Did I Ever Tell You About Waking up on the Operating Table??

   The year was 1983. I had a super bad case of the flu. The kind of flu people get when they hope the flu will not kill them; however they are so sick it wouldn't matter much if it did. I was that kind of sick. Finally, I drug my wazoo to the doctor's office. While there I told my doctor about some other 'oddities' going on in my body at the time. He sweetly told me there was nothing he could do about the flu. I had to ride it out and next year be sure and get a flu shot. However, he very softly said I needed to have a hysterectomy as soon as possible. I could not believe what I was hearing, so gentle man that he was, he said it again, "You need to have a hysterectomy as soon as possible." I remember saying, "I can't-- I have the flu!!" He laughed, I cried. We talked for about twenty minutes longer while he recommended a surgeon in Columbia. A month later I had surgery.

   The next month flew by and before I knew it, I was in the hospital waiting to have surgery the next morning. The surgical team made their rounds and talked to me about what to expect the next day. The last member of the team to visit me was the anesthesiologist. He was a good looking young man about my age. He explained the drug they would be using the next day on me. He told me there would be a slight chance I might wake up on the operating table. He assured me this was close to 'one in a million chance' but it could happen. He assured me I would not feel anything if I woke up and he would immediately put me back to sleep. When he was finished he asked me if I had any questions. Apparently I said 'no' and he walked out the door. He made it about half way down the hall when I called out to him, "Did you just say, I might wake up on the operating table?" He laughed, turned around and came back to my room. He explained the procedure once again to me; assuring me I had nothing to worry about. Then he left again.

  It was the next morning before I knew it. I was scheduled to be the first surgery so I didn't have long to wait. Tommy was there and I told him what the team said the night before. He laughed, reassuring me there was no way the  doctors would let me wake up on the operating table. Famous last words!

   Someone pushing a gurney came to get me. Soon I was on my way to surgery. I was prepped and asleep in a matter of minutes. Everything was routine until halfway through the surgery I WOKE UP! I remember the operating room was freezing cold, there was rock music playing and I was staring at my masked doctor who happened to be holding my uterus. He was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. However, he said, "Mrs. Carter no worries it is not cancer. I am sending it to the lab but you will be fine." Then I started getting the dry heaves. The doctor said, "Put her out! Put her out NOW!" I heard the anesthesiologist say, "Good night honey"  It felt like he touched the back of my ear, then I was out instantly.

   The next day everyone visited me again. They could not believe I woke up on the operating table. Well, neither could I. We were laughing about it. Tommy couldn't believe it happened. He said, "I guess this proves you are literally one in a million." I remind him of this fact, from time to time . I made some sort of list in the gynecology journal department. I have had several surgeries since then and slept through the procedures. Thank goodness. The one thing I wish I could remember was the name of the song that was playing in the OR room when I woke up. It was a good song but for the life of me I cannot remember the name.

Who is that Person in the Mirror?

    I like the quote to the left. "What a wonderful thought it is that some of the best days of our lives haven't happened yet." However, I think it is a quote for younger people.  As people age, I have noticed many tend to live in the past.  I catch myself doing this often. Nothing in life prepares a person for getting older.  It happens while we are busy with our daily lives and goals. The young think the world was made for them and they will never age.  There is no reason for them to worry.  Everything life has to offer is before them.   As older adults, we find ourselves looking back often analyzing our lives.  Questioning decisions we made, and chances we took.  One year turns into ten years, before we realize it. Then ten years turn into twenty, once again before we know it, we are staring retirement in the face. We live with the choices we made.  The stressful part of life is over. It is time to do all the things that were put on hold while we lived a productive family life. This is where it gets tricky.

   In my mind I am about forty, the rest of my body disagrees. When I go clothes shopping,  I have to go to the other end of the rack now instead of the skinny section.  Occasionally, I am in the wrong store.  I look around at the clothes and think, 'Hmmm I wore these clothes in the 70's. I am not sure I want to wear them again.'  I find a more 'age appropriate store' and look at what a 66 year old woman should wear and I say, "Oh, Hell No!" and I find myself in the first store . . . again.  Looking desperately for something that doesn't show my ass or my bust.  Good luck with that!  Apparently, when I was young, I showed a lot more of myself than I realized at the time. 

    I ramble around until I find something that will work.  A little bit of this and a touch of that and before you know it I am ready to go home.  Mother Nature and I have split the difference. I can live with that if she can.

     As I sit here, I have a heart monitor hooked up to my chest sending a continuous ECG to someone --somewhere. They are looking inside my heart for the next thirty days.  That has to be one boring job. I doubt if anyone is really looking.  I lost the cell phone transmitting all this crap yesterday and no one called to see if I was dead!  That was reassuring.

    It is an odd feeling knowing there is more time behind me than in front of me.  On the other hand, I have achieved almost everything I wanted to in life. No complaints there.  When Tommy and I retired we had a simple plan.

    1.  Do something productive every day.
    2.  Witness more sunsets and dawns.
    3.   Learn something new each week.
    4.   Stop wearing a watch.
    5.   Pursue any unfulfilled desires.
    6.   Find a way to share our blessings.

   Lacey and Melodi will have a baby in the Spring. A grandchild is a huge blessing and something we all look forward to. Jacy and Logan are busy growing up. Jace is a teenager now and Logan isn't far behind.  Lisa and Lisle are in the process of moving to a new home. Both of them have jobs they really like.  Lisa is working on her Masters degree.  Tami, continues to write books and seek God's plan for her life.  There is a lot going on in our family, just like it is in everyone's family. Vacations have occurred and more are planned. Hobbies started--hobbies stopped. It is a busy time in this gift called 'life'.  The other day, I heard someone on the radio say, "We are only given so many trips around the sun.  Make the most of them."  I am inclined to agree with that statement.

  

    
   
       

Fall Slipped in Early on September 23, 2015

     The Fall season took its place on the calendar around 3:21 this morning. One season evolved into another while we slept. Very little in Missouri changed overnight to mark Fall's arrival.  As the day progressed it was sunny and hot, the same as the last day of summer was yesterday. The temperature reached 85 degrees.   

     While drinking coffee this morning, my mind rambled back to the summer.  I logged on to my computer searching for photos of the summer of 2015.  Photos are the proof of my memories.  I look at them and I remember the day or event.  If my home caught fire,  the two things I would grab would be my photos and Tommy's love letters.  Both of those items are things I could never replace. He doesn't remember half of what he wrote--but I do and that is what matters to me.

    Summer took its time arriving.  June was the wettest month we have had in recorded history.  As far as temperatures went, we never reached 100 degrees.  Unofficially, at my house we did three times.  Several times during the summer we had lows in the 50's. 

     Tommy and I did not fish as much as we usually do. The days were often too humid.  When we did go, we fished  Little Dixie.  I love that place. We seldom caught anything worth keeping but the view was delightful, the coffee good and the company even better.

