It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

Reading my favorite Dr. Seuss book, “There’s a Wocket in My Pocket,” always gives me pause on the “vug” page. I get the feeling that I should be vacuuming something, looking for that vug under the rug.

One of these days I’ll put my own stories to print. My hold-up has been the illustration process. I can copy, but I can’t draw anything worthy on my own. Perhaps I shall employ a personal AI assistant? (Thank you, Son, for that encouragement!)

Time to create my masterpiece. If I can only find where I filed the story? Another cup of coffee should aid in this. Stay tuned.

”The Naked and the Dead,” is the novel I have been plowing through. Norman Mailer. How coincidental there is a documentary on him in theaters now?

Actually, I began “plowing” through and have come to the “can’t wait to finish” status. The writing depicts the men of a platoon during WWII. Rough language, rough characters, and in-depth studies of the men who braved their way in a culture of war. I like to think I can tough out bad situations, but after his descriptions of intimate moments with death, sickness, anti-Semitism, constant weather challenges and personality clashes, I would have folded early on. I’m glad I stuck with this tome. It has been enlightening. I have felt the moods and quirks of these men, smelled the odors they lived with, languished in the despair they endured. Now I have to see who survives!

And…it’s one of those rich books where I’m hanging on each and every word written so masterfully. I’ll be heading to a theater soon!

Past Independence Day celebrations included yard work, tree removal, and various home projects waiting their turn. I use The Fourth as the marker for trimming shrubs in the front yard. I’m pretty sure this “yard” business started years ago in my youth.

We kids waited patiently for Dad to come home from work – what was being harvested in July? I assume winter wheat? Anyway, to bide the time we probably mowed the lawn and helped Mom get ready for the big fireworks show! Our father enjoyed lighting some displays – and usually he brought them home that evening. I know it’s where my love for igniting fireworks began, as well as my enjoyment of yard work. The two are connected.

Tonight from our porch we will see Denver and its many displays in the distance – and my neighbor, a decent guy, will most likely set off a huge show in the sky. We will applaud. I only hope he quits the celebration by midnight. My bedroom window faces his property!

Enjoy your independence and remember those who set the path for it.

Genes run strong in my family!

Yesterday I went to a funeral for a cousin’s wife, a lovely woman. My cousin has six brothers and two sisters. The sisters are easy to distinguish. The brothers? I don’t see them often enough to pinpoint them, though I know they are one of six names.

Through subterfuge I was able to ascertain all of the individuals by name. One cousin is the spitting image of my 93-year old uncle. I just stared and was taken back to my youth – viewing my uncle when I was a younger me. And my uncle and father looked very similar. So then I’m thinking about my father, too. Suddenly, I’m thinking I should organize a family reunion to try and hold on to these people! Of course I could do this! Long distance organization! Easy peasy!

And then I came home and vacuumed. Maybe another day?

It’s the name of the game where you keep the balloon from touching the ground under any circumstances. We play it religiously whenever the eldest grand graces our home. Yesterday, the balloon met its ultimate fate – a pair of scissors to hasten its demise.

It’s actually a great game for hand-eye coordination and neck strengthening, as well as encouragement for breath support when you have to acquire a new balloon. I have found this simple game rather useful in my exercise regime, even though it gets a little tedious. It is often followed by another functional breathing technique – blowing bubbles. This entertaining exertion can last nearly as long as a game of Keepy Uppy. (Rumored to have been played for 20 minutes at a time.)

A flimsy excuse for not hitting the gym at all last week, and yet, not entirely without results! Now I shall attempt my “sit and be fit” moment with a cup of caffeine and make it a memorable Monday.

My hair stylist has been doing my hair for over 20 years. I have followed her many moves and know of her family and her travels. Thus, it always amazes me when she asks me as she revs up the scissors, “Which side do you part your hair on?” I have given her the identical answer for years. “Same as yours.”

We marked a milestone this week. She didn’t ask, and she actually found the correct side! I’m not sure what changed and if this landmark recognition will hold, but I had a chuckle over it.

The next time she asks – I may throw her off course and see what happens? Oh, the little things we do for entertainment.

The only difference in my closet is that the spit-up clothes are hanging up on the side hooks of the closet, not neatly filed on a hanger.

Oh, things are definitely less-spit-up-upon now. Yet there are the days when the baby food remnants from a sneeze after an orange purée of something, the dribbles from a snotty nose, and the loose-fitting bottle lid drips adorn whatever chosen garment protects me.

Small price to pay for the cuteness of those little gems, and I wouldn’t change a thing!

The seven continents have been attained – and it wasn’t even a goal for me. (Playing the guitar was and I have totally given up on that. Silly me! I have a much-less portable instrument. Piano.)

Europe was easy as I made myself a chaperone on a college music trip. (Why would my previous music department go on tour without me? I could easily be a chaperone!) Australia was always a desire, deep in my soul, so I knew that I was going to get there at some point. Back in fifth grade with my Australian pen pal – I remember her name vividly but shan’t reveal it – I knew I would be a traveler. She never wrote back, but I wrote her! What is she doing now? Maybe that should be my adventure? Her initials are CMW.

South America – well, that was also within reach. We are neighbors. Africa – blessed to go a couple of times thanks to business ventures and rewards. Asia? Total fluke. I missed the boat, but I did step foot on Asian soil. Refer to a previous missive.

Antarctica was a dream with “Pindy,” my sister, and we were doing it! Oops! I did get there with Pindy, just a different one! (I love how God works in such mysterious and wonderful ways!)

So when people would ask me, “Where is your favorite place out of all your travels?” My first and only answer was always, “home.” And if I only have one trip left in me, take me home.

Trying to get an early jump on continued mowing, I was musing about the length of the weeds this morning. I would let Mother Nature run her course, but then there is always the risk of snakes, rabbits, and mice making their homes in my yard. This contemplation brought to mind the critters I have actually mowed over in the past, when there was less development around here and definitely more animal kingdom presence.

Thus, it was with a passing interest that I considered I had never knowingly mowed over a mouse. Less than ten minutes later, a little guy scampers out from “Hell Hill,” the patch I cannot fully mow because it’s too steep. He was a cutie, too. Hopefully he found someplace other than my window well, because pulling them out of there is another task for this maintenance mama.

Next on the list? Insect abatement. I’m off to spray my spearmint concoction to thwart the grasshoppers who are thriving in this heat.

”…but not a green dress, that’s cruel.”

The band, “Barenaked Ladies” sings this line, which really always rankled me. Who in the world wore a horrible green dress? No one. Green is always beautiful. Thus, yesterday when I had a lovely luncheon and opportunity to visit a boutique, I challenged the band’s pronouncement.

Dining in the restaurant with my friend, “Pann,” a woman walked in with a pretty three-tiered grass-green dress. I made the comment to my luncheon companion, “I would like a green dress.” An hour later we walked through a cute boutique and there for all to see – a green dress. I bought it.

Although the frock I admired in the restaurant was not a tattered, ragged-hemmed garment with a bold “peace” sign on it like the one I purchased, I still have a new green shift fulfilling the desire I stated to the universe. It was the perfect answer to my wish, funky and yet, obviously, green.

The Lord works in mysterious ways and that was quick! I was just trying to take some of the guessing out of the game.