The Wary Merry

 

Just our little Bubble for Christmas this year.

(per COVID)

 Ole Jed, Massey and me...along with Ziggy of course. TJ stayed in Charlotte with his girls, Zach stayed in Newnan with the Cowetians, and my sister stayed home with her husband in Senoia. Her two boys didn't visit her house with their wives either.

My brother wandered down the street with his pup, Robin for a bit and had an early dinner with us. He's also Massey's boss, so she's around him every day at work so he's pretty much in our Bubble by proxy. He's the most diligent dude about cleanliness you'll ever meet and only goes from home to work  except for necessities.  None of us venture out much if we don't have to.

It's best to not tempt fate when you come from a family of people who tend to take the express checkout when their time comes.

 I had TV trays set up for Tim and Chris in the living room so they could watch sports on TV, one at each sofa. Massey and I ate at the table in the breakfast room by the fireplace.

Everyone distanced apart but still within lookin' & hollerin' range.

It's the new normal. How sad it that?

(especially when you like your family)

What's NOT to like about this band of misfits?!

How incredible is it to be from a family like this?

 

No wonder I'm a nut.

Then we had a zoom visit with my sister (thanks for arranging, Cin) and her husband (in Senoia) his son and fiancé (in Los Angeles) along with my nephews' (one in East Point and the other in Newnan). That's as big as our celebration got. TJ and Zach couldn't join in, but it gave both the dogs more face time so we'll call it a win for the pups.

 Still felt like a bittersweet bummer for the rest of us.

What a crazy year it has turned out to be.

I don't think this country could be more divided or hateful towards others if they tried...and I don't just mean politics.

We've let a pandemic divide us...when pulling together is the only way to survive it.

Over 329,000 Americans have died from COVID this year, and we have one more day to go.

Don't bluster all up and spout off to me about the inflated numbers of deaths. Unless the numbers are inflated by over 329,000...this is the real deal, and so far from a hoax that it's not even funny.

If you worry more about a dollar than you worry about saving  one single person?

You aren't Pro Life.

We can make money back, but we can't bring loved ones back.

I beg every single person reading this post to do JUST one thing when leaving their house.

Wear a mask.

Every. Time.

If we would just do the easy stuff, we could make it through the hard stuff.

We're better than this, aren't we?

Till next time and (hopefully) next year...

COTTON

A Conundrum

   Conundrum: 

noun

1. A confusing and difficult problem or question. A

    question asked for amusement, typically one with a pun in its answer; a riddle.

That's me!

The definition fits almost perfectly...and I am totally okay with that.

It somehow feels like a Win to me.

A lot has gone on this past year. For everyone involved, or not involved.

The best thing about this year is that it's almost over, with just one month left to go.

I feel extremely grateful for  all our many blessings. Tim and I talk about it time and time again.

If the Rona had hit a decade ago, we'd most likely be living in a shelter by now, or headed in that direction. Ten years ago I had to apply for food stamps and government assistance, putting my kids on Medicaid and constantly scrambled to borrow from Peter to pay Paul...a lot. 

A whole lot.

Tim had already been out of work for over a year when I lost my job as well. All savings and 401k were used to pay the bills. It runs out a lot quicker than you'd think.

 At one point we were over six months behind on our mortgage, after being turned down time and time again for a loan modification. We only had six years left before the house was paid off, so they were more interested in taking it from us than helping us keep it.

The only thing (besides the Grace of God) that got us through was the love and kindness shown to us by extended family, friends and sometimes even strangers.

Fast forward to the end of 2020.

A lot older and a little bit wiser.

I've got the COVID(non)CUT going, on top of my quickly graying head, and don't care.

I'm sixty and have been out of work since March 16... for the first time in over forty one years. The entire year will be over in sixty one days.

So what's an old girl to do?

Stay home like the CDC tells me to.

I hang around my house and out in my yards every day, with two pups for company, Monday through Friday.

I haven't been bored or depressed one single day.

I don't always work from sun up to sun down, but will if "need be." Actually, I sleep when I want to, get up when I feel like it, and somehow still seem to do a pretty halfway decent good job around the place.

No complaints yet.

I can always open the door and invite someone in when they knock on our door now. It might not be spotless, but it's not going to disgust anyone. 