      We spent as much time strolling the trails in Little Dixie as we did fishing.  The lake is 205 acres.  It is nestled in the midst of 733 acres. Nature trails, both man made and animal, are everywhere.  Each new view is in competition with the last view seen. 

     On any given day we could be found driving the back roads of Callaway County, especially around sunset. An old gravel road is a moment in life waiting to be photographed.  Old broken down barns and homes have a hidden history. Stories few people know or care about.  Often Tommy and I make up our own version of what we saw.  One old house was ready to fall down.  It was still hanging on, fighting weather and decay; but loosing the battle each year that passed.  I fell in love with that old memory. Someone took great care in the structure of their home.  Later we learned its story. At one time it was a huge two story home, with a winding stairway and a veranda almost as large as my home. The couple who built the home had 22 children between the two---his, hers and theirs. I can't imagine raising 22 children. That is a lot of people to care for, feed, clothe and love.  I had 3 beautiful daughters... our greatest treasures.  I swear there were times it felt like I had twice that many children -- I never corralled the hidden three kids to confirm that suspicion.

    Every year I spend a small fortune on flowers for each season. I am in the midst of building perennial beds that no longer need to be planted year after year. Honestly, I am tired of all the work that goes with keeping flowers beautiful. I am delegating this job to Mother Nature. I think she will do a better job than I usually do.  While driving the back roads, some of the prettiest flowers I have seen all summer are perennial wild flowers; growing here and there,  keeping company with cows and buzzards.  When I was a little girl, I used to say,' God made wild flowers for poor people.'   Every time I said something along that line,  Mama thought I was about to die.

  Tommy and I will probably go to the river late this afternoon. Perhaps we will eat supper at our favorite bar and grill.  I am still in pursuit of buzzards.  I missed many photo shots, that begged to be taken, because I forgot my camera.  I am not giving up. I still have time to get a few good photos. Tommy teases me about my fascination with buzzards this year. It is true, the buzzards are trapped in my imagination.  In one missed shot, a dead tree was filled with close to twenty buzzards.  It was an ironic photo --and I wanted it, but missed the shot  Another time, we were rounding a curve on our road, six buzzards sat on an old rail fence. All of them were transfixed on something in the water.  One turned around and looked at the truck, ignoring us he returned to watching the muddy water with rest of his buddies.  There were several good shots in those few seconds. Then they flew away.

    This is first time in my life I have ever been this curious about buzzards.  There is a story and a photo in my mind growing bigger each day.  From a distance these scavengers look enchanting.  Soaring to great heights as they scan the area below looking for a dead carcass. They remind me of a certain type of human, who looks lovely from a distance however, the closer they get, the more undesirable they become--much like the buzzards.

    All to soon the trees will start to change colors, birds and buzzards will migrate to warmer weather.  Nature will strut her colors while mere mortals try to capture her beauty with a camera. This is an on going game nature and people play. Find the perfect tree, find the perfect leaf, find the perfect love and see what happens. 



                                           

                                                  

 

 

 

                                        
                                                                             







 
      

Tommy Wanted to Kill Me Friday...

    Last week was the week from Hell for Tommy.  He worked hard, 8 hours a day, doing manual labor for a couple of friends.  When he came home at night he looked like death warmed over.  He actually stumbled in the back door one night. No matter what I said, he was determined to work...and work he did. When he was young he worked like this but he isn't young and he is retired.  We don't work hard.  That defeats the whole purpose of retiring. Every day he promised me he would take it easy and rest. He lied.

   I knew he would not have time to rest before our trip to Kentucky.  I was right. He woke up at 3:30 a.m. Friday morning and got me up at 4.  We were out the door and on the way to Kentucky by 5 a.m.

   The trip down was nice and easy going.  Once we arrived in Clinton we stopped to visit with our good friend John Kelly Ross. I also talked with Lou Conner. It was a pleasure to see these old friends again. John has the best sense of humor, and can tell a story perfectly.

    Tommy and I decided to spend the night in Union City, Tenn.   We paid for our room but had to wait for it to be cleaned. This left us 2 hours to kill. Tommy was tired, hungry and did I mention tired, well if I didn't. . . he was TIRED... and while I am at it I will throw in Grumpy too.   'We' could not decide what Tommy wanted to do!  He wanted to wash the truck but was hungry. He needed to sleep but had no room to lay down. At that time there was no room in the inn.  He decided to wash his truck first, then eat, and finally try the motel again. 

    Fine by me,  I was only thirsty.  I remembered we had 5 small bottles of frozen strawberry water in our cooler.  That was all I wanted. . . a drink of water.  I opened a bottle while Tommy was trying to pull out into oncoming traffic.  Never once did it enter my mind that such a simple thing could cause me so much trouble.  But it did. There was no stop light, it was jump and go kind of driving.   The four lane was busy with people on their lunch break. No one would let us out of the driveway or into the traffic.  Finally, there was a slight pause in the traffic allowing Tommy to jump in a lane.  That is about the time I opened my water bottle.  The cap and about an inch of ice, the size of a bullet, shot out of my bottle and hit the windshield.  KABOOM!!!  It bounced back and hit me in the chest.  I screamed, Tommy screamed, and then I fell over in one of those uncontrollable laughing fits that only happen to me when I am too tired and have lost all control of my emotions.  Tommy yelled at me to see if I was alright, because he thought someone had fired a shot at us and I was hit and crying.  I squeaked through a round of gut laughter, "I- I- I am fine".    He was scared and  furious. I should have been but I wasn't so, I continued to laugh.  Every time I thought of how  that scene must have looked, I started laughing all over again. Snorting, eyes watering, nose running kind of laughter.  Tommy was soooo through with me. The only reason he didn't pull over and try to put me out, is because he knew I wouldn't budge.

   We washed the truck and he was mad!  We ate lunch and he was mad. Finally, we make it back to the motel and he was mad. He did get some sleep, when he woke up he was not mad anymore. 

    Me???  I still think it is one of the funniest things to happen to us this year, and we have a long list of funny mishaps so far. . . and it is only the beginning of September.   For some reason, I do not think Tommy will ever think, at least this year, this day in our life was funny. Some day he will, but not today and I am pretty sure not tomorrow.   I am still laughing as I type these last words...and I know funny when I see it, after all I live with him and we share this crazy experience called life.  Thankfully, most of the time, it is funny indeed. We need to realize this more often.
 
   

    

Waiting for Her Life to Begin . . . Flash Fiction

          Alyssa sat fidgeting  in New York City's version of a French cafe, sipping lukewarm coffee, while soaking up the atmosphere.  Her long red fingernails made a clicking sound on the rim of her coffee cup.  The nails picked up speed the longer she tapped.  Agitation was about to raise his ugly head.  Once again she was waiting for Chad, her possible Mr. Right, to arrive. 

