Memorial Day

My childhood home was about 1/4 mile from a small country cemetary down a dirt road coming from a field right behind our little white farm house. When my parents were home my younger brother, who I call Bud, and I were allowed to play out in the field and walk just as far as the cemetary to play in the dirt and take the dogs for a walk.
One spring, when I was 7 and Bud was 4 we went on an adventure to the cemetary. Yes, kids, unsupervised, in a cemetary. I know. It was a different time. And, in all fairness to my mother, well over half the people in the small cemetary were proabably relatives. We were sure there wasn't a funeral, because if there was we would have been at the services. Welcome to Idaho.
But anyways. We walked to the cemetary, and noticed that there were new flowers everywhere. Wreathes, boquets, and some people even had potted plants. At this point Bud and I picked our favorites. He liked the blue ones, and I liked some white and yellow ones with a big bow. Then we remembered what mom said about sharing and decided it was really unfair that some people didn't get anything. What great kids we were. Mmmhmm.
The next thing I remember was looking up from the task at hand to a very red-faced mom. That's how you knew (and still know) mom's pissed. Red face, tight lips, and that look. You know the look. Every mom has the look. Mom drove down to the cemetary to find her darling children distributing all flowers evenly among the graves. The best part was that she couldn't even tell where to put what back, because to be more organized we piled all of the flowers in the middle of the graveyard before dividing! After the inital 20 seconds of shock, I think my dear mother realized that there was no fixing this situation. She just shook her head, laughed, and let us finish.
I guess that somedays when the mess seems un-fixable you just have to find the humor in the rediculousness. Plus, who comes to visit the cemetary right AFTER Memorial Day anyways, right? (I hope).

Walk with Jesus

My mother is addicted to her camera phone. Rarely does a day pass that I don't recieve at least one picture from Mom. Yesterday it was a new coffee table, and the clock she had my uncle hanging in her living room. The holidays are always particularly interesting, especially last Halloween at my grandma's alzheimer's care facility with all of the funny old people who dressed up in costumes and wigs while painting pumpkins. My Mom cannot figure out how to set up the phone's speed dial, but somehow she caught on to the camera. And sends me amusing photos from home every day.

This is today's gem. There's nothing like a little highway evangalism from small-town Idaho.

My other favorite sign is probably the "Experienced Boner Wanted" sign from the local butcher shop. I wish I saved that one to share! Maybe the Boner will quit his job, and they'll have to advertise again. I'll tell Mom to keep an eye out. If he doesn't quit maybe I can get one of his business cards.

Summer has arrived!

Ah, summer has finally arrived! It seems that everyone in the DC area leaves town when Memorial Day weekend rolls around. Instead of sitting in traffic and participating in the mass exodus, not to mention paying a fortune in gas, I spend try to spend the long weekend relaxing and enjoying the city.
Tonight I went to A Prairie Home Companion at Wolftrap. I love them both! If anything makes me think summer, it's sitting on the grass with fresh fruit and veggies to snack on while listening to Garrison Keillor. Tonight's show also featured poet Billy Collins and The Wailin' Jenny's.
I love to read, but usually listening to poetry isn't really my thing. Billy Collins was great. I loved his poems, and even though I was WAY in the back (I'm talking leaning against the outermost fence here people) I really got a sense of his personality from the reading.
If you have some time this week, grab a glass of lemonade or iced tea and check out the archives on the PHC website, you can listen to the show online or load it as a podcast and take it to go!

Bold Spirit

Earlier this week on the train to New York for work I read "Bold Spirit" by Linda Lawrence Hunt, its a book about Helga Estby's walk across the United States from Spokane, WA to New York City in 1896. A friend who lived with me out here in DC for a short time gave me the book as a hand-me-down, and I put off reading it for several months. I finished the book on my way home from the city the other night, it was definetely an amazing read.

The more I thought about Helga, and the journals she kept while walking, the more I recalled the journals of my great grandmother who recently passed away. My grandma journaled nearly every day of her life, and because of her dedication we have a living history of the rural area in which she lived dating back almost 100 years. I've started many journals, but to this date, I've never finished a single one. I think I started my first journal in the second grade, and my most recent was last week (I cannot believe I am admitting this!).

So, today I decided to start a blog. It's not bold, but just my kind of online journal, full of random musings, insight, and whatever else I feel like posting. My hope is that I can capture a tiny sliver of life that might interest someone out there! Thanks for reading!