Southern Hospitality

Yesterday I had the opportunity to visit an elderly friend.  My friend is an elegant southern lady and we had a great visit, but the point of this story is the southern hospitality experience.   My friend's daughter brought us iced tea in cutglass glasses and small cookies all of which were presented on a lovely napkin covered tray.  We chatted for a while and then went outside to view my friend's flower garden.  The afternoon felt like a chapter from F. Scott Fitzgerald without the emotional angst.  I absolutely loved it.  It took me back to memories of my mother and her church circle/sorority/club meetings.

 First we cleaned the house from top to bottom just in case someone looked under my bed and discovered a dust bunny!  One never knows what club women will do, after all!  Then came the cooking.  Finger sandwiches were a must.  When I first heard the term I was horrified that anyone would want to eat a finger-shaped sandwich.  Imagine my releif when I found that a finger sandwich was just bread without the crust cut into pretty shapes with some kind of filling other than peanutbutter and jelly!  Next came the baking of cookies or possibly cake.  Usually my brother and I were in charge of cookie baking.  He was older than I so he was the chief chef while I was only allowed to stir.  Then a trip to the grocery in town was required to secure mints and mixed nuts.  Finally just before the guests were to arrive coffee was perked.  We lived in the midwest therefore sweet tea was not an option.  Now all of this deliciousness was very artfully arranged on a set of glass plates. They are oval with an indentation for the glass cup.  According to my mother these plates were absolutely required equipment for any clubwoman worth her salt!  I believe there was a certain amount of one-up-manship among the women regarding their plates.    At the appointed time the women  arrived at our house in hats and gloves; no one would even consider being late.

So how does all of this relate to yesterday?  I have to wonder if women in the generations below me have the desire  to continue this idea of hospitality.  Do they have a supply of pretty napkins on hand for just such occasions?  I still have Mother's plates and cups along with several serving pieces, but I usually fall back on paper plates, etc.  Mother would be horrified!  If I haven't been good at modeling hostess-like behavior, will my daughter be motivated to learn?  Do women even have time to devote to entertaining other ladies for an afternoon or do they just meet at the local restaurant?  I hope southern hospitality isn't becoming a lost art just as I hope visiting isn't becoming a lost art.  My challenge to anyone who reads this is to visit someone in person, not on facebook.  Then get some pretty napkins, make a sandwhich or two and share your elegance with another woman.  Perhaps we can revive this small bit of gentility.

Down on the farm

Early this morning my husband let our dogs out for their morning "business".  One of our sweet girls began to growl at our grill.  Odd behavior even for this particular dog who has some behavioral issues.  So my hubby lifted the grill cover to see what was bothering our sweet girl.  Low and behold, a pair of eyes stared back at him!!!!  Before dropping the cover and making a hasty retreating into the house he did recognize the distinctive face of a raccoon which begs the question, "What the hell is a raccoon doing hiding under the grill cover??????"  The varmint wasn't talking.
After numerous phone calls to animal control, police department, vet, and exterminator, all who wanted nothing to do with said raccoon, we chased the interloper into the woods hopefully never to be seen again!

The Case of the Missing Coffee

It was early on Tuesday morning, 0700 to be exact.  The scene of the crime was the bedroom of the victim's residence.  The victim recounts the details as follows:
"My sweet husband brought me a cup of coffee while I was still sleeping.  I was sleeping because I am retired and I can sleep as late as I want!!!  Anyway, he, my husband, was going out early and he brought me a cup of coffee thinking I would be up soon.  I thought I would be up soon, too, but getting out of bed just seemed too much of an effort.  So, I went back to sleep with my 2 dogs keeping my feet warm.  Did I mention my dogs?  They sleep with us every night.  We had to get a king sized bed to make room for all us!  They are just too cute. Oh, okay, I'll get back to facts.  When I did wake up the coffee was cold, so I decided to shower then nuke the coffee so as not to be wasteful.  Which is what I did.  Weeellll, when I went to pick up my cup it was empty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  An entire cup of coffee, gone!!!!!!!!!!!!   Who could have crept into my house and drunk my coffee?????????  What kind of low-life would rob a poor retired woman of her morning coffee?????"
My partner and I discussed possible scenarios.  No fingerprints were found at the scene.  The two dogs had nothing to say when questioned, but one seemed very jittery.  We caution the victim about drinking in bed.  Case closed.

