Weeding out the Red-Rooted Bastard

          I once heard the following about an elderly woman with a very nice garden.  Someone had asked how she maintained without weeds.  She had set a goal to pull 15 a day.  I’m guessing she didn’t have to deal with pigweed.

          I actually have two nicknames for the weed that springs back to life the minute it is pulled.  The more offensive name mentioned in the title of this post and “Rapunzel” – though I think it grows much faster than Rapunzel’s hair.  But unlike Rapunzel’s hair, there is absolutely nothing special about it.  It’s a weed.  A multiplying undying weed.

          I will pull them up by their roots.  I will have a tremendous pile of these red-rooted pigweeds – more outside of the garden than inside.  It seems for every one I’ve pulled at least four to seven have grown back in its place.  How am I supposed to keep up with that?  And if we don’t pull them now while they are sprouts, they will be much harder to pull.

          When we moved into this house, there was a large tree growing near the house.  The neighbors’ driveway was starting to crack as the roots were pushing into the foundation.  She called it a trash tree and said it needed to be removed. The stump still remains in our yard and thus we haven’t seen the roots attached.  I’m certain that they are red (or were – it’s possible that they have died off by now)

          When I first saw the pigweed sprout up, I was certain that they were/are daughters of the trash tree – that could have been something else.  Whatever it was it wasn’t intentionally planted.  It just grew there and made a mess.

          I remember hearing the Biblical stories of Joshua defeating different cities with the instruction and help of our God.  They had to kill babies.  Little babies.  Innocent babies.  That bothered me for the longest time – because all babies are born innocent.  Even Hitler (no matter how hard to believe) was born innocent.  And yet that would have been the best time to get him – drop him, strangle him, drown him . . .

          There are so many films and themes and movies devoted to time travel.  What if?  What if we could save Kennedy?  What if we could destroy Hitler before he even knew what power was?

          One show depicts the midwife taking the baby and throwing it in the river.  Mrs. Hitler is devastated and insists that the child is replaced.  A kidnapped baby is brought to her that she may raise him as her own.  She calls him Adolf.

          And no matter how often the attempt to save him is made, Pres. Kennedy always ends up getting killed.  It has already happened.  Though the idea of traveling back in time to save him is appealing, it does not exist.  He died at the hands of whom?  Lee Harvey Oswald?  A conspiracy perhaps?

          When I think of the weeds and the time traveling non-changes, it makes it easier to understand and accept scriptures like Joshua 6:21.   

Like a Fly to Cowpie

That’s how she described her passion for family history: “like a fly to cowpie”.  She had been raised on a dairy farm – it was a natural analogy – though I could think of better ones: “a duck to water” “a monkey on a cupcake” or Roland’s favorite: “like Godzilla on Tokyo”

        I don’t even have a passion for genealogy or family research (from an earlierpost) but wouldn’t have compared it to manure.  Family History is a good thing and works for a lot of people.  And there are many aspects of family history that I do enjoy – but research is a far cry from being one of them.

          It’s not just family history that gets her fired up.  I believe that it is everything that comes her way.  She greets it with her heart which shines in her smile.  I think she may have an even bigger love for life than my sister-in-law, Sunny, whom I truly admire. 

Sunny teaches pre-school.  Parents put their children on waiting lists and feel very honored when they get in.  Sunny is awesome at introducing children to their first steps to life.  May her students always remember her enthusiasm. I wish I had even just one ounce of that passion.

          In addition to the family history class, Hannah also has a calling as the enrichment leader.  She is so prepared and so excited and gets to know the sisters and invites them in and makes them feel welcome.  I think there have been some major awesome turn outs since she’s been put in. 

          Hannah and Sunny.  Share the joy.  You can’t help but smile along with them.  

Experiencing the Great Outdoors

          As soon as I hit “publish” on my last post – the very second (I kid you not) I could hear Highness scratching at the door – which made a grand total of 29 minutes and 41 seconds that he had been outside.  Which is 28 minutes and 58 seconds longer than usual.

          We haven’t had him for a full year yet.  I think he stayed out longer when the weather was cooler – but not cold.  After the snow melted and the ground softened a bit, Highness started digging.  He escaped too many times.  But he hasn’t managed to sneak past the board that we put up in May.  Too bad we didn’t know about it sooner.

          The couple next door has a grandson that visits almost weekly.  He’s a handful.

