Hoarders?? No! We Are Keepers of Really Important Stuff

Thanksgiving is over. And yes, I still have some leftovers in the fridge which will be disposed of before the month is out, maybe. Sometimes I like to think of the refrigerator as a science experiment gone awry, but it's my fault, really, since my husband has this problem about throwing stuff away, even refrigerator stuff. It's a guilt thing...throwing out food when folks are starving all over the world. Our mamas drummed it into us just as their mamas drummed it into them. It's what mamas do.

Our daughter kept calling us hoarders at Thanksgiving. Granted, we have accumulated a lot of stuff in the past 42 years, but I don't look at us as hoarders. It's just that we both think that maybe we'll use that old frying pan someday. Of course, all the non stick surface has been scratched and scrapped away, but we could start seedlings in it for spring planting.....well, we could. Okay, Maybe that pan does need to go.

I have a huge black garbage bag full of discarded clothes to go to our charitable thrift store here in town. It's been in my car for a month. Things have been periodically added to it. That gawdawful yellow sweater (and yellow is my favorite color) I put on this morning to wear to work is going to be added to the bag. Why I bought that thing is beyond me. The material is a thin sweater knit. The color is pale and it is about the most unflattering thing I've put on in a long time. It showed way too much flesh through the material, lumpy, not svelte flesh.. I still picture myself (quit dreaming Brooks!) as a slender young woman of 25. That young woman disappeared a long time ago. And that yellow sweater is going to disappear, too.

I have so many pairs of flip flops that I could just about start my own beach footwear store, only these things are ugly, faded, and probably some are 20 years old. I haven't worn many of them in about that many years. And, let's face it, I also have flip flops with no partner. I wonder if there is a reality show for this. And the moldy old Birkenstocks are hideous. Why do I still have these?

I have so many plastic storage containers that I do believe they are being fruitful and multiplying. The burning question is...how come I have so many lids, but not near as many containers to fit them on? If I open a door, they sometimes come tumbling out. What do I do? I quickly shove them back on the shelf and dare them to fall out again. It's a losing battle. Those plastic thingies have brains. And some are pockmarked from being put in the microwave when they shouldn't have. Some are stained reddish pink from spaghetti sauce. I think I can safely say that they should be tossed. Maybe I'll do just that this weekend.

We used to have a collection of socks, single socks, socks without partners much like the flip flops. I mean, I had a whole big bag of those things...black, white, brown, green and blue, yellow, purple, pink...all sizes...cotton, nylon, stretchy wool...with all manner of wear and tear. Why on earth did I have those socks? Did I think that all their partners would miraculously find their way back to the fold? So....one day, just because I was sick of moving that bag of socks everywhere, I boldly took the whole sack out to the garbage can and chucked it in. I know. I know. I could have recycled them, used them as dust rags and such. I did, in fact use a few, but new ones would inexplicably appear. When I walked away from that garbage can, I felt free, yes, free. I get goosebumps just thinking about it.

Hoarders? No, we aren't hoarders. We are savers of stuff. We are keepers of things we think we'll use. We are...nevermind.

Thank God for Yubawazi...It's Over

Yes, most definitely...thank God for Yubawazi. In truth, I don't know where I got these words. Looking in a search engine did no good. So, I don't know from whence it came, but I've been saying it a while. Maybe my husband said it sometime in the past. According to my daughter, he might have gotten it from "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas." He comes up with goofy stuff that makes me laugh a lot. This could be the reason we have been together for so long.

Anyway, I write these words because I am more than thankful that the election is over. In fact, I am ecstatic, not because my candidate of choice was victorious...(yes, I voted for President Obama, and I make no apologies. Why would I. No one could fix the mess he inherited in four years. Even Mitt Romney attested to that...),but because I am sick of the almost nefarious actions taken by some of the folks when I disagreed with their political leanings. 

