The View from Here

Three Days

           I feel like I’ve been trapped in a bad episode of “Trading Spaces”. I’ve spent the last three days working on the house. And while the results are good, the process has been exhausting and filled with little mishaps. I don’t know how the professionals do it.  Surely they must edit all the mishaps out of TS! They can’t work as long and as hard as they do on a project without making mistakes. Can they?

Day One- I decided to hang the drapes in the living room. Sounds easy, right? Well, the three-part traverse rods that had been in my old house for four years were in bits and pieces in a box. That means it took me a good fifteen minutes of trial and error just to remember how to put them together! (Three-part rods have a rod for a drape, one for a valance, and one for a sheer- all neatly rolled into one gizmo.) Got the ladder, an assortment of tools, and began with a positive smile. First I had drill bit problems, which Gary corrected. Then I dropped a screw- from the top of the ladder. That meant an extra trip up and down. Then I realized I had the wrong screwdriver- again. Gary had pointed that out before he left for work and handed me the correct one, but I left it in the window sill when I moved the ladder. Up and down. Then it started storming outside  and a torrential rain hit the house and a drip started just above my ladder. Another wasted trip up and down to get a bucket. Lost my positive smile in the process. I have to point out that my knees, along with the rest of my body parts, are wearing out and they do not like ladders. They especially do not like going up and down ladders a dozen times! Anyway, I moved on to the third and last rod and had the left bracket in place when I realized it was actually the right bracket. Had to take it down, put the left one up. An hour later I finally got the brackets and rods in place.

Then I discovered that cleaning the drapes had loosened a seam in one, so I had to drag out the sewing machine and repair it. While I had it out I got the bright idea to make two new pillow covers with the extra fabric from last week’s chair project. Couldn’t find my sewing box in the chaos of boxes still strewn around the spare room. After I stubbed my toe and dug around a bit I finally located it. Made one pillow cover and realized it was an inch too wide. Snip, snip, sew again. (Made a note to self to measure more carefully next time.)

Spent the afternoon painting.  Each afternoon I’ve been painting the dining room. It’s a tedious process. There is carpeting and furniture in the room so I have to be very careful. I could use a roller, but I don’t have a good history with rollers so I’m using a wide brush. I have to use a ladder, and stand on the third rung because I’m so short, and I have to be very, very, very careful because if I have one more accident my family is going to trade me in for a new model. (I once forgot I was on the second step of a ladder and simply “stepped off”. Trust me…painful.) Each wall of the dining room has to have two coats of paint because just one coat of pale guacamole green over baby blue looks odd. I know, I know…I should have used a primer coat first.

Day Two- Started the day with Tylenol so the knees would cooperate. Pressed all the drapes and hung them. Unpacked a dozen boxes. Spent the afternoon painting.

Day Three- More Tylenol. Cleaned the patio. Threw out lots of odds and ends of stuff that was soaked and ruined because the rain actually blew sideways and under the patio roof. Cleaned the back porch. Spent the afternoon painting the dining room. I’ve finished all of the first coat and half of the second coat. Tomorrow, if all goes well, I’ll finish the other half.

Next week- hang the drapes in the dining room and paint the bathroom! Where is that TS crew when I need them?

More Serendipity

I ran across a precious item today! Here is a letter to Santa Claus written by my mother in 1936! She was only four years old. (Probably had a little help with the letter. J) It was published in the Caddo Herald.

Dear Santa Claus,

My brothers are writing to you so I will write and tell you I want a baby doll that will cry. If you bring me another Kitty like you did last year, bring daddy one, too, so I can play with mine part of the time. I am only four years old, but I can eat as much fruit and candy as anybody.

Colleen Springer

Here are the letters written by her brothers:

Dear Santa Claus,

I have been a good boy. I want you to bring me a BB gun that will hold 1000 shots and a box of shots and lots of nuts, fruit and candy. We are going to have a nice program Christmas eve. I hope you are here in time to hear my speech.

Curtis Springer

Dear Santa Claus,

I am six years old and have been pretty good especially the last four days. I want an air rifle with some shots. You can bring that to the tree and I am going to hang up my stocking and you can fill it with fruit, nuts and candy. You know two years ago when you came, you sounded just like Abb Henninger, but maybe you just had a bad cold. Be careful and don’t have car trouble before you reach Liberty.

