"Play the drums, Pamela"

Drumming.  "Play the drums, Pamela."

Drumming, that's what my fingers were doing on the truck door window ledge where I was resting my arm.  Darling Hubby was sipping his coffee with one hand and driving with the other, later he about spewed his coffee in laughter.  We were listening to a rhythmic gospel song on CD as we were driving to church services and I was drumming with my fingers to the beat.

It all brought back a memory of when I was in high school in band class.  The bass drummer was absent so the teacher was trying a few people out on it.  Depending on the make up of the class and the disposition of the teacher I could be 1st chair, 2nd chair, or 3rd chair clarinetist.  Later, I opted to play the bass clarinet.  It was always a lot of fun, loved those deep rich sounds.

Anyway, this day Mr. Teacher requested that I go play the drums.  So, I did.  I played the bass.  Sister says the bass is basic, it's the basic beat of any song.  Well, let me tell you, half way through Mr. Teacher says -- over all the heads of all the band, the flutists, the saxophone players, the trumpeters, the trombonists, the tuba players, he stopped in mid song; he said, "You can sit down now."

Easter's Lilly Gets Watering

Good morning, this springy Wednesday!  
I love Wednesdays.  I love Wednesdays as much as I love Mondays.  Please, don't call me weird at this next declaration, no name calling, but...I love Wednesday and Monday more than Friday.  See.  You shook your head at me and wanted to call me "weird", I knew you did!

Friday means work is coming.
Saturday is clean the house day, company comes on Sunday.  If you don't get in the groceries, and you don't clean the house, then on Sunday morning you're cramming in as much cleaning as you can and scrounging around for dish ingredients because you know they'll all pile in here after church, and, durn, if it isn't too late 'cause the granddaughter just ate something off the floor!  

She used to pick up tiny specs and hand them to Mom.  Now, she picks up tiny specs, says "yum" and pops it in!

So, it's Wednesday, and, of course, we all hear that camel in that commercial saying, "Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike".  "Do you know what day it is?"   "Woot, woot, hump day, Yah!"  And I'll bet you dollars to donuts you don't remember the name of the product advertised.  I don't.  

So, it's Wednesday, and what didn't get done on Monday and Tuesday is now shoved into Thursday and Friday, UNLESS, you get it done today.

Back to the granddaughter.  Son and wife showed up to do their taxes, with...baby!  I got to play grandma!  She was adorable in her gold glitter velcor shoes.  Can you imagine ever wearing glitter shoes?  LOL what fun!

On Easter Sunday she was dressed fancy too, in crinolines and white bouffant dress. 

On Easter Sunday she found so many Easter eggs in the hunt that she drug her little plastic grocery bag behind her because it was so full.  She dragged it through grass and gravel 'til it got a hole leaving behind a pastel pellet trail, LOL.

She loves the "great outdoors".  While they were doing their taxes, we explored the gravel and rocks in the driveway.  And, the orange buckets set about.  By her little hands rocks met buckets.  Quite the task when you consider the buckets are as tall as she is.

We explored the pedaled turning mechanism of a 3-speed bicycle as we sat on our haunches.  We tenderly touched and smelled flowers --  she called them all "pink".  When she discovered the picnic table, we climbed; up an down, over the top, crawled the bench, back over the top and down we climbed on all fours.  Repeat.  And again, until hiding under the table turned into "Peek-a-boo!"

In the house she showed up with a rock, how?  I don't know!  But Rock got carried to the drinks' coaster holder, then they all got carried around like Cinderella's shoe on royal purple pillow!   

Fussy.  Now why is she fussy?  Son figured it out.  He turned on the faucet and got a drink of water.  Miss Lilly toddled up.  He bent and gave her a drink of his drink.  She drank and drank.  Then she looked up at dad in appreciation, sated and in her baby voice, expressed with much breath, "Ahhhhhh".  Another first.  Vocalized quenched thirst.  We burst out laughing.  

