Sisterhood of Unraveling Rants

Oh, how I needed last weekend . . . I was feeling over-scheduled, wound up and wrung out . . . but it only took five friends and a one-hour drive with the top down for my soul to begin s-l-o-w-l-y unwinding. Thought we were going to a rustic cabin, not The Potter's House, a beautiful farmhouse overlooking a small, quiet lake. Thank God for wild mushroom soup, enormous omelets, chipotle patty melts and Riesling--my tastebuds were satisfied to the max. Thank God for Balderdash, Ellen and Steve Carrell--my seratonin level hasn't been higher in a while. Thank God for time to walk, kayak, draw, write, and read . . . and just sit. Thank God for hours and hours to talk and process and imagine and pray! What surprised me most was the sweet peace that followed me all the way home and into this new week. Wouldn't trade it, or the love in that place or my heart!

Let Your Smile be Your Umbrella

Oh my cute, little heroic parents! Tonight starts day SIX that Chuck and Patsy have been without power after Hurricane Ike hit Galveston and knocked out the lights and phones in Houston. While I watched all four Houston networks streaming news on my laptop, my parents unfolded their "fruitful" day via cell phone. "We got up about 7 and did our morning routine . . ." that includes putting three different eye drops in 'Chuckle's' eyes every four hours (he had cataract surgery last Thursday morning before the hurricane hit). They also figured out that it is safer to take their nightly shower during the day when they can see what they're doing, so they changed their schedule (Patsy has been a little stressed that her electric curlers have been out of service). "Then we decided to drive around until we found an open grocery store . . ." When they saw cars at Randall's they went inside and found the staff working in the dark with flashlights! "And one of the nice workers took our grocery list and gathered everything on it--except of course there was no milk or ice." "But how did you pay for it?" I asked. "Oh, somehow they had enough power to run our Visa." You don't say. . . Next came the highlight of their day. They heard that Cleburne's Cafeteria had been open yesterday and decided to pay them a visit (as they do at least two times in a normal week) . . ."and we had the most wonderful hot, roast beef lunch with fresh spinach and ICE in our water!" After a good lunch, they took their groceries and bottled water home and "we've enjoyed the most serendipitous weather sent from the good Lord above--we even got a newspaper and our mail!" As I tear up my ridiculous complaint list from today, I stand amazed that a couple of octagenarians can keep their sunny side up despite the longest power outage their home has seen in the FIFTY years. "So what are you going to do tonight?" I teased before we hung up. "Oh, after it gets dark, we'll listen to the radio for about an hour and a half . . . (Chuck says they sit in the dark and stare at each other) then we'll open the windows with screens and go on to bed." Sleep well, dear ones--especially Chuck, who can hear anything over -15 decibels. Patsy can sleep through anything, although she admitted that she went to bed in her clothes the night the hurricane hit . . . just in case they got evacuated, she didn't want to be rescued in her pajamas.

FYI . . . On Thursday (18th) my mom unconsiously flipped a light switch in the house and there was LIGHT!

Hometown Hurricane in Houston

I'm dizzy from watching Ike spin, counterclockwise, about to inundate the crummy brown-sanded beaches I haunted as a kid. . . and then it will plow fifty miles inland through my pancake-flat hometown. My parents have waited out 50 hurricane seasons in the house where I grew up, and have only briefly lost power and have never had the house flood. We have had to canoe our way around the neighborhood, however--in college my sister and I got stranded in one of Houston's frequent floods, when a city bus sent a wave of water over the HOOD of our car--ironically we were at the intersection of Scott St. and NOAH. In 1961 during Hurricane Carla (I was five), we heard our birdhouse hit the roof while we played Old Maid by candelight . . . in 1983 (11 weeks after our twin boys were born) we spent five days with my parents after Hurricane Alicia knocked our power out an hour farther inland . . . in 2005 after Katrina, my parents agreed to evacuate ahead of Hurricane Rita but after 8 hours they were still within the city limits and stranded on the interstate--more people died in the evacuation process than in the storm. So needless to say, my parents are not leaving Zone C--their neighborhood's evacuation designator. They've been told that their chances are better staying put than leaving. Thankfully they have plenty of peanut butter and Frito's, masking tape and a hand crank radio, along with concerned neighbors who have already been over to see how they can help them secure their home. But nothing like the surge that is expected to travel from the coast, up the Houston ship channel and right into town has ever occured since the Hurricane of 1908 when 6000 people (without the benefit of 3D Stormtrackers) were killed in Galveston. I'm okay, but I'm telling you . . . between Amanda's apartment being destroyed during the February tornado, her 10 day evacuation from New Orleans during Gustav, and Ike threatening the Everett clan in their 'fraidy holes between Clear Lake and Conroe, it's been difficult to stay centered in the "calm day of the eye." I'm talking it over with Jesus Adonai, the Master over all creation.