I mean, come ooooonnnn people, if a woman is raped and a pregnancy occurs as a result of the rape, this is God's plan? Really?? Really. I'm still trying to absorb that thought into my idiotic (yes, I have been called an idiot for voting for Obama) brain. This guy, Richard Mourdock from Indiana, was actually running for the senate, and thank goodness he lost!! I can't imagine anyone, especially a woman, voting for this creep. And I don't know where his "god" comes from, but he surely isn't any deity I'd want to worship.

I grew up in a military home. My daddy was a career Air Force officer and WWII veteran. He always taught us (my brother, sister, and me) to show respect to the President of the United States and to the office he held. He said that the president was the Commander and Chief of the military forces and that any president, whether we voted for him or not must always be treated with respect. There was no exception. This rule has been with me all my life, and believe me, on occasion, it has been difficult, but I have always followed my father's advice. He was a most honorable man and would have been appalled by all the goings on and disrespect shown President Obama.

So, it's over. My president is still my president. I will continue to support him. I really hope that the folks who incessantly questioned President Obama's citizenship, birth place, and so much other stuff , will just get on with their lives. I hope they will stop beating their breasts and crying out that the apocalypse  is upon us. Really?? Can I get another REALLY?? This country is just a little blip on this planet. Billions of human souls exist. Did it ever occur to anyone that we might, just might not be that important? I know that's hard to swallow, but think about it.

The people who have such fear and loathing of our president need to get over it. Where did all this come from anyway? People just seemed to follow some fearmongers and others blindly. They believed any negative thing written or said about President Obama from whispers of him being a Muslim (he isn't, but so what if he was) to he enrolled in school as a foreign student (false documents). Again, so what? And that silly Trump guy with that ridiculous hairdo starts calling for a revolution. Really?? Again, REALLY??

I truly believe that President Obama is a good man, a good husband, a good father, and a good president. Fearful people need to get a grip and lighten up. Let the president get on with his job. And I hope the House of Representatives will put aside all this petty discord because so many are Republicans. They are supposed to be for ALL the people. If they spent so much money getting elected to represent the people, they need to start supporting their leader, also. They need to get off their power trip and do what they were elected to do...represent all the people and not just Republicans. Mitt Romney, in his concession speech, actually said this. I think he's right.

Yes. Thank God for Yubawazi, it is over. No more nasty political rhetoric. No more name calling. No more loss of friendships. It's over. The fat lady has sung and the bows have been taken. I feel like tip toeing through the tulips and singing in the sunshine.

Now, let's get on with the really important stuff and focus more on who will win "Dancing with the Stars." Plus, "American Idol" is back in January. That's a good thing. 

A Monster is Coming and Its Name is Sandy

It has been a blustery day today here in this southeastern region of the United States. Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin along with their friends would certainly attest to this. My sister, who has been visiting here, and I went for a walk out on the farm this afternoon and felt cold as the wind whipped around us.

This wind, almost howling up in the trees is a direct result of a major hurricane churning up the eastern seaboard. "I can taste salt on my lips," my sister announced. And she was right. I could, too. The wind and clouds carried air from the sea although the taste was faint.

This hurricane...Sandy is its name...is scary. It's like nothing anyone in my lifetime has seen. And, strange as it seems, there is something exciting about it. Hurricanes are exciting. Tornadoes don't hold the same excitement . They come out of the clouds, destroy everything in their paths and are gone as quickly as they came.

Hurricanes are different. Some form as innocent batches of clouds, and if the conditions are just right, begin to grow and feed on whatever it is that causes them to start a slow spinning dance. Sandy is a gargantuan storm that started as innocently as any other hurricane. But it is different. It is late in the season. It doesn't necessarily have excessively high winds. It's what is known as a Category I storm, winds only...yes, only 75 mph. But it is huge, over 900 miles across.

The problem with this storm is that it is heading into a highly populated area, a highly congested area. It has been predicted that as many as 50 million people will be affected by this monster storm with a rather sweet innocent name. I've been following it ever since it began forming in the Caribbean over a week ago. At that time, it wasn't promising to turn into what possibly could become the Storm of the Century and beyond.