There was a time when the kids were much younger. I would hide and cower quietly in a back room when someone knocked at the front door, hoping they would go away and not see what a hovel my house was, at that particular moment. The kids' homework or projects, dogs, laundry and work used to always seem to get in the way of a nice and orderly house.

I'd say the end result has been pretty good though, considering they had this whacko for a Momma.

 The forever house we bought, after searching for over two years, is old but eclectic.

Just like me!

So many different and quirky things about it make me love it even more.

I think the tree fort is still my favorite.

It's built between a massive live oak and even taller pine tree. 

Here's what it looks like from the ground, where you go to climb it.

You walk through bamboo, palms, plants and elephant ears into a small jungle. There's a small path you can make out from the driveway, if you look really closely and it's sunny out. Pull back one side of the elephant ears and you can see the first aluminum ladder nailed to the bottom of the oak tree. Once committed to the climb, I hop skip and almost jump my way to the first rung of the first ladder. We live surrounded by a nature preserve on two sides, a state park on another side and across the street from a lake. We got lots of critters roaming around, and some of them slither on their belly. Not my favorites, but have learned to appreciate black snakes.

I know we have coral snakes and rattle snakes, not to mention water moccasins, but tend to step lively and always have my eye on the ground in front of me.

I climbed the tree fort for the first time after we moved in, just because I had to. It's a trek, not gonna lie...but an awesome view from the top of the awesome place we landed after all these many years of hard work, sweat and more than a few salty tears.

Last year I ventured back up and strung lights on the tree fort.

I loved it. You could see the lights all the way from my brother's house up the street, and beyond. Neighbors even stopped by and commented how they had never even noticed the tree fort before.

This year I told Massey I'd climb up again to hang lights from it. By this point the fort has been there probably at least six years if not more and we have done absolutely nothing to maintain the integrity of the ladders and foot holds which wind their way around the trunk of the massive oak. 

One of our neighbors climbed it shortly after we moved in. He wadn't (as we say in the south) exactly tiny and broke the last step onto the platform at the very top.

After that, I wouldn't let anyone who weighed less than me climb to the top...just in case. I've only recently gotten back to triple digits myself, but pretty much know where weak spots are on the climb.

If I had to guess, I'd say the tree fort is about forty to fifty feet off the ground.

You start on an aluminum ladder fastened to the bottom of the trunk. Once at the top of that ladder you step around to another aluminum ladder, two feet to your left. That leads you to the split on the branches of the oak tree, where there are foot long 2x4 foot holds nailed into the trunk, inching your way around to the top.

Then there's a wooden ladder nailed to the top of the trunk, which leads to a trap door you push open and where you pull yourself onto the platform. You can't put much weight on the last few rungs, plus my neighbor broke the top one, so you have to fling the trap door open and pull yourself up by your hands and arms. (upper body strength is not my friend these days)  The platform is sturdy, sound and strong though, with steel brackets on all four corners. All the wood of the flooring at the top is in great condition. Once you're up there, you're good.

It's just gettin' there that's the problem.

Especially when you're a sixty year old woman who's currently built like a praying mantis.

I took off into the brush yesterday with a running start and scooted as fast as I could through the thick plants to the somewhat safety of the ladder at the bottom, trying to avoid snakes. Once on the ladder, with my back pack full of lights and drop cords, I scampered up the tree, halfway expecting to see a snake on the next rung of each of the two ladders.

Once past the ladders, I had the hand and foot holds to worry about. I hadn't climbed the tree in an entire year, but am pretty sure a lot of creatures have, on a regular basis and didn't want to disturb them while they may be napping on a foot hold, all curled up and waiting to strike.

I made it up that tree in record time...and twern't exactly easy. Once at the top though, it was all worth it.

The end result? 

Pretty spectacular, once again.

I could survey our little slice of paradise from an amazing viewpoint.

So can everyone else walking, biking or driving down the street... and notice one of the coolest things about our forever home.

On the other hand...

I woke up today and felt like I'd been run over by a Mac truck. My back hurt the minute I got out of bed, which I didn't do until noon. I woke up around eight but watched the news until it started raining really hard outside which always signifies (at my age) the need for another nap. I felt like I'd slept folded in two. The front of both my thighs hurt and my tiny upper arms felt like I'd dragged myself along a really long road without using my legs. Even my calves hurt. Climbing that tree was obviously  a work out beyond a work out for a sixty year old woman who doesn't normally work out.