O.C. Springer

In the same issue are letters from Floydene Morgan, Daisieela Crossett, Clifton Lamb, Benjamin Wingfield, Minnewanka Ellis, Mariwanda Ellis, Jimmie Oscar Nail, Gloria Nell Nail, Paul Stanley, Sue Freeny, Mary Choate, T.J. Witherspoon, Mary Sue Harris, Mack Henry, Harold Slack, John Anderson, Nina Floyd Joines, Ida Lee Draper, Billy Joe Burrough, Nadine Guthrie (teacher), Aline Matlock, Roy Lake Barber, Ray Hogan, Betty Jo Turner, Charleen (?),  Fayzell Key, Nelamae Smith, Martha Jean Adams, Russell Dukes, Ruel boydston, Harold Gester, Billy Jene Jones, Della Mae Bowman, Gay Kropp, Gene Guffrie Wilson, Billy Carroll Smithart, John Earl Lasswell, L.C. Key, Lorine Park, Grace Head, J.M. Peters, Dean Peters, Bobbie Jewel Wells, Ralph Patterson, and James Anderson. If anyone recognizes a name and wants me to send their letter just post your request in the comments below or send me an email. I’ll also try to post a few other letters from time to time.

Makes me happy...

           I’m no Martha Stewart. I think I’ve made that clear before. However, after spending the afternoon unpacking my elephant collection, I’m not sure I should even speak her name. After all, anyone who actually owns and displays over a hundred elephant items and photos has crossed the line and no longer cares about the rules of decorating. Whatever. They make me happy.

            This house makes me happy. Even with the rain pouring down and some of it dripping on the laundry room floor, I’m still happy to be here. The way the house is laid out suits me. Now that I’m adding more of my colors and things it feels more comfortable and more like home than our old house ever did. I can’t say exactly why, but it just does.

And the peace of it still soothes me. No dogs. No dusty traffic. No distant but disturbing yelling. Just the wind and the birds. I love to see the rabbits playing in the yard and deer running across the back pasture and the cows standing by the front gate. I love to hear the doves cooing and the mockingbird calling and the swallows diving in and out of the porch eaves. I love to stand at the kitchen window and watch the water ripple across the pond.

I started working in the garden yesterday. The former residents had goats in a large pen out back. That’s where I’ll plant a few things this year because it was easy to clear of weeds. There was a brief lull in the rain and I managed to plant some gourds and beans. I have tomato plants, but will wait a few days to put them out. Today the whole yard is a flood.

This will be the “flood of 2007” for many people in our area. We’re on top of a hill so we just watched the pond swell and the creek overflow. But others have water in their homes. The rainfall has been 2”-6” for the county since Thursday. But I think most of it fell in about two hours this morning. Too much too fast.

I will spend this week painting, writing, and researching. For those of you who read my stories I have begun to post on “Stories Too Long” again. I’m sorry for all of the delays. Moving, school, you know…

Pirates and Treasures

          First, YES, I’m going to see the new “Pirates of the Caribbean” movie. How could I see the first two and not see the third? And, NO, no, no way… I’m not going to watch the new “Pirates” series on television. I already know people can be evil and greedy and manipulative. I don’t want to watch a show that brags about it!

Did you see the guy on television who found all the coins? Wow! I’m not as interested in what he’s going to do with them as I am in why they were on a ship in the first place. Who had them? Where were they going? Why? That’s the real story.

Found my own treasures this week! I’m finally unpacking the rest of this stuff. Since we were already functioning quite well, you know that the stuff I’m unpacking now is “useless, sentimental crap” (according to my son) that I could do without. However, it’s been a joy to unpack it. You forget about things when they are on shelves or tucked away in boxes for years. Imagine my delight in re-discovering my great-grandmother’s salt and pepper shakers, my daughter’s baby shoes, my wedding dress, and my tattered copy of Little Women. Gary flipped open an old photo album I’d left on the dining room table and became lost in happy memories of when our granddaughter lived with us for a year. Not only was she just a toddler, but we were younger and thinner!            

I also came across a photo album of “before” and “after” pictures of our old house and garden. Made me feel much better about the work to be done here! I’d forgotten how bare the old place was when we moved in.

Our friends lost their treasures, and everything else, when a fire destroyed their home this week. I grieve for them. But it’s just a reminder that even though I enjoy being surrounded by my collections and knick knacks, it’s the memories in my heart and mind that are important. It’s the experiences and relationships and feelings that we carry with us forever, not the things, no matter how precious they seem. It’s our spirit and heart and courage that others will remember after we are gone. So today I encourage you to do something that you and your loved ones will remember in the years ahead. Live life to the fullest. Make friends. Go places. Do things. Make memories to treasure. 

