It All Started With Toys R Us

On a beautiful early spring day while heading home from school, some 24 years ago, my then 6 year old daughter asked me to buy her a Breyer horse at Toys R Us.  I told her I wouldn’t buy her one. But I’d help her earn money so she could buy one herself.

She was all about that.  What could she do to earn money?  Sweep the kitchen, do the dishes, clean her room, re-roof the house?  She was, and is, a go-getter and started rolling up her sleeves.  I don’t remember where I got my brilliant idea, but brilliant it was.

When we got home I raided my cupboards for all the flower vases I could find.  Then I went outside to our lilac bushes and began cutting flowers.  We found some paper and made a big sign.  Once we’d set up the card table on the curb she, her older sister, and their friend were in business.  “Flowers in a vase, one dollar,” they called out to each car passing by.

After a bit big brother stopped by and as big brothers do, voiced his assessment of the plan. “If you sell $20 worth tonight, I’ll give you $5!” he said and went away laughing his head off.

The neighbors started driving by on their home from work.  Who could resist these cute girls selling flowers for $1?  Some even gave a healthy tip.  In short order the $20 mark had been met, plus some.  Once we added in brother’s $5 contribution, there was enough to buy the Breyer horse. And we did.

The business went so well the girls kept it up.  We bought every available vase, for a quarter each, from Goodwill.  We cut all of the lilacs off our bushes, got lilacs from friends’ yards, and found some in vacant lots.  When lilac season ended we moved on to gladiolas and daisies. The town police officer stopped by and bought flowers.  The bus driver stopped his bus, got out, and bought flowers.  Folks who had bought flowers last week brought back the vases so we could resell them.  By the end of that season the girls had made over $200 selling flowers.  They did it again the next spring and the next.

Then they were too old to sell flowers on the street corner.  But neighbors remembered it for many years. And it all began with Toys R Us.

Making Friends

My journey to work is through countryside and woods, a house here and there, a small community.

The other day as I neared a pasture I saw two horses, nose to nose over a fence. I thought it was sweet. You don’t see that every day.  But as I got closer I realized it wasn’t two horses nose to nose over a fence.  It was a horse and an elk nose to nose over a fence. I’ve lived out here for 15 years and although I see lots of horses and plenty of elk I’ve never seen a horse and an elk nose to nose making friends.

I was traveling 45 mph so it took a couple of blocks before I could slow down and turn around and pull out my phone to get a picture.  But as I slowly pulled up along the pasture, the friendly elk spooked and turned to leave with the rest of his herd.

I hope they had time to exchange names before I interrupted their friendliness.

Girls Weekend

This past Memorial Day weekend my two daughters and I had a Girls Weekend.  We ate out and slept in, went for walks and played games, shopped at thrift stores and went to church, watched TV and talked, laughed and cried, got our toes done and savored vegan ice cream.

It was a never-to-be forgotten memorial day. Thank you my daughters.  🙂

What’s in a Name?

We were recently on our way to our daughter’s for a visit and passed the hospital where her first child was born.  Which took me down memory lane to the day I got the call.

It was a Friday afternoon and I’d just arrived home from work.  Daughter called and said they were on their way to the hospital.  A month early.  Which scared all of us. And it also meant they were going to the only hospital in a larger town because it has an NICU unit.

Hubby wasn’t home yet so I called him. He had obligations all weekend and didn’t know if he could get out of them. I had none.   I consider myself a pretty calm, even keel kind of person but I was fast unraveling.  I paced and fretted.  I decided I couldn’t wait.  I told hubby to catch up when and if he could.  I fed the cats, threw some clothes in the car, got the dog, and set off on my 300 mile drive.  Cool as a cucumber.  In boiling water.

I drove safely.  Well, I assume I did.  I got there.  It was dark or after 8:00 or whatever their rule was, when visitors must enter thru the ER. I told them I was there to be with my daughter who was giving birth to my grandson.  They told me to sign in and enter my daughter’s name. They took the clipboard and scrutinized it.  Then they returned.

“We have no patient here by that name.”  What???  I know my handwriting can be impossible to read but I really, really tried to be very neat.  “Could she be at a different hospital?”  Are you out of your mind??  There IS no other hospital!!

Keep calm I told myself.  Breath in, breath out.  Of course she’s at this hospital. These people are just nuts.    Let’s start at the beginning.  I looked at the clip board where I had signed in.  Oh……I kind of goofed.  I’d written my daughter’s maiden name. Of course, that’s easy to understand. She’s only been married for 5 years. These people must think I’m the one who’s nuts.    Please let me in!

They did.

The Heart of a Child

It was Easter weekend and we were visiting our daughter and her family.  Hubby and daughter were part of the praise service at church.  Son-in-law had other church responsibilities.  So I was in charge of the two grandkids (yes!)

As the final song was starting the congregation was invited to come toward the altar and kneel.  I scooped up 18 month old granddaughter and asked grandson, not yet 4, to come with us.  We walked up front where I knelt and the kids sat on the floor in front of me.  We began to sing Just as I am, I come empty to be filled. There is so much hurt and sorrow in this world and some of it is so very close.  I couldn’t control the tears.

