Bad Nanny!

Most everyone has read "The Help."  It took me around 20 hours to listen to it in the car on my recent road trip.  LOVED it. 

I wasn't in the south during the civil rights movement but up east still.  Mom and Dad had help.  One lovely woman named Magnolia helped Mom by "watching" us and cooking.  I know my brothers would agree that we (they) tested the help!  We still laugh today recounting Magnolia Tales.  She'd pick up the rotary phone and pretend to call our parents...."Ahhhhhhh, swear, children.....your parents are gonna be upset when they hear you ain't eatin' your dinner."  She'd chase my brothers all over the house.

And don't forget about the butler and gardener at Mimi's.  I think THEY could write a book!  My word - the stories they could spin.  The amount of booze put away and the hangovers suffered by the adults were a weekly event.  And then the grandchildren.  My confessions here will finally put to rest my angelic reputation! 

My cousin and I "stole" Mimi's Mercedes one night....and slowly inched our way out the drive.  We had to; otherwise that gravel I love so dearly, would have given us away!  And the two of us drove around East Hampton like we were "all that."  Do you think the gardener, who also took care of the autos, didn't know the car went out the night before?  Yet he didn't tattle.

The first time I got sick from imbibing was at Mimi's.  I was tucked and stuffed into beautiful, crisp, WHITE sheets and morning hit me.  Hard.  Needless to say, the white sheets were no more.  All I could think was that I HAD to hide this mess from Mimi.  That poor maid!  Dis-gus-ting.  And she didn't tattle.  It was another era - the help was respectful and quiet.

Now, fast forward to 1990.  We had a 7 year old son and a newborn.  I worked full time and we thought it wise to try a "live-in."  I went through an agency for heaven's sake.  They presented a (too) pretty blonde-ish young lady, I think around 20.  Hhhhmmmrpppph.  But I was desperate and all seemed legit.

She liked her wine and wasn't bright enough to get rid of the evidence.  We found a garbage bag full of empties in the attic.  One night I took a call for her.  He said she had applied for a job and he wouldn't leave a message.  Even 20 years ago we had caller I.D.  I called that number right back.  A strip joint.  My "nanny" was a future stripper. 

Where HAD the good help gone?

Panhandle Pretties

What a delight to find a "Welcome Vava" sign after a ten hour drive through Texas.  This is my beautiful sister-in-law's beautiful front porch.  Some might wonder why  I "vacay" in the Panhandle of Texas but I've learned it's the PEOPLE not the place.  I'd truly rather be in Dullsville, U.S.A. with fun, upbeat folks over Paris, France with snooty snobs.

 

When I walked into their kitchen my first morning, I found this darling set up:

THE perfect cup for my morning jo AND a Hedley peach: scrumptious.  All on a silver platter with a linen napkin.  Well, of course!

The prettiest part of the trip were the peeps!

• Pals still, after 43 years!
• A long-lost 1st cousin, she with a beautiful heart & soul and her handsome son
• A Nephew and His Harem
• Kind neighbors of my hosts
• Friends of P's.
• A Cowboy friend who helped a few of us feel like "Stars" while twirling us around.
• The most loveable hosts around:  G&P!

And then...

• No traffic.
• Red wine.
• Great salads.
• Coffee and fruits.
• Lime beer and Cheetos.
• Stuffed shells and a movie.
• Grilled burgers by Jeff.
• And shopping.
• Dancing and laughing.
• No traffic.
• Frank's Chicken Sandwich.
• Rearranging and fluffing.
• Fish tacos and margs.
• Did I say laughing?  And no traffic?

These are a few of my favorite things...in Amarillo.

And I'll take 'em wherever I can get them!  Every time I go there I come home refreshed and thankful for family and friends who put me up AND put up with me! 

 

The Look of Love: Booze, Bikinis & Bacharach

(thanks to my friends that push me to spin yarns about my upbringing...)

I claim to be a Texan but it all started long, long ago in Connecticut.  Life in the '60s in an affluent town up east left an imprint that I can't shake.  I suppose had I continued living that life it would be ho-hum and nothing to write about.  When transported to the panhandle of Texas via a Mustang convertible, a single mom and two brothers from a rather privileged life..there are stories.

There was a season after the divorce before the move south where Mom, Brothers and I downsized and moved into the town.  We were "townies."  I was traumatized.  Dashing Dad pretty much now The Weekender Dad.  A much smaller home.  Mom went to work!  We went to public school. 

Dad worked on Wall Street - a very buttoned up profession.  TGIF had extra power in the swinging '60s with the event of The Weekend House.  Dad and several bachelors rented a pad, usually near water.  Rowayton, Stamford, Norwalk.  And every other weekend three spoiled, mischevious children descended on The Weekend House. 

Booze, bikinis, Bacharach.  That was the scene.  Throw us in the mix...I have to give Dad credit.  He handled it really well. 

This next bit is "for girls only."  Gentlemen readers, if there are any, may want to skip this tale. 

Women were all over, honestly, the place was a grown up version of a frat house.  I was enthralled by these younger-than-mom, bikini-clad beauties.  I'd lock myself in the bathroom and scope out cosmetics and such.  And so while IN that bathroom one Saturday, Mother Nature decided to come a-calling.  Dear old Dad took me into town and parked in front of the pharmacy.  He told me what to purchase.  I simply could not take my 11 year old, insecure, frizzy red-headed self in there.  And in he went.