The best part of this day?  Before the day was over ... we ate salmon patties together.  Happy, happy, happy!  Yay!  She's got some of me in her!  Son and wife do not like salmon patties.  That fact clearly attracted them to each other just like neither one likes meatloaf.  But, Miss Lilly does!  She likes salmon patties.  That's the best part.  It's official, we're bonded.

So, on this Wednesday what do I need to do to get done by Friday?  Make way!  Make way for baby girl Lilly ... uh, I mean ... for the weekend.  

Slips, Freudian and Strait Laced

This is too funny not to share.

My husband is strait laced.  He is honest.  He doesn't play mind games.  He doesn't have evil thoughts.  This man is as straight forward as they come.   He's also kind and fun.

We've both just barely entered a new decade of our lives, we've been married over 30 years, and our days have become a bit routine and predictable.

When the big slip happened, I was in the midst of suggesting that we stir things up.
"Remember when we lived in our first house, and you'd get up before me and write me a poem on the chalk board before you left for work?"

"The kids aren't around anymore, we could take walks on the water and feed the birds?"

"You could cook me a romantic meal."  At this suggestion he responded with, "Me?  Moi?  Cook?"

On the television Frasier had just said, "Oh, Niles get a grip!  You're not being asked to do anything that none of us hasn't done before in our own kitchens in our own homes.  Now quick, kill five eels."

Looking over at my darling hubby, while the sitcom Frasier gave way to a commercial break, I checked out his demeanor.  I turned the conversation a bit, gave it a curve ball,  with a reminder, "You know our anniversary is coming up soon?"

And, I kid you not, I'm not lying, this actually happened, I saw it, I saw it all.
HE SHIVERED!  From his head to his feet, he shivered!
His shoulders shivered first; that shiver traveled down his arms, down his chest and circled his waist.  His whole body did a "someone's just walked over my grave" cold chill!

His eyes looked at me and, he got that dismayed, disbelieving, "I didn't do that on purpose" look.

I busted a gut!  I laughed my head off!  I laughed and laughed and couldn't stop laughing.

Yet, the evening didn't end there.  Another slip, the Freudian type, was on it's way.

My right foot has had broken bones, dislocations, and hematomas.  I've been babying it for well over 6 months.  He's been very kind helping me prop it at night, bringing me the occasional drink, and giving me a hand when going down steps.

Tonight it was hurting from doing so much walking while out shopping.  I'd asked him to please bring in the pan from the bathtub that was full of hot water.   He was willing.  Yet, he made a slip of his tongue.

"Why?  Do-ya need to soak your head ... I mean foot!"

Tree Bush Man & Pretty Birds

"Pretty bird."  "Pretty bird."

We've all said it.

My sister's bird used to say it.

My great grandpa had a black macaw.  He used to say it.

Grandpa's bird said other things, as well, not so nice things.  But when grandpa got the bird, he got the parroting, too.  We didn't love that bird.  He was bigger than most, his sound was not easy on the ears, and he was black, all black - a bit daunting, "Pretty bird, pretty bird."

Remember Tree Bush Man, I think that was his nickname, on television about 30 years ago?  He'd come on the air during the morning news to feature outdoorsman advice.  This one segment I watched he told all about birds.

Birds have a nature and according to Tree Bush Man they like yards and areas where there's lots of foliage coverage so they can flit from bush to lower tree branches to fence rails to small pockets of water and the fly back to tops of the trees.  Especially, if the yards are cat and dog free.

Tree Bush Man told how one bird will twitter on a tree branch as a scout, while another will dip into a puddle of rainwater.  Or one will stand guard while others eat from a bird feeder.  Some birds are top feeders and they scatter the seeds as they eat.  Other birds scrounge around on the ground for the scattered seeds.

I've seen birds act in tandem where one will land on a tall dried tommy knocker, and his weight will make it bow to the ground, then another bird will come along and pick and peck all the seeds falling out of the tassel top of the tommy knocker.  It was captivating.

So I told Mom all this.  I told her all about the interesting characteristics of birds, and how if the guard spies danger like a dog bounding around the corner the bird will give out a warning call.  Then they all fly into the nearest evergreen tree like metal shavings sucked to a magnet.