       The open front cafe was noisy but inviting.  The busy streets of New York  City were forty three steps away from where Alyssa sat.  She knew this to be a fact, because she had counted them--twice in the past hour.  Each time she walked to the curb,  grabbing a quick glance, hoping Chad would be walking down the avenue.  He wasn't.  Horns were blowing, couples trying to hail a cab cursed as the taxi stopped for someone else.  A low rumble of chatter continued from the customers inside the cafe.  Alyssa became nervous sitting in a strange place waiting for a young man, she was barely knew,  to arrive for their third date. . .  if he showed up.  Alyssa tried to dodge the uncomfortable feeling he was not joining her tonight.  She called his cell phone twice.  Once to confirm she had the right address and the second time to see if he was stuck at the office or in traffic.  He did not answer or return her messages.  Something was wrong.  She wished she knew if she should be mad or worried because right now she was both.  There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

    The waiter approached her table for the second time, asking if she was ready to order or did she want to wait a few more minutes.  Alyssa said, "I'll have another cup of coffee and I will order a Jack and Coke for my friend, who will be here soon."  The waiter smiled saying, "I will be back with your orders."

    Alyssa scanned the cafe again.  The decor appeared to be a knock off version of the old outdoor French cafes of years past,  with wrought iron chairs and tables.  Three walls were painted a Tuscan sun color.  The middle wall had a fresco painted from the floor to the ceiling. The lush greenery in the scene surrounded a stone colored water fountain. A crack in the wall reach from the floor to the middle of the fountain.  The crack added a touch of reality to the painting.  Glancing at her watch, she noticed five minutes had passed.  Calling Chad was no longer an option.  She would return to her apartment alone before she dialed his number again.

     After the waiter brought her a coffee and mixed drink for Chad, her imagination began to come to the forefront of her mind's eye, taking over as usual when stress began to increase in her life.  With an easy rhythm, Alyssa was drawn into the lives of the other customers in the cafe.

     To her right sat an elderly couple eating their meal in a comfortable silence.  After years and years of conversation they enjoyed their meal and their own thoughts. . . together yet alone.  Across from Alyssa sat the most beautiful black woman she had ever seen.  Her ebony skin glistened in a ocean blue silk dress. Hooped silver earrings were tangled in a long mass of black curls.  When she spoke her voice was rich with a thick Caribbean accent.  The woman had completely captivated her dinner partner. They were a beautiful couple of the same sex, enjoying a night out on the town.  

     A young couple, with their three year old daughter,sat enjoying ice cream floats.  They laughed and talked making plans for the future while enjoying the present.  People came and went several times before Alyssa decided to call it a night.  She glanced around the room looking for her waiter.  Smiling, he brought her the check.  Alyssa paid the bill and left a tip. She stood up and took a long swig of Chad's watered down drink.  Then she turned to walk down the avenue.

     Tonight left a sour taste in her stomach.  She was twenty one and this would not be the last time she felt the acidic taste of hurt.  She looked around the cafe one last time, thinking 'any of these people could be a glimpse of my life one day.  Who knows?'  Alyssa turned and slowly left the  cafe.  She had no clue what life had in store for her but, one thing she knew for sure. . . it would be better than tonight.


      The waiter watched the young woman walk away.  He felt a bit of sadness and relief  as he picked up his cell phone and called his brother. On the second ring, Chad answered. " She is gone", said the waiter as he hung up the phone.  Chad smiled and began to get dressed for a night on the town. 'Alyssa did not know how lucky she was', thought Chad,  as he slipped on his shoes. He looked in the mirror one last time. Then he picked up his switchblade knife, smiled at his reflection and walked out the door.  Chad was ready to party his way.

    

          

         

Thank You All for Reading my Blog...

   In 2010 I began writing a blog.  I wasn't sure where this adventure would take me or how long I would write. I figured I would write until the need inside me was filled.  I  had a lot on my mind and in my heart.  I needed to talk to someone I did not see every day about feelings, emotions and memories that ran around inside my mind...so I began to write our story.

    My mother died in 2009 from Alzheimer's.  It was a long, slow death that took every thought, emotion and memory this lovely woman called her own.  I wanted to write stories about our family, in case  the 50%  chance of Alzheimer's  finds me and  moves in to stay.  If it comes true, our stories will live on. If it does not come true, everyone will have my version of our lives.  I know for a fact, Tommy and I usually remember things differently...mine will be in black and white.

    I needed for  my children and grandchildren and their children to have a book of stories about their incredible, loving, funny, spiritual and creative relatives. I want the little things that make up the majority of a person's life shared. The big events most people remember but the little everyday stories, those are the ones that get lost. I want our descendants to know us.  The very people whose blood flows through their veins and whose genes reside inside them are home base for my stories.

   My first year of writing consisted of eight blogs.  As of today, I have written a total of 384 blogs.  I have had fun sharing our lives, and enjoyed people enjoying my writing.  My followers are found all over the world and I love that feeling. Originally I traded postcards, for about three years, with friends in many foreign countries. A good portion of my postcard friends still share my life through my blog.  Some of us talk daily. These people are part of my' tribe', as I call our friendship.  We will probably never meet in this lifetime but we are friends, good friends, for sure.

    Later I joined several on line writing groups. I began to follow my favorite authors on Facebook. I talked to them and they talked back to me!  Unbelievable!  A learning experience was occurring. Soon I discovered Pinterest  and a whole new writing venue opened up for me. I enjoyed reading and following many writing blogs on Pinterest. To my delight and dismay,  people started following me on Pinterest. It has become  another good, unexpected experience.

    In hindsight, my middle daughter, Tami  gave me encouragement on writing and actually set up my first blog for me.  She told me to set a goal for the number of  readers I would like to reach.  I did that and the goal was 500.  That goal was reached  in a about six weeks.  I began to write more and felt comfortable sharing my life on line.  Soon I set the goal for 2,000 and reached it.  I was shocked---extremely shocked and once again delighted.  I felt like a gun totting, slight of hand gambler, as I raised the stakes with my keyboard, on my favorite hobby. I jotted down 10,000.  I thought if I reached that goal,  I would be out of stories and quit writing.  I was so wrong with that mindset.  The more I wrote,  the more I remembered,  the more I wanted to write.  My every day life began to resemble an "I Love Lucy" episode.  Retiring and still  married happily to my husband, Tommy Carter, yields more stories than I will ever be able to describe.  Strange things often  happen to us.  We call it normal, most people would disagree.

   I've had a few bumps in the road. Every time I wrote a truthful but hard core blog on Obama, I received a virus.  I made a few people fighting mad.  So be it, thank God for freedom of speech... and for people who can fix my computer when I exercise that freedom of speech.

   I began writing short stories about three years ago. Flash Fiction is one of my new favorite writing exercises.  I think most people prefer novels to short stories but I have to admit these stories have a place in my heart. They will be included in a book some day.  I also have a novel started. It is more background, checking facts and weeding out what works and what doesn't.  I do believe it is a book that wants to be written and it also would  enjoy being read  some day. I know this for a fact,  because my muse is working in overdrive for the moment.  It is a big challenge for me...not sure how it will play out.  The adventure should be a huge learning experience for me.

