Dog Days

This Louisiana heat is sapping the life from everything. The trees in my yard are dropping leaves, not because they're turning rich, earthy, fall colors, but because they're dead. I stopped trying to save the lawn by watering it weeks ago. It looks like sad straw. The hum of the ceiling fans is constant. I love that sound. If only I had a screen door that slapped and creaked throughout the day as my family comes and goes, that would be heaven. I try to get my work done earlier in the day because the heat builds, even in our air-conditioned house, throughout the afternoon. It's better to try and move as little as possible into the evening. That kills me. I get restless in the evenings. And irritated when I'm hot. So I find myself talking on the phone a lot to my four girlfriends, alternating so they don't get to tired of hearing my voice, to help pass the time. Everyone in town seems a little irritated. I seem to hear more sirens, see more fender benders, and everytime someone enters a cool building, you usually hear them mutter, "Damn, it's hot," as they wipe their brow. We look at each other and shake our heads in disbelief.

August is like that here. It's a month that starts off slow but quickly speeds up as parents hustle around town getting their kids ready for school with the endless list of school supplies and new school clothes. All in this unrelenting heat. I think it's cruel and poor planning to have the kids start back in the middle of the hottest month. Is the school board trying to crush their spirits? Job well done, idiots. If I could go back in time, I'd work out a way to homeschool my children, I think. Or move to a state that has a great education system run by intelligent people. Is there such a place?

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I recently joined the modern world and bought an iphone. I'm in love. It's such an amazing tool. And one more leap, I purchased the Kindle app and have downloaded a couple of books. This is one, giant leap for Melinda-kind...I've held the belief that the Kindle and the Nook were tools of the anti-christ. My book loving friends and I have railed against their evils! Who will buy the physical books if these devices take over? What will become of the artists who design their covers? And the trees that give their life for the, crisp, white pages? What will we do with the empty spaces on our bookshelves, nightstands, and windowsills if our books are all tucked away in one small, flat, electronic device? And libraries, my God, the libraries! What will become of them and the tiny, eclectic bookstore that I one day want to own?

But as usual, I realize I may have been a bit dramatic. The Kindle and the Nook are not signs of a brave new world, but of a world that is growing in technological bounds. They are signs of a world that will never give up its words and is merely finding a new way to contain and transport them. It means that now I can have both. I may be in the mood to hold the physical book and its weighted pages late at night as I snuggle up in bed near my husband. Or I may be stuck in traffic and be able to pass those useless minutes reading a wonderful book on my iphone. I spend so much of my time waiting. I wait in line at the grocery store, or at a doctor's office, or in the drive-thru at the bank. Those wasted minutes make me uneasy because they represent time that is being stolen from my life. But now, instead of getting angry and irritated, I can slip away with a great book. I can learn or be swept away while I'm waiting on life to move. And not just from one book that's tucked away under the seat, oh no, I have a library of brilliant works at my fingertips.

And that, my friends, is a truly beautiful thing. I can't wait to tell you about the first book I bought and read, but for now,

the weekend is calling...hope you have a great one!

Still Here...

It's official. I'm one daughter away, one year away, from being an empty nester. Last weekend, we moved Stevey off to college and guess what? I survived. She survived. In fact, she's thriving. And I'm beginning to feel like I'm emerging from a year long brain fog. I can't seem to get enough sleep. I feel like a week of laying in the bed, watching TV, reading and sleeping is called for but that isn't an option. It's time to start preparing my last child for college. I've learned a lot this past year so I'm hoping this time, it won't be as stressful. Sara is a different child and this will be a different experience with her. Not necessarily better, just different.

So, here's Stevey with her roomate...



and a dreamy, sunset view of the campus from her apartment balcony.

Believe it or not, I do have other things going on in my brain that I'd like to write about it.

Patience, grasshopper.

The Summer I Grew Up

I fall in love a little with every city that I visit. If I could travel more, and one day, I will, my heart will be spread out around the world.

At the beginning of the month, I visited Diahn in Knoxville, Tennessee. Her boys welcomed me with my own, special door.

I am not exaggerating when I say that her children are the politest, kindest, coolest, most well-behaved children that I have ever met. Ever.

And exceptional tennis players, as well. I know because I witnessed their skills first hand. As D said before I watched their match, "So far, you've seen what's on the outside. Tomorrow, you get to see what's on the inside." He was right.

The whole family made me feel so welcomed and spoiled me a little.

The only thing they didn't do for me was have a parade. Maybe next time.

Diahn and I sat outside on her beautiful deck and talked for hours in the evenings, with glasses of wine and bottles of beer in hand. Monty Python movie quotes were rampant.

We made pickles and probably had more fun than two grown women should have making pickles.

