The Christmas season is upon us again. Where did the year go? I remember when I was a kid, I didn’t think Christmas would ever arrive. Now, it seems like I just took the tree and decorations down and it is time to put them up again. My goal this holiday season will be the same as it has been the past few years, trying to keep things as un-commercialized as possible. I am trying to keep gift giving simple—something homemade and gift cards. Gift cards have revolutionized the way people think of Christmas shopping. What is more perfect than a gift card from your favorite store or restaurant?
Although I sometimes get a hollow feeling whenever I give the girls money or gift cards for birthdays or Christmas, I know deep down that they are a perfect gift because they can get exactly what they want. With my increased use of gift cards, I have eased my guilt of not shopping by including these cards with something I have made with my hands, like candy, party mix, knitted scarves or shawls.
Christmas stockings are another way to use creativity with gift giving. When I was a child, our Christmas stockings always contained nuts, an assortment of fruit and a candy cane. I am amazed at the fond memories I have of digging into my stocking on Christmas morning and pulling out an apple, banana or orange, and then reaching even further into the stocking and hauling out the walnuts one by one. Even as I grew into a teenager, I looked forward to reaching into my stocking on Christmas morning.
I have continued the tradition of Christmas stockings with my own kids, but the booty in their stocking is more likely to be a CD, DVD, or the ever popular gift card. I always enjoyed finding just the perfect gift to place in the stockings; and I would normally wrap these small gifts to prolong the enjoyment. For sentimental reasons, I usually have to add walnuts and a piece of fruit, along with Christmas candy.
Although our Christmas stockings have changed over the years, everyone in my family has his or her own stocking holder. My stocking holder is a racoon, because I like to collect racoon Christmas ornaments. I bought this stocking holder the Christmas of 1979, the year of my first marriage. When Amber was born, she got a cat holder, mainly because it looked like a cat we owned in 1982. Two years later, Marie got her stocking holder and it is a rocking horse that has “Baby’s 1st Christmas 1984”. Keith and I were dating in 1986, so he added his elf stocking holder to the collection of ours on display. When Christine was born in 1992, we chose a Santa mouse; the last stocking holder we have added to our family. Even though we always have a special Christmas stocking for Amber and Marie’s boyfriends, we are holding off on additional holders until we have official members of the family. Of course, I am looking forward to adding stocking holders for each of my grandkids, in the future.
My Mom still has the Christmas stockings that Brent, Amy and I had as a child. They always hang on the brick hearth, along with additions for Amber, Marie, Ashley, Christine and Ethan. During the Christmas season of 2004, Mom made each of us a new Christmas stocking. Amy had seen a picture of stockings made from an old quilt and she convinced Mom to make them. Amy had an old quilt and she drew the pattern and helped Mom cut out the pattern pieces. Mom worked hard for several weeks to make sure all of us had stockings. She presented us with these stockings on Christmas Eve and this was the best gift I could have received. I loved the way the stockings looked and I was thrilled because it was something my Mom had made for us. Last year I used these stockings instead of our usual ones. This year I am trying to figure out some unique way of displaying them.
I am sure most of you have some type of tradition involving Christmas stockings. Maybe you are traditionalist and use real stockings instead of the famous red and white flannel ones. Maybe you don’t hang your stockings until Christmas Eve, or maybe you hang them all season. Whatever your traditions include, it is fun to add something new to your holiday rituals. The ideas are endless, like the stockings my Mom made, or an idea from Martha Stewart, or just a wonderful display in a department store. Traditions begin one at a time, so why not make stockings your theme for the year and add something new to your Christmas holiday season. Twenty years from now your family will be saying, “Remember when…”
© Bobbi Rightmyer, December 2005
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Saturday, November 19, 2005
My Guardian Angel
Do you believe in angels? No, I seriously mean angles—guardian, friendly, dead family member—that remain in your life, even when their physical body has left this Earth? Does God really exist—well isn’t that the $100,000 question? People have been asking that question since the creation of time. So, putting God and Jesus aside…do you believe in angels?
I believe my sister is still watching over me. I hear her in my head and I can replay some of the things I remember her saying. Just little phrases, or sayings, or some dumb cliché` that remained permanently etched into my subconscious. Amy was so frank about everything, she would put everything on the line and she would tell you how she was feeling—but then she could never be on time for anything! She was a contradiction in nature.
Daily, something will remind me of Amy, and it doesn’t have to be anything major. I miss her more with the little things than I ever could the big things. Our first Christmas without her is coming up and I think the entire family is dreading it. I find myself more remininceful as the days start to shorten and autumn starts to arrive. Amy loved the fall as much as I did. All the pumpkins and gourds, corn shocks and apple cider, she loved all the excitement that comes with a crisp fall day. I catch myself feeling so guilty because I can go out into the yard and look at Gods gift of nature, but Amy can’t—at least not physically.
So I watch for her in the blowing breeze—any time the wind chimes sound I say, “Amy’s thinking about us”, and I smile. It gets me through the rough spots. I see her in the orangeness of my Cinderella pumpkin, I only have one this year with the drought and all, but I remember Amy every time I see the dark orange flesh of this wonderful fruit. I’ll get to carve it and light it and enjoy it, but Amy can’t—not really. My guilt consumes me the way that fallen leaves consume the lawn; I’ll eventually be covered in guilt for enjoying the natural beauty of autumn.
And what about Christmas? This first Christmas without Amy is going to be painful—I’m really not sure how I’ll survive, but survive I must. We must all put on a brave front and make the most of the holidays. I want to be closer to my family, so that will be the focus this year—trying to get the entire family together again. We need to maintain constant contact with all members of our immediate families, but this year there will be a hole in our family circle. Amy loved Christmas so much. She loved the shopping and planning and all the surprises. We combined a lot of family tradition along with individual heritage into our last Christmas together. It was almost like Amy had foresight into her future. She wanted Christmas 2004 to be the best Christmas ever—and she did everything in her power to see it was done with family love and memories.
