Falling In Love or Loving To Be Loved

I watched my husband loving me today. I wasn’t feeling just right this morning, so I laid down about an hour after I got up. Shortly after, he came over and covered me up and patted me with a pretense of looking out the window. He didn’t say anything, just went to his chair and sat down.

I didn’t get up until two hours later. Then I felt better and watched television for awhile.

His birthday was a few days ago. He had gotten a gift certificate from some friends for our favorite restaurant. He said, “do you want to go out for lunch?” We seldom go out for lunch. We generally have leftovers from the night before. So what is a girl to do but say, “Well of course!”

We went there and had our favorite meal of fried shrimp. We didn’t care if it wasn’t on our new diet. He has chosen Fridays as his “free” day.

Then we did our second best thing to do……Yes, yard saling!!! I bet you didn’t think that was a word. I told my best friend once, “if you think it’s a word, it is a word.”

Then my husband bought me something I have always wanted; a set of Christmas placemats. My mother-in-law loves it when my table is decorated for the holidays. It cost a whole dollar, but made me a week’s pay happy!

I can remember falling in love. That is the butterfly feeling and the sweaty palms that all happen the moment you see him. Sometimes it happens even if there is a hundred people in the room and you can’t see him; you can feel his presence.

Loving to be loved is a completely different feeling. It is warm, it is mellow, it is yummy, it is “I need a hug” feeling. It is making me laugh so unexpectedly I just laugh from my toes. It is being there with a soft shoulder I can cry on if I need to.

Being loved is being held tightly while dancing a slow dance so I won’t fall. Being loved is listening to my man sing to me. One day while I was on the computer in the other room I was listening to him and thought how special he was.

I hope that I can continue to make him feel loving to be loved forever and ever.

Just Me

Sometimes I think Fran married me just to entertain himself with my quirky little happenings. For instance, yesterday I had my handy little Swiffer that I had on backwards. It didn’t dust the ceiling fan very well and it certainly didn’t dust the louvered door well at all. So I thought I would open the door to the furnace and dust from the inside. Well, I couldn’t get it open. I pulled and pulled to no avail. So I said to Fran “What’s the matter with this door it won’t open?” He said to me, “ ‘cause it’s hard.” No dah!

The other day I thought we would have the Chinese stuff in a can. You know the two cans taped together? Ok, easy beans. The can opener got stuck because the tape had left some residue on the big can; then the little can had junk on it and spilled the gravy stuff. It would have been so much easier to fry a hamburger. I am not done yet. I served it to my darling husband first like a good wife is supposed to do. Then I served myself. I had a brand new, clean top on. We continued visiting while we ate, picked up the dishes and went to town. I looked down and I had dinner all over my front. I lamented the fact that I had spilled on my shirt. Fran said, “You get holes in your lip all the time!” That was one of the nicest things that he says. He usually laughs and says, “I just can’t take you anywhere can I?”
Another day another story about the love of my life!

Grudge, Grinch Syndrome

Oh, by the way I made that title up! Any way about a year before my husband and I got married we were hanging out one day in the kitchen. (His favorite place) He said that he needed a haircut. I told him the best place for him to get one would be to go to a barber or a beauty shop. Probably with a hint of sarcasm. Well I got exploded on and was told in no uncertain terms that he would never go to a beauty shop or a barber for that matter. Of course, curious mind that I have I “inquired” …and the reason for that is? I again got an explicit reply, “I went to a barber several years ago and he butchered my hair.” I replied, “Good grief. So one is bad that makes all of them bad?”

Cedar County
Courthouse

“I don’t care I am not going to a barber.” Then and there he wanted me to give him a hair cut. Well, darn the bad luck he liked the way his hair looked and I think he put the amendment in our marriage license. I couldn’t believe that he would carry a grudge that long. I asked him about a year ago why he wouldn’t go to a barber. He said, “why would I pay a barber, when you do it for free?” Hmm I thought I am going to remind him of this conversation when he buys an expensive tool.
Well, this morning as I once again was giving him a haircut, I grinned to myself because I have his full attention. He was not allowed to watch television. I got a little kiss and a big hug. I guess these little perks make up for the long lists of amendments to the license that is filed at the courthouse. Although the amendments are not visible to anyone else but us, they are still there. The picture above is exactly where it is filed.

A Blog

Lu's Place  a simple way to get there is to go to the crossroads of mrsfrenchie1.blogspot.com

Two years ago I had no clue what a blog was. Oh, my daughter was writing one but I didn’t understand what she was talking about. She was forever writing something.
I have written before that a Reader’s Digest article, telling folks to write about their memories prompted my daughter and my brother to convince me that I should write a blog because I love to tell stories. It took some doing. But here I am. I enjoyed telling stories about the beginning of my life and where I lived. I enjoyed telling funny stories about my brother and on and on.

The whole idea was to let my grandchildren and children know what their mother and grandmother was about.
I seriously doubted no one other than my daughter and my brother has read it. My cousin reads it occasionally and so does my niece. One day I decided to get a Stat Counter. It shows me that I have hundreds of readers and readers in many many foreign countries read it as well. I noticed that some of my  high school friends were reading also. I had a lot of fun with that for a long time. I still enjoy it, but like every thing it is not new any more. I have written almost four hundred stories; now many of them are about every day life and how crazy it can be in my little world.
Today I was a little bored so I started reading one of my very good friend’s blog. She has twin grandchildren and two sons. I reread her blog and the tears started running down my cheeks. You know in the old days grandparents had to wait for weeks or months for pictures of their sweet little grandchildren. By the time they got them they had grown so much they hardly recognized them by the time they got to see them in person. The mom of the twins is a photographer and does a fantastic job of preserving time for the rest of the family.
I also do “blog jumping.” It is so much fun. I can travel the world and read what people across the ocean are doing.
Well I have nothing to write about today. The gnats are dead. Their funeral was way way ahead of schedule.
I boiled down ten pounds of chicken for chicken and noodle soup tomorrow. Went to town and bought a few groceries and took a nap. That is as exciting as my day got today. I hope you enjoy visiting Lu’s Place. I love to visit. If you like to visit, make some comments. We can email each other and have a good time. Bye!