   The other day I checked my stats and I had over 30,000 readers.  I felt like I had won the jackpot of all jackpots.  For most writers this is a smidge of followers...for me it is a landslide I never imagined.

   I want to thank every person who has taken the time to read my blog, share my life and adventures. You all are the best and make writing special for me. I enjoy your feed back and comments.  As I close,  I raise my cup of coffee to each and everyone of you.  Thank you for making my retirement more fun than I ever imagined. Thank you for being a part of my life. ...you all matter to me.

When The Thunder Rolls and The Lightning Strikes...Carter Style

   Weird events, often found left of the center line of normal,  happen frequently in our home. At least the oddball occurrence's seem unusual to me. However, this is my opinion...I could be wrong.

   I am sure in every family, at one time or another, the man of the family shoots a possum in the laundry room. The shooting happened  a few minutes before he rushed out the door, around 10:30 at night, to go to work.   On his way out the door he yelled, " I had to shoot a possum in the laundry room. Don't worry about the mess. I will clean it up in the morning."  Sounded normal to me.

  Our youngest daughter, Melodi, knocked on my bedroom door and said, " By any chance did Dad just shoot something in our laundry room?"

   "Why yes he did darlin'...it was a possum...he will take care of it in the morning. Now go back to sleep and don't worry.  Everything is fine." This was the best motherly advice I could give on the spur of the moment. What followed were several rounds of belly laughter accompanied by every crazy story we could remember.  Melodi crawled in bed with me and we laughed until we cried. I am sure this is a common mother and daughter bonding moment in many homes across America; if not it should be. There are times when life is down right funny.

   The only room in our home to catch fire was the bathroom.  I did not think this was funny or unusual, until Lisa's boyfriend brought this fact to our attention. If memory serves me right, he tried to say, while laughing out loud in the school's lunch room, "No one has their bathroom catch on fire!  It is always some other room. Honestly sweetheart, you have the oddest family I have ever known."  Hmmm...I am thrilled Lisa did not marry 'sweetheart'.  I am sure thousands of families have had their bathroom almost burn down on the coldest, snow covered, meanest night of winter.. silly boy.

    There are too many instances to write down. We have been married 45 years and each year has had its share of peculiarities.  Last Saturday night, we may have reached an all time high  in our home. The year isn't over yet so one never knows for sure.

    It rained and stormed Saturday night, at times the thunder shook our home. In the early morning hours the storm raged, lightning struck our phone line and knocked out the service.  Tommy and I heard the storms romping through our dreams, in the distant depths of our sleep. We forgot our dogs were outside, sleeping in the garage. As a rule, they sleep in the house. Our grandkids had spent the past two nights with us and the dogs slept on blankets in the garage while Jacy and Logan were here.

   I woke up around 6:30 a.m.  I was surprised to see our German shepherd, Sabella, in the house and soaking wet. I figured Tommy woke up during the night and let her in. Sandy, our lab, is deaf and would not know it stormed until she woke up the next morning and stepped in little rivers of water and mud in our driveway.  She would be surprised as she waddled to the back door.

   I made coffee and proceeded to dry Sabella off with three large towels. She was soaked. About this time, Tommy woke up, walks down the hall and sees Sabella.  I asked him what time he let her inside. Tommy informed me he did not let her in. We looked at each other and at the back door. It was still locked. Words failed.  We had not had enough coffee yet to figure out much of anything.

   We were on our second cup of coffee when I noticed the coffee table in front of our living room window was messed up; a few of the books were in the floor and the lamp shade was crooked .  I remember saying, "Man, the winds must have really gotten rough to blow things around like that. Shhhh, what a mess!"  About that time, Tommy sees a rip in the screen. It was about a foot long and at least eighteen inches above the table.  It was closed so I did not notice it from across the room.

   Both of us got up to check out the screen. Sabella walked into the kitchen far away from the window.  She thought she was in TROUBLE. We understand Sabella. Our fearless dog is terrified of storms. She wanted in her house.  Her humans were asleep with the door locked, so she took matters into her own paws. She climbed up on the temporary patio I have in front of the living room window, climbed in the biggest pot of yellow daisies growing under the window and clawed the screen until there was a rip wide enough for her to get her head through. Once the head was through, everything else followed. It sort of reminded me of giving birth...

   I wasn't convinced 100% this was what happened. The more we talked about it...the more sense it made.  The first time it thunders or lightning flashes, Sabella  finds a place to hide. It does not matter to her that  she is safe and dry, in our home and we are within arms reach. To be caught outside in a storm must have been a horrible experience for her.  I am sure she was frightened beyond barks.  Also after Tommy and I got up she was afraid she was in trouble for the mess she made.  It started to rain again and she ran and hid.  Sabella wasn't in trouble. I remember last week when a black snake was lying across my patio table.  If I had been outside and the door was locked, I hate to think what I would have done.

   All of these weird memories  make up a huge portion of our lives. It is seldom boring at the Carter home.  On the rare occasion it does get boring, we go somewhere or sit around telling all the stories of the "do you remember?" sort.  It always helps to have a back up plan.

  


  

Politics Suck...

   I have kept my mouth shut about as long as I can.  It is time to bring out the red rubber nose and get on my political soapbox.  I am not a politician. I am one woman, in America, among thousands who hate the direction our country has taken. Never once did I believe our men and women in the armed services would be at risk because of terrorism in our own country. It is appalling to think this can actually happen but it does...and did.

   I 've been cautioned, more than once, 'writers should keep their opinions to themselves if they ever want to sell books.' That may be true, although in my case, keeping quiet is selling out for something that may or may not happen.  Heaven forbid we piss off anyone in this country or any part of the world for that matter. If I never hear the words, 'Political Correctness' again, it will be one day too soon. I can no longer be quiet.  Terrible things are going on in our country and the world, in the name of 'political correctness.'  Now is the time to speak up and shout against the idiots trying their best to ruin what is left of the USA.

   I have lost all faith in most of our elected and appointed officials. Reason and logic has left the White House, Senate and the House of Representatives. I am not sure it ever lived in the Supreme Court. As I write this, conscious decisions  have been made that are detrimental to the safety of the United States, Israel and the Middle East in general. As John Kerry was negotiating  the Iranian Nuclear agreement, Iranian people were shouting in the streets, "Death to the United States and Death to Israel." Iran is holding 4 American  men hostage and not one word was mentioned about their release in the deal. Why??? Why sign any agreement with a country that openly says it wants us dead?  Where is the logic in the Iranian deal ???

   I cannot fathom why anyone would think Iran will keep any part of this agreement. Iran wants nuclear weapons and we released the money while allowing  time to achieve their desires.  To the people who think Iran deserves a chance to prove many countries wrong; I have this to say, tonight when you get ready for bed put a 5 foot rattlesnake in your bed. Lay down beside it,  turn out the lights and try and get a good nights sleep... for the next eight hours, you mentally  traded places with Israel...now you know  how it feels to wonder if you will wake up in the morning. If you keep the snake in your  bed long enough, one day you will not wake up.