And on Saturday morning, we went to the farmer's market where I met Linda...finally! It was like I had known her for years. The whole weekend was lovely and such a nice relaxing, reprieve from the summer of transition.

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At the beginning of this week, my daughter and I visited the LSU campus in Baton Rouge for freshman orientation, where I promptly fell in love with the campus, the old oak trees, and the steamy air. The photo below isn't edited...my lens fogged up before I took the shot.

The oaks on campus are worth millions and some are actually insured with Lloyds of London.


When I got home, I was showing the pictures to my husband and I realized every shot was of a tree. And maybe a street lamp or two. The campus is sprawling and beautiful and fills me with the urge to study and read. I loved college.


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My blog feels stagnant. My writing is very surface these days. This daughter going off to college leaves me feeling like an exposed nerve. I am sad when I hear her walk in the house late at night and realize these are the last few weeks of this place being her home. I am angry with myself when I think of all the missed opportunities of time spent with her and wish I could take back every harsh word that's passed between us. I am overwhelmed with the list of all the things I haven't told her and yet confident that this is how it should be. That she will have to learn these things as she makes her own path. I am reminded of how fleeting life can be. I am reminded of my age, of my parent's age, of how tall my Grandson is becoming. I am fearful of going through this whole process again next year when my youngest child leaves the nest and the house is quiet and empty. How many years have I spent dreaming about the very thing that now terrifies me?

So I cling to the familiar. I cling to my husband. I cling to my family and friends. And I cling to the mundane tasks of my day. I cling to constants. I pray a lot at night as I'm falling asleep. My prayers aren't organized or concise. Instead, they are the ramblings and pleadings of a woman who feels like she is gripping the edge, holding on for dear life. They are the prayers of a child at night, eyes squeezed shut, covers pulled up to the chin, trying to pray away the monsters.

This woman also knows that on the other side of the empty nest, there are new pages to be written. There is a shedding of the skin, in a way. There are big weddings, new son-in-laws and sweet grandchildren on the horizon. There are roads to be traveled and cities that are waiting for me to love them.

But for now, I'm still clinging.

Leaving

It's 2:23am and I'm having a serious cup of coffee. No messing around. I'm leaving in an hour with my husband to take my stepdaughter home. And then up to Tennessee for a much needed visit with Diahn.

And since it's 2:24am and I'm slightly delirious, I thought I'd share my epiphany with you. The one that I had at 11:30pm when I finally laid down to try and go to sleep. My daughters are out of town so I decided to sleep in Stevey's room last night, to could get away from the noise of the television that my husband sometimes watches until late at night, and that's when it hit me.

She's leaving in five short weeks.

My baby girl is moving out and moving on. And even though she'll come back for holiday breaks and summers, it'll never be the same. Even though I'm so proud of her that I'm practically bursting at the seams, it'll never be the same. I laid there in the dark, breathing in her "Stevey" smell from her pillows, looking around her room at her bulletin board, her paintings and her clutter of clothes scattered around the room, and started to grieve.

And I still can't stop crying.

I'm sure it'll get easier with time. I'd rather get most of it out now than later when I'm helping her unpack at her new apartment. I seriously hate goodbyes. I'd rather stick hot pokers in my eyes than say goodbye. I don't like to get that emotional in front of people and nothing gets me more emotional than saying goodbye. I know, I know...it's not a permanent goodbye.

But to my mother's heart, it sure feels like it.

What's Going On (thank you, Barry White and Marvin Gaye)

I haven't been blogging so much lately. There are many reasons but mostly, they involve children. Children, children, children. From the age of 18 to 3. It's an interesting age span, for sure. On a daily basis, I deal with everything from college anxiety to helping the three-year-old wipe his bottom after he goes to the bathroom. Of the two, I prefer the bottom wiping. Much easier. And just in case my 18 year-old is reading this, like she does from time to time to time, let me clarify. It's not that I actually prefer the smell of poop over your worries about college, it's just that I miss being able to help you solve your problems so easily. Like wiping your bottom.

And now she'll probably never read again. Sorry, sweetie.

Then there's my youngest daughter, who just went through her one hundred and twenty-ninth cell phone. Let's just say she's done her part to recycle as many phones as she possibly can since I purchased her first one at the age of 14. She's now 17. She's a giver, my Sara, always thinking about others less fortunate than her.

Then there are the two youngest, my five-year old stepdaughter and three-year-old grandson. I won't bore you again. You can read about these two poop-lovers here.

I just used the word poop twice in one post. As a matter of fact, the word poop seems to be the biggest part of my vocabulary these days. I think I need a vacation.

And I will get a short one soon! When the husband and I take Lyanna back home to Alabama next weekend, I get to shoot up to Knoxville and spend a few therapeutic, relaxing, Margarita filled days with Diahn and her sweet family. Where we'll most spend of our warm, late, summer evenings talking about poop. Good times. Good times, indeed.