One of the biggest problems with hurricanes is the storm surge, the ocean waters that move ashore and inland. This surge floods and wreaks havoc as it moves upon the land. The surge from Sandy could flood subways in New York City. It could send water into the Battery. Hurricanes aren't picky at what they destroy. Katrina is an example of that.

Yes, hurricanes are exciting, but it is an uneasy excitement. In reality, I hope the storm, for some inexplicable reason does not turn inland to New Jersey and New York City. I have loved ones up that way. I feel for the people who live in that area, who go to jobs each day, who won't be able to tomorrow because a monster is coming.

We have had so many natural disasters in the past seven years. Doomsday predictors come out of the woodwork when these natural occurrences happen. I don't believe in any of that "End of the world" predictions. These kinds of natural disasters have been going on for millions of years.

It's just that all the areas that will be and are already being affected by this storm were, at one time, not nearly so populated with human life. At one time Manhattan was simply an island with trees and wild life. The Jersey Shore was just that. Atlantic City wasn't there for the boardwalk to be destroyed as it looks to be now. Underground trains were unheard of. Human beings lived simply. They did not live along the shore where the ocean could come in and sweep them away. The did not build high buildings that could topple. They used fire and oil for light.

I hope the people in the path of Sandy heed the warnings. They are dire. I hope they don't try to "ride it out" and have hurricane parties. I think Sandy just might not appreciate it.

Take care everyone. It might be a good idea to say a few prayers. It can't hurt.

Winning the 50 Yard Dash, Little League World Series, and the UGA DAWGS

I really like sports. I mean a lot, but I was never a good athlete. As a kid, I was a little bitty splindly-legged tow-headed girl who was always the last or close to the last kid picked to be on a team. I was too short for basketball and not really strong enough to hit a ball far enough to be good enough. But I could catch a ball with the best of them. People who knew that chose me.

I could run really fast, though. One of my finest moments was in the sixth grade during Field Day when I beat the fastest girl runner in the school for the 50 yard dash. I still smile thinking about it. Track and field was never part of my school participating activities, though.

Swimming was something I was good at also. I could do it despite having a bad knee. Swimming is still something I love to do. But I never was on any swim team. My favorite thing to do is swim mindless laps and write articles in my head.

My dad and I coached my brother's Little League baseball team one summer in between my sophomore and junior year in college. The boys were around 11 or 12. Most were small for their age. In fact, I think my brother was one of the tallest kids, but he was pretty skinny. The boys lost their first 3 games, and folks made fun of them. But my dad was so good with them. He compelled each boy to play his best, not through yelling and belittling them, but by encouragement, respect, and kind words. 

Those boys started winning. The won the rest of their games and went on to win in the city league. That put them in contention for World Series competition. I was so proud of all of them. They played their hearts out, not necessarily to win for themselves, but they wanted to win for my dad. I can remember that every year, every little boy wanted to play on my dad's team. He was a great coach and set a great example. He believed in good sportsmanship and wouldn't tolerate anything less. He also wouldn't tolerate unruly and rude parents and spectators. That summer in 1967 (I believe) is way up there among my fondest memories. I loved those little boys.

Now, I follow the University of Georgia Bulldogs or DAWGS. It was great fun to see them beat Florida today. Florida is usually our nemesis. When Spurrier was the coach, his arrogance just made me want to stomp him which wouldn't have gone over as a good display of sportsmanship on my part at all. It has always pleased me to beat the Florida Gators. Sorry, Gator fans. I will always feel this way. Now, Spurrier is with South Carolina. That team beat us soundly a couple of weeks ago. I wanted to stomp Spurrier again, but he doesn't seem quite as arrogant. He did almost throw his visor, though.

I follow the Atlanta Braves and the Atlanta Falcons professional teams and I love to watch Payton Manning play. He is such a good quarterback, like Joe Montana only I think Manning is better.

See, I told you I loved sports. I think I'm the biggest jock in the family except for maybe my middle son. He "runs" every sports category on Jeopardy, every time. It's amazing. And to me, he was the greatest soccer player on his high school team. I may be a bit prejudice on that.

