The View from Here

Idiot

“You are an idiot!”

“Why in the world did you think this was a good idea?”

“Why did you think you could do this?”

“You are so, so stupid!”

“&^^%$#*^%”

This is only a part of the fabulous conversation I had last night with my worst critic.

Yep, you guessed it. That would be my alter ego- Poor Pitiful Me. I go through this sort of inner dialogue any time I’m faced with a major technological challenge. Now, I know the term “major” will seem outrageous to some of you techno wizard geeks when you hear the rest of my story. You may prepare to laugh raucously while my true friends get out the Kleenex.

This all started at WalMart. I asked the helpful young man in the blue vest a simple question. “Which phone do I need to buy if I’m never, ever going to use it except to dial 911.” He looked at me with an expression that spoke volumes. I will probably be immortalized as the “joke of the day” in the employee lounge. He didn’t even speak, he just pointed. Anyway, I have to give him points for maintaining his composure.

Honestly, I had a cell phone and the regular service a few years ago and it was an absolute waste. I paid $50 a month plus some horrible cancellation fee because after six months I realized I had made two calls! I just don’t talk on the phone that much. I’d rather talk to someone in person if I can.  So this time I got one of those cheap, CHEAP pay-as-you-go phones. All I need to do is call Gary if I have a flat; call 911 if  I need some sort of serious help. Simple plan.

WRONG! This phone has enough “bells and whistles” to launch a space shuttle. I sat down with the 1” thick manual and knew I was in trouble. That’s why they hide it at the bottom of the box so you can’t possibly see it through the package. They know people like me would freak out right there in the store!

I alternately read instructions and punched buttons for five full minutes before the first outburst of my critical conversation began. Of course nothing worked. I couldn’t program Gary’s work number into the address book. Then when I finally got it right it was on speed dial #101 instead of #1. Still don’t know how to fix that! Couldn’t figure out how to make it vibrate instead of ring. Still can’t figure out how to use caller ID to make sure I don’t accept phone calls I don’t want to pay for…and forget text messaging! Voice mail? International calls?? Who do they think I am?

I stomped around and raged for twenty minutes before I gave up and got ready for bed. My final comments to Gary were, “Well, every redneck brain-dead meth dealer in Southeastern Oklahoma seems to have a cell phone! If I have a flat I’ll just wait for one of them to come along and rescue me!” Pretty childish stuff. Total frustration will do that to you.

I know you are thinking that I’m making this up. But I’ve had the same reaction to every new device I’ve ever owned. Ask my children or my poor husband who has to patiently watch me go through this each time. Anything and everything from a new alarm clock to a computer, from a television remote to a microwave terrifies me until I figure it out. I’ve actually lost sleep over not being able to program the VCR. I blame it all squarely on my father, who expected perfection at an early age and always yelled at me if I didn’t bring him the correct wrench or vice grip or socket for whatever he was attempting to repair. I blame it on years of poverty when anything we bought was precious and therefore if it broke it was a tragedy. A broken television might not be replaced for a year! And I blame it on me. I’m too hard on myself. I expect too much. I know I have trouble with technology and yet I set myself up for failure by attempting to use a new device at 9:00pm when I was exhausted. This weekend I will spend as much time as I need to read and re-read the manual until I get this evil little machine to do what I want it to do. I conquered this computer and I’m not going to let a phone the size of a gnat get the best of me!

Besides, if I really can’t figure it out I’ll do what I always do. I’ll call my son! J 

Diet Dilemma

        Sh…don’t tell anyone, but I’ve lost ten pounds. I’m happy about it. I plan to continue with the changes I’ve made in my diet. I hope to lose fifteen more pounds. However, I dread that inevitable day when someone notices and says, “Hey, you’ve lost weight.” In fact, I’m hoping that by losing only a pound a week I’ll just fly under the diet radar until people are used to the “new” me.

I like support when I’m trying to do something difficult. I like a compliment when I do something well. But I hate the attention that dieting attracts. To tell you the truth, most people who are in the middle of some serious diet plan are BORING and I don’t want to join their ranks. I don’t want food or carbs or calories or miles walked to be the only thing I talk about for the next six months. I don’t want every conversation with another human being to start with, “So, how much weight have you lost?” I just want to go on being me- a thinner me- but just me. I want to talk about my family and the weather and school and my town and gardening and all the other things I love.

A few years ago an acquaintance quickly lost about 75 pounds and then gained it back. I honestly think she just couldn’t cope with the reactions of family and friends and co-workers. She knew how to be fat, but she never had time to learn how to be thin. People who lose tremendous amounts of weight often move or change churches or jobs because they want to be accepted for who they are, not constantly compared to who they were.