Trying to Educate Vicky Carter...Again

   Today, I am the reasonable facsimile of a 'happy camper'. For the past year I have mentally kicked around the idea of taking a few writing courses on line. I need the knowledge for sure, however I am not positive the cost of the classes balances my need for knowledge.  I had my chance for a college education and I threw it away.  It was my first taste of freedom and I liked the menu. The only thing I can remember learning in college was, 'Christopher Columbus died of syphilis.'  For that tidbit my parents paid two thousand dollars...and I would not swear the statement is the truth. My Early American History class was taught by a wonderful man from Russia. I loved his class, although I only understood about every third word the man spoke.  Christopher Columbus' sex life happens to be one of the things I think I understood. I know it made an impression on me.

    I married Tommy halfway through my Junior year of college and I have never, ever been sorry. I would do it all again tomorrow. My mind was everywhere but on higher education. I made the right choice for me then. Now I wish those few years I was in college, I had taken Creative Writing and English classes, instead of  classes I do not remember attending...if I did.   I need now what I missed learning then.  I also had no clue what the future held. Nor did I know all the stories I had in my imagination would someday want to appear on paper. The thought of retiring and becoming a writer, never once entered my mind when I was twenty years old.

   Since retirement,  I purchased a ton of 'writing how to books'.  I've read a huge portion of  my collection.  I am hoping the rest of the books will be absorbed by osmosis. If not by osmosis, then there is always a chance I will live long enough to finish the stack by my chair., my desk, my bed and the kitchen table not to mention the bathtub.  Next to Tommy, Amazon is my best friend. We are on a first name basis...they know where I live.

    I  read off and on all day long.  If  I lived alone, I would probably read and write all of the time. I could possibly be one of those old ladies who lives alone with a couple of cats, a dog and a shotgun, daring someone to bother me, while I write the next imaginary best seller.  Ironically,  I married a non reader. Tommy doesn't give a flip about reading and never has.  It hasn't been a problem in our marriage. He doesn't read and I do not hunt.  We accept that we are two different people and we each do pretty much what we want to do.  In fact, if I told him I wanted to take several online classes; he would say, "If that is what you want to do...then do it." I am not telling him what I have been thinking about.  Instead, I started my own program entitled, "Trying to Educate Vicky Carter...Again".  It is a simple program consisting of several on line writing groups I joined; accompanied by a host of writing blogs I touch base with daily. One of the best blogs I follow is Susan Finlay's, "Writing  and Publishing Tips From Authors Around the World".  It is authors helping authors by sharing tips they use in their professional careers. I also discovered Tom Winton on this site. I am now a fan of both Tom and Susan's books. I believe all writers benefit from reading the works of great  authors.

    Another option I tackled was joining  the "Writer's Circle" group on facebook.  This group offers basic writing tools and information.  Anyone can benefit from  reading and studying their fact sheets. Since I am a 'comma whore', I revel in the "Rules for Using Comma's".  I've never encountered  a comma I did not want to use and use and abuse.  I need the  basic common sense truths to read  and reread  as I write.  Most of the truths I am learning, I knew at one time.  Over the years of nonuse,  these truths relaxed on a dusty, cluttered shelf in my memory and remain hidden. I will either find them or learn them again. If my mind is anything like my closet, it would be better to start over. My will and desire to learn comes from many people and places. T.K. Carter my middle  daughter is a published author. She  has helped and encouraged me from the beginning. Tami is often my sounding board when I need someone to listen to my ideas.

   I discovered I am in need of  a writing partner. I really want  Nalini Mohammad. However, she lives in Trinidad,  has a job and is about to be married. Nalini's plate is full.  I need someone who lives close to  my area.  A person I can meet and trade writing ideas; critique each others work and not be offended.   Once again, I miss Carol Shea. She always read my work. She had no problem being honest either. Honesty is what I need,  plus the help of a struggling writer who understands the joy and crap that goes with writing.  A new best friend would be great but not necessary. I think I need a proofreader with the heart of a serial killer when it comes to editing.  Several ideas are  beginning to form a new system for writing; rearranging this--deleting that, changing old habits and creating new habits.   Discipline  has stepped to the forefront and increased his demands.

   School is about to begin at the Carter house...again.

The First Four Days of July Were Horrible...

   The first four days of July were absolutely, no doubt about it, horrible. I knew I had made a childhood mistake when I woke up on July 1st and did not utter the words that often control my imaginary fate, "Rabbit, Rabbit". I simply forgot about the old habit.  I am surprised this little quirk is still stuck in my brain after sixty years,  but it has never left.  In fact I think it is pretty safe to say; my mind is stocked full of useless information I have collected over the years. From time to time, I use this junk  when I write stories or my blog. That makes it not a total loss...but close.

  Supposedly uttering the words, "rabbit, rabbit" as soon as my eyes open,  on the first day of a new month, will ensure 'good luck' for the month. This bright idea originated with a group of little girls I spent recess with in grade school. We had a club and this was part of our rules.  Why it is stuck in my brain I do not know, since I can't remember who the little girls were in our club.  What is even more unbelievable is that sixty some odd years later I still do this little ritual. I seldom forget it and when I do---something always happens. Now in reality, I know all of this 'stuff' would have happened whether I said, 'Rabbit, Rabbit' or not.  However, I am always amazed by the events that occur. This July was my worst 'rabbit' non saying month in recent history.

   It was a good day until late in the afternoon. The skies turned dark and restless.  Low thunder could be heard rumbling in the north and to the west. This was nothing unusual. June turned out to be the wettest month in 120 years. Water was out everywhere. The predictions for July were resembling the forecasts for June.  The ground was saturated with all the water it could hold. The smell of rotten soil assaulted  the air.  I had walked outside to refill my hummingbird feeders and to check my flowers.  The birds were fed and as I scanned the flower beds I spotted the fattest black snake I have ever seen.  It  was at least six feet long and three inches in width.   All I could think of to do was run like the wind yelling for Tommy. I HATE SNAKES...alive or dead!!! Tommy came to my rescue, scaring the snake off. Tommy assured me the snake was long gone. I knew better than that!  Tommy suggested we go for a ride and maybe buy an ice cream cone in Fulton. He wanted to get me away from the house and the snake.  I told him I thought it might storm and his exact words were, "So what!!  It has stormed for over 30 days--what else is new??" Off we drove in search of ice cream and some peace of mind. In hindsight, we had the worse plan ever for 'peace of mind'.