We had two family reunions last year at Christmas time. The first reunion was for the entire Devine-Camden clan. All the cousins, uncles and aunts; all the sisters and brothers; we all had blood connection somewhere down the line. Amy was the one that suggested the reunion and she worked with Mom and several others to get the ball off the ground. We had so much fun meeting and talking with family that live right here in Mercer County. Every one knew everyone else and it was fun to have the family connections through my brain; plus trying to make all the names and faces line up into a semblance of order. Everyone was really happy to be involved in the get-together, all it took was a little nudge from an angel—Amy was practicing being an Angel and we didn’t even know it.
Amy wanted everyone to have handmade stockings for Christmas. It has always been her and he daughter—Ashley—‘s tradition to buy a new Christmas stocking every year. Amy had an old quilt and she wanted Mom to make stockings out of it. So she drew a pattern, traced it on the quit and cut it out. Then all Mom had to do was sew the pieces together. Everyone in our immediate family got a handmade stocking for Christmas last year, all thanks to Amy. She kept on Mom until Mom had made everybody one; and Mom was happy to do it. Mom has never been the one to come up with the ideas, but if she can see it in her head, she can make it. That’s the way I am, I have to see something before I can ever attempt to make it. We will all remember Amy at Christmas when we hang our quilted stockings—those stockings hold the belief and joy Amy felt about Christmas.
We loved to keep secrets, my sister and me. I kept the biggest one from her last Christmas. For years, Amy has collected Wizard of Oz items, anything that had to do with the book or movie. She has ornaments and Beanie babies and figurines. She has posters and purses and all types of Wizard of Oz collectables. Her newest acquisitions were three plates in a series—all with an original drawing from the movie embossed on them. She had found the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and Dorothy at a yard sale during the 2004 127 Yard Sale, but the Cowardly Lion was missing from the set. She didn’t care; she bought them anyway, knowing that one day she might be able to find the missing plate.
Unbeknownst to her, Keith had found the Cowardly Lion plate on e-bay and he bought it immediately, because it was the missing piece. I hid that plate right in plain sight of my sister from September until Christmas 2004 and she never found it. It was in its original box and I placed it in with our collection of DVDs and she never noticed it. So, Christmas 2004 was really special because, Amy finally got the Cowardly Lion plate to complete her set. She couldn’t believe I had kept it hidden from her. I’m just glad she got to enjoy the completed set before she died. Again, the Wizard of Oz will always remind me of Amy.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, November 2005
I believe my sister is still watching over me. I hear her in my head and I can replay some of the things I remember her saying. Just little phrases, or sayings, or some dumb cliché` that remained permanently etched into my subconscious. Amy was so frank about everything, she would put everything on the line and she would tell you how she was feeling—but then she could never be on time for anything! She was a contradiction in nature.
Daily, something will remind me of Amy, and it doesn’t have to be anything major. I miss her more with the little things than I ever could the big things. Our first Christmas without her is coming up and I think the entire family is dreading it. I find myself more remininceful as the days start to shorten and autumn starts to arrive. Amy loved the fall as much as I did. All the pumpkins and gourds, corn shocks and apple cider, she loved all the excitement that comes with a crisp fall day. I catch myself feeling so guilty because I can go out into the yard and look at Gods gift of nature, but Amy can’t—at least not physically.
So I watch for her in the blowing breeze—any time the wind chimes sound I say, “Amy’s thinking about us”, and I smile. It gets me through the rough spots. I see her in the orangeness of my Cinderella pumpkin, I only have one this year with the drought and all, but I remember Amy every time I see the dark orange flesh of this wonderful fruit. I’ll get to carve it and light it and enjoy it, but Amy can’t—not really. My guilt consumes me the way that fallen leaves consume the lawn; I’ll eventually be covered in guilt for enjoying the natural beauty of autumn.
And what about Christmas? This first Christmas without Amy is going to be painful—I’m really not sure how I’ll survive, but survive I must. We must all put on a brave front and make the most of the holidays. I want to be closer to my family, so that will be the focus this year—trying to get the entire family together again. We need to maintain constant contact with all members of our immediate families, but this year there will be a hole in our family circle. Amy loved Christmas so much. She loved the shopping and planning and all the surprises. We combined a lot of family tradition along with individual heritage into our last Christmas together. It was almost like Amy had foresight into her future. She wanted Christmas 2004 to be the best Christmas ever—and she did everything in her power to see it was done with family love and memories.
We had two family reunions last year at Christmas time. The first reunion was for the entire Devine-Camden clan. All the cousins, uncles and aunts; all the sisters and brothers; we all had blood connection somewhere down the line. Amy was the one that suggested the reunion and she worked with Mom and several others to get the ball off the ground. We had so much fun meeting and talking with family that live right here in Mercer County. Every one knew everyone else and it was fun to have the family connections through my brain; plus trying to make all the names and faces line up into a semblance of order. Everyone was really happy to be involved in the get-together, all it took was a little nudge from an angel—Amy was practicing being an Angel and we didn’t even know it.
Amy wanted everyone to have handmade stockings for Christmas. It has always been her and he daughter—Ashley—‘s tradition to buy a new Christmas stocking every year. Amy had an old quilt and she wanted Mom to make stockings out of it. So she drew a pattern, traced it on the quit and cut it out. Then all Mom had to do was sew the pieces together. Everyone in our immediate family got a handmade stocking for Christmas last year, all thanks to Amy. She kept on Mom until Mom had made everybody one; and Mom was happy to do it. Mom has never been the one to come up with the ideas, but if she can see it in her head, she can make it. That’s the way I am, I have to see something before I can ever attempt to make it. We will all remember Amy at Christmas when we hang our quilted stockings—those stockings hold the belief and joy Amy felt about Christmas.