Why is it that we feel comfortable asking “dieting” people all kinds of personal questions anyway? If a person is fat we don’t walk up and ask, “Okay, what have you been eating?” We don’t say, “Did you walk four miles today?” or “What size is that shirt?” Yet, we ask those questions, and more, the minute a person loses a noticeable amount of weight. Fat= not our business. Thin= tell me how you did it and don’t skip the details. No wonder so many people don’t mind being a few pounds overweight. Nobody bothers them!

I know we are all looking for the “magic answer”, but let’s face facts. We don’t need to ask questions. We know the answer: Eat less, exercise more. What you eat less of is up to you. It doesn’t do me any good if my dieting friend tells me she is losing weight by eating fewer candy bars, because I don’t eat candy bars at all. And my solutions probably won't work for her. So let’s stop hounding people who are losing weight. Let’s give them some space and let them get comfortable with who they are becoming. And if I want to tell you what shirt size I wear I’ll turn the label out where you can see it.

Habitat

 

I’m not going to show you how pitiful my garden looks right now. We’re about two months into a drought and I’m doing the best I can. However, I’m very excited because I finally got my certification as a “Wildlife Habitat”. Our garden is now officially habitat number 70,115. (This photo is from last year.)

The National Wildlife Federation sponsors this program to encourage people to take wildlife into consideration when they are planning and maintaining their gardens. This is the 70^th anniversary of the NWF and their goal is to certify 70,000 backyards by the end of the year. You can see by my number that they have exceeded their goal.

You can read more about the program in the August/September issue of Birds & Blooms or visit their website.

A backyard habitat doesn’t have to be big or elaborate to qualify for the program. It just has to provide food, shelter, water, and nesting or breeding areas. And you’ll be more successful in attracting local wildlife if you use some native plants in your garden. Our visitors include a variety of birds, as well as tortoises, snakes, lizards, rabbits, opossums, armadillos, and raccoons.

A few other tips: I very seldom use any pesticides. I have a brush pile and dead log in a remote area of the yard. I put water in bird baths, dishes, bowls, and saucers in a variety of locations. I have several evergreens for winter protection.

I encourage you to visit the NWF site and consider creating your own little habitat. It just makes you feel good! (Besides when your garden looks a little “messy”, you can just remind your neighbors that it’s a “natural habitat”. )

Scarlet

I have long promised to publish some of my mother’s writing in this blog and today seemed like a good day. I’ve been thinking about her lately because it is getting closer and closer to her birthday. She’s been gone six years and I still miss her. She was a wonderful writer and I hope you enjoy this column she wrote about her mother. (That's my dad with Mom and her mother.)

July 1987

The Gentle Touch by Colleen Simmons

            Red was Mother’s favorite color. And I suspect she was partial to those beautiful variations of scarlet because when she was a girl, this type of visual sensation was considered gaudy and even a sign of scandalous behavior. Red shoes were absolutely forbidden.

            But Mama was stubborn in her refusal to accept these ever-changing, hypocritical rules of dress devised by man.

            Last Sunday morning as I was setting my grandchildren’s table with bright red plastic plates and with mothers’ last birthday gift of drinking glasses embossed with red roses, I thought again of her.

            Life is as brief as the twinkling of a tiny star and yesterday I was her first baby girl…after the arrival of three healthy Springer boys. Although she loved her children equally, Mama frequently reminded me of the special glow surrounding her first-born daughter.

            Now, for almost 40 years, I too have felt the sorrow and the joy of being a mother. And even after all these years, it never ceases to amaze me when I hear and read some of the many and varied opinions we have of what a “good” mother should and should not be.

            Some suppose that becoming a parent suddenly removes a woman from the reality of being an ordinary, everyday person into a realm of virtuous glory where mothers recline on snow white clouds of wonderfulness and understanding. Where halos are shining in the lovely morning mist and garments are eternally without spot or stain. Would you describe your mother in these glowing terms? Mama would have laughed at the very idea.

            As a shy teenager I was often embarrassed by her audacity. She was never hesitant in voicing her mind to pushy traveling salesmen, preachers of false doctrines, and smooth politicians. They soon learned that Mama was a force to be reckoned with.