Southern Talk

"Bless his/her/your/their heart".  I love this phrase.  It is an all-encompassing phrase and is the southern woman's dagger sheathed in satin.  Context is absolutely critical to the use of this phrase.  For instance, while discussing the bad luck of a neighbor the phrase implies a true feeling of regret for the neighbor's difficulties.  But, when applied to someone who has done or said something really idiotic then the seemingly innocuous phrase takes on a tone that can only be described as lethal.  "Bless her heart.  I know she meant well, but did you see how short that dress was?  You could see all the way downtown!"  "Bless his heart, he can't help it.  He's had no raisin'. "  "Bless their hearts, they try so hard, but well, they can't help it that they were born into that family.  It does seem that they would learn from their mistakes but I guess not.  Bless their hearts." 

Beware of southern women who bless your heart.  They may have something else entirely in mind for your heart.

Living in the South

I am not a southerner by birth.  I was born north of the Mason-Dixon line and even though I have lived in the south for 25 years I am still not Southern.  That being said, there is much about Southern living that I love.  Last Friday was a case in point.  My community is small and rural.  People here care for one another for the most part.  When a family is in trouble, either health or disaster such as fire, people pitch in and help.  Thus Jack and I found ourselves at a small local church at a spaghetti dinner.  The proceeds of the dinner were to go to a person who has cancer.  I think the cancer patient is a member of this church or perhaps his family is.   Jack's singing group was also going to perform after the dinner.  We don't know the cancer patient and in fact didn't know very many people in the crowd.  When we talked to others in attendance, they didn't know the patient either.  Nevertheless, the response was overwhelming.  The fellowship hall was packed as was the sanctuary.  Later we heard that over $4,000.00 had been collected.  $4,000.00 from a community that has an unemployment rate of over 9%.  $4,000.00 from a community of farmers and blue collar workers and retirees. 

Perhaps this kind of outpooring of kindness happens in large cities, but considering the anonymity of cities I doubt it.  There is much I rail against here in the south, but I don't think anywhere can be beat for kindness to others.  I have learned to keep the ingredients for casseroles and pound cakes on hand just in case there is a need.  I love being included in the giving of food or cards or phone calls to lift some one's spirit.  While I will never be considered  Southern, I am happy that I have learned the art of southern kindness.

Time

Time on my hands, time in a bottle, as time goes by, time flies when you are having fun. I have discovered that there is working time and retirement time. Let me explain the difference. When I was teaching time seemed to grind slowly forward from the beginning of the year to about mid January. Then I was counting the days until EOG testing and thinking my students wouldn't be ready for the Alpha and Omega of all tests. Then there were the week days. I started dreading Monday on Sunday afternoon. Finally, Wednesday would appear on the horizon, but wait! The next day would be Thursday - the most accursed day of the week! Just when I didn't think I could stand one more day, the sun would rise on Friday. Ahhhh, a sigh of relief.

Now that retirement has set in, I dread Tuesdays. I know it is ungrateful of me to dread any day of the week, but there you are. Just call me an ungrateful wretch. On Tuesdays I have no committments; aka nothing to do. Yes, I can read, clean, play music, go to library, etc. However, that is not the same as HAVING to do something. Plus, my dear sweet husband is home ALL DAY LONG!!!!!!!!! Ever hear the saying, "Too much togetherness is not a good thing"? It is true.

So, what is a retiree to do? Well, I haven't worked that out yet. But, to my schoolteacher friends, watch out. I may show up at your door looking for something to fill my time on Tuesdays.

First snow in 2012

View down our driveway.

View from bedroom window.

Friday!!!!

It's Friday!  Fabulous Friday!  Fantastic Friday!  Dixie Donut Friday!!!!  For the uninitiated Dixie Donuts is a local bakery that specializes in ....... donuts!!!!  Their product surpasses both Dunkin' Donuts and Krispy Kreme, in my humble opinion. 

After a grueling 60 minutes in water aerobics class plus 1.5 laps in the lap pool, my girls (aka dogs) and I went to DD.  It is a mere 1/4 mile from the Y!!!  How perfect is that ?  It is a beautiful day here so the four of us sat on a picnic bench and nibbled donuts.  Perfection, pure perfection.  Only 1 donut won't hurt, will it?????

By the way, the crumbs from the sugar glaze works great to relieve pruny fingers.  The glaze may be applied externally or taken internally.  :)



1

THIS is what retirement is all about!

Grandpa and Wes read a book.