Anyway, it's been a good day for sports. I wish the Tennessee Vols had won against South Carolina, but they almost did. It was a good game.

It's been a good day for UGA sports fans. That's for sure. GO DAWGS!!

And I make no apologies.

October, the Mountains, and Spectacular Colors

October is a splendid month and it's almost over. Today, my husband, mom, sister, and I ventured out and up to the mountains of Northeast Georgia with the destination being Amicalola Falls near Dawsonville.  The weather was glorious and the scenery was spectacular. The leaf colors are at their peak and just simply brilliant. You know, some years, the fall colors are just "so so." This year is definitely not one of them.

The falls were lovely. This was a perfect day for my mom. She needed it because her beloved doggie she adopted not too long after her husband of 67 years and my sweet daddy passed away. Roxi is a hefty Heinz 57 with some Rottweiler in her. She is a sweet tempered gentle dog that stole my mom's heart when Roxi licked her hand through her cage. She was slated to die that very day. Roxi became very ill a couple of days ago and had we not taken her to the vet, she probably would have died.

She has been diagnosed with diabetes which has caused some other complications. Mom absolutely loves this dog. She is getting excellent care and we are hopeful Roxi will get better soon. So...Mom needed a day to enjoy the outdoors and forget her concerns for a little while. Mom is this wonderful redheaded Irish (mainly with a little British and German) woman who is nearing 90, but acts and looks much much younger. She walked on the trails pretty as you please on her way to see the base of the falls. She laughed a lot and thoroughly enjoyed herself. I'm just so thankful the leaves and the weather were so breath-taking.

My sister, who lives in the Northwest, equally enjoyed herself. She's a picture buff and probably owns one of the last workable film cameras. She swears by her camera and believes film is much better than digital. I'm not going to argue with her. I like my little Canon and she likes her big Canon. It's all good as long as the pictures turn out well. We'll share them. She loved the area and all the brilliant colors.

We hoped to find a nice little restaurant in which to dine somewhere around Jasper, Georgia. What has happened to all the little "mom and pop" places or the local eateries in the smaller towns? I guess economics has taken its toll on these places. Most small towns had a downtown cafe or two that the locals frequented, but we could find nothing.

We wound up eating at a Cracker Barrel at home. That was okay. We all like this country comfort food place. You know it has to be good because it always, and I mean a l w a y s is  crowded. I love their "fried apples." The coffee is great and so is the frosted mug lemonade.

Anyway, this was a really wonderful day. I got to spend it with people I love and who love me. What more could I ask?

A Tribute to My Father on His 90th

I was a daddy's girl growing up. My daddy was the biggest, strongest, handsomest man who ever lived. He made the best mayonnaise sandwiches in the world on soft white Sunbeam bread. He'd glob it on until it squished out the sides when I bit into it. My mouth sometimes waters when I think about those sandwiches, sandwiches I don't eat anymore.

I remember watching Gillette's Friday Night Fights (I think that was its name) with my dad until I got sleepy and fell asleep with my head on his knee. Sometimes, when I was really small, I would use his legs as a slide. I'd ride on his shoulders and get the best view of everything. When I think back on it, I know I felt like the Queen of the World to borrow from that famous "Titanic" line.

As a teen-ager, I remember my dad leaning on a car window, shirtless because he had been working in the garden, introducing himself to the mother of a boy who was taking me to the 8th grade dance. That time I was mortified. Today, I smile and think how truly guileless my dad was.

When I was 15, I had to have surgery to correct a birth defect that caused my knee cap to go out of place and travel around the back of my leg. Yes, it was as horrible as it sounds and didn't show up until I was around 12. The surgery went well, but a staph infection set in. I was very very ill. I almost lost my leg, really my life. One night, I awoke to find my daddy sitting very close to my hospital bed. His head was resting on the bed and he appeared to be asleep. As I put my hand on his hair, I told him that I loved him. He said in his deep East Tennessee drawl, "I love you too, daughter. I love you, too." It was a most precious moment.