We loved to keep secrets, my sister and me. I kept the biggest one from her last Christmas. For years, Amy has collected Wizard of Oz items, anything that had to do with the book or movie. She has ornaments and Beanie babies and figurines. She has posters and purses and all types of Wizard of Oz collectables. Her newest acquisitions were three plates in a series—all with an original drawing from the movie embossed on them. She had found the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and Dorothy at a yard sale during the 2004 127 Yard Sale, but the Cowardly Lion was missing from the set. She didn’t care; she bought them anyway, knowing that one day she might be able to find the missing plate.
Unbeknownst to her, Keith had found the Cowardly Lion plate on e-bay and he bought it immediately, because it was the missing piece. I hid that plate right in plain sight of my sister from September until Christmas 2004 and she never found it. It was in its original box and I placed it in with our collection of DVDs and she never noticed it. So, Christmas 2004 was really special because, Amy finally got the Cowardly Lion plate to complete her set. She couldn’t believe I had kept it hidden from her. I’m just glad she got to enjoy the completed set before she died. Again, the Wizard of Oz will always remind me of Amy.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, November 2005
Saturday, October 8, 2005
Knit One, Purl Two
During my weekend crafting camp at Jabez, Kentucky this summer, I fell in love with a spinning wheel. I have always been fascinated by these wonderful inventions and the way they can be used to turn a glob of wool into beautiful yarn.
As I watched two of my fellow crafters spinning away, the slow spinning and twisting of the carded wool mesmerized me. Each night after class I would find a rocking chair near the spinners just to watch the empty spools fill with soft, fluffy yarn. I asked numerous questions about the spinning wheels and was ready to buy one of my own, before I realized one simple thing—I’ve never knitted a stitch in my life. I can crotchet, but I’ve never worked with two needles at a time. I made the decision that if I was going to ever own my own spinning wheel, then I needed to learn as much about yarn and knitting as I could. This is where my boss came in handy.
I have a group of ladies that I work very closely with at work. We always eat lunch together, and we plan the care and day-to-day activities of all our residents. Our little group includes myself—assessment coordinator, Nancy—our boss, Patsy—our activity director, Jill—our social worker, and Donna—our charge nurse. The five of us spend all our time at work trying to improve the lives of our residents. One new activity we have started is the Red Hat Society, yes—the same type Red Hat Society you hear about on the news. One of the goals we set for ourselves was collecting enough purple “fuzzy” yarn to make each lady in the Society a purple scarf for Christmas.
Nancy, the only experienced knitter in the group, offered to give us all knitting lessons—Jill and I were the only ones who took her up on her offer. So one Friday afternoon, just before we all left to enjoy the upcoming weekend, Nancy gave us a class in knitting 101. After several starts and restarts, many curse words, and a missed stitch the size of the Grand Canyon; I finally finished my first scarf over that weekend. I was so proud of myself. Of course, as any experienced knitter will tell you—piece of cake! This really is a simple pattern because it is all done in the knit stitch.
As I struggled with how to handle my yarn and my needles, I finally found my own rhythm and adapted techniques to suit any knitting situation. By the time I started on my fourth scarf, they were starting to look as perfect as Nancy’s first scarf. Practice really does make perfect. Another thing I noticed about knitting—it is relaxing. I can knit in front of the television, I can knit in the car; I’ve knitted at the drive-in, before it gets dark, and I’ve knitted at work on my lunch break.
I didn’t start knitting until the very end of July, and by the first of September, I had knitted 10 scarves that I thought were good enough to give away as presents. I donated two Wildcat blue scarves to the hospital auxiliary to use in a silent auction, as well as donating two more scarves to hurricane relief. As for the Red Hat Society scarves, Nancy has already done the majority of them, with help from Jill—I’ve yet to do my purple contribution, but there is enough yarn left for me to contribute at least one before Christmas.
As we have advanced with our scarf knitting, we decided that maybe we shouldn’t limit our scarf giving to just the Red Hat Society. We should make scarves for all our residents, so that gives us a big goal to work towards. My family may be sick and tired of scarves by the time 2005 is over with, because everyone is getting a scarf for Christmas this year; some of you may even get two.
The more I work with the yarn, the more respect I have for the craft of knitting. Number one, it is a lot of hard work to get wool sheared off a sheep and have it turn into a skein or ball of yarn to be used in a knitting project. It is really easy for me to go into Wal-Mart and buy several skeins of my favorite yarn, but what was it like before there was such a selection in stores? Crafters made their own yarn by experimenting with different textures and thickness of wool. Every type of yarn we can buy right now in a store—someone had to design that yarn from the ground up. Spinning is one of those lost arts that I want to learn more about; hopefully my knitting will eventually lead me into that direction.
My lunchtime friends and I are starting the first intergenerational 4-H/Homemakers Club at the hospital. We want to pair a 4-Her up with a Homemaker and let them work on projects together. We would like to start a knitting project, so Jill and I continue to knit scarves so we will be able to teach someone else how to knit when the time comes. We are hoping to gets lots of stories from our Homemakers so that we can keep a knitting journal—it will be filled with stories from the past and present. Not only will all the members of the club learn a new craft, but they will also be learning how to communicate, record, and preserve the past in a way that is pleasing. Every time I wear one of my first lumpy scarves, I’ll be filled with memories of the good times I had while I was making them.
What about you? What type of hobbies do you like? Knitting is no longer just for grandmothers, knitting is for everyone. Quilting has shown a rival In Kentucky, especially with Paducah’s Quilt Festival, why not research your entire old grandmother’s quilts and then make one for yourself. Or—photography is making a diverse change from bulky film to the digital age, why not learn the “old” ways of photography and then built a collection of vintage to digital prints. Many hobbies center on learning the art of lost craftsmanship. Research your hobby; try to learn every aspect of your hobby. Then once you learn the “ins and outs”, teach someone else. That’s how old crafts are kept alive—they are passed on from one person to another.