            Recently a magazine article heading caught my eye: “How do your Children Reflect On You as a Mother?” The message that followed presented this mental picture: “The mother stands immobile. Her children busily engage in life. When her child is naughty, a shabby, unbecoming light is cast on poor Mom and she writhes in shame. On the other hand, if Sissy or Junior win a ‘good behavior’ medal, then a bright shining light is cast on Mom and she beams with maternal pride.”

            Of course, after reading this I began to ask myself “How do I reflect on my mother?” That’s really when the total absurdity and unfairness of that question hit me.

            Did Mama change and become better or worse because of the times during my life when I chose to be unfair to a friend, win a writing award,  make a hateful remark, teach a Bible class, gossip or say a comforting word?

            I’ll be eternally grateful for having a mother who probably never wasted her time in asking herself, “How do my children reflect on me as a mother?” Instead, she spent her time on earth stubbornly maintaining her right to be an individual and to love the color scarlet.

***

Just a note: I laughed when I read the first part of this because it reminded me of an older woman in our church who had very strict ideas about appropriate dress. One day in 1980 my friend wore red shoes to church. The older woman pulled her aside and said, “My daddy always taught us that only one kind of woman wears red shoes. And it isn’t the nice kind!” 

            

Grandma's Apron

Someone sent this “forward” to me in an email and since these never seem to have authors, I’m going to borrow it. It brought back such fond memories! My grandmother always wore an apron. She had “every day” aprons and fancy aprons. Some were embroidered and decorated. As a child I learned to iron by practicing on Gran’s aprons. Some were even starched!  I still have one of the long white ones that she wore to work when she was a cook in a café. As I read this list I could see her doing each of these, especially wiping her brow. She was always standing over a hot stove!

The principal use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath, but along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.

It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.

From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.

When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids.

And when the weather was cold, grandma wrapped it around her arms.

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove.

Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.

From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.

In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.

When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.

When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.

Of course one thing from my childhood was left off the list! Gran always said if I didn’t mind she would “take me over her checkered apron” and spank me! She never did, so I guess she couldn’t find it! J 

Tag

This is one of those silly things I never answer, but because my daughter sent it to me I thought I would post it.

1.If you could build a house anywhere, where would it be? Monterey, CA

2.What's your favorite article of clothing? My gray, zip-front sweatshirt. I know if I’m wearing it I’m at home, comfortable, and it’s spring or fall. 

3.Favorite physical feature of the opposite sex? Smile.

4.What's the last CD that you bought? New Testament. I listen to it on the way to work.

5.Where's your favorite place to be? In my garden.

6.Where's your least favorite place to be? At the dentist.

7.What's your favorite place to be massaged? Shoulders.

8.Strong in mind or strong in body? Mind. (Have you seen this body? Seven surgeries and lots of accidents!)

9.What time do you wake in the morning? 5am

10.What's your favorite kitchen appliance? Coffee maker.

11.What makes you really angry? People who take advantage of me.

12.If you could play any instrument, what would it be? The guitar.

13.Favorite color? Orange.

14.Which do you prefer, sports car or SUV? I drive a Mustang!

15.Do you believe in the afterlife? Absolutely.

16.Favorite children's book? The Rain Babies

17.What is your favorite season? Spring. I love the flowers, especially tulips.

18.What's your least favorite household chore? Moping floors.

19.If you could have one super power, what would it be? Perfect memory.

20.If you have a tattoo, what is it? Are you kidding? Like I’m going to PAY someone to stick me with needles!

21.Can you juggle? Nope.

22.The one person from your past you wish you could go back and talk to? My Granny Simmons. I only met her a couple of times before she died.

23.What's your favorite day? Sunday

24. What's in the trunk of your car? 200 feet of water hose (don’t ask) , “extension” hoe, gloves, garden clippers, tire inflator, flashlight, jumper cables.

25.Which do you prefer, sushi or hamburger? Cheeseburger!

The Key to Success

           I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “behind every successful man there is a powerful woman”. There are many variations- everything from “organized woman” to “nagging woman”. They’re all wrong. Behind every successful man there are TWO women: a wife and a secretary. I told Gary today that I want one of each for Christmas this year. If I had a wife and a secretary I’d not only be successful, I’d be dangerous!! J

            Yesterday we watered the flower bed at the DQ, then delivered some postcards, went to the library, went to the pharmacy, and then bought groceries. I returned home to do laundry, write out lesson plans, answer email, water the flower beds, take out the trash, cook dinner, wash dishes, do more laundry, and pay bills.

           I can handle the twenty-two children in my class. I can teach and sing and pass out tissues and break up arguments. However, today I spent three hours  making thank-you notes, class lists, labels, phone lists, emergency lists, and folders. Those are the time-consuming things that drive me crazy.