Welcome Graham Michael Sidney

Graham and Gran

Awwwww

Senior Cititzens

I detest the label, "Senior Citizens".  Senior Citizens are OLD people.  Really old people.  Really, really old people.  That is NOT me.  I am not old.  60 isn't really old, it is the new middle age!  I refuse to go to Silver Sneakers class at the Y because of the name.  OK, it is also because I don't like to exercise, but that is an argument for a later date.  So that is why, after water aerobics today,when I was asked to join a swim team for Senior Olympics, I blanched!!!!  There is that word again!!!!  I am retired, not dead!!!  These are not my twilight years.  They are the years of new horizons, of new adventures, years of growth.  The sun isn't setting on my life, it is rising just like it has been doing for the last 59.3 years.  I don't want to be a Senior Citizen or a Junior or a Sophomore or a Freshman.  How about an experienced citizen or a knowledgeable citizen??? What's wrong with those appellations????  Even better, just a plain ordinary citizen!!  Who thought up Senior Citizen anyway???  Probably some cutesy wet-behind-the-ears advertising chick.  I can hear it now.  "Oh, that is just too clever!  The poor old sods won't even realize it's a label!  Isn't being young and obnoxious great?????"  Add in in lots of eyelash batting, too.  Good grief!!!!!  Let's write to our political leaders and decry the unfairness of labeling people Senior Citizens.  Man the typewriters, man the teletype machines, man the telegraphs, saddle up the Pony Express!  What do you mean, these are all antiquated means of communications???  Antiquated?  Is that a euphemism for Senior?

Big News

Another Steele male has entered into the world.  Graham Michael was born on Feb. 4.  That makes 9 great grandsons for Jack's mom.  Wow!

On a different note.  I recently watched Fried Green Tomatoes, again, and was struck by this line. "I am too old to be young and too young to be old."  What a perfect description of post-middle age.

A Conversation

My daughter tells me that the key to exercising is to listen to one's body and not one's mind.  So today in water aerobics I tried that strategy.  It went something like this...

Mind:  You don't really want to get out of this warm, soft bed to get into a moderately cold pool, do you???
Body:  You will feel so much better if you get up and go!!!!
Me:  OK!!!! I am going to water aerobics and I don't want to hear anymore whining.
Body:  Nanny nanny boo boo to you Mind.  You think you are so powerful!

45 Minutes later in a moderately cold pool.

Mind:  I cannot believe you are doing this!  What is wrong with you????  This water is cold and you can't even hear the instructor!!  Good grief!!!
Body:  Don't listen to the Mind, listen to me!  I am having a wonderful time!!!  This is great!!  As long as you are moving you will be warm.  The instructor demonstrates everything so you don't really need to hear her anyway! 

30 minutes into the class

Body:  Uh, Kath, I don't know if you have noticed, but the lungs are straining to get enough air and the arm muscles are screaming about fatigue.  We all think you need to slow down.
Mind:  I told you so.  I told you so. I told you so. 
Me:  Both of you be quiet!!!  Stop whining!!!  I will take us to the donut shop after class if everyone just works together to get through this.
Mind and Body:  Aw, that is so sweet! (Pun intended) 

So, my sweet daughter was right.  It is important to listen to one's body while exercising.  Now, I wonder if I should tell my therapist about all the voices I have been hearing!

Water Aerobics

That's right, I said "Water aerobics."   My philosophy of exercise is that it is to be avoided at all costs, but my doctor does not agree.  One reason I don't like to exercise is because I don't like to sweat; hence water aerobics.  Even if I get hot, I am in water and can instantly cool off. 

Last week the teacher handed out paddles for us to use.  They were shaped like a weight that had been smashed flat.  The round pieces at either end of the handle had a fan-like contraption that could be opened or closed depending on how much resistance is desired.  Before I go on, you must understand that I have spent the last 25 years of my life with middle schoolers.  Because of that, middle school behavior sometimes, dare I say rarely?, slips into my psyche.  The very moment I was handed the paddle this thought enter my water-logged brain.  "What would happen if I slapped this into the water and made a splash????"  I looked at the elderly woman who was in front of me and for one horrible second I could see my hand move downward causing a hair soaking spray.  It was like a slow motion  scene in a movie.  All the hairspray in the world could not have saved this woman's coif.  Fortunately for me the thought quickly vanished and Mrs. Helmet-head remained oblivious.  I, however, was left feeling a bit unfulfilled.

On another note.  Monday, Jan. 30, there was an entire flock of robins in our yard.  Considering the mild winter we have had so far, I will be curious to see if we really have cold and snow this year.

Finally, I had to go to my former school this week.  I went to the workroom to deliver the letters I had written, then turned and found myself looking at my old mailbox.  My name wasn't there.  Another dose of reality.

Reality

I received my first retirement check from the school system.  Holy drop in the bucket, Bat Man!!!!  I should have stayed employed!

A Day

She has  to say
That she is  grumpy today.

One would think, "No way!"
What does she have to be grumpy about
Anyway?

She can eat bonbons
All day!

She can go outside
To catch a ray.

She can sit on her porch and
Watch the trees sway.

And yet, still, she is grumpy
Today.

