Symptoms of Spring Fever--Terrible Aches and Pains and an Empty Wallet

Friday, I saw an ad in the paper for 20% off all azaleas.  I got in my truck and headed off to Garrison's Nursery. Two days before, my daughter Bridget and I went to 2 other nurseries, where I bought nothing, but she filled my truck up. So something was accomplished.  That's how mine and Bridget's shopping usually goes.
I need to go alone.

Garrison's had just what I was looking for; azaleas that were just blooming and still had buds.  I spent $340 on Formosa azaleas, smaller lavender Encore azaleas (because they bloom year round), hostas, ferns, 4 hydrangeas. and a flat of annuals.  All of these go in a bed I am redoing that's 96 feet across the side of my yard. I bought 10 of the large azaleas for the back row and 12 of the Encore that will go in front and between the larger ones.  Needless to say those didn't make it halfway. That evening when Don got home, I took him and showed him my great buy.

Of course how much of my money I spent did not enter the conversation. It was all MY money. I guess my readers need to know, that I have a bank account that is just mine and Don and I have a joint account.  And yes, he has asked why I have my own account and he doesn't have his own account.  My answer is that I have my own account so that I don't have to ask if I can spend that money. That doesn't exactly answer his question, but it ends that conversation, which achieves my goal. Don is a sweetheart so he does not press the issue.  We've both had first marriages where we experienced fighting over money.  In this marriage I'm the spender and Don is the saver. So it makes sense that the spender has a small account and when it's empty--that's it. I have to wait until I get my next teacher retirement check.

Don really liked the azaleas and I confirmed that yes they were a good deal.  I said that tomorrow I was going back and get some more.  Now Don was willing to contribute to completing the rows of azaleas -- $100. So Saturday morning off I go again.  I bought the same number of azaleas along with planting mix and root stimulator.  I use Don's card for $100 and the remaining $280 from my account.  Well, when I got everything unload and lined up along the fence, I still needed 5 more of each type of azalea.  DARN will it ever end.   So Monday morning I made a third trip to the nursery. Don agreed to help finish out the project and gave the money to buy 5 and I bought the other 5.

Sure I could have measured and done the math before I started this project, but that's not how I do my projects. If I had consciously known that it would have cost over $800 to buy all those plants, dirt and etc, the joy of spring would have drained from me.  Too big of a sticker shock.   Besides, if I had planned it and only made one trip, I would have paid for all of them.  This way Don can feel he made a contribution to our beautiful yard.

The last element in this landscaping project is--for every plant I bought, I have to dig a hole. OMG!As of tonight, I am a fourth of the way through.  I have Thursday and Friday to dig. Don has said on Saturday he  may help me. Maybe by not planning this final stage too, my dear husband will again make a contribution to our beautiful yard.

You will know if I don't blog the next week

--I'm still digging holes.

P.S.  Don is a changed man.  What came over him I do not know.  But he helped me plant all those plants.  He can dig 3 holes to my 1.  We worked 4 afternoons and finished up just before dark Sunday. 


  

Politics What Is It Good For---Absolutely Nothing?

Ever since I can remember I have always participated in the political process in one form or another. I love studying government. I even wrote my 11th grade term paper on democracy in ancient Athens. I was a member of the Young Republicans in high school and walked door to door passing out campaign literature for Dave Treen. From 8th grade and through high school, I was usually a member of the student government. I always make some sort of contribution to candidates that I have faith in; whether I put up a sign or send money. Most elected officials will not put a political sign in their yard for fear of offending someone and losing a vote. I never fear participating in the political process.

I guess I have to attribute my actual running for an office to my father. It is likely a genetic thing, or maybe his running for Police Juror when I was 12 was the influence. Whatever, the cause, the speech he gave at a big political rally is seared in my brain. In 1967 the school really was the center of the Swartz community. The rally was in the baseball field across from the school. Swartz Elementary was first through eight grades. Candidates for every office were there from Governor to Police Juror. There was a big stage set-up where the candidates, accompanied by their families, went up and gave a speech to the crowd. I remember enjoying watching and listening. Choosing my favorite candidates.

Well, Daddy's turn was near the end. Dad and Mom followed by 4 daughters and one son walked up the steps to the big platform. We stood there for a little longer than I felt comfortable; kind of like an awkward pause. I was thinking Dad does not want to speak in the microphone. Finally, he took a couple of steps and said, "I want to ask all of you to vote for me for Police Juror. What I want to do is get the dirt road that I live on blacktopped so the school bus doesn't get stuck when it rains. Thank you." And that was his one plank in his platform. I was hoping the platform I was standing on would open up and swallow me. I had not anticipated that that would be his entire speech. As we came off the platform, a friend of Dad's came up to him and said, "Frank, you should have worked on your speech more." I knew Dad would not win this election, but I really was proud of him for trying.

Hopefully, I did not get my speech making skills from my dad, but it is obvious that I got his blunt honesty. It may actually be a better world if everyone running for office would just tell the pure and simple truth and let the chips fall where they may. Just forget the fancy meaningless speeches. What are they good for?