Now, if you will excuse me…knit one, purl two. Or was that knit two, purl one? No definitely knit one, purl two…
© Bobbi Rightmyer, October 2005
As I watched two of my fellow crafters spinning away, the slow spinning and twisting of the carded wool mesmerized me. Each night after class I would find a rocking chair near the spinners just to watch the empty spools fill with soft, fluffy yarn. I asked numerous questions about the spinning wheels and was ready to buy one of my own, before I realized one simple thing—I’ve never knitted a stitch in my life. I can crotchet, but I’ve never worked with two needles at a time. I made the decision that if I was going to ever own my own spinning wheel, then I needed to learn as much about yarn and knitting as I could. This is where my boss came in handy.
I have a group of ladies that I work very closely with at work. We always eat lunch together, and we plan the care and day-to-day activities of all our residents. Our little group includes myself—assessment coordinator, Nancy—our boss, Patsy—our activity director, Jill—our social worker, and Donna—our charge nurse. The five of us spend all our time at work trying to improve the lives of our residents. One new activity we have started is the Red Hat Society, yes—the same type Red Hat Society you hear about on the news. One of the goals we set for ourselves was collecting enough purple “fuzzy” yarn to make each lady in the Society a purple scarf for Christmas.
Nancy, the only experienced knitter in the group, offered to give us all knitting lessons—Jill and I were the only ones who took her up on her offer. So one Friday afternoon, just before we all left to enjoy the upcoming weekend, Nancy gave us a class in knitting 101. After several starts and restarts, many curse words, and a missed stitch the size of the Grand Canyon; I finally finished my first scarf over that weekend. I was so proud of myself. Of course, as any experienced knitter will tell you—piece of cake! This really is a simple pattern because it is all done in the knit stitch.
As I struggled with how to handle my yarn and my needles, I finally found my own rhythm and adapted techniques to suit any knitting situation. By the time I started on my fourth scarf, they were starting to look as perfect as Nancy’s first scarf. Practice really does make perfect. Another thing I noticed about knitting—it is relaxing. I can knit in front of the television, I can knit in the car; I’ve knitted at the drive-in, before it gets dark, and I’ve knitted at work on my lunch break.
I didn’t start knitting until the very end of July, and by the first of September, I had knitted 10 scarves that I thought were good enough to give away as presents. I donated two Wildcat blue scarves to the hospital auxiliary to use in a silent auction, as well as donating two more scarves to hurricane relief. As for the Red Hat Society scarves, Nancy has already done the majority of them, with help from Jill—I’ve yet to do my purple contribution, but there is enough yarn left for me to contribute at least one before Christmas.
As we have advanced with our scarf knitting, we decided that maybe we shouldn’t limit our scarf giving to just the Red Hat Society. We should make scarves for all our residents, so that gives us a big goal to work towards. My family may be sick and tired of scarves by the time 2005 is over with, because everyone is getting a scarf for Christmas this year; some of you may even get two.
The more I work with the yarn, the more respect I have for the craft of knitting. Number one, it is a lot of hard work to get wool sheared off a sheep and have it turn into a skein or ball of yarn to be used in a knitting project. It is really easy for me to go into Wal-Mart and buy several skeins of my favorite yarn, but what was it like before there was such a selection in stores? Crafters made their own yarn by experimenting with different textures and thickness of wool. Every type of yarn we can buy right now in a store—someone had to design that yarn from the ground up. Spinning is one of those lost arts that I want to learn more about; hopefully my knitting will eventually lead me into that direction.
My lunchtime friends and I are starting the first intergenerational 4-H/Homemakers Club at the hospital. We want to pair a 4-Her up with a Homemaker and let them work on projects together. We would like to start a knitting project, so Jill and I continue to knit scarves so we will be able to teach someone else how to knit when the time comes. We are hoping to gets lots of stories from our Homemakers so that we can keep a knitting journal—it will be filled with stories from the past and present. Not only will all the members of the club learn a new craft, but they will also be learning how to communicate, record, and preserve the past in a way that is pleasing. Every time I wear one of my first lumpy scarves, I’ll be filled with memories of the good times I had while I was making them.
What about you? What type of hobbies do you like? Knitting is no longer just for grandmothers, knitting is for everyone. Quilting has shown a rival In Kentucky, especially with Paducah’s Quilt Festival, why not research your entire old grandmother’s quilts and then make one for yourself. Or—photography is making a diverse change from bulky film to the digital age, why not learn the “old” ways of photography and then built a collection of vintage to digital prints. Many hobbies center on learning the art of lost craftsmanship. Research your hobby; try to learn every aspect of your hobby. Then once you learn the “ins and outs”, teach someone else. That’s how old crafts are kept alive—they are passed on from one person to another.
Now, if you will excuse me…knit one, purl two. Or was that knit two, purl one? No definitely knit one, purl two…
© Bobbi Rightmyer, October 2005
Thursday, September 8, 2005
When Life Hands You a Stalled Train - Make Lemonade
One Wednesday evening as I was taking one of Christine’s little friends home from church, we got stopped by a train on the track. Obviously, this train was not going anywhere soon because it was at a dead stop. We were two miles down Providence Road, and we only had to go about four more miles, but we were stuck. I decided that it would take forever to back track and try to get around the train—mainly, it was getting dark and I was afraid I would get lost.
So here we were, on a lonely country road waiting on a train. Simple Plan was blaring from my CD player and the girls decided to get out of the car and dance to the song “Jump”—“I just want to jump…JUMP!” The girls were having a ball. They were racing each other to the train track and then racing back. At one point they actually reached out and touched the train.
“I just want to jump…the future is in our hands”. Well, if the future is in our hands, then we’re stuck in the middle of the road out in the boonies, waiting on a train to clear the track—not to mention the fact we were right next to a hog farm and believe me, the smell was pure country. But hey, I can’t complain, I like eating bacon and ham.