   We jumped  in the truck and drove west down our gravel road. Three miles later, we arrived at a STOP sign and I had to decide which way to go. I looked right, toward Williamsburg .  The sky was black, I suggested we go left since it looked like Williamsburg was getting a heck of a storm.  We drove  about ten miles. I looked in the rear view mirror and spied the storm clouds chasing us. Tommy turned on the radio.  We listened as the disk jockey discussed out fate. Tornado warnings were issued for us in every direction. The winds were getting stronger.  We literally had no where to go.  The Missouri River was to the east,  about a home run length from our truck. The tornado was behind us.  Fulton was to our West and another storm had just hit Fulton.  We could hear tornado sirens going off either in Reform or Fulton.  We kept driving. The announcer repeatedly said "If you are in a vehicle...seek shelter." We literally had nowhere to go. We drove away from the river and toward Fulton, taking our chances that the storm would continue to follow the river and hoping the storm in Fulton would be over by the time we got there. I usually enjoy a good storm, taking photos as it romps and gyrates outside our windows.  Today was a little too close for comfort. I always want a Plan B to fall back on and today there was no plan B.

                                                  

 We drove home between storms, totally forgetting about the ice cream. The announcer was giving us a blow by blow account of the storm. It sounded like Williamsburg was getting stomped. My eyes filled with fear and tears. There wasn't one thing I could do about any of this. We threw a blanket prayer up for everyone and for us and kept on driving. The strength of the storm was beginning to recede as we pulled into our driveway. Everything appeared to be tangled and wet but  untouched.  We raced inside to turn on the t.v. and continue to watch the storm from the comfort of our home. It was a long night.  Too much excitement had happened for us to be able to relax enough to go to sleep at a reasonable hour.

 
   The next morning we were drinking coffee in the living room as we watched the weather channel. I glanced out the window and I will be darn if that black snake wasn't stretched out across my table outside. I really thought I would puke!  Tommy ran outside and proceeded to 'relocate' the snake. She is gone this time...hopefully for good and forever. That day was another long, long day with more storms to occur.


             

  
When the 4th of July rolled around my dog, Sandy, was feeling horrible. If Sandy were a person she would be 97 years old. Most of her time is spent sleeping.  On days when she does not feel good, she stays close to me--more so than usual.  That day I had a feeling Sandy might die. She had a pitiful look in her eyes. She moved very little.  I watched her most of the day.  Later Tami called and invited us up to watch the Centralia fireworks display. We had a great time, still the thoughts of Sandy were in the back of my mind all night. When I got home, Sandy was still alive and feeling better. She met us at the back door. The thought of giving her up really hurts my heart. I don't think we are ever ready to give up a family member.

    Whenever August 1st rolls around, I will hopefully remember to whisper, "Rabbit, Rabbit'. Such are the ramblings of a third grader's plans...many, many years later...one can only smile and hope.


                                                              

Ice Cream...Penguin Style

    Centralia, Missouri is the most kid friendly small town I have ever visited.  I am delighted my grandchildren live in such a nice, family oriented place.  About two weeks ago, Tommy and I stayed with Jacy and Logan while Tami attended a book convention in Nashville, Tenn. It was a busy, fun time for all four of us. The one name that kept coming up was "The Penguin Place". This place was mentioned every time we made plans to dine out.  Finally, on our last night there we made a trip to "The Penguin Place".  It was everything the kids said it would be and then some.

    When we walked in the store,  our eyes were bombarded with the brightest garden of colors this side of Oz...and we loved it.  After stepping inside the door,  we knew we were going to have a good time. The day had been humid and at times filled with rain, stepping inside the ice cream parlor the temperature immediately dropped by twenty degrees. I was in heaven. Tommy and I had never visited a shop like this one. The store looked, felt and smelled delicious. The four of us walked up and down the isle reading all the choices. We could also sample any ice cream for free.  We had 21 flavors of yogurt, gelato, and custard to make our combinations.  We also had 38 toppings to pick and choose. We could get one or all.  It was up to us.

 When we finished our creations, it was time to pay for our desserts.  The attendant took my bowl and weighed it. Now that was a scary thought. All the time Jacy and I had been playing with the crazy titles, the ice cream tub expanded.  The attendant weighed everyone's bowl of over flowing ice cream.  Next she figured up our bill and it came to a little over twenty five dollars.  I knew it would be expensive for four, out of this world creations, so I wasn't exactly surprised.  My face, however, must have looked surprised
because Logan whispered, "Do you want me to put back some of my gummy worms." I started laughing.  I gave him a hug and told him his gummy worms were safe, Papa and I had this and we were fine.  Logan smiled and seemed relieved. I really do not think he wanted to part with his stack of worms...but the offer was sweet.

 

 

When we sat down to eat, we began trading bites and telling the names of our ice cream choices.  One of mine was "wedding cake" and it tasted like wedding cake. We ate all sorts of exotic named ice creams. The remarkable thing was all the creations really did taste like their namesakes.                                         

We had a good time, ate too much and made some memories. The next time we are in Centralia, one of the first places we will visit is the 'Penguin Place'. It comes highly recommended by the Carters and Johnmeyers.
                                                                                                                                                                  

 

This is What Happens When I Forget my Camera...

   There is something infinitely beautiful about a newborn fawn.  The unique size;  small, fragile and camouflaged to perfection.  The persistence of the infant to walk,  followed by the urge to nurse are instinctively present in the fawn at birth.  Legs wobble and weave as the fawn tries to stand his ground attempting to take steps only to stumble and fall.  Mom is watching closely, nudging and licking his body.  The baby begins to see his new world. He stops and rests for a few seconds;  his mother encourages him to nurse.  He thinks to himself as he tastes his first sip of milk, "Now that is what I am talking about! All this beautiful scenery and breakfast to boot!!  I am so gonna love livin' here.."  After nourishment and a nap, both mother and baby are ready to explore their surroundings.

   About this time, Tommy and I entered  the picture.  We were on our way to town, maybe a mile from home, when we spotted our first fawn of the season. The little deer could not have been over a few days old.  He was wobbly and so tiny, standing alone in the middle of our gravel road.  His mom was in the road ditch about ten feet from him.  He could not get his sense of direction correct.  He tried his best to reach his mother; he could not make it happen.

 We stopped our car about twenty yards from the small deer, rolled down our windows and watched the sweet trials of a lost newborn.

   I had forgotten my camera and did not get a photo of this awesome experience.  But my mind's eye remembers it all.  The baby took  two steps in one direction and stopped.  A minute or so later, he began wandering off  to the wrong side of the road.  His mother made a small bleating sound and the grass by the edge of the road moved slightly.  The fawn turned to look at the moving grass.  He turned his little body around and slowly took three steps...then sat down.  The gravel hurt his tender feet; his newborn legs grew tired as he plopped  down in the middle of the road  to rest and looked around.