          Truman’s Nana invited my daughter over to play shortly after we moved in.  But Truman would wear on Jenna’s nerves.  He was much too immature for her. Still is – but has developed a more sophisticated vocabulary.

          There is still a two age difference between them, but over the years Jenna has come to tolerate Truman and even accept him as friend – maybe her only friend.  Just haven’t seen a lot of kids this summer.

          Jenna has never been on an actual camping trip.  The few “camping” experiences she’s had have consisted of setting up the tent in the back yard and roasting marshmallow over the grill.  Right now it seems to be enough.  In 2010 she went “camping” with her brother (the one who is currently in the army) This year it was with Roland after Father’s Day (which you can read more about here)

My last post indicated that she was camping next door.  A tent had been set up in the backyard.  She spent the night with Truman, and his Nana – who had invited Jenna to stay with them.  Don’t know that Roland was as thrilled with the idea.  But there had been a spark in Jenna’s eyes all day.  I couldn’t say “NO’’ and kill the excitement that she had been feeling all day Friday.  She would be crying otherwise.

Not only did she have a great sleepover.  She spent time in the pool and ran through the sprinklers and ended up going to the movies with the family Saturday afternoon.  They went and saw “Brave” which she initially didn’t want to see.  She expressed her lack of interest each time a preview would appear.  I said that I would like to see it – she must have had a change of heart.  She said that “Brave” was awesome.  I won’t be seeing it until it comes to the dollar theatre.  We’ll go on a Monday when the shows are 75 cents.

I am so grateful that Jenna has found friendship after almost three years.  Still has friends and is very popular where we came from – but it’s been a lot more difficult over hear.  Though she does have two sets of brothers fighting over her already.  Oh, my heck! She’s only eight!

Thank you Ben and Stacey for taking Jenna under your wing and allowing her to go on your family activities.

fireworks and sleeping beneath the stars

She came to me the other night.

"What is that noise?"

"It's the fireworks (all month long)"

"I can't sleep."

That was in her bed
in her room
fan going
didn't drown out the noise.

Tonight she is in a tent in
the backyard next door

Flashlights going
I can hear her friend talking
and his Nana asking
why don't they all go to sleep.

I let Highness outside before I went to bed.
He usually returns in less than an entire minute.
But he's out there lying down.
It's been almost thirty.

He must be taking comfort in the voices of
Jenna and Trume.

Hopefully I will have more details tomorrow
about this exciting campout.

Personalities of the Hundred Acre Wood

          I don’t know if I first noticed the resemblance between Jenna and Tigger (from Disney’s Winnie-the-Pooh) or Frances and Eyore – I’m thinking the latter.

 Frances would often wear shirts with logos that were either Tinkerbelle or Eyore.  I once thought “Frances could be Eyore” kind of sluggish, not very pleasant, somewhat of a pessimist – which is sad – because she hadn’t always been like that. 

          The transformation probably took place within the first couple of years after she received her first period.  And perhaps it was during those times I would happen to see her that she was going through PMS or whatever.  She’d become lazy, had always been careless.  She could easily misplace her tail.  Frances was Eyore.

          Jenna has been enthusiastically pouncing for almost six or seven years.  As with Tigger, she doesn’t do it maliciously – she just gets excited.  Since I’d been picking her up from pre-school or the sitters or wherever, she has run to and embraced me at full speed and amazingly hasn’t yet knocked me over.

          She is not made of rubber and springs – and I’m definitely not.  Though I’ve tried to tame her, she still continues to pounce.  Jenna IS Tigger.

          That got me to wondering if the restof us   had personality traits that would resemble those that lived in the 100 acre wood.  Up until then I guess I hadn’t thought of each character as a different personality trait.  But now I do.

          I assigned myself to be Rabbit as Rabbit often feels uptight about stupid things that he can’t control.  Let it go.  Move on.  No, not Rabbit.  He seems to focus on the things that upset him.  Maybe not.

          Rabbit’s actually a harder worker than I am.  LOVES gardening.  I don’t loathe it so much as I just don’t care for the overall temperature that seems to come with gardening (put me indoors with an air conditioner) but does seem to often snap at others.  I REALLY NEED to shed this personality trait.  It’s not a desirable one.  But I do tend to get uptight about circumstances and wish I would stop.

          Roland is definitely Kanga.  He seems to possess maternal instincts and sometimes will coddle our children – particularly when they don’t want to be coddled.  He’s a worrier, provider, a nurturer and supervisor among other things. 