On a whim, I got out of the car to dance, which caused the girls to become hysterical with laughter as they pointed and sniggered in my direction. By this time we had already been waiting 20 minutes and the train was still making no signs of movement. Christine and I decided to make a bet on which way the train would go when it finally started—East or West. Christine bet me one of her guitar picks that the train would head east. I bet her a blizzard that it would head west.
As it got darker outside, the girls climbed back into the car and started playing hangman. They were playing it orally instead of writing the letters down; I just don’t know how they do that. It is hard for me to understand a word if it is spelt out loud—I have to see it written down. By now, we were listening to Good Charlotte and Christine was skipping around on the CD to let me listen to different songs. There is finally a cool breeze blowing and I am glad we have good weather to have to wait.
The red blinking lights were hypnotic and I can feel myself falling into a trance. The girls have settled down to work on homework, so I guess they are finally using their time wisely. I am so surprised that we have not had another car come up to the tracks from either side. As I look down at my watch, I realize I may not get home in time to watch the West Wing—bummer, the storyline was just getting good.
After 45 minutes of waiting on the train, we were all staring to get bored and my patience was running thin. Then we saw car lights coming up behind us—I put on my emergency flashers because I didn’t want the car to run up on us. As it turned out, the care was my husband’s truck—he had gotten worried because Christine as I weren’t home yet and he had come looking for us. How sweet is that? I guess it’s my fault for not carrying a cell phone, but my life runs more smoothly with the least technology I am involved with.
By now, our music had changed to a combination of Sugarcult and My Chemical Romance. Christine is consistently amazed that I enjoy some of her music, but I find her taste in music is reminiscent of my past. Most of the bands she listens to were influenced by some of my favorite bands from the 70’s and 80’s. So, even though the lyrics may change, the music still has the same beat that makes me want to sing and dance.
Almost exactly one hour from the time we reached the train track, we got our first positive signs the train was ready to move. We could hear the engine rumble to life down the track as the cars started to vibrate. With a slow jerk of power, the train cars slowly began to move—headed east. I won the bet, so Christine said I could choose which guitar pick I wanted—as long as it wasn’t one of her autographed ones. I decided to let her make the decision. Of course, later that same week I felt guilty, so Christine ended up with a blizzard after all.
After riving less than two miles across the tracks, we dropped the friend off at her house and we were finally headed home. I was getting tired and it was getting late. Christine headed to the shower and I plopped down in my chair to mope the fact I had missed West Wing. I should have known not to worry, Keith had recorded the entire show on the DVR, and so I got the watch the show from the beginning. I told you I had the best husband in the world.
All in all, our little train delay turned into a great bonding experience for me and the girls. They got to act silly and they loved watch me be silly. So the next time life hands you lemons, just smile, do a little dance and think of all the lemonade you can make. Sometimes interruptions in our normal routine are blessings in disguise, so learn to make the most of what life has to offer.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, September 2005
So here we were, on a lonely country road waiting on a train. Simple Plan was blaring from my CD player and the girls decided to get out of the car and dance to the song “Jump”—“I just want to jump…JUMP!” The girls were having a ball. They were racing each other to the train track and then racing back. At one point they actually reached out and touched the train.
“I just want to jump…the future is in our hands”. Well, if the future is in our hands, then we’re stuck in the middle of the road out in the boonies, waiting on a train to clear the track—not to mention the fact we were right next to a hog farm and believe me, the smell was pure country. But hey, I can’t complain, I like eating bacon and ham.
On a whim, I got out of the car to dance, which caused the girls to become hysterical with laughter as they pointed and sniggered in my direction. By this time we had already been waiting 20 minutes and the train was still making no signs of movement. Christine and I decided to make a bet on which way the train would go when it finally started—East or West. Christine bet me one of her guitar picks that the train would head east. I bet her a blizzard that it would head west.
As it got darker outside, the girls climbed back into the car and started playing hangman. They were playing it orally instead of writing the letters down; I just don’t know how they do that. It is hard for me to understand a word if it is spelt out loud—I have to see it written down. By now, we were listening to Good Charlotte and Christine was skipping around on the CD to let me listen to different songs. There is finally a cool breeze blowing and I am glad we have good weather to have to wait.
The red blinking lights were hypnotic and I can feel myself falling into a trance. The girls have settled down to work on homework, so I guess they are finally using their time wisely. I am so surprised that we have not had another car come up to the tracks from either side. As I look down at my watch, I realize I may not get home in time to watch the West Wing—bummer, the storyline was just getting good.
After 45 minutes of waiting on the train, we were all staring to get bored and my patience was running thin. Then we saw car lights coming up behind us—I put on my emergency flashers because I didn’t want the car to run up on us. As it turned out, the care was my husband’s truck—he had gotten worried because Christine as I weren’t home yet and he had come looking for us. How sweet is that? I guess it’s my fault for not carrying a cell phone, but my life runs more smoothly with the least technology I am involved with.
By now, our music had changed to a combination of Sugarcult and My Chemical Romance. Christine is consistently amazed that I enjoy some of her music, but I find her taste in music is reminiscent of my past. Most of the bands she listens to were influenced by some of my favorite bands from the 70’s and 80’s. So, even though the lyrics may change, the music still has the same beat that makes me want to sing and dance.
Almost exactly one hour from the time we reached the train track, we got our first positive signs the train was ready to move. We could hear the engine rumble to life down the track as the cars started to vibrate. With a slow jerk of power, the train cars slowly began to move—headed east. I won the bet, so Christine said I could choose which guitar pick I wanted—as long as it wasn’t one of her autographed ones. I decided to let her make the decision. Of course, later that same week I felt guilty, so Christine ended up with a blizzard after all.
After riving less than two miles across the tracks, we dropped the friend off at her house and we were finally headed home. I was getting tired and it was getting late. Christine headed to the shower and I plopped down in my chair to mope the fact I had missed West Wing. I should have known not to worry, Keith had recorded the entire show on the DVR, and so I got the watch the show from the beginning. I told you I had the best husband in the world.