Got Your Goat

All my family and FB friends know by now that I actually did get 2 kids Monday. The black one with white dots is a month old and I named her Dottie Belle. The mostly white one is only 2 weeks old and her name is Gypsy Zoli in spite of the fact that I put on Facebook that her name is Ginger. I will explain that later.
According to one source, the term Got your goat comes from horse racing in the early 20th century. Thorough bred race horses tend to be very high strung animals. So it was a practice to put a goat beside each horse to calm it down. If an opponent wanted to increase his odds of winning, he would steal the other one's goat. Got your goat!
In our terms it means to annoy.
Well, I have become rather annoyed by at least a couple of board members on numerous occasions. Hence, I named my cute little baby goats after them. Yes Dottie Bell is a fellow board member. I waited 2 weeks on a brown goat to give birth to a brown kid so I could name it Ginger (the other board member), but she had 2 black ones instead. I ended up getting a cute little white one with a black face and black legs. I just finished reading Zoli, a book about a gypsy, so Gypsy Zoli became the name of that goat.
When I am sitting through a board meeting and one of those board members begin to annoy me, I calm myself down and smile at the thought of my cute little goats going bah, bah, bah.
Yes, I have a devilish passive aggressive side. A friend said it is like the donkey braying ring tone she assigned to her husband's ex-wife's number. Yes, much like that. It gives you something to enjoy about the moment.

March 19, 2001 Grammy and Survivor

Today is my first grandchild's 10th birthday. It is also my 10th year as a breast cancer survivor.
Ten years and eight months earlier, my daughter gave me a gift to open and it was a bib that said I(heart) Grandmother. That was a sweet way to find out. Then she asked, "What do you want the baby to call you?" My first reaction was "Charlotte will be fine." It's tough to become a grandmother at 46. That just doesn't seem anywhere near my grandmothers' ages. The frown on her face told me to try again. I came up with "Grammy" for no particular reason, I didn't call either of my grandmothers that. So with the 2 grandsons, my chosen name has gone through the normal speech development pattern from Mammy, Bammy, Gammy to finally Grammy. Though Connor at 4 is still saying Gammy.
The doctor scheduled the baby's delivery for March 19th. Bridget was admitted and labor was induced. As it all too often happens, when baby's arrival is scheduled for the convenience, the baby went into distress and a C-Section was "necessary."
Well, my first round of chemo was also scheduled for 3 pm that afternoon. So by 2 pm I was anxiously waiting for my first grandson's arrival before I had to depart for chemo. I got to see my bald, ghostly white grandson about 2:30 and then went off to have drug induced baldness for myself. We joke that I shaved my head that night, so Chase wouldn't feel funny being the only person in the family without hair.
It is a wonderful day 10 years later that we both celebrate life and do it with a full head of hair!

Big Fish in Small Pond vs Small Fish in Big Pond

One concept that the School Board and the whole parish is struggling with is whether it is better to continue having all these small community schools or go with the suggestion given to us by the out of town consultants that would combine at least 4 schools into one large new, modern building.
I started writing this blog a week and 3 days ago. I don't believe staff anticipated the out-cry from the citizens of Blanchard. Blanchard is a beautiful community and the excellent school is it's heart. It reminds me so much of the community of Swartz where I grew up and the school was the heart. I was a BIG fish at that little pond. The teachers knew the whole family and several of them had taught my mom and dad. In first grade I was elected favorite of my class. In second grade I was elected favorite and queen. The teacher went to the principal's office and came back and said they had made up a rule that no one could be both. So I had to give up one; I could be either favorite or queen, my choice. So being the very thoughtful child that I was, I said "I choose to be queen, because I will still be favorite because I got the most votes." I've always been a pain. And by being queen I got to pick a cute boy to be my king. I was already into boys. Mom was so glad to make me a beautiful gown to wear to the coronation. In third grade, when it was time to vote for queen and favorite, they had made a new rule that no one could be queen but one time in grades 1-4 and one time in 5-8. So the teacher said I could not be nominated. When it came time to vote for favorite, I was nominated along with a couple of other girls. So we were sent out in the hall while the class voted. The teacher told the class do not vote for Charlotte, there are other girls in the class. That hurt my feelings because I thought it meant she didn't like me. I never did trust her after that. Anyway things pretty well continued like that through 8th grade. But when our small school was fed into Ouachita High School the large majority of the students were from Ouachita Jr. High, so no one knew me or any of my classmates. I was overwhelmed. I never did like going to such a large school where one could never get to know everyone. But I made the best of it. Popular kids adjust but I think unpopular kids must just feel that much more unpopular.
Today I have great memories of that small pond call Swartz and when I think of Ouachita I still feel like a minnow being tossed by the sea.
I have been replying to the hundreds of emails from concerned Blanchard citizens. I tell them that I love small communities and schools like Blanchard and I do not agree with the plan to close it. They send back their thanks to my reply and tell me that out of 12 Board members, I am the only one who answered their emails. I can't help but believe it is because I am the only one who comes from a very small place. The rest are city folks from Shreveport. I think in a big pond you believe you can hide with the crowd.