I Dream of Genie

How many Aggies does it take to re-program a garage door opener? None, because at the risk of sounding overly-suburban, I'd like to announce that we finally figured out how to program it ourselves! If you're thinking "What does S-O spell?" please humor me. Three years ago, we donated my old van to Goodwill, and OOPS . . . my transmitter was left in it. After that, we shared the other transmitter until OOPS . . . one of us lost it, too. Two years ago, I bought a replacement transmitter at Home Depot but we never could figure out how to make it work. Chalk it up to three college graduations, two marriages and a grandchild, but until now, it wasn't a high priority. The empty side of the garage has housed my convertible on the random days I've been willing to jump out of my car, use my single house key to open the front door run to the back door, push the garage door opener button, get back in the car, drive in the garage, and push the button again to close it. No telling what the neighbors have thought as they've undoubtedly watched this routine repeated scores of time! I don't know why, but today was the day I ventured to suggest that we dig out our Genie book and try once again to make the darn transmitter work.

It took a while, but we found the instruction book, the replacement transmitter, our Philips screwdriver and stepladder. We read the instructions and tried to follow the directions, but nothing happened. Since it had been so long, we decided the battery must have gone dead. I opened the back of the transmitter with a coin, like it said, but the whole "mother board" popped out, along with an unidentified plastic piece. It figures. We drove to the Walgreens to buy another battery, put it in, replaced the circuit board and tried it again. Nothing. David went in to eat lunch. I couldn't accept this. I have a Master's degree, and faithfully read instruction booklets--I even tore out the other three languages so I wouldn't get distracted!! So I checked the battery position, replaced the circuit board . . . and spotted where that little plastic piece that was meant to go--OOPS . . . it flipped the switch that changed the signal frequency and allowed the button to be pressed all the way down. Not wanting to get my hopes up too high, I held my breath as I pressed the Learn Code button, and watched the flashing light became . . . SOLID! I pressed the button one more time and . . . the angels in heaven rejoiced!! I proclaimed the marvelous gospel and David came running. I'm sure the neighbors thought we were nuts as we opened and closed and opened and closed the door. We were on a roll. Next we programmed the transmitter on my convertible visor. Then we got the transmitter to open the other garage door! And in less than two hours, my Saturday morning wish had come true. Both cars were sitting side-by-side inside the garage as I watched the doors go down in perfect synchrony. I couldn't have been happier if I had found Aladdin's magic lamp under all the junk that's still in my garage.

I (Heart) School Supplies

Ever since I carried my first Big Chief tablet and Crayola Crayons to kindergarten back in 1961, I have been in love with school supplies! New watercolors, Lefty scissors, and a set of map pencils have been replaced by multi-colored Sharpies, a full-sized paper cutter and scented dry erase markers., but my feelings of simple pleasure are the same. The first day of school was always the day after Labor Day, so today it just felt right to return to my ESL classroom. I enjoyed all the table-arranging, roll-organizing and volunteer-orienting, but what really made me happy was laying out all the school supplies! Black medium point pens, sharp sunflower yellow #2 pencils, laminated, rewritable name strips, and a great big "sticky" chart. To top off my day, I spent an hour in the Parent-Teacher Store on the way home! It’s a ritual I’ve been devoted to for decades . . . my New Year is really marked by the Academic calendar. I guess I acknowledged what that makes me, when I returned to my place after the break at a continuing education seminar, to find that all my pens and highlighters had been arranged to spell N-E-R-D. That’s okay, Melinda, I will wear that label proudly, just like the perfectly printed name tags I made for my English students today!