All in all, our little train delay turned into a great bonding experience for me and the girls. They got to act silly and they loved watch me be silly. So the next time life hands you lemons, just smile, do a little dance and think of all the lemonade you can make. Sometimes interruptions in our normal routine are blessings in disguise, so learn to make the most of what life has to offer.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, September 2005
Monday, August 8, 2005
The Dog Days of Summer
What a major contrast my gardens are this summer compared to the summer of 2004! Last year my gardens were all full of lush greenery and multi-colored flowers—this year my gardens are full of struggling twigs and leaves, very little fruit and no color, except for the growing brown of the lawn.
The dog days of summer have finally hit home and the heat and humidity that Kentucky is famous for is blazing forth in all her glory. Temperatures above 90 degrees, weeks and weeks without rain, and the sticky air that threatens for strangle the life from every living thing. I do not like heat. Just the least bit of heat is enough to raise my internal temperature to the boiling point. I like to be cool, or at least have some type of breeze to keep me comfortable. These days, I fell like someone is trying to smother me with a hot towel; my breath comes in labored gasps.
The problem with these types of days is the fact that even though the weather is unpleasant, gardening still has to go on. Gardens must be weeded, edges trimmed, flowers deadheaded, new transplants started—you name it; there are all types of gardening chores to be done. During very hot summers, gardening is not enjoyable for me because I don’t venture out until the sun goes down, and then I don’t have much time to do anything.
My precious Rabbit Hole garden is still full of green hostas, ferns and astilbe, but the plants aren’t as lush as they were last year. And the poor hydrangea—they are just like me, they wilt in the heat. I have tried to keep them watered, but they are normally a thirsty plant, so this summer is really hard on them. Many of the flowers that I enjoyed last summer have not even started to bloom this season.
One good thing about this dry weather is that I don’t have to mow as often; the grass is so brown and crinkly, I’m not sure it will ever revive. I have loads of English plantain flowers that I have been picking to dry—they will work well in dried arrangements this fall. I’ve also been cutting and drying several different grasses to experiment with this winter. I’m trying to determine which type of grass my birds like better, plus, the sunflowers are slow to start due to the heat, and I may have to use grass in my bird feeders this winter.
I am becoming more and more accustomed to working in the heat, trying to keep up with the mounting outdoor chores. I may not like working in the heat, but I have started to notice that I am able to tolerate the heat a little better this year. I guess my body has been working up its own endurance to help me over the rough spots. I’m also building muscle, which makes it easier to dig a hole or dig up a plant.
One thing I am so proud of this summer is that I have stop drinking so many Cokes every day. I have almost totally switched over to drinking flavored waters with an occasional Coke as a special treat. I have gone from drinking four to five Cokes daily and no water, to drinking nine to ten glasses of flavored water daily. My total fluid intake has improved and I’m starting to notice a slight change in the pressure my joints feel when I’m working outside. I think the water is helping to lubricate my joints better which is cutting down on my pain.
I have also been eating more salads this summer. There are so many different types of salads on the market today—not such the Iceberg lettuce of our past. The Farmer’s Market is full of many types of healthy lettuces along with all the vegetables you need to make a wonderful salad. Romaine, Bibb, Watercress, kale, spinach, and even dandelion leaves—these all make wonderful salad starters. Just add onions, carrots, tomatoes, squash, cucumber—whatever you have growing, or quick on hand—and sprinkle with your favorite dressing and you have the perfect “house” salad. Add that half piece of leftover chicken, or extra strip of bacon, or can of tuna or salmon and you turn the house salad into the main entrée; and it is so healthy for you.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, August 2005
The dog days of summer have finally hit home and the heat and humidity that Kentucky is famous for is blazing forth in all her glory. Temperatures above 90 degrees, weeks and weeks without rain, and the sticky air that threatens for strangle the life from every living thing. I do not like heat. Just the least bit of heat is enough to raise my internal temperature to the boiling point. I like to be cool, or at least have some type of breeze to keep me comfortable. These days, I fell like someone is trying to smother me with a hot towel; my breath comes in labored gasps.
The problem with these types of days is the fact that even though the weather is unpleasant, gardening still has to go on. Gardens must be weeded, edges trimmed, flowers deadheaded, new transplants started—you name it; there are all types of gardening chores to be done. During very hot summers, gardening is not enjoyable for me because I don’t venture out until the sun goes down, and then I don’t have much time to do anything.
My precious Rabbit Hole garden is still full of green hostas, ferns and astilbe, but the plants aren’t as lush as they were last year. And the poor hydrangea—they are just like me, they wilt in the heat. I have tried to keep them watered, but they are normally a thirsty plant, so this summer is really hard on them. Many of the flowers that I enjoyed last summer have not even started to bloom this season.
One good thing about this dry weather is that I don’t have to mow as often; the grass is so brown and crinkly, I’m not sure it will ever revive. I have loads of English plantain flowers that I have been picking to dry—they will work well in dried arrangements this fall. I’ve also been cutting and drying several different grasses to experiment with this winter. I’m trying to determine which type of grass my birds like better, plus, the sunflowers are slow to start due to the heat, and I may have to use grass in my bird feeders this winter.
I am becoming more and more accustomed to working in the heat, trying to keep up with the mounting outdoor chores. I may not like working in the heat, but I have started to notice that I am able to tolerate the heat a little better this year. I guess my body has been working up its own endurance to help me over the rough spots. I’m also building muscle, which makes it easier to dig a hole or dig up a plant.
One thing I am so proud of this summer is that I have stop drinking so many Cokes every day. I have almost totally switched over to drinking flavored waters with an occasional Coke as a special treat. I have gone from drinking four to five Cokes daily and no water, to drinking nine to ten glasses of flavored water daily. My total fluid intake has improved and I’m starting to notice a slight change in the pressure my joints feel when I’m working outside. I think the water is helping to lubricate my joints better which is cutting down on my pain.