After watching Tree Bush Man, I watched our birds, and sure enough, that's exactly how they conducted themselves in our front yard.  I watched with binoculars, and camera, and 2 identifying bird books nearby.  We have a birdbath, an enclosing fence, bushes, trees, small man-made water feature, and feeders in the maple tree, and nut tree.  All happened like he said.

The brown sparrows will call out when a cow bird is nearby.  When you see a bright red cardinal just flicking this way and that on a branch, you'll know to look for his female mate, who's not so brightly colored, feasting nearby.  If suddenly all birds fly away with warning sounds, look again and your yard could be full of nasty shrill sounding grackles.  Pretty yellow finches come to visit quickly, but red robins stay and build nests above the outdoor light.  Haven't yet figured out which birds, but some sing when I play the piano.

All these discoveries I told Mom, including, "If a scout bird sees a human coming out of the house, he'll give a sharp loud cry of warning.  Then all the other birds fly at once into our pine tree."  Then I got an eye-opener.  Mom always had a new thought; a different take on a matter.

Surprisingly, she said, "I liked it better when I thought of them as just carefree "pretty birds" singing sweetly in the trees."

Tricks In Pockets

"Pocket, Pocket, what's in my pocket?"  We used to play that game in third grade.
Educational for sure for 7 to 9 year olds.  But it never ends, does it, the game of "What's in my pocket?"

My brother carries tidbits in his pockets.  When he looks down at his shirt pocket, uses two hands to widen the opening and retrieve some slip of paper, you never know what treasure he'll withdraw.  It could be an old black and white photo, a list, or a quick jovial cartoon.

A war veteran, Mark Eklund, kept a piece of paper with kinds words from his fellow students written on it until he died.  At his funeral, his teacher and relatives shared their own papers they'd kept.

Reading Ann Landers was entertaining and  inspiring.  She would repeat anything pertinent or timely.  One such letter was from a husband who'd found her column in his wife's belongings.  Ann Landers titled it "A Wife's Message of Love From the Grave".  The wife had written hilariously self-deprecatingly about her aged body, then ended her note with this thought, "Now, my love, is it lights on or off?  I'm yours - you can make book."

Grandpa Mac, who was actually my great grandpa, was a jolly people lover.  He loved to tease kids, too.  On Sunday, after church services, you could count on him giving you some sweet treat from his pocket.  It might have pocket fuzz, but we were kids, we didn't care.  It was still sweet, all the way 'round.

My mother used to laugh telling about cleaning out the boys' pants pockets before dropping them into the clothes washer.  One time she fished her hand into a pair and came out with brown wiggly worms!

My pockets these days carry notations of punch lines.  In fourth grade, I was to give an oral report.  Mom suggested, "Instead of you looking down at your paper all the time, you need to look at the class, so just jot down a few notes to trigger what you want to say."  That advice has worked well over the last 50 years in so, so many ways.

At TJMaxx during a company meeting I'd solved a hangman type puzzle presented to a group of about 40 people so quickly that the managers exclaimed, "Who said that?"  Well, after I'd owned up, the district manager came over and gave me a Fun Meter button.  I wear it.

I wear it tongue in cheek.  I'm not really all that fun.  But, hey, I can take a whack at this.  I'm game.  Now I carry my own little cheat sheet (actually it's a yellow post-it note) in my pocket.  This way I can tell customers a joke while we're waiting for the pinpad to read their credit card chip.

You know how it is if you have one.  You stand there and patiently wait for the "beep, beep, beep" indicating it's been accepted.  While waiting, I smile and voice that ole Jimmy Fallon one-liner, "Let's have a moment of silence for the chip reader."

If the customers' purchases are substantial, if they're taking a little more time to ring up and bag, I quickly retrieve the notes from my pocket to  regale them with jokes.  Tricks in my pocket.   Couldn't be better!  

Busing Kids, in Sketches

He can't whinny, but he can croak!  That means he's not a little horse but very hoarse. Poor darling hubby's been sick a lot this winter.   When he coughs it's a deep, fill-your-ears-with-sound, cough.  Like I said, he's coughed so much and so hard that he's hoarse.