A chorus or two into the song, grandson turned around and saw me crying.  He didn’t say anything. He just scooted back until he was tucked under my arm and I held him close.

The heart of a child.

Happiness for just 46 cents

In less than 2 months my mother will celebrate her 92nd birthday. She has suffered a small stroke and is definitely showing down. But her mind is sharp in spite of occasional difficulty finding a word she wants or remembering a name.     I call her nearly every day and we chat about the weather and what we’ll eat for dinner. We talk about my work and the news about her grandkids and great grandkids. And she’ll tell me what she got in the mail. Which most days isn’t much. The other day I asked her what she’d like to get in the mail. “A letter”, she said. “But I don’t get many. Then again I don’t write to anyone either. ” And the light bulb went on in my head. I wrote my mom a letter and mailed it the next day. When she answered the phone today the first thing she said was, “I got a letter today!” How easy it was to bring some extra joy into my mom’s life. I’ll do it again.

Spicing Up My Life

It’s spring. The birds are returning, the flowers are coming up, the days are getting longer. Time to buy some seeds for the garden, trim the grapes and roses, pull some weeds, wash the windows, beat the rugs, and do some deep cleaning. Ohhhh. Pardon me. I got a little over excited with thoughts of spring and new things. I have purchased some seeds, moved a few plants, pruned the apple tree, and gave the whisteria a hair cut. I dusted the pictures on the piano and scrubbed the kitchen floor. But I’m not a fanatic. I know where to draw the line and deep cleaning is it. That can wait. What I did do instead was to spice up my life a bit. I make a salsa with cilantro, onions, garlic, tomatoes, a bit of salt, and some lime juice. That’s all. No spice. No heat. I know it adds flavor but I don’t like sweating while I eat. But it’s spring and time for new things and in spite of the fact that I don’t like spicy food, I don’t like deep cleaning even more. So this week while shopping I bought one small jalepino. For the first time ever. And I added about an inch of it to my salsa. Just a hint of heat. It was delicious. And much more fun than deep cleaning.

The Good Old Days (Were Exhausting)

A young friend and her young daughter stopped by the other night. As we visited, our youngest guest saw my 1940’s phone. I have a small collection of “old” things. Not fine antiques. Just interesting old things, one of which is my 1940’s phone. Our youngest guest, age 10, who had never seen such a device, was a bit incredulous when we told her it was a phone. So we launched into an explaination of its mechanics. For starters, in the old days you had to be home, or at someone’s home, or at a phone booth (which is a whole other story for another day) to make a phone call. These things were hard wired to a house or building. To place a call you had to put your finger in the hole of the dial that corresponded with the first number of the phone number you were calling, rotate it till it stopped, then take your finger out of the hole and let the dial spin back. Then you had to put your finger in the hole of the next number in the sequence of the number you were calling, rotate it around until it stopped, and let it spin back. You had to do this again 5 more times until you had dialed all 7 numbers. That was for a local call. Long distance calls added more rotating and spinning. I’m exhausted just explaining it. How did we manage to keep up our strength? But times have changed. This evening I sit in my recliner blogging on my smart phone for the first time. Who would have imagined such a thing in the 1940’s? No one. They were worn out from dialing numbers with rotary phones. (I feel like Alexander Graham Bell making his first phone call. Hope this works!)

Sometimes It’s the Little Things

I picked out two primrose plants to add to my grocery shopping this morning.

As I was checking out and bagging my purchases (because that’s the kind of store I shop at.  I’m all about DIY) I put the plants in their own bag– so as not to crush them with canned goods and not get dirt on my tomatoes–and set them aside on the counter.  And promptly forgot them.

I was almost done loading my 10 bags of groceries into my car when a gentleman approached me carrying a plastic bag.  “I think you left these in the store,” he said, handing me my primroses.  I hadn’t even missed them.  But this kind man, who had been behind me in the check out line, and whose groceries were going down the belt on the opposite side of mine, had seen my plants, remembered what I looked like and had gone out into the parking lot to find me.  The plants were only $2. But how very, very nice.

Sometimes it’s the little things.

I Want To Be Just Like Her When I Grow Up

An older woman entered the school where I work and with a tremble in her voice and a shake in her hands said she had come to pick up her grandson.   It was very cold that day.  Was she shivering?  Was it Parkinson’s?  I had no idea but her tremor was significant.

I verified her identity then checked her grandson’s schedule so I could call him to the office.  Turned out he was at lunch. I don’t know this student so I told grandma to come with me, we’d find him in the PAC.  Grandma followed me a ways, then stopped. She said she saw him through the window.  He had his back to us.  I said, “Come.  We’ll get him.”

“Oh no.” she said. “I’ve had a stroke and it makes me shake.”  Her next sentence nearly broke my heart. “I don’t want to embarrass him. You go get him.”  So I did.

What a sweet, thoughtful grandma.  I want to be just like her.