Yup.  Dad did the deal.  I don't know if he'd remember this story; but a daughter will never forget.  

Soon after the divorce Dad remarried.   Burt Bacharach was singing "The Look of Love" and "This Guy's in Love with You."  She didn't stand a chance - between the music and Dashing Dad!  And talk about bikinis.  My stepmother wore one better than most!  And I wore the color green.  I was 12, she was 24.  I was frumpy, she was glam!  She had Dad's...heart and attention. 

And it was then that Mom swept us away in her yellow Mustang perhaps with yet another Bacharach tune in the background.  She might have sung the words to "I'll Say a Little Prayer for You." 

Many years later I learned Mom never stopped loving Dad...and Burt's lyrics probably seared her to the core:

My darling, believe me

For me there is no one but you

Please love me too

Booze and bikinis?  Who needs them?  Not so the look of love.  Whether it's between Dads and Daughters, Mothers and Sons, A Husband and Wife, Parents and Kids.  I {{{LOVE}}} love - it's grand!

The Restless Life Syndrome**

Mid-life.  55.  Empty Nest.  Some ponder, stew and fret.  I'm fret-free a lot.  If I do begin fretting; I know know how to release it.  However, it is time for a change. There!  I've said it out loud.  "I'm restless...I need to do something."  Yikes.  It's out there now.  Kids are (supposed to be) gone, and thankfully I'm not glued to the phone for calls from the principal anymore.

For some of "us" this is a time of travel, R and R but we're not there...yet.  All in due time.  Well, not DUE time...His time.  I'm trying to listen to God.  Walk with God.  In fact, My Guy and I are reading "Walking with God" by John Eldredge.  As is always the case God has a theme running through the everyday.  Handpicked for moi.  While AT home, I'm to be quiet.  And listen.  Pay attention and when distracted, get still and quiet.  I spent a good part of the early morning reading said book, then snippets from older saints, the Bible, praying, trying to listen...
I have a Doodle Book (that's my name BUT an idea from Tracy Porter) where I write quotes, "aha" ideas, beautiful pictures from magazines of dream destinations or a favorite photo.  I include Scripture that speaks to the moment.  Ya know - a girly-doodle-book.  I opened it today after reading WWG, and doodled away.

I made a list of my talents (whoa, why do so many of us have difficulty with that?).  It seems these talents (or natural affinities) should match up with my next career.  The best part about this stage in life is that I don't have to go back to work.  I want to.  So why not "do" something I love, enjoy and am good at?  Ahhhh, but I am "of a certain age" - almost the 55.  Am I hire-able? 

Well, who knows?  Oh, yes...God knows.  So when I left the quiet this morning, I knew my mission:  it's to seek Him first then be open (receptive).  I do love a good adventure - remember Vava doesn't do boring.

So let me know if you have ideas for my mid-life-crisis-calling.**   

I'll keep y'all posted!

Readin', Writin' (No Arithmetic!)

Writin':  on the inside cover of a cookbook (below) to my Mom from her sister-in-law, (my) Aunt Bobbie.

Readin':  We wouldn't DARE give this for a gift these days. It's all about healthy...

...and inside this book was a hand-written recipe of Mom's.

So!  Do you notice anything???

Their handwriting is quite similar.

My stepmother's looks like this too.

I call it "Boarding School Script."

A lot of women I know that were brought up on the East Coast have this roundish, delightful penmanship.

To my current East Coast Friends:

Do you?

 (A man's penmanship is an unfailing index of his character, moral and mental, and a criterion by which to judge his peculiarities of taste and sentiments.)   -Philip Dormer Stanhope                             

Celebrate Good Times...

(The backyard at 7:30 pm)

C'mon!

Friday evenings may be my favorite time of the week.
My Guy loves weekends (i.e., AWAY from work) and we've always celebrated our weekends.

Tonight is different.  We're not going on a date but are putzing around the home and in the garden.
He and #2 Son worked in the backyard while I worked INside.  It's very rewarding - team work.
I am most thankful for the past week.  And celebrating by dancing around the house to my music.
(Thank goodness the guys were outdoors....no one witnessed such folly!) 

So I lift my glass to YOU!  Here's to a weekend of rest, joy, and being on the same team...
(with whomever you're celebrating life with!)

His Story

(Heart-felt words from #2 Son at 20 years old)

The Lost Man's Prayer

I'm sorry...sorry for all the pain.
I never meant to drive this family insane.
We always strived for better, for more to gain...
All the energy we had is gone, down the drain.

Down the gutter.
I didn't mean to curse out my mother.
And for my father, those words I never meant to utter.
Every day I wonder what life would be like if there was no thunder - throughout this family.
Would I be smarter or dumber, would I still to this day be by my Dad's side as a runner?

Would I look forward to each and every summer?  Is it possible that I would wake up feelin younger?
...with no stress or is it all a test...from God, where life is a challenge and you have to figure it out like chess?

Yes, my whole life has been a mess.
But please don't give up, we will all make it, Wes.
This is all for the best, soon we will figure out what I was doing wrong.
We won't have to guess and from then on we will do good.
Just like we should.

My whole life I have felt misunderstood, but family, we will be okay.
As long as every day I cross my hands and pray.  Amen.

(June 23, 2010)