          I decided that Biff would be Winnie-the-Pooh.  Pooh’s one focus is with “hunny”.  Biff’s is the gym.  Stuffed with fluff?  Not exactly.  Biff works out.  He would never get stuck in Rabbit’s hole for example.  But he does have the same loveable qualities found in pooh bear. And there are times that I have wondered if his head might not be full of cotton.

          Tony and Pamprin are both playful.  Both would like to hold hands with someone who will make the decision.  Of course I don’t know Pamprin near as well as I know Tony.  He likes to laugh.  He likes to play.  But he has definite signs of responsibility.  Both Tony and Pamprin have changed diapers.  I wouldn’t think too many of the hundred acre wood characters would even know how to do that.

          Randy is wise.  I considered the owl – though the owl seems kind of squirrely to me at times.  I made Randy Christopher Robin – as Christopher Robin is more of the observer outside of the 100 acre woods and can come and go at his desire.  Randy has been coming and going since he was nine (possibly sooner).  Sometimes he’s a part of us, but often he chooses to let us work it out amongst ourselves.

          Wasn’t that a wonderful post?

         

Nothing wrong with being Fox or Chick

“What do you like for breakfast?”

Said Fox to Chick one day.

But Chick was silent and frightened. 

He didn’t know what to say.

“I like eating vegetables.”

Fox continued on.

“I like raw ones upon my plate

And I eat until they’re gone’

“I like all kinds, but my favorite

Are the ones that have a root.

I’ll eat legumes to get protein.

Don’t care much for meat or fruit.”

Still quiet and bewildered,

Chick didn’t say a thing

The nervous fowl just shuttered

Beneath each wing.

And then they heard the taunting:

“Fox and Chick sitting in a tree . . .”

“Are they teasing both of us?” Chick asked.

“Or are they only teasing me?”

“I’m different,” said the fox, “And so

All the other animals make fun.

They think I ought to be a certain way.

And not the way I’ve done’

“I don’t think the same as most fox do

I don’t fit the stereotypical mold

But it’s okay.  I’m not like them.

Being true to myself I uphold.”

Chick understood. Fox wasn’t the same

Fox wasn’t going to eat Chick

There is something to be admired about

Making individualism stick.

                                                      kfralc

Birds Gathering in Mom’s Backyard

          In 1963 Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” was released in movie theatres.  My mom didn’t seem like a thrill seeker, but had gone to see “The Birds” and was quite freaked out about it.

          For years there was an apple tree in the backyard of the house where I grew up.  I recall several years when birds would fly overhead or gather into our yard as if it was the designated place for the birds to hold their daily or weekly conferences.  And mom would be freaked. 

          It seems quite hilarious really – by today’s standard’s I mean.  I remember mom checking out the video perhaps just a few years and decade after its release.  She sat Patrick and me down to show us this “very scary” movie so that we might understand her fears. 

          Well, it backfired.  The idea of the film was completely silly.  And everything looked fake.  (As an adult, I find the “making of the Birds” so much more interesting than the movie itself.)

          Patrick and I laughed – and even mom could see that it wasn’t really as scary as she had led herself to believe.  But we were watching a video in Patrick’s room with his two large windows and in the middle of the day with lots of sunlight streaming in.  Surely a dark movie theatre with these “bigger-than-life-sized-birds” (as they would appear larger on the big screen) was a lot more scary.  But Patrick and I believed that a large screen would only enhance all the flaws that we saw.

          Oh, I’m not knocking what may have been a horrifying chiller in 1963 – but by today’s standards – or even just the late ‘70’s, it seemed more like a comedy than a thriller.

          When I was at my mom’s house the other day, she pointed out the window and said to Jenna, “Look at all the birds!” 

She took pleasure in the fact that so many birds had gathered outside her window.  She wasn’t scared about or bothered at all.  And I thought back into a time when her reaction was always so much different.

          There has been a plus to the wicked health issues that have seemed to rob both of my parents of their yesteryear’s strength.  And that has been in seeing my parents behave in a different a manner unlike their old selves – but allowing themselves to express new emotions – or one’s that seem to have been buried away seem to rise to the surface.  I don’t often welcome the changes, but sometimes it brings me joy to see an unexpected behavior.  Such as welcoming the birds and not fearing the idea of what could happen (or at least did in someone’s imagination)