   Tommy and I watched as he smelled the rocks, sand and dirt.  We shut the motor off and literally stared in amazement as the baby deer, too small to walk across the road at one time, sat down in the wrong place to rest.  His mother was anxious and trying her best to get him to get up and moving toward her. He looked at our car as if to wonder what kind of animal that big white thing was. He wasn't afraid. We received no more than a passing glance.  Once again his mother had his attention. He finally got the the message to get up and move in her direction.  He was anything but fast or graceful. He could not decide which end to raise first...neither one worked all that great. Finally, he raised his front two legs and the rear end--more or less-- followed. He was standing up...again. Slowly, ever so slowly he walked toward his mother and into the tall green grass. In three seconds,  they were gone.

    Tommy and I sat there a few minutes longer, talking and laughing, remembering the mini movie nature had provided for us. Suddenly going to the theater to see, "Jurassic World" seemed a little off kilter.  We had just seen Mother Nature at her best.  We weren't up for watching  Mother Nature in a rage today. We decided to drive the back roads and enjoy the sights, sounds and aromas of small uncivilized spots of ground.  While we were at it, we hoped to witness another miracle.

   The miracle of life is everywhere this time of year. The fields are rich with random flowers growing and thriving in places people never planted.  Queen Anne's lace accents orange day lilies. Yellow and white daises snuggle behind, across and in front of the lilies. Blue bonnets ramble through the ditches, and fields.  Next year all these plants will multiply and appear in the same unusual places...cow pastures, road ditches, wood lots and forests.   People will drive down old gravel roads  and think of the beauty they are viewing.  For a few minutes or a few hours,  all appears right in their corner of the world.

                                          

   The photo of the fawn was taken from a calendar. All rights belong to the photographer. The daylilies are my photo.

Every Home Could Use One of These...

   Little did I know when I woke up June 18th, I would end up punching a rubber man...and liking it...but I did. Tommy had promised our grandson, Logan, a punching bag and gloves for karate classes.  Columbia seemed like the most logical place to find what we needed.  First stop was Dick's Sporting Goods Store. They never let us down, when we need something.  As we entered the store Tommy and Logan took off to check out camping gear. Jacy and I searched for the work out gear department.  They had everything imaginable to loose weight, add muscles and relieve tension. Jacy and I were delighted. 

   As we walked around we found a 5 foot rubber man in dire need of a punch. So that is exactly what we did...we punched him.  In fact we made up little goofy remarks as we punched his face...repeatedly. I remember saying, "So you really don't like the way I make lasagna??"  "Well take this!! ..followed by another round of ".Bam, Wham....double bam!!"...  We were on a roll. Jacy chimed in with, "How dare you eat ALL the pop tarts!!"  We both busted out laughing as the little rubber man took a punch to the gut, followed by a pretty good upper cut. We were on a roll and having fun.  Perhaps it is not your normal grandmother and granddaughter outing, however far be it from us to be 'normal'. Plus we had fun.

   Next we found a punching bag and a small oval punching ball.  I think I liked the ball best.  I could really get my left hand to flying on that one. Jacy was about to cry, she was laughing so hard.  Evidently, I need a little work on my form. I was hopping around, dipping and diving.  We had the department to ourselves and if it looked like it was punchable...we punched it.  Later we find out we were on camera. What can I say?  It was unscheduled fun...just the way I like it.

   
   Tommy and Logan show up about the time I hit the punching bag as hard as I could. Tommy applauded, Logan laughed, and  Jacy walked off leaving  me on my own.

   Tommy was laughing when he said, "We heard you two, three isles over...that is why we are here.  Just wanted to make sure whoever you all were attacking was going to live!"

   That is when I told him I thought every home should have one of these.  Just think of all the exercise we could get. When frustrated with people or life, we could go a couple of rounds with the punching ball or the little rubber man until we felt better. He shook his head and said, "NO! It would end up hanging on the arm of you 'brand new' ten year old treadmill."  He has a point. A very good point, however that has never stopped me before. That is exactly the same way I got my treadmill. We shall see...Think I will sign off and do a few rounds of shadow boxing... just in case.
                                                                                              

Imagine...

   Imagine turning on the car radio while you drive home, on a Sunday night,  around 9 p.m. Usually you are home before dark, however tonight you stayed longer at your friends home than you intended.  You are alone in the car. You can see the city limits in your rearview mirror.  What lies ahead is an empty road and a full moon.  The date is Oct. 30, 1938, Tomorrow is Halloween, however the Columbia Broadcasting System has started airing a Halloween special early. Unfortunately you tuned in late and missed that part of the program. What you are hearing sounds real.  After adjusting the radio channel to block the static you interrupt  a man's booming voice as he slowly, methodically presents a series of news bulletins.  You turn the radio up just a hair because you are having trouble believing what your ears are hearing.  The " anchorman", Orson Welles,  is reporting news bulletins from all over the world.  Snippets of mass hysteria explode through the air waves as the news bulletins suggest the world has been invaded by Martians. The war of the worlds has begun.  That my friends, would be a horrible situation to find yourself in, no matter how old or brave you think you  are.

      I wasn't alive in 1938.  In fact my parents were kids at that time. I have never listened to  the original program.  I have read the novel written by H.G.Wells , "The War of the Worlds"  and watched the remake of the movie several  times. Both the book and the movie captured the imagination of millions of people who silently wondered, 'What if?'

    In my lifetime I have had several 'what if moments'. Things happened that I could not explain.  I know what I saw...I think.  I  cannot, for the life of me, explain what I saw in a logical manner without someone rolling his or her eyes,  while trying to explain away my version of reality.

    One event happened in 2006.  I was working the night shift, at a mental hospital, in a nearby town.  As I was driving to work my radio started cutting in and out. The trees were interfering with my reception. I glanced at the clock and the time was 10:32 p.m.

    I was driving on 'Broken Bridge Road', a backwoods cutoff between my home and work.  As I drove out of the woods into a small clearing I saw a bright light in front of me. It was the size of a nickel standing out against the black night sky.  The moon was located three fields away from the round object. There were no stars or reflections of the object in the sky.  The object appeared to be a round white light hanging in midair.  I watched it for about six seconds.   Immediately after those six seconds it shut itself off and disappeared.  There was no sound, no lingering light effects in the sky. Nothing.  The night no longer felt normal.  Most of me wanted to turn around and drive as fast as I could home.  It was too late to call in so I drove to Fulton in record time.  I was still mulling over the event when I pulled into the employee parking lot. 

   I didn't mention it that night. I listened to see if anyone saw anything unusual in the sky. No one that I worked with mentioned anything. I started to mention it but I changed my mind. After all I work in a mental hospital, people there are always seeing things unexplainable.  Not all of those people are locked up.  I waited a few days and nothing was ever mentioned. I told Tommy and he believed me.  Something was there.  Something messed with the night sky.  Something disappeared into thin air while I watched.  I can only imagine what it could be...

Tornado Warning...Who Knew???

  Yesterday was one of those days when it was next to impossible for me to make a decision.  I am not usually this way.  I wake up with a plan and an agenda.  I may not do the plan but I have one just in case. 