In the meantime, here's what I've been up to this summer. In between the poop.


We've fed goats and fawns.


Some days, we just chill with our new friend below, Jack. He's so laid back and makes a mean Mint Julep. And he tells the best stories.


And then there's his best friend, Joe. He's kind of quiet. And he has a bad smoker's cough. But every now and then, he lets out a loud laugh and tells a story of his own. Or asks for water.

And then there's these guys...feisty, carnivorous misunderstood guys. They have no respect for personal space and at any given moment they might eat your face, but hey, everyone has their faults, right?

I think they're my new best friends.


Oh yeah, and in between the elaborate stories that Jack tells, and the slightly more interesting, albeit more dangerous, tales of our carnivorous friends, I visit the Shreveport Farmer's Market and buy soothing, comfort items like these....


This is a Thai Basil plant. I realize that the brick entitled "Rosemary" next to the Thai Basil doesn't make sense. In fact, it's quite confusing. When I purchased the plant and the brick, the lady behind the booth asked, "You do realize this is Thai Basil...not Rosemary?"

"Of course," I answered. Nosey woman. Like I use it everyday. I have no clue. I just liked the looks of it.

I'm like a ninja sometimes.

In Over My Head

I am old. I have forgotten what it's like to take care of a three-year-old and a five-year-old at the same time. Currently, I'm taking care of my step-daughter, 5, and my grandson, 3, during the day, while I'm trying to work. I work from home. They are here, at my home. While I'm trying to work.

I've developed an eye twitch over the last few days.

Generally, they have a "get along" time span of about ten minutes. Ten minutes before someone melts down. Ten minutes before someone gets angry and throws a punch. Ten minutes before the tears start flowing like lava from Mt. Vesuvius.

And they're loud. REALLY LOUD. They have two volumes. Asleep or loud. There is no in between. There is no whisper. When I ask them to use their inside voices, they look at me as if I'm speaking Farsi.

They are redundant. Redundant to the point of obsessive compulsivity. Seriously.

Me: Do you want to watch TV for awhile?

Brian: Yes, I want to watch "Hulk".

Me: Okay, Hulk it is.

Brian: Hulk! I want to watch Hulk! Nanny, can I watch Hulk? (desperately pulling at my shirt sleeve). Hulk! Hulk! Can I watch, Hulk? Hey Nanny, Hulk is what I want to watch. Do you know Hulk? I yike Hulk. So, can I watch him, Hulk?"

And sharing? Please. They wouldn't share a life preserver if they were drowning. Whatever object or toy one of them is playing with, the other wants. Any object. If Lyanna has a hair bow, Brian wants it. Suddenly, he loves hair bows and his very life depends on having it in his tiny, sweaty hands. If Brian is playing with a blade of grass, Lyanna simply must have that specific blade of grass, now. Never mind the millions and millions and millions of blades in the front and back yard, none of those will do. If we had a dog, which thankfully we don't because that would completely send me over the edge, and the two of them found a piece of dog poop, the conversation would go something like this.

Brian: Hey, I found some dog poop!

Lyanna: Can I hold it?

Brian: No! I found it first! It's my dog poop.

Lyanna: BUT I JUST WANT TO HOLD IT!

Brian: NO! GET YOUR OWN DOG POOP! THIS IS MINE!

Lyanna: BUT I WANT THAT DOG POOP! I WAS ABOUT TO PICK IT UP BEFORE YOU DID SO IT'S MY DOG POOP! (Tears begin to flow)

Brian: I SAID NO!!! STOP ASKING ME FOR MY POOP! (a punch is thrown)

Lyanna: (wailing) HE HIT ME! HE HIT ME! HE HIT ME! AND HE WON'T LET ME HAVE THE DOG POOP! WHY DOES HE ALWAYS GET TO PLAY WITH THE DOG POOP AND I NEVER GET TO PLAY WITH IT!

Brian: DOG POOP! DOG POOP! DOG POOP! DOG POOP! DOG POOP!

At which point I'd probably find myself saying something ridiculous like:

"Brian, you get to play with the poop for five minutes and then it's Lyanna's turn. If you two can't share, then the poop is MINE! Capeesh?"

But oh my...their superhero powers of cuteness are matched by none. They slay me every time.

Lately

This may be the longest time that I've been away from my blog. Life has been a little hectic.

1. We moved.
2. Made three college trips.
3. Stevey graduated from high school.
4. Lyanna is here.

Here's what I've been doing in between.

1. Riding my bike.
2. Reading.
3. Cleaning my yard and getting the beds ready for planting.
4. Grilling.
5. Drinking vanilla coffee.
6. Sipping Shiraz.

Pretty uneventful, and yet, completely full of life's sweetest events.





I'll be back soon...happy summer.