Summer's coming -- the bats have arrived!

Eagerly awaiting my elliptical's arrival this morning. I'm the first delivery and set-up!  So excited!!! 

Had an errant bat last night that acted so crazy  - refusing to settle down and then daring to dive bomb my cat!  After 20 minutes of having it swoop up, down and never settle, I blocked it (and poor Sassy) into two front rooms, slipped out the back (already wearing my orange cap for courage and work gloves and carrying my trusty bat net and broom) and trudged through the wet yard to the front.  Peering in the windows I could see it freaking out. Man that was one angry bat and Sassy and I hadn't done a thing...yet! 

Sassy had the good sense to sandwich herself between the shelves of a bookshelf.  She was safe, so I unlocked the front door and waited -- HERE IT CAME! I threw open the screen door and it flipped out, then I slammed the screen door to keep Sassy in and quickly followed the bat.  Unfortunately, it slid right into a soffit on the roof -- between the hall closet and "Squirrel Room" which means, it is still somewhere in the house.  If it had landed I was ready to be a big dog  - but it looked pretty angry. Got a pretty good work-out though -- my heart sure was pumping.

I kept the hall doors shut last night and Sassy didn't complain one bit about not being allowed upstairs, preferring to sleep right next to me on the pillow.  I think that mean ol' bat kinda scared her. For an old and ailing cat she was pretty amazing last night. 

This morning, though, Sassy decided we just had to be brave and open the hall doors to the upstairs.  She and I cautiously went upstairs -- peered into corners, behind curtains and stared at the two closed closet doors (closets are scary-- one dragon at a time people).  Then stared at the closed "Squirrel Room" door.  I filled up her water dish in the bathroom, checked behind the shower curtain and then through the Flambe room.  Mind you, I was wearing the appropriate personal protective equipment (PPE) for this (see above paragraph). Ahem.

Having determined that for now all was clear, Sassy took up a guard position across my office desk in the "flambe" room in order to peer out the window at the woodpecker who works in the old tree out front.  That bird has one amazing work ethic -- never misses a morning and seems quite cheerful about it all.  At least that's my 2¢ on it.

Sassy in the window last summer - she looks so much bigger here!
 

Enjoy your Saturday one and all!

"Oklahoma Tornado Kills at least 91" - NY Times

"Homes were flattened, cars flung through the air and at least two schools packed with children destroyed, sending rescuers to dig out those buried in rubble."

After a long night of checking in with people I love, I ready myself for work. A soft spring rain brings about the morning, the birds are calling to each other and one early riser woodpecker has settled on the old tree in my front yard, hammering away. It is quiet, calm on the front porch this morning. I am trying to focus on it, breathe deeply and let loose the sorrow.

Sometimes, I don't believe there are any answers, just tears.

You are my Sunshine

Holding tightly to my hands, her full skirt twirling, as we soared around the skating rink.
The tip of her tongue pressed firmly to her upper lip as she pumped the treadle on her sewing machine.
Flinging her hands about, holding the ever present cup of coffee, as she chatted with her friends and, yet, the coffee remained perfectly contained waiting for her.
Her voice unapologetically belting out disharmonious tones as she hung out the wash.
Carefully measuring the small hand of her granddaughter to make a pair of mittens.
Surrounded by pots, cups, figurines and plates of clay, her head bent over her work, delicately applying the paint brush.
Finding her sitting on the front porch with the newest baby brother, waiting for us girls to tell of our first day at our new school.
Knowing it is her voice I hear whenever I bake bread, reminding me to feed the yeast.
Detouring on my way home after school to the job training site, so we could ride the bus home together.
Catching a shadow of her face whenever I smile in a mirror.
Believing in tomorrows, the power of faith and the importance of a hug.

If all you relive is pain and fear you lose the bits where she was the best mom.

Ruth Jane Nelson April 1938 - December 1996

Harlan Women

 

In April of 2013 a new Harlan woman was born.  She wasn't the first nor will she be the last. 

Whatever last name she carries, she will always be one of us. Part of a long line of women - strong, fierce, bold, loving - she will carry on a tradition that dates back to Flora May Harlan, born February 11, 1875. 

A Harlan Woman, this newest one will also seek out the good in others.

A Harlan Woman. She has it in her to follow her dreams, stand-up for what she believes in, hold out a hand to another, give amazing hugs and is certain to leave a mark in this world. 

A Harlan Woman.  Born with a voice to be heard - whether she can carry a tune, debate the finer points of law, spin a good-night tale or laugh at the wind. Her own unique voice.  

She is a Harlan Woman.

Welcome, dear.



There are many faces of Harlan woman...these are but a few.



Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief*.

 

 

 

When I was a kid the closest public library was two bus transfers away.  Bus fare was only 10 cents with a penny for a transfer, but taking everyone on a bus wasn't just a financial impossibility, it was a chaotic nightmare even for this seasoned older sister. Lucky for me, there was the BOOKMOBILE!!  What is a bookmobile? A traveling library. Dreams arriving on wheels.