           A good wife and secretary would have handled all of the "stuff" that drags me down and I could have edited another chapter of my novel or written a better blog! But you’ll have to settle for this tonight. I still have to wash dishes, iron my clothes for tomorrow, and take a shower!

Survival

My daughter is fond of lists, so I decided to give you one this morning:

• First week of school
• 22 students
• New administration
• 7:15am to 5:30pm
• Very tired body
• Did I mention 22 students?

More this weekend. :)

Great Weekend

This weekend was nearly perfect- lots of fun, food, fellowship, and even a little rain. It was a great way to end the summer!

I completed most of the work on my classroom Thursday, so I spent Friday “taking care of business”. Got the car serviced, picked up a prescription, did the grocery shopping, paid some bills and finished up a couple of projects at home. I did get a bit of a surprise when I got home from town. There was a huge cow standing in my yard and I soon learned that she’d brought along eight of her friends! They spent the afternoon trimming the lawn for me and then settled under the peach trees for the night. The next morning I took a couple of quick pictures. (I started to correct the eyes, but I kind of like the creepy look!)

Saturday morning Gary and I went to work at TRAC’s first Buffalo Trail BBQ. It was a huge success, especially for a new event. We served lunch after the Caddo Roundup Club’s parade. I haven’t heard the official count yet, but I know we fed over 275 people. There was also music and games and just lots and lots of visiting. Be sure to visit my other site for photos. Just click here.

Saturday night Gary and I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean at the REX II Theater. There was a good crowd and we enjoyed talking to more friends. That’s the great thing about attending a local theatre. It’s such an enjoyable experience!

This morning we had great attendance at church. Several people spent the weekend with friends and family to attend the rodeo so we had lots of visitors. And some of our families returned from vacation. More good fellowship.

This afternoon was the best part of the weekend. It rained!!! At first I was so startled I didn’t realize what was happening. I kept hearing this odd sound. Finally it occurred to me to look out the window! Only lasted about ten minutes, but it felt and smelled wonderful. A great reminder that a real rain will come eventually.

Well, I’m off to school tomorrow. Let’s pray I’m up to the challenge!

Cranky

           I’ve been cranky this week. My friends have noticed. My colleagues have noticed. I’m sure my husband has noticed, but is afraid to say anything. I’m on “task overload” and I get a little cranky when I don’t feel somewhat in control of my life.

One of the problems I’m facing is change. None of us like it. And this year I’m getting an overdose, especially at school. New administration, new staff members, new rules, new schedule, new class, new set of parents. Thank goodness I still have the same room! I’ve been hesitant about a few things, like starting school twenty minutes earlier, but I’m sure it will all work out and in a few weeks I’ll be calm again.

Another thing contributing to my crankiness is the heat and drought. I know I’m joined by more than half the country in saying “enough already!” My plants are dying, and the fires are starting again. There were two on Tuesday. I passed one on my way home from school. It burned some pasture and a barn. The one on the other side of town burned a lot of pasture and hay bales. At a time when people are going out of town to buy hay, it must be painful for a farmer to watch his burn.

The transition from my avocation to my vocation always makes me a little cranky. I just finished writing two articles. I’m making real progress on getting my novel critiqued and revised. I’m researching several events for my Caddo history files.  I just finished revising a chapter of a book that will be re-released next month. (Don’t get too excited- I only wrote one chapter!) The problem is that I LOVE to write and I LOVE to teach, but I don’t do justice to either when I’m trying to do both at the same time. So in another week my writing will fade into the background and I’ll be Mrs. Maurer, teacher.

And then there is the whole physical adjustment to working again. That’s the change I really get cranky about. It takes my body a while to adjust to the cement floors, lack of sleep, dehydration, and irregular eating habits that go along with teaching. Standing all day on cement floors is not good for my back or knees or ankles and they protest wildly for the first few weeks. And the lack of sleep? Getting up at 4:45 is my goal this year. Last year I got up at 4:30, but I’m going to try to be more efficient this year. I won’t be walking in the a.m. either, because we are starting a walking program at school and Gary and I are also going to walk in the evenings.  The dehydration and irregular eating are just part of the game. Just too busy most of the time to pay attention to what my body needs. And our kindergartners eat lunch at 10:45. That means I must eat at 10:45! Strange time to have lunch and makes for a very long afternoon.

So… I’m cranky. I’ll probably be cranky for at least a few more weeks. Get over it! I will. Promise.