Dreams

I have been having school dreams.  Guess my mind has not completely gotten the message that retirement has begun!  Last night's dream was interesting.  I had gone to school because I had forgotten something and before I knew it, I had been hired to serve as a teacher assistant for the young woman who has taken my place.  It was the first day of school and she and I were both trying to get the students in the classroom.  They were jumping out of the classroom window or simply walking out of the room an roaming the halls or hiding behind lockers.  By the way, there were some very familiar faces in the rowdy bunch of kids, too!  We finally corralled the students and began a lesson, but I was trying to teach the kids.  The teacher gave me a look that I instantly recognized as "The Teach Look" and  I meekly retreated to the back of the room.  The dream on went with a trip to the cafeteria that I can't begin to explain, but it was again a situation where kids were out of control and we were trying to gain control.  I went the the principal, Jodi, to resign and she said, "Too bad, and we are going to hire Jack as an assistant principal at Ronda-Clingman (an elementary school)!  With those words, I awoke, thank goodness!

A Fantastic Movie and Good Book

We have just returned from seeing "Incredibly Loud and Extremely Close".  Gripping doesn't begin to describe this movie.  The story is superbly written and the acting is equally great.  Interestingly Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock really played rather minor parts.  However, the young boy who played the main character has talent dripping from every poor.  This one is on its way to many awards!  Run don't walk to your nearest theatre!!!!!!!

As to the book, its title is "Following Atticus", by Tom Ryan.  I suppose this falls into the memoir genre although the author and his dog are still living.  Perhaps death is not a prerequisite for memoirs??????  I love dogs, dog owners, and stories about dogs and their owners.  It is also about mountain climbing in New Hampshire.  Ever since teaching the novel, "Banner in the Sky", I have been hooked on mountain climbing or more accurately, reading about mountain climbing. The actual climbing does not interest me.  I am too fond of my extremities to risk loosing them to frostbite! "Following Atticus" second theme revolves around the ability of  an animal to change a person's life. No, this book is not Pulitzer Prize material, but it is a good read if you like dogs and mountain climbing.

First Day

Today was my first day as a docent at our local museum.  I put on my schoolteacher clothes and my best first-day-of-school smile and arrived a few minutes early just to show my eagerness to perform.  I had diligently studied my tour guide notes prior to arriving and was just bursting with scintillating tidbits of arcana which I would graciously disperse to the uneducated masses.  I sat patiently at the docent desk and reviewed my guide notes, not willing to be found wanting in my knowledge of the history of Wilkes.  I sat and sat and sat when suddenly the phone rang!!!!!!!!  Yeah, but wait! Could I remember how to transfer the call?  So many buttons on this phone, so little training!  Where were my inservice notes?????  Oh the pressure!!!!!  "Hello, Wilkes Heritage Museum, may I help you?"  My finger thoughtfully traveled over the many buttons.  My eye wandered to the list of transfer numbers(3).  Finally a light bulb flashed in my muddled mind and wait, yes, that was it.  Press transfer and the proper number!!  Yes!!!!!  I hadn't cut anyone off!!!!  The battle of the phone had been waged and won by the first time docent!  The afternoon waned and I sat.  No one came to see the museum.  The directors were very kind and said some days are just like that.  One week from today I will again don a schoolteacher outfit and put on a schoolteacher smile to go forth to educate the wandering masses and do battle with the many-buttoned phone.  The daring docent back into the breach.

Well ...

I have been retired for about 2 weeks now.  One of the questions I am often asked is, "What are you going to do?"  This question has haunted me for sometime.  What am I going to do now that I have time on my hands?  So, here is a rundown of some activities that have served to pass my time.  They are not in any particular order.
Wake up, not at 5:00 a.m.
Water aerobics at Y
Cook
Read
Nap - this is probably my favorite so far!
Play with dogs
Brush dogs
Practice dulcimer and flute
Make cards
Scrap booking
Watch old movies
Volunteer at local museum
Being quiet - this is the hardest of all.  I am used to moving at warp speed and still get a feeling the pit of my tummy that tells me I need to grade papers, pack lunch, make parent phone calls, iron something to wear, make lesson plans and on and on.  This feeling usually happens Sunday night.

Retirement is a good thing, I think.  Of course, if I have to stand in the local breadline I may have a different view.  Hopefully that won't happen.  My friend, Ann, says she likes the flexibility retirement offers.  I agree.  My time is so flexible that I have postponed cleaning out a very cluttered bedroom for 2 weeks!! 

Did you know that a synonym for retirement is fall back?  I like that.  Next time someone asks about my career, I shall simply reply that I have fallen back!  Sounds very mysterious, doesn't it!