I can cut grass and pull weeds all day... pulling weeds is great for stretching your ham strings.

Obviously I stretched every single muscle in my body yesterday scrambling forty feet up an oak tree, lugging a back pack full of lights and being terrified to stop in case a snake was looking at me.

Thank God I have an entire year before having to do it again...but do it I will.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Till next time

  COTTON

Time to Breathe...Time to Think and Time to Thank

 

This worked for me, for a while. For a long while.

I was born in the year 1960; looking as if I was already envisioning what the past ten years of our lives would be like!

Maybe I should have been a gypsy fortune teller. I always liked their outfits, and the hours seemed totally flexible.

Then the year 2020 happened, and (spoiler alert) ain't over yet.

Not by a long shot.

We are still as divided over the election (which was Nov.4) as we are over having to (temporarily) wear a freaking mask when in public...to save literally millions of lives. The ironic thing is that most of the non believers about wearing masks, consider themselves "Pro Lifer's."

 But if you aren't willing to simply wear a mask, diligently social distance, sanitize and wash your hands to save potentially millions of others, how can you consider yourself to be Pro Life?

A Life is a Life.

No matter how young or no matter how old.

That's pretty plain and simple.

I don't and won't debate people about it anymore. It's not up for debate with me. 

I'm suddenly one of the older , seemingly more easily disposable human beings.

Granted I'm not much to look at, but can still work circles around many millennials and a lot of people my own age or just a bit younger.

For six decades now I have roamed, furiously ran, sometimes slowly wandered, often stumbled down and even around the paths of life. All with a smile on my face if I could manage it, especially when others were looking. Nobody likes a quitter.

Throughout the decades I have encountered people less fortunate than me, every step of the way, even when at my lowest...and have always at least attempted to help.

Learn to pronounce

Along my sixty year extremely eclectic,  scattered, stumbling often bumbling way through life, I have time and time (and time again) met so many people less fortunate than myself, that it feels embarrassing to not at least attempt to help others. What kind of person would I be, to not try and help?

1. 
   

   • 
     
     international
2. If you are perceptive, and a compassionate person, you will (and always should) help others less fortunate than yourself.
3. No questions asked and no judgement imposed.
4. There but by the Grace of God goes any one of us.

Everything else is just noise to me.

Think outside of the box. Love outside of the box. 

If I can end up a halfway decent person, so can you.

Give it a try and see how wonderful it feels.

Till next time...COTTON

Time To Move On

 

 This was captioned "I'm tired of politics so here's a picture of an English bulldog looking out a cat door."

I could not agree more.

I was absolutely devastated  after the election four years ago, but arguing isn't going to change anything.

Get over it. Move along.

We got bigger fish to fry.

We need to get back to the time when political viewpoints were only expressed in the privacy of your own voting booth.

Voting booth...that's old-school terminology.

This is how old I am.

This is from a Valentine's Day dance during high school, my senior year...1978.

I'm dancing with my Diddy, who was a chaperone at the dance.

My Momma had dropped dead suddenly while out shopping for school clothes with me and my sister just six months before this picture was taken.

Talk about a hard pill to swallow...for all of us.

It changed my perspective on life. It still does.

It was also the year I turned old enough to vote.

And I've never missed an election since.

When we were growing up, no one talked about politics or religion.

And I mean nobody.

Not at church (and we were there several times a week) not at a high school football game, not on vacation with several other families twice a year and not even at a family Christmas get together with all the aunts, uncles and cousins.

We (sibs) would beg our parents to tell us who they voted for.

They never would.

Ever.

There's a reason why the voting booth had a curtain.

 

Eventually, with them both leading by example, we figured it out for ourselves anyway.

When I first voted, there was still a curtain to pull shut behind you.

This photo was taken just years before I was born, and the kind of booth where my parents voted.

We need to all draw the proverbial voting curtain shut again.

I don't want or need to hear how you feel about politics. Your vote should say it all.

The problem is not every one is exercising that privilege, every  single time.

If they did, we'd have the majority rule... every election.

Instead some (a lot) decide to be lazy and simply blab out opinions instead of voting them. Then they relentlessly bitch about what is wrong with this country, when in fact, they are what is wrong.

The others just need to give it a rest.

Move on, you've got four more years to stew about it.

#beentheredonethat

 The result is what we are witnessing this very instant in time, and quite frankly, I'm tired of it...and tired of them, the non voting gripers.