Busy Day

           I have to start today with a bit of advice. Never, never assume that it will be easy to paint a room AFTER the furniture is moved into it. I don’t care if you have to postpone moving, or stay up until midnight- paint that room while it is empty! Otherwise you’ll find yourself on your stomach in a very awkward position, painting the baseboard behind a desk. And the next day you will be so, so sore! Also make sure there isn’t a cat in the room when you start painting. I’m just saying…things can happen.

            I did finish painting the office yesterday. Everyone say “Yeah!”. I’m almost finished with unpacking my office junk. Found a perfect piece of fabric at Craighead’s so I can reupholster the seats of my two office chairs to match the walls. (Also bought the cutest little bird figurines to go with my birdhouse collection.)

            Next painting project will be the dining room, but there is LOTS of taping involved so I may not get to it until Friday. Can’t wait for that room to change from baby blue to celery green!

            Got a strange phone call yesterday. You have to picture me on my hands and knees painting when the phone rang. I struggle to get to the phone and this guy says, “Is this Mary Maurer?” Already I’m poised to hang up on the telemarketer. “I’d like to talk to you about your oil rights on lot___ in Stephens county,” he continues. I told him I don’t even know where Stephens county is, but meanwhile I’m thinking, “if I had oil rights, honey, I wouldn’t be on my hands and knees painting my own baseboards!” Turns out he was looking for Mary Francis Maurer. I told a friend later that for oil rights I’d let him call me Francis! J

            After the painting was finished and the rain stopped I mowed the lawn for about on hour. I’ve decided that I need to walk at least half an hour each day, so it might as well be behind the mower. Also planted some lantana.

            This morning I awoke to find that the cows were all in the yard. I don’t know if we left the gate open or they rubbed the latch until it opened. They love to rub and lick my car! Anyway, I have to go out in few minutes and see how many of the solar lights will need to be replaced, put the birdbaths back up, re-hang a couple of bird feeders, and collect some fertilizer.

            Today, after I mow for another hour,  I’m off to the genealogy library to retrieve a folder I left there on Monday. I’m also going to Goodwill and the public library to drop off some donations. Then back to Caddo to examine the next area for a flower project. Then back home to unpack more stuff. I thought vacations were supposed to be relaxing!

Tragedy

          It's difficult to describe what I've been feeling since I got the phone call early yesterday morning. Sadness, loss, outrage, disbelief, guilt, anger. Everything in my heart and mind has been jumbled up. The father of one of my students killed his girlfriend, leaving my student and his siblings without a mother. Even the word "girlfriend", used by the media, upset me because they have been together for years. They had four children. And now those children will also spend their lives without a father, or a father they see only in prison. Some people lead such tragic lives.

          I immediately wished I had spent more time talking with the mother. I wonder if I could have talked her into leaving him. She had a restraining order, but went back to him anyway. Been there, done that. But I was one of the lucky ones. I eventually moved away and stayed away from my first husband. The ones that stay in abusive relationships are the ones who believe they can work miracles, believe that they will be the one to change the anger and violence into respect and love. It seldom works that way.

          As teachers we are usually aware of a few family problems. But children talk mostly of happy times. They want things to be that way. When we do pick up clues or hear bits and pieces of information the problem is knowing when to cross the line and discuss a child's home life. Reading and writing and math are the usual parent/teacher topics, not drugs and violence and restraining orders. I've reported abuse of a child, talked to a sheriff, and even appeared in court on behalf of a child. However, I've never interfered in the relationship between two adults. I hope that doesn't become a necessary part of my job.

          So I leave you today with a request. If you are in a situation that might lead to violence, get out. Get out now. I don't want to get a phone call about you.

Handkerchiefs

          I’ve said before that memories pop into our brains at the oddest times. Yesterday we were enjoying the car show in Caddo and I walked down the street to visit with my friend Belinda at Craighead’s variety store. While we were talking I glanced down at the counter and spotted a small folded handkerchief printed with delicate pink flowers. The memories came tumbling one after the other…

The first thought that came to mind was a hot iron. I learned to iron by ironing my grandfather’s plain white handkerchiefs. The big squares of cotton fabric were just the right size for ironing practice. Gran even made me starch them!  I won’t tell you how many I ruined, but more than a few had scorch marks before my skill improved.

Gran always carried a handkerchief in her purse and one in her pocket. The one in her pocket was for wiping her brow or blowing her nose. The one in her purse was for offering to someone else in need. When I was very little she carried one just for me. She put a spoonful of sugar in it, tied it closed with a ribbon and let me suck on it during church. Kept me quiet! As I got older I was given my own handkerchiefs. One was perfect for carrying my offering to church. Gran gave me a handful of change and then tied it up in my handkerchief.

