Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Some sights

and smells, and sights can instantly take you back to your childhood!
Elena's dance teacher's mama's parents lived on the road I grew up on, and my daddy used to stop and talk to them and eat grapes off their vine.
I was with my Daddy in his truck a lot, and I also ate grapes off their vine.
Ms. Gwen and I put all this together one afternoon while I was waiting for Elena, and she brought me some today! :)
YUM!
When I took the lid off and ate one a feeling of nostalgia washed over me...
Good ole scuppernong grapes! :)

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Oh hell, why not?

This morning, I am feeling a bit--hmm...Sassy! :)
So here goes!  --You may think of this as pure fiction if you wish.  It will be good reading.
In the small town of Wishington there are many little social groups.  This is probably true of any small town.  This is really the only one that Suzanne had ever lived in so she really did not know about other small towns.
Nope.  Only Wishington.
Suzanne had grown up with this social structure all around her.  It was no mystery.
If your dad was a doctor, lawyer, or successful business person, your parents would fit into a particular social group.
If your dad was a state trooper, electrician, plumber, teacher, etc.  Your parents would fit into another group.
This is, in all likelihood, true of many many places--all around the world.  Really, it made no difference to the children, b/c for the most part, children just made friends.  Suzanne had friends from several of the different strata and social groups, so she knew about these groupings, but she did
not have to live by it.
One weekend she might spend the night in a giant house cleaned by a maid, another weekend she might spend the night in a small brick, ranch style house, just like her own.
There was, however, a distinct memory in her head of children who very much knew about the proper grouping of people, and abided by this.  They hung together, almost exclusively, until one or two of them might get shipped off (in high school) to some private school in Virginia.
There was another {VIP} group of people who were called "from heres" , and these people were quite self-important.  If you were "from here"  it meant that some ancestor was a general in the civil war, or they at supper with George Washington.  You know, it was not enough to be "from here" and be from down the road on a farm.  Oh no, "from here" to this group meant --from the {VIP} stock of folks.  Get it?  yeah...blue blood and all that.
There were all kinds of other observations that Suzanne made all along...
Die hard alliegance to particular universities (no matter which ones )--that seemed very contrived to Suzanne...including ridiculing people who enjoyed other teams equally..??  and arguing with those who were equally die hard about some other colors, was also a part of the social code.  Suzanne's parents never participated in any of that, so she simply did not understand it...
So when Suzanne left Wishington as a fresh eighteen year old--it was quite a blow to discover that people did not walk around waving to one another in other places!
It was quite a blow not to be able to just charge things to her dad at the drug store.
AT THE SAME TIME--Suzanne discovered that it was fun to make friends to whom none of that stuff written above mattered! Whew!  What?? You just like people when you meet them and they are nice, no need to ponder what their Dad does?  No need to ponder which Regiment of General Lee's army their Great somebody fought in???
ohhh...this was refreshing.
So, Suzanne spent twelve or so years living in the world in which one could be anonymous.  One could make friends based on simply enjoying the same band, or being in the same place at the same time! WOW.  Twelve years of growing up.  Twelve years of just being.
Then came the day that the {idea} of Wishington came slipping and creeping back into Suzanne's mind.
...stay tuned for more. :)

Thursday, September 4, 2014

If only I were able

to sit down with any one of my blog readers (is anyone still there?? LOL) and say even a quarter of what I would like to write here, you would know what I really wish my blog could {still} be.
HOWEVER, knowing that it is so public makes that level of {sharing} an impossibility.  This is so sad to me.
When Andy and I first started our moving home adventure I was so unknowing.  I spent my Saturdays spending twenty bucks at the farmer's market to buy veggies.  I made home made pizza dough and put the fresh veggies on it.  I relished in the fruit trees in our yard, and how we picked that stuff and ate it.  I was always on the verge of crazy with me and my kids and a husband in a job/career transition.  There were only two kids.
I knew few people.  I was fine with that.  If someone invited me to do something --that was super.
If no one did--didn't care etc.  BC i was happy with my plants, books, husband, toddlers etc.
We did not even seek outside social engagements etc.  We were just living.
I soon found out that my {bestie} really had no time for me, in real life.
After a summer of chasing her, I gave up.  We see eachother one time a season now.
No worries.
Six years have passed.
A kid was born.
I have voted here.
Andy and I were adopted into some kind of social circle--only to be ditched {sadly?}.
Oh, and I think  another one just dissolved...
My friends are my co-workers.
There is so much I could say about my life here on my blog, and here in this town.  I would truly be a nice release to just write it all down, and let go of it.
There is so much commentary that could be funny, and entertaining, and eye opening--depending upon your perspective.  BUT--I cannot make it.
You see, my town has stifled me.
I am trapped by all of the {whatever} that goes on here.
So, I will not comment on any of it.
I will just suffer it, very occasionally I will relish in some part of it (living near our parents/work friends).
And I will always wonder, as all parents do, is {this} the place where I should really be rasing my children?
Are {these} values mine?
hmmmmmm....???
Instead I will share mom tidbits, and some snark every now and then about a trivial current event, or some idea that crosses my mind.
That is the only thing my blog can be.

Spot on!

Spot is our family's chihuahua.  He is what we call, "an evil dictator/stuffed animal come to life".  Sometimes, after he has ...