   When we woke up yesterday  morning we kicked the idea around about going  to the movies to see "San Andreas".  For two weeks we have debated about when to see this movie.  Since it was the last day it played in Fulton, we either had to go to town or wait and buy the DVD. I checked the times the movie  played. It was showing at 1:30 and 7:20. We checked the weather channel and we were in a 100% chance of rain and thunderstorms category.   For me that meant my hair was going to frizz and refuse to do anything vaguely normal.  It also meant I had to get dressed.  Neither of those options sounded like fun to me.  I threw the ball of indecision at Tommy.  He had no preference one way or the other. To quote him, "Whatever you want to do is fine with me".  Just that quick the ball of indecision was sent back to me.  I changed my mind four times. The storms were responsible for two decisions,  our bathroom mirror was responsible for the third, a nap knocked out the 1:30 time slot. However, the 7:20 time slot was still an option. I really did not want to go to the movies or we would have gone. It was that simple, or should have been. The  five year old child's voice, who rents a room in my head,  reared its mouthy little fuzzy noggin and said, "We are staying home on a Saturday night...Why???  I want to go to town. I want to see a movie!  Everyone has plans but us...I want to go somewhere!"  Then she stomped her foot.  So, I took that little heifer to the garage. She shut up and sulked for the rest of the afternoon.  Tommy was in the process of moving my potting soil around to make more room for a swing he put up for us yesterday.

  The skies were getting dark and a low rumble of thunder could be heard all around our area. Summer lightning flashed behind black clouds illuminating their portion of the heavens. Soon Tommy and I were sitting in the swing watching as a perfect lightning show began to perform for us.  Our dogs were close by our side. Sabella would have been in Tommy's lap if she didn't weigh 125 pounds. Sandy, is almost deaf and wanted to go in the house to take a nap. She stayed by my right foot for the duration of the storm. She wasn't particularly happy.  She sighed many times, looked at me with her big brown eyes and flopped her head down on her blanket...completely exasperated with me and  her life at that moment.

   Tommy and I had a wonderful time. The storm was intense and long. Rain pounded the already saturated ground. I am sure we received an inch of rain if not more. The summer lightning changed from quick flashes to jagged spears, miles long, ripping the skies wide open for a few seconds,  while pouring out a vile of  Mother Natures wrath. The thunder shook the ground and the garage.

  Suddenly, the black clouds joined forces to form a wall front. It was a solid mass of blackness for a few seconds.  The wall began to unravel.  Tommy and I both said at the same time, "Anything could drop out of that mass."  Clouds attempted to drop but fell apart before they could become a funnel. They failed to create a tornado ...it wasn't because they didn't try.  The storm finally moved on  while we waited for round two to arrive. We made a mad dash to the house, laughing like two kids. It was amazing. We had a great time...then we turned on the weather channel and found out we had been spared the wrath of a tornado. The warning had expired. I looked at Tommy saying, "That was a great show and a close call!  Let's stay home."  Tommy laughed, "Finally, we have a plan."  And we did...sort of.






The photo is a postcard I purchased years ago on Zazzle. All rights belong to the photographer.

  

Perfection Found--Perfection Lost...

                

    Rome, Italy was the most exotic city my husband and I had experienced.  Tangy aromas of  food flirted with our nostrils as we strolled the brick streets in the old section of the city.  Outdoor cafes were colorful,  abundant and romantic.  Flowers and vines hung loose and free falling from the second story  balconies dating back to World War ll.  The shades of grey and green ivy slowly dripped off the balcony and  infiltrated the surrounding walls, slipping and tangling together creeping down the walls  to each cafe . At the base of the walls, multicolored climbing roses met the ivy in mid air creating a blooming mosaic against the wall.  The fragrance of night blooming jasmine completed the image of another time, another place.   Often violin  music could be heard as couples sipped their choice of  Italian wines, amid whispers of love and laughter.   My husband and I ordered a bottle of Dolcetto wine. The toast to our 45th wedding anniversary spoken for our ears only. We wanted to savor the toast and the wine, letting the words whisper in our ears while the wine rolled gently over our tongues. Forty five years is a long time to spend together as husband and wife and as doctors. We had lived many lives during this long span of days and nights. More good memories than bad were created.

   Our lives were busy...always busy. We had raised three daughters and a son.  Several of our children  had children of their own; others had careers, all were happy.  We enjoyed the occasional weekend together as a family  and all holidays. My husband and I counted our blessings.  While waiting for our dinner to arrive we talked, sharing our favorite memories.  A few moments later we were brought back to reality as we watched a beautiful young woman walk toward our table. There was a purpose in her stride. Thoughts surfaced from a deep well of memories in each of us as the woman approached our table.

   Until a few years ago my  husband and I were both geneticists.  We became wealthy;  working to create perfection for the company referred to as 'Imogene Tri-X".  When we witnessed perfection in beautiful people we were always amazed and inquisitive.   When we created perfection in the lab we were also amazed and awed by the wedding of the mind and technology.  When perfection eluded us, we tried to correct our mistakes. We were not 100% accurate all the time.

   As the lady reached our table, we took in her appearance with some apprehension.  She was lovely.   A tall, slim woman with long ebony hair, flying  loosely around her face as the evening breeze began to increase.  Huge black sunglasses covered most of her face;  soon the sunglasses would no longer be necessary.  " Are you Dr. Elliot James and Dr. Elizabeth James?" she asked.
 
   My husband and I glanced at each other before speaking.  We were not famous and we preferred  to remain unknown.  Our work was classified information.  Finally, my husband asked, " May I ask who wants to know?"  A heavy silence hung in the air while the woman debated how to approach us now that she had our attention.  "My name is Imogene Gainsley." she said as she removed her sunglasses. "And I need your help." 

   At last we could see her face.  Although she was beautiful there was something unusual and memorable about her face.  Her cheeks, nose and the eyebrow area were covered in small black dots resembling freckles.  Looking closer,  the small dots began to move ever so slightly; to the right, then to the left, a mad scramble followed by a lull in movement.   Suddenly the dots began  increasing  speed once again, as we gazed at her face.  At first the dots created vague tattoo like images that continually changed moment by moment.  A dragon became a praying mantis, next a syringe and then a child's hand.  Eventually, the dots appeared to be spelling words and making a statement. All other drawings disappeared to join in the writing process.  As the dots reached the bridge of  Imogene's nose, they began to slowly assemble under her right eye- the words sprawled -"You did this" ...seconds later the words returned to small transitional black dots. The woman's face paled as drops of sweat covered her upper lip. She grimaced from a moment of hot searing pain. Then beauty once again gained control of her face. The dots chose to remain under her right eye and slowly slide down the side of her jaw. Fighting back tears, Imogene refused to cry.

   No one said a word as we all three tried to absorb what had just happened. Imogene  was the first to speak, as she slowly sat down at our table.  "Can you help me?" she asked.  Without batting an eye, my husband and I said in unison, "I don't know...I really don't know."

   The dots immediately assembled and replied, "You better know...you better know."