Little Lolly on the bus told him today, "We want your voice right.  You need to fix it. When you talk over the radio to us to sit down, you squawk."

LOL, that's firecracker Lolly.

After one of his morning runs, Darling Hubby handed me an index card explaining, "The kids are singing this silly song."  He grins and laughs, "And Corey wrote it down for me." 

When he sung it to me it almost sounds like the chorus to 7 Little Girls who sing these lyrics, "Keep your mind on your driving, keep your hand on the wheel, keep your Snoopy eyes on the road ahead."

Here's what the bus kids sang,

"Park your rear in your seat.

Park your rear in your seat

And we will head home."

I laughed.  "Where'd they get that, John?"

DH said, "Our bus is the 4th bus in line of about 20, if we stall we hold 'em all back. So, I grab the mic and tell them,

"Put your butts in the seat.  We got TO ROLL!"

"John," I laughed and exclaimed, "you don't really say butts, do you?" 

"Yes, I do!"

One work day last week, actually Friday, Darling Hubby John missed.

And when he realized the other bus driver whose name is also John was going to take his run, he was jealous.  I'd never seen him jealous before, LOL.

The next time he ran into John II, John II said, "You have good kids!"

So, my John took them candy canes on a non-treat day, told his kids thank you for behaving themselves and for getting a good report.

"And then" Remember that song by The Coasters, Along Came Jones? 

"And the-en..."

Then, the transportation head came up to DH and said one of the girls' fathers has a complaint about Friday's run!  

"You'll be getting a call."  LOL

Let me set the scene.

John the bus driver is behind the wheel.

They're driving in the fog heading for school.

Up from the back comes Lolly.

She's been on the bus 10 minutes.

".....Ble-eck," heave, gasp, "ble-eck,  ble-eck!"

She's trying to puke.

He hands her a puke bag.

She says, "I have a fever of 99.3 but my grandma says I have to go because it's ISTEP."  ".....Ble-eck," heave, gasp,  "ble-eck,  ble-eck!"

DH says she puts on shows, that she's a drama queen, and when she didn't get enough reaction from everyone she just sat in her seat.  

The proof was in her final cry, "Somebody on this bus made me sick!"

"She'll fit!"

It was a beautiful building!  Tall spires in the back with red arches and crosses atop, right angled peaks, shorter blue spires in front with crosses atop, clocks in the towers -- all set in mature evergreens as tall as the front steeples with a slight knoll in forefront and gentle blue clouds as background giving a restful feeling to the whole scene.

While I was sorting through a stack of miscellaneous papers I caught a glimpse of this ornate church.  It was the front cover of a paper pocket folder darling hubby and sons brought home after an afternoon out.  It was a packet full of literature that stated "Your choice for a simple sacred way."  Okay, that was nice.

I'd stayed home feeling a bit under the weather.
They'd went to the Indianpolis Home Show.  It's a big building with exhibitors and booths promoting anything from flowers to roofing to cabinetry to recreational vehicles.

When they came busting through the front doors, they were all excited, everyone talking at once, bounding through the house, one to the bathroom, one to the refrigerator (just like a teenage boy, right?) and one to the kitchen closet.  Hummm, that last one was interesting, not much in there except cans of paint, garden supplies and my tool box.

Then they all laughed and giggled in conspiracy (yes, boys can giggle) but I temporarily ignored them because I had questions.  I'm always curious as to what was their favorite thing, did they get something to eat and bring me a treat, would they like to go again, did they get along, any trouble with traffic, etc.  I'm always full of questions so that's what I was doing when it happened.

I got measured.

One boy asked, "How tall are you, Mom?"  I was distracted, didn't pay attention.
Another one chuckled.

Third boy comes up to me and stretches out the tape measure.  Now my antennae start to rise.  What are these munchkins doing?  Somethings up.

"I'm 5 foot 3 and a half, why?"

"She'll fit."  And they laughed heartily.

"Here, Mom," and they handed me this pocket folder with the Abbey on front, "they're having a sale.  You can choose whichever one you want."

Durn their little hides.  They'd just measured me for an Abbey Casket!