Sometimes the voting gripers are just as bad.

On top of that, people seem to just want a fight. They want to tell you why you are wrong and they are right.

Number one, it's politics, so choose your poison wisely.

Number two, they are all crooks, just of varying degrees.

Number three, that makes us all stooges until we vote them out.

I have lost more than a couple of  social media "friends" this election season. It's never happened before, and like I said, I've been voting since 1978.

In hindsight, I've really never agreed with them politically in the first place. 

Hence the voting curtain needs to be pulled shut again.

 What I really got tired of was people acting like I was some kind of zombie dumb ass for not agreeing with them...as they spat back at me like I was voting for Doctor Evil.

I'm tired of  defending myself, and I shouldn't have to. Neither should anyone else.

I'm not shoving my opinions into anyone's face or space, so don't do it to me. And by the way, I would certainly never consider putting up a banner in my yard touting "No more bullshit" as a campaign slogan.

Just saying...do we really have to go redneck?

Here is what we desperately need...

Let that sink in for a good long minute...because it needs to.

I'm moving on.

The rest of the country should as well.

It's done deal...for now.

Days Are long But Years Are Short

 

  

Seems like this picture was taken just a couple of years ago instead of a couple of decades ago.

That's how quickly they grow up.

The days are long but the years are short.

Even this picture is at least six years old. It seems like it was last week...

when in actuality, this was last week.

We spent a week in The Keys with two of our three kids and both grand kids.

Maybe I should photoshop Zachary into it.

We sure miss our Lost Boy.

Also, it'd be just like him to look the other way.

I think I've weathered the motherhood storm pretty well, considering the headstrong kids we raised.

I didn't raise no quitters.

They all three drove me nuts, luckily at three different times.

Thank God for small blessings.

So with what small amount of sanity I still have remaining, I'm meandering down the path of Life, in my sixties, trying to do the best I can...on each and every given day.

I don't always get it right...but feel more than extremely lucky, as soon as I wake up in the morning and realize I've been given another chance to try.

I'm so glad the election is over and done with. The only thing left is the mudslinging, and trust me, it's gettin' slung!

Here's the thing about any presidential election.

One side is going to be really unhappy, and bitter...and usually lasts the entire four years.

That's how broken our political system is.

That was me four years ago, and it was a hard pill to swallow, but I did.

The difference for me is that it almost immediately became a moral issue, not a political one.

I know all politicians are crooks; there are just varying degrees of "crookosity" and Trump seemed to have a boatload of it.

 When he mocked a special needs reporter, I was appalled. When I heard him say he could grab women by the pussy if he wanted to, I was livid.

I think that was the final straw, but unfortunately he seemed to have an endless amount of straws.

All the while, his followers supported and adored him...no matter what.

After George Floyd, and countless others died (totally) unnecessarily.

Even after over 230,000 Americans died from COVID-19....with the numbers rising every day.

"But the country is doing great!!"

No, big business/ pharma and deep pockets are doing great. They always have and always will. Yet we bail them out every single time. We are their enablers'.

People are disgusted we spend so much money on helping and assisting the millions and millions who simply can't survive without a hand up.

Are there frauds and leeches sucking the government assistance teat dry?

Of course there are. There always have been and always will be.

But that doesn't mean we stop a program of assistance. It means we need more checks and balances.

That's doable...and should absolutely be done.

You can talk about immigration issues all day long...but here's the thing:

This country was founded by adventurous peeps who curiously crossed the pond in a huge wooden boat, then 'discovered' and not only pillaged but claimed the Native Americans' homeland as their own...when it totally wasn't.

Who are we to try and stop other people from coming here in search of a better life?

It's exactly what we did.

Pro Life?

Don't get me started.

 No one is for abortion. 

Why would you be?

But as a female, with a uterus... there will never be anyone, male or female, who should be able to tell me what I can or cannot do with my own body. 

My choice. My decision to live with.

 A woman can (on average) bring to term one human being every nine months. That's basically once a year.

A male can (and often does) create a human being every single time he has unprotected sex with a female.

 If you don't find these odds a pretty messed up issue, that's really sad, and misguided.

That's where I draw the line.

Life's always been a Man's game. Maybe they need to take some responsibility too, and respect us for being  pretty awesome...because we are.

Maybe we all need to learn how to respect each other.

Till next time...COTTON