A real lady always had a lace hanky. I loved to look at the pretty ones in the store. Definitely too delicate for noses. Not strong enough for carrying money. Certainly not for sucking! I guess they were the kind for dropping in front of a gentleman.

Gentlemen had handkerchiefs with initials on them. They were folded neatly and used discreetly. My dad got a set for Christmas one year and I was very, very careful when I ironed them.

My mother loved handkerchiefs decorated with flowers, especially violets. Her favorites were embroidered. I’m not sure some of them were intended to be used at all and I don’t remember Mom ever blowing her nose on one. If one of her children needed a nose or face wiped there was always a plain hanky in someone’s pocket.

Real men had red or blue or orange handkerchiefs. They hung out of back pockets. They had grease stains and tears. They were used and boiled and used again. They served as bandages and slings and masks and wash cloths and anything else you needed. And they were never ironed!

I don’t carry a handkerchief anymore. I’ve “improved” like everyone else and given up hankies for tissues. Not the same at all. No disrespect to Kleenex, but I doubt that one of my kindergartners will someday have fond memories of tissues. I miss hankies.  I might even go back to Craighead’s and buy that little pink one for a keepsake. I’ll just put it somewhere so I can jog my memories again.

Exhaustion

          Today was “Field Day"- our end of the year P.E. event. The students dressed in team colors and took part in a variety of events, from the standard 50-yard dash to balloon hockey and water bucket races. It was a day of great fun and my class had a blast. However, I’m absolutely exhausted. And I didn’t even run, jump, or throw. I just walked, cheered, walked, directed, and walked some more. My current state of fatigue and pain is probably a sign that I should actually be doing all that walking every day!

Tomorrow is the last day of school and then Friday is cleaning and paperwork. Then I’ll be looking and hoping and praying for a new job that is closer to home.

I have a long list of things I hope to accomplish this summer. Any bets on how many actually get done? LOL My list is always too long and my time too short. Such is life.

Well, that’s all the strength I have. I’m going to go stretch out on the couch and join the rest of America in saying goodbye to Bob Barker. Don’t like game shows, don’t watch them, but what’s not to like about Bob?

Just Dumb

Dumb #1- I'm driving past the library yesterday on my way home from work. A huge road grader is coming toward me in the other lane. And the driver is talking on his cell phone and driving with one hand! Couldn't that wait until you're out of traffic buddy?

Dumb #2- A guy gets stopped for not wearing his seat belt. Under his front seat is $6,000 in cash and $11,000 worth of meth. Wouldn't you think you'd be just a bit more careful if you knew you were breaking the law already?

Dumb #3- Heard the worst song lyrics EVER! I am not making this up: "I want to check you for ticks." Enough said.

Dumb #4- I went to the new, NEW Dollar General Store yesterday and it is leaking, leaking, leaking. Now I know we've had a lot of rain lately, but this building is only weeks old. Remind me not to hire that construction crew for anything!

Imperfections

           I was feeling a bit overwhelmed this weekend. I’ve let myself get fat again. I’m behind on several projects. I’m trying to finish all my paperwork at school. Our house is still chaos. The packing boxes are stacked high. There are rooms unfinished, unpainted, undecorated. I was sick and tired Sunday and feeling guilty about not attending church. Then God sent me a little messenger. I was getting some water from the kitchen and had turned to look at the pond when a beautiful butterfly landed on the sliding glass door. I recognized it as a Painted Lady because we’ve raised them in class. I was admiring it when I suddenly noticed that there was a small piece missing from the bottom of its wing. “Flawed”, I thought. “But still beautiful” answered God. My heart heard those words as surely as if they had been shouted.

Flawed. That’s been my outlook lately- looking at all the things around me that have gone wrong, that aren’t quite right, that don’t work. When I start feeling bad about my life it is usually because I’m seeking a level of perfection that cannot be attained. I can’t be all things to all people. I can’t work on my body and health while I’m moving. I can’t work on the house until school is over. And no matter what I do there will always be more to do. Instead of being a depressing thought it’s rather uplifting to know that life goes on. I need to be more mindful of my blessings. There are those who have bodies in far worse shape than mine- people with cancer and other diseases who are beyond the worries of fat vs. thin. There are people who wish they could work, but can’t. There are people who don’t have homes to paint or finish or decorate because they’ve been destroyed by the forces of nature. There are people with problems far greater than my own.

“Flawed” is not a description, it’s a fact. We are all flawed in some way because only Jesus is perfect. We can hope. We can strive. We can work. But we will never be perfect except in heaven.

So life goes on… people with imperfections manage to be happy. Homes with imperfections still provide shelter and comfort for people in need.

And butterflies with imperfections are still beautiful…