Little Things.

Little Things....

Looking through pictures and posts I found this picture of a Mercury head dime. It took my thoughts back to two of these dimes that are very precious; I just didn’t know it at the time.

My three children are very close in age, and when they were small it seemed my washer and dryer never stopped. One hot summer day I was distressed to find more water on the basement floor than in the washer. The steady stream of hot water was leaking from a greatly appreciated turquoise stack set that my Dad had bought for us. They were gently used when I got them, and hadn’t stopped since they arrived.

I tried to find the source of the water but eventually I gave up and called my Dad. In those early days of marriage my husband worked long hours, and Pop was the one I always called for help. Of course he came over right away.

Soon my little washer looked naked as Pop took off panels and pulled out parts,  removing things I didn’t even know could be removed. He was flat on his belly on the basement floor, muttering expletives, when I finally heard him say, “Here’s your problem!”

Rolling over my dad showed me the two Mercury head dimes he held in the palm of his hand. They had somehow gotten into the pump, tumbling around in the water so long the copper edges now formed a copper ring around each dime.

I ' m proud to say I inherited my “ I can fix it” mentality from my Pop. Instead of an expensive new pump, he went to the store and bought some gunk you would use to fix an aquarium. Keeping his fingers in the pump he repaired the hole, keeping his hand deep inside the machine until the patch dried. In no time my little turquoise washer was as good as new. I thought my Pop could fix anything….or at least I always knew he’d try. Nothing was really broken till he ran out of duct tape, and while the fix might not be pretty, it was still a fix.

I held on to the tumbled dimes. I asked my husband to drill tiny holes in them (my apologies to the US Treasury) and put sterling silver wires through them to create pierced earrings that I still have today.

Fast forward about thirty five years, give or take a few. Now I sat at my Pop’s bedside, knowing he was very near his last hours on this earth. I had returned to be with him in the middle of the night; I sat holding his hand and talking to him without knowing if he could hear me. The very precious time was ticking away.

I talked on and on about everything and anything I could think of…from the activity of the squirrel outside his window to what the newspaper held….all with no response. I chattered on as if, somehow, my voice could anchor him here.

Finally I got around to telling him what a wonderful father he had always been, and how much I had learned from him. I recounted the story about the Mercury head dimes he had pulled from the cranky washing machine pump that day.  I recounted the good laugh I’d had at his expense when his hand got stuck in the machine. I smiled as I reminded him how he had saved the day by fixing my washer……without opening his eyes he squeezed my hand.

I kept talking, telling him I still had the earrings I had made….and he squeezed my hand again. I knew then that he realized I was there and that this time we had together was some of the most valuable time I would ever have in my life. That was the last response he made to any stimulation; I am eternally grateful I was there.

As I’ve grown older I’ve come to realize that our lives are made up of small things that often we don’t see for the big things they actually are.   Do yourself a favor, slow down and learn to embrace the small things before they become memories.

                                                                          Life is Good

Cooking for the voices in my head.

It's getting ugly out there....

Not long ago I was thrust into the role of ‘people watcher’ while waiting for a friend.   During that half hour I arrived at some very definite fashion ideas I would like to share with you.  I'm not being judgemental...I'm just sayin' :

I am in favor of women of all ages dressing fashionably, and I don’t think you’re ever ‘too old’ for a pair of comfortable jeans.  Having said that, perhaps women should re-think the “I just fell off the back of a motorcycle” look after the age of 25.   If you are 65 and postponing your clothes shopping for the week you will be in Sturgis….well, you get my drift.

I think manufacturers should consider putting age tags in grownup clothes the same as they do for infants and toddlers.  Instead of 0 to 12 months a tag might say 20-Y to 34 years.   If you see 2T inside the collar of a shirt you have a good idea if this is the right size for your grandson.  By the same token, a tag that says 18-Y to 24-Y inside a bikini might lead you to the understanding that a bright pink bikini might not be the right choice for your 56 year old keester.  Some women need that kind of help, and I saw a lot of them.  A good alternative might be to require a prescription to purchase a leather halter top.

Makeup is another thing that caught my eye as I sat watching people parade past.  In my (never to be) humble opinion make up is a good idea IF you know how to use it.  It’s all about enhancing or disguising.  Some women fall for what I call the “Vogue effect”.  We’ve all seen the pictures in Vogue magazine with models sporting glitter covered eyelashes, pink eyelids and lips that look like bathroom plungers.  That is for effect…not a guide for what to wear at the grocery.  If you’ve started to look like Tammy Faye Baker (rest her soul) or if you are applying your make up with a spatula, you might want to get the opinion of a trusted friend on toning down your look.

I did not see one hair style that made me change my long standing opinion that hair color should be confined to colors found in nature.  Personally I don’t like purple hair, green or blue stripes, or cotton candy pink.   I’m not at all creative when it comes to hair…mine or anyone else’s.  I think clean and combed is enough to satisfy my hair requirements, so it’s probably a good thing I’m not in charge.

Bling.  What is this preoccupation with anything that is shiny?  Rows and rows of golden chains, earrings with diamonds that would choke a Chihuahua, and clanking bangles that announce the arrival of a woman with earrings that could have been wind chimes.  Tacky, tinkly, sparkly … gold lame patches on sweatshirts and animal print, diamond studded shoes…oh, my!! 

Finally I am left with this last question.  Why would anyone wear clothes that do not fit them comfortably?  My bet is that most of the folks that walked past me were in search of another pair of slacks/jeans in the same ill-fitting size they had on.   Muffin tops and tortured seams were the order of the day….but why?  Just because you can stuff your frame into a ten doesn’t mean you should….and it sure doesn’t mean you’re a ten!!  

Clothing that fits properly is much more attractive on everyone, and I’m not just nagging the women. Too many men wear jeans that fit under an expanding belly.  The result is back pockets that rest just above the red stripe on the dudes white tube socks.  Not an exciting look.

There must be some middle ground between wearing a tuxedo and going out of the house looking like the cast of Duck Dynasty.  Let’s look for it before it’s too late, America.  It’s getting ugly out there!!

 

                                                          Life is Good