My dad had been an Air Force career man, retiring as as Major. He was always so handsome in his uniform. When he retired at the young age of 37, he went on to work for the Post Office for another 20 years. I think he always regretted leaving the military. I learned later that he did it for his children so that they would have a more stable life. That was quite a sacrifice, leaving something that he loved doing. He loved his children more. Secretly, I missed the Air Force as much as him

When I was in college, I'd sometimes ride a bus to Knoxville where we had settled after the Air Force and Dad would meet me at the bus stop. We had a ritual of going to the Krispy Kreme doughnut place and getting a dozen chocolate covered doughnuts warm, coming off the conveyor belt. We'd drive all over Knoxville, talking and munching on that box of doughnuts. Sometimes we'd take a doughnut each home to my mom and brother. They weren't as appreciative as we thought they should have been.

Daddy was an extraordinary guitarist and musician. He could play all kinds of musical instruments, but his favorite was the tenor guitar. He had a specially made Martin that he treated as a work of art. After retiring from the Air Force and moving to Knoxville, he teamed once again with his brother, my Uncle Otha and they became the Emert Brothers. They performed the music of their heritage and youth, mountain music, bluesy and sweet...sad songs of lost love or lively tunes that was foot stomping inspiring. I so loved to listen and watch him and his brother perform and later with his nephew George after Uncle Otha passed away. My dad's last performance was with his grandson, Heath, my oldest son at the Delmar Days Festival in Alabama. I was so proud of my son as he honored his grandfather by playing with him. It was a joy to watch them and listen.

On December 2, 2010 I lost this wonderful man I loved so much. Kidney cancer took him away from all of us who loved him. I remember sitting by his bed on the night before he died telling him it was okay for him to let go, to be at peace. He fought so to live. He suffered so much. He was the dearest man I've ever known, the bravest. My life was made all the better because he was my father.

So here's to Major Stanley George  Emert, Sr. on what would have been his 90th birthday His legacy will live on through his children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and beyond. I know he's playing beautiful music among the stars.

Ocean Liners, French Bread, and Vienna Sausages

So I fell asleep on the couch again and I'm sitting here feeling guilty that I haven't written anything. I had a great day spending time with my mom and sister who flew in for a visit. Yes, this is the sister who was my partner in crime when we wrecked havoc on our baby brother. We also grabbed bread off the swaying dining room tables on an ocean liner on which we were passengers as a hurricane raged outside. The dishes, glasses, and silverware was sent tumbling to the floor. We couldn't let that marvelous French bread go to waste. Of course, the waiters were shooing us out of the dining hall. With our wonderful treat in hand and butter in our pockets, we made our way back to our cabin. Our poor mom was really seasick.

We sat on the floor eating our bread and butter while the the huge sea vessel listed back and forth. I don't know how I kept from getting seasick like Mom. I have motion sickness to this day, but on that particular voyage, I broke bread with my sister as we sailed toward Morocco and promises of new adventures. I can remember that it was some of the best bread I'd ever eaten.

It ranks right up there with the Vienna sausages, crackers and cheese that my dad and I used to munch as we sat in a fishing boat on different lakes as we fished. Dad had motion sickness like me, so sometimes we both would get sick as the little boat bobbled and rolled on the water. It didn't matter. We didn't come in. We wanted fish and we were patient. Even after we got sick, we'd eat more of those little slimy sausages (what IS that jellied stuff on the outside of those things??) with cheese and crackers. If it got too bad, we'd just eat plain crackers. I must confess that I wouldn't eat a Vienna sausage now if my life depended on it. In fact, at this moment I'm kind of picturing myself on a boat with Daddy and I'm not feeling so good.

Tomorrow, my sister and I will spend more time together. In fact, she'll be here a week, so I've taken a few days off to enjoy her company. It's just too bad our baby brother isn't here with us. We could go camping, blow up an air mattress for him to sleep on...but I'm drawing the line on the softball in the pants. I think he might fight us and win for once.

And he might tell Mom.