Antihistamines, Antibiotics, Shots, And Ice Cream

Once my children decided to make their journey into adulthood and go their own way, I decided that, yes, I was still their mother, but the extreme every day weight of parenthood was gone.
My children have been out of their childhood home for years and years. Two of them have given me beautiful grandchildren and one of them gives me regular hugs and visits and tells me how good I can cook!
Seldom do they ask for my advice, I know if they do, they will do what they want to anyway.
Well, Fran and I developed empty nest syndrome. We needed to be greeted excitedly when we came home. We needed a little cold nose to wake us up in the morning. Most of all we needed a little dog to make us laugh when she plays “soccer.” We needed a dog to buy surprises for and to feed tidbits from our table even though she shouldn’t have them.
I have written several stories about Maggie May and posted lots of pictures of her.

This week Maggie is sick. I have been beside myself. I have been crooning, holding, waiting for her to get better. Instead she got worse. I tried to convince Fran that she sounded like she had kennel cough. She was coughing so hard she could hardly catch her breath. The only time she is around other dogs is at the groomer. It was a long shot, but the other thing was she was sneezing all the time. Actually I am very jealous of her ity, bity sneeze. When I sneeze, it sounds like a shotgun going off!
This morning Maggie made a much needed trip to the Vet. She had a temperature, she had an allergy, and so she got two different kinds of pills and a shot of antibiotic. Poor baby!! We made a trip to the grocery store so that the pills will go down easier AKA ice cream.
I now have a “baby” to take care of again.  I worry now that I see her being lethargic (probably from the shot). Now if you don’t mind, I have to go take care of my little girl. She needs me.

Who Needs Advice?

Some of you that are parents may or may not have asked your mom or dad for advice. I would love to know just how many of you heeded the advice of the “old folks.”
Many many years ago in a little town I lived in there was an old lady that babysat for every kid that was ever born there, I swear that was true. Her back was bent with age and arthritis, she had a very sharp nose, and to complete the picture, she had a large wart on the side of her nose. Oh wait her name was Hazel. I kid you not.
She welcomed young mothers to have coffee and to visit about all the little ones she had to care for over the years. She took in these children because her husband had died and pretty much left her penniless.
One day I decided to visit her because one of my children had diaper rash that was text book. The only thing that didn’t happen was a blister. She off handedly told me to make some oatmeal and let it cool to lukewarm and mash bananas in it. Of course, I questioned her about the rational. Very simply she said, “Well, girlie, if it is good for the inside, it is good for the outside.” I took my baby home and immediately made the “ointment” and within just a few days the fiery red rash was gone.
Now I question the young mothers out there would any of you try that, or would you go to Walmart or any grocery store and buy some salve for it?

I called my mother about it and told her that it worked within a day or two. She was quiet for a minute or so and said, “You know what, that mixture makes a lot of sense. I wish I would have thought of that myself.” Old wives’ tales people laugh at, often have an inner working theory that works wonders.

A Long Time Ago....

The time I am thinking about was such a long time ago. I may have been six because I can barely remember it. It is so interesting because I watch and hear about children including my grandchildren going here and going there. I really don’t think they think a thing about it.
If in fact, I was six years old this outing was sixty years ago. It stuck in my memory all these years.
You have to understand that would have been 1949 or 1950 that my mom and dad and my little brother and I went to Sioux City, Iowa to see the Blackwood Brothers.
The trip was about fifty or sixty miles in our old car that may not always be dependable but I don’t remember ever having a flat tire, however. Our car looked kind of like the Modern P.T. Cruiser made by Chrysler.

The arena seemed huge to me. I smile to myself when I think about it. There were no plush chairs to sit in. The chairs were slat chairs, which I may add very uncomfortable for a wiggly little girl to sit in. I can vaguely remember my mother holding my little brother through the whole performance.
In those days I already enjoyed music. My mom and dad had a Victrola and a radio. Mother played the piano and played hymns and some modern music. She also hummed a lot. She hummed when she was happy and she hummed when she was upset and angry. That is so funny I just remembered that. I do the same thing. Anyway, I am rambling.
I loved the music that the Blackwood Brothers sang.
When we listened to it the music made you automatically want to tap your feet. Of course, mine couldn‘t reach the floor; or kind of swing back and forth in time. There was no sound of music that my father loved more than a bass. The Blackwood Brothers had a bass, tenor, and baritone. The harmony was perfect.
Well the end of this story is just amazing. After the music was over, my dad walked up to the front where the singers were and bought one of their books. I still have that book.
I learned how to play piano from that little book other than the Thompson books and our hymn books.
One of the songs in that treasure book was a song called, “Little Angel Put Your Little Shoes Away.” I played that song over and over because I could sing it and play it which is no small feat for a six year old. One day my mom had tears in her eyes and asked me to stop playing it. Seeing the tears, I did not ask “Why?” I just stopped it.
A few years before I was born my older sister had been killed in a sledding accident. I am sure that song made the picture of my sister appear in her mind.
Memories are amazing things, aren’t they? Some are pleasant, some are sad, and some are painful. This memory is pleasant and sad. I miss my parents, but have such a grateful feeling of having had them as my mom and dad.