I have also been eating more salads this summer. There are so many different types of salads on the market today—not such the Iceberg lettuce of our past. The Farmer’s Market is full of many types of healthy lettuces along with all the vegetables you need to make a wonderful salad. Romaine, Bibb, Watercress, kale, spinach, and even dandelion leaves—these all make wonderful salad starters. Just add onions, carrots, tomatoes, squash, cucumber—whatever you have growing, or quick on hand—and sprinkle with your favorite dressing and you have the perfect “house” salad. Add that half piece of leftover chicken, or extra strip of bacon, or can of tuna or salmon and you turn the house salad into the main entrée; and it is so healthy for you.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, August 2005
Friday, July 8, 2005
I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing
Today, my wonderful husband came home with three tickets for the Tom Petty concert at Riverbend this summer. I was thrilled because, after seeing Petty in Rupp Arena two years ago, his performance became my favorite concert to date—replacing Pink Floyd’s concert in 1987. This started me thinking about how my taste in music has changed over the years. As I’ve gotten older, my love of music has grown. I really enjoy classic Rock and Roll—anything from the 70’s and 80’s is right up my alley. But with a teenager in the house again, my musical horizons have been broadened and now music makes my day even more pleasant.
Growing up in the 1970’s, I would listen to whatever was on the radio. I didn’t have a lot of albums, so the majority of the songs I loved were ones I would hear on the radio. My babysitter during this time—Minnie Curtsinger—had a teenage daughter and I can remember occasionally listening to her albums—the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, the Who—this would be a rare treat for me.
My mom and dad also loved to listen to music, but their taste in music and my taste in music didn’t always co-exist peacefully. Conway Twitty, Loretta Lynn, Johnny Cash, Neil Diamond, and, of course, Elvis—I used to gripe and grumble about having to listen to their music, but you know, it’s funny how our memories work. I can still remember songs from my parent’s collection. “D-I-V-O-R-C-E”—to this day, whenever I have to write the word divorce, I catch myself singing the letters from the song made famous by Tammy Wynette. “Secret Agent Man”, “Ring of Fire”, “Red Red Wine”—all these songs come back easily whenever I hear them.
I got my first stereo when I was eleven and the few records I had were played until I was afraid they would warp. The Eagles, John Denver, Dan Fogelberg, and America were just a few of the artists I used to spin. Of course, I got caught up in the 8-track craze in the late 70’s. Daddy had an 8-track player in his truck and I had a portable player—square, yellow with a handle to carry it and change the tracks with. 8-tracks bit the dust the same way Beta tapes did when VHS tapes were born. Progress. I don’t still have any of my old 8-tracks, but I do still have my old albums. Albums are vintage and they will never go out of style.
It was also during the late 70’s that I started listening to Led Zeppelin, Kiss, Heart, and yes, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I owned a Bay City Rollers Album. Guilty pleasures—everyone has them. During the early 80’s I discovered Genesis, Pink Floyd, Def Leppard and Meatloaf, but my heart belonged to Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Tom Petty may not be much to look at, but man… he can really sing.
By the late 80’s, music was just in the early stages of switching from cassette tapes to compact discs—CDs have really changed the music industry. I couldn’t afford one of the new CD players, so I continued with cassette tapes up into the 90’s. Now, music is everywhere—even on the Internet. Downloading music and burning CDs is a favorite pastime for many people.
When I met my husband in the late 1980’s, I started to listen to his music and was surprised to find that I have really grown to love some of the bands he likes to listen to. Jethro Tull, Steely Dan, the Talking Heads—long car trips were spent listening to new and interesting music. It was like felling in love with music all over again. The first time I heard a Moody Blues’ song, I was enraptured. This was great. I listened to Toto, Journey, Robert Palmer, Peter Gabriel, Yes, Rush. . .the list goes on and on. These were bands that I had never even given a chance. I usually stuck with the Top 40—Keith introduced me to the Bottom 100, bands with faithful fan bases and a general love of new and different music.
Over the years, we have merged our musical interests into a blend of Classic Rock and Roll with a dash of Hip-Hop, Rap and Heavy Metal. No Country—believe me, I know plenty of Country songs because I cut my teeth on them, but I just need something a little more upbeat. Give me a great song that I can sing and dance to, keep a beat with and just brighten my day over a sad, sappy,” my husband just left me” kind of song. To me, Country is too depressing. I have enough trouble with depression as it is. I want to be able to drive my car and sing at the top of my lungs. As a stress reliever—it works almost every time.
I listen to music in my office daily—it helps me think and keeps my mood upbeat. I listen to music when I’m working out in my gardens, sometimes I think even my plants like to listen to the music. I definitely listen to music when I’m writing. I was overjoyed recently when Christine taught me how to “dump” my CD collection into my computer and listen to whatever I want to, whenever I want to. We can even burn our own mood CDs with just the right type of music we want to listen to.
I’ve already gone through two teenagers with one more to go, and all their tastes in music have been different. Amber started out with Rap, but I think she has now gone down the Country pathway. Marie has been Country through and through most of her life. Occasionally, we would all find a band we enjoyed listening to together. Britney Spears, Beck, Korn, Eminem—I’ve listened to a fair share of their music. I guess Eminem is about the only one from that period of time that I still listen to.
Now that Christine is close to being a teenager, her interest in music has just exploded, and I’m happy to say that she is going to be a “rocker” like me. I could never get Amber and Marie interested in my music, mainly because I’m permanently stuck in the 80’s. But Christine’s music is similar to classic rock, only the band names are much stranger now. Sugarcult, Simple Plan, My Chemical Romance, and what is it with the color bands? Green Day, Yellow Card, Maroon Five…these seem like they should be colors for M&Ms, not the latest rock bands.
