacuum, even though my costumes are all kept in one outdated toy box. Somehow, they get used and slowly leave their souls to my attic floor.

Next – I’m going to try and find a home for some concrete cinder blocks which the builder of our home left here 28 years ago. I’m on a roll, anticipating the reopening of the world!

(That reminds me of a song – Jesus Jones’s Song, “Right Here, Right Now..”) Lines from the lyrics which stick in my head: “I was alive and I waited for this…right here, right now, there is no other place I want to be. Right here, right now, watching the world wake up from history.”

Well, the song is actually 29 years old. Just a little history repeating…

While cleaning up around the house this past weekend, I found evidence that my son had brought home a stripper. What was he thinking? He’s not really one to get involved in anything like that, and I wasn’t sure if he needed someone to show him what to do? I didn’t know if he even had the proper equipment! He managed though, and things turned out great on the first try.

It was a success! The table looks beautiful.

When shopping, I try to connect with people, even though we are both masked and standing in the same aisle searching for what is or isn’t on the shelf. You can tell when someone is smiling whether they have Irish eyes or not!

Grocery store cereal aisle:

• Me: Hey.
• Other human shopping: How’s it going?
• Me: Oh it’s going well. How about you?
• Shopper: I feel like I’m making life and death decisions, you know?
• Me: I do. There are too many choices here.

Perhaps my fellow human was referring to the pandemic, but the cereal aisle always overwhelms me. I think we could narrow the whole thing down to about five and be good. It takes me forever to find what is on my list.

Target store while shopping with a friend:

• Friend to six-year old girl with sparkly pink boots: Wow! Those are sure pretty boots! (Actually, I didn’t comment on them because I was secretly coveting them.)
• Dad of girl: Can you say thank you? She liked your boots?
• Girl: Thank you. (Presumably mumbled because I didn’t hear her.)
• Friend: You’re welcome.
• Dad: You can put your dress down now.
• Friend: Don’t give it all away!

And finally, in the candy aisle of the grocery store:

• Me, thinking: Ooh…Dark chocolate or milk?
• Radio in the store starts playing the refrain: “Just walk away Renee…”

No soup for you!