Every month on a Saturday, more often in the summer, the bookmobile would appear in the park just down the street from our house. Folks would gather early with adults visiting as kids dangled from monkey bars and fought over the swings. Then we would hear it -- the air brakes of the bus-like wagon lumbering up 10th street hill and stopping to take the turn to the back of Clarksville park. 

Being respectful kids we knew to let the adults go first which found us in the back of the line struggling to practice patience. Finally, it was our turn and the librarian would steer the little ones to the picture books and easy readers while I sought out the mysteries, biographies and science books. For a few minutes I'd be lost in other worlds thumbing through books, stumbling over new words and places never imagined.

One summer I found an old Atlas and renewed it several times exploring maps and working out "scale" and "mileage" to other lands. The summer waiting in vain for rain to break the heat found me reading aloud Swiss Family Robinson to the little ones drowsing on blankets strewn across the front porch. In seventh grade I carefully copied the words of two poems found in an anthology (a word I savored) to the inside cover of my notebook: "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" and October" by Robert Frost.  Escaping to those words during Math class where I struggled to learn "New Math" with its own mysterious language of "sets and subsets." 

On those Saturdays our time was up all too soon and I gathered the kids and books, waited for our names to be duly noted in the check-out log and every book stamped with a return date then placed into my tote. Making our way home in the brightness of the day, I'd listen to the little ones eagerly telling of their great finds while a part of me strayed back to the cool dimness of the bookmobile, where worlds waited to be discovered and dreams uncovered. 



*October by Robert Frost

Death - 2¢ views from the Front Porch

I do love being "untethered" now that I have the wireless set-up in the house. Oh! And these great "half-mittens" that allow my fingers to move about the keyboard in the cold. So sitting here blogging from the front porch as the snow falls. Looks like I have some ice to chink away at later today. 

Snowplows have been through to scrape roads of the mishmosh mess of ice, salt and snow. Seems to me that its like a fingerpainting with all that effort creating a bigger mess and not clearing a thing. Still -- progress not perfection.

Yesterday someone felt compelled to remind me that my Dad died 3 years ago. Wondered why I hadn't posted anything on Facebook or "at the very least" put a picture of my Dad on there to "honor him." Seemed upset that I may have "forgotten."

Got me thinking.

For many death means reuniting with loved ones or that one's soul is reborn into another body and others of a limbo awaiting the messiah's coming. Some believe it is simply the end.

Book closed.

Lights out.

Me? Death is part and parcel of a journey.

That's really all the 2¢  I have on that today. 

Hmmm...

But you know what I always wondered about?  How one could experience the seasons of the earth with the birth of spring through the dead of winter and not believe in God? Maybe they rammed up against a God of love and a tragic horrific event in their life, and there wasn't a burning bush? 
Perhaps they just never sat on the front porch and heard the singing of their soul that its morning, coffee is on and even in the dead of winter there is some more living to be done?

I don't know.  Seems I don't have any answers this morning.  So, wherever your journey takes you today, stay warm and upright!

Safe

I have a job -- well, awaiting security clearances.

I have a job. 

Me and my circle of old friends may be small but we are big on coinage of phrases to encourage each other, giving each other our 2¢ take on things.

Case in point:

• An old friend used to remind me that every adversity, obstacle and challenge I faced could be helpful to others one day - I call it gathering great fodder*. So far, he has been 100% spot-on. 
• Another old friend recently mused that if the saying " what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is true, then I may have broken a Guiness Book of World Record even if there isn't a category for this type of strength.
• Sometimes the smarter move is to lay face down stretched out in mock surrender when life is chasing you down like a big bulldozer. You may be flattened but you could survive to pop-up again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sassy snoozes curled up in her rocker, so I decided to stay downstairs with her instead of working in my upstairs office. Besides, its warmer down here this morning as the deck thermometer struggles to get to zero degrees! 

Good tunes on Pandora radio, a second pot of coffee dripping in the kitchen, my newest food concoction burbles in the crockpot and I sit here surrounded by piles and piles of law books as I attack a few pro bono cases today. Outside a light dusting of new snow makes the world seem peaceful, serene.

Today I feel safe.

Not that great "Safe" of having swung your bat and as the ball arcs through the sky you race towards home - airborne then SPLAT as you slide and your toe connects with the plate while the catcher's mitt swipes and misses the tag.  Close, but different and I can't think of a good analogy. 

Darn – now I need to stop writing this post and check-out the date of the Twins opening home game because I am going. 

I can afford it now.   

I have a job.

* For my agriculturally challenged readers: Fodder - Feed for livestock, especially coarsely chopped hay or straw. 2. Raw material, as for artistic creation.

Sassy snoozes on a bitter cold morning - January 26, 2013