After 3 girls, Daddy finally got his BOY!

It all started on a cold March morning in 1961, when Mom went into labor before Dad got home. Mom called the "nurse lady" who lived down the dirt road from us. She was suppose to rush Mom to the hospital, but instead backed off the culvert into the ditch at our driveway. There was nothing to do but bring the baby into the world right there in my parents' bedroom. But for a 6 year old girl, who had been told that the mother has to go to the hospital to get the baby, I have to say, I was a little confused when I heard a baby cry after all the commotion to get Mom to the hospital so she wouldn't miss the baby when it came. Of course when I yelled, "I hear a baby crying" Sinie, the lady who helped Mother keep up with all of us and the house work, quickly told me I did not. During the 50's and early 60's one never used the word pregnant nor was allowed to notice the changes going on with Mother's body. I remember an episode of I Love Lucy where she stuck a pillow under her shirt and I said,"She's not going to have a baby. That is just a trick." Boy did Mother jump on me. What did I mean by that? I was really suppose to watch through Mom's 3 pregnancies and not notice what happens.

Anyway, I was quickly rushed out the door to catch the bus before I could actually confirm that the baby had somehow made it into the house.

Yes, my parents, and particularly Dad, were very excited to have a real boy. I had been Dad's stand in boy up until then, meaning that I was his hunting and fishing buddy. But now I was suppose to clean house and learn to sew and cook.

The 3 girls loved having a baby brother. He was actually a much kinder and gentler child than we were. Meaning we were some tough girls. We were all bestowed with nicknames, but Frank was given the most. Here is a list of the ones I can remember: Frankie, Frank Honey, Buzzy and Beanie Boy. I can't explain Buzzy. Beanie Boy was a cartoon character and Frank had a hat with a spinner thing on top like a helicopter just like the cartoon.

Anyway, though one would have thought the family was now complete, 2 more daughters were soon to come.

Happy Birthday, Frankie. The Big 50.

The School Board is a Zoo

I have not written a blog because on Wednesday, March 2nd I drove to Baton Rouge for the 3 day Louisiana State School Board Conference and then last night I had a School Board meeting. All that puts me in such a funk that I can't dare sit and blog. Lord knows what I would write. But I want to get past that so I will just write something. I taught creative writing for 5 years to 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders. When they didn't know what to write, I told them to just start writing--one word or thought at a time. You can always throw the paper away or in this case hit the delete button.

Anyone who wants a better understanding of how education works or how success happens should read Malcolm Gladwell's book The Outliers. His more famous book is The Tipping Point, though I don't think it is nearly as good. The Outliers is about how some have achieved outstanding success and what the elements were that contributed to that success. The very last chapter in the book explained our education system exactly. A lady in my neighborhood recommended this book to me and said it could totally change education. So I couldn't wait to read it. It is great. When I talked about it at the Board Meeting and even got a book for the other Board Members so they could read it, not one of the other 11 read the book. They don't read very much and not that type of book.

So many people today are busy trying to "fix" our education system and they are either ignorant or self-serving. Our Governor and State Superintendent's objective is to privatize our public education system by selling it to business cronies.

Oh well enough of this. I don't think blogging this is exorcizing these school board demons from me. I need something fun-- the sooner the better. Tonight is Survivor night on TV and Bridget and her family come over to watch it and we order pizza. Survivor is very much like School Board, but since it is not affecting the lives of children I find it amusing. School Board Survivor is not amusing.
Our vision 2020 board meeting.
http://www.ustream.tv/recorded/13184634

A Thong

Obviously, I am not following a plan for topics about which I will blog. I would never have dreamed of writing about a thong-plleeease.. This must be my very A type personality trying to be spontaneous.

Alright after sleeping on the visual that I shared last night with my new best bud, the waiter at Superior Bar and Grill, I realize that I was wrong about the girl in the short shirt not wearing underwear. I bet she had on a thong. It was just tucked out of sight. That is what is wrong about one generation making an assumption concerning another generation.
Note to self: I must be more careful now that I have been enlightened.

But that leads me to a funny School Board story. Most of the things I could and will likely write about the School Board will not have a shred of humor in them; instead they will be in the horror genre. But this story is too funny.
A lovely school board member from my mom's generation shared that she had a concern. She had visited several of the schools and she was appalled by the teachers' dress. First understand that this school board member had been on the list of the top 10 best dressed ladies in our city. She is always dressed to the 9s. She wanted the staff and Board to review and possibly update the professional dress code and one thing in particular she wanted to address was that teachers should not wear thongs. She wanted it to be made clear that thongs were not appropriate at school. The expressions on the male school board members' faces will always be one of the most memorable moments of my school board career. No one said a word in public, but you just knew what they were thinking. The senior board member with the concern had no idea what the rest of us thought she was referring to. Later in the conference room, out of the public's ear, one fellow asked "Just how are we to check to see if teachers are following the No Thong rule?" Our senior board lady finally said she was referring to those flip-flop type sandals they were all wearing. It was a great laugh at a generation gap moment. Same word different apparel.