No matter what type of music I may be listening to in ten years, Tom Petty will always be at the top of that list. Right along with Heart, Genesis, and Pink Floyd. Who knows? Maybe by the time I’m 80, I’ll be ready to listen to those sad Country songs. No matter what type of music you like to listen to, just do it. Turn on the radio, crank up the CD player, or plug into an I-pod, and just listen to the wonderful diverse world of music.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, July 2005
Growing up in the 1970’s, I would listen to whatever was on the radio. I didn’t have a lot of albums, so the majority of the songs I loved were ones I would hear on the radio. My babysitter during this time—Minnie Curtsinger—had a teenage daughter and I can remember occasionally listening to her albums—the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, the Who—this would be a rare treat for me.
My mom and dad also loved to listen to music, but their taste in music and my taste in music didn’t always co-exist peacefully. Conway Twitty, Loretta Lynn, Johnny Cash, Neil Diamond, and, of course, Elvis—I used to gripe and grumble about having to listen to their music, but you know, it’s funny how our memories work. I can still remember songs from my parent’s collection. “D-I-V-O-R-C-E”—to this day, whenever I have to write the word divorce, I catch myself singing the letters from the song made famous by Tammy Wynette. “Secret Agent Man”, “Ring of Fire”, “Red Red Wine”—all these songs come back easily whenever I hear them.
I got my first stereo when I was eleven and the few records I had were played until I was afraid they would warp. The Eagles, John Denver, Dan Fogelberg, and America were just a few of the artists I used to spin. Of course, I got caught up in the 8-track craze in the late 70’s. Daddy had an 8-track player in his truck and I had a portable player—square, yellow with a handle to carry it and change the tracks with. 8-tracks bit the dust the same way Beta tapes did when VHS tapes were born. Progress. I don’t still have any of my old 8-tracks, but I do still have my old albums. Albums are vintage and they will never go out of style.
It was also during the late 70’s that I started listening to Led Zeppelin, Kiss, Heart, and yes, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I owned a Bay City Rollers Album. Guilty pleasures—everyone has them. During the early 80’s I discovered Genesis, Pink Floyd, Def Leppard and Meatloaf, but my heart belonged to Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Tom Petty may not be much to look at, but man… he can really sing.
By the late 80’s, music was just in the early stages of switching from cassette tapes to compact discs—CDs have really changed the music industry. I couldn’t afford one of the new CD players, so I continued with cassette tapes up into the 90’s. Now, music is everywhere—even on the Internet. Downloading music and burning CDs is a favorite pastime for many people.
When I met my husband in the late 1980’s, I started to listen to his music and was surprised to find that I have really grown to love some of the bands he likes to listen to. Jethro Tull, Steely Dan, the Talking Heads—long car trips were spent listening to new and interesting music. It was like felling in love with music all over again. The first time I heard a Moody Blues’ song, I was enraptured. This was great. I listened to Toto, Journey, Robert Palmer, Peter Gabriel, Yes, Rush. . .the list goes on and on. These were bands that I had never even given a chance. I usually stuck with the Top 40—Keith introduced me to the Bottom 100, bands with faithful fan bases and a general love of new and different music.
Over the years, we have merged our musical interests into a blend of Classic Rock and Roll with a dash of Hip-Hop, Rap and Heavy Metal. No Country—believe me, I know plenty of Country songs because I cut my teeth on them, but I just need something a little more upbeat. Give me a great song that I can sing and dance to, keep a beat with and just brighten my day over a sad, sappy,” my husband just left me” kind of song. To me, Country is too depressing. I have enough trouble with depression as it is. I want to be able to drive my car and sing at the top of my lungs. As a stress reliever—it works almost every time.
I listen to music in my office daily—it helps me think and keeps my mood upbeat. I listen to music when I’m working out in my gardens, sometimes I think even my plants like to listen to the music. I definitely listen to music when I’m writing. I was overjoyed recently when Christine taught me how to “dump” my CD collection into my computer and listen to whatever I want to, whenever I want to. We can even burn our own mood CDs with just the right type of music we want to listen to.
I’ve already gone through two teenagers with one more to go, and all their tastes in music have been different. Amber started out with Rap, but I think she has now gone down the Country pathway. Marie has been Country through and through most of her life. Occasionally, we would all find a band we enjoyed listening to together. Britney Spears, Beck, Korn, Eminem—I’ve listened to a fair share of their music. I guess Eminem is about the only one from that period of time that I still listen to.
Now that Christine is close to being a teenager, her interest in music has just exploded, and I’m happy to say that she is going to be a “rocker” like me. I could never get Amber and Marie interested in my music, mainly because I’m permanently stuck in the 80’s. But Christine’s music is similar to classic rock, only the band names are much stranger now. Sugarcult, Simple Plan, My Chemical Romance, and what is it with the color bands? Green Day, Yellow Card, Maroon Five…these seem like they should be colors for M&Ms, not the latest rock bands.
No matter what type of music I may be listening to in ten years, Tom Petty will always be at the top of that list. Right along with Heart, Genesis, and Pink Floyd. Who knows? Maybe by the time I’m 80, I’ll be ready to listen to those sad Country songs. No matter what type of music you like to listen to, just do it. Turn on the radio, crank up the CD player, or plug into an I-pod, and just listen to the wonderful diverse world of music.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, July 2005
Friday, April 8, 2005
Spring Fever
The cold dark days of winter are finally receding with time inching forth and the days getting longer. Cold winter days make my nesting instincts kick into high gear. There is just something warm and fuzzy about being wrapped up in the warmth of your home with all the things you need to keep you comfortable. Just like animals getting ready for the winter, I have this urge stock up on all the creature comforts that make life tolerable.
For me, the first thing I need is something to write with and something to write in. Although most of my writing is done on the laptop, I still have to have a journal to jot down notes, ideas and feelings. I am partial to the half size notebooks with the cloth covering over the spiral edges. I probably have hundreds of these that I have filled with all my thoughts; occasionally I will re-read a journal to pick out patterns in my life. Of course, I also like nice pretty journals and I have many of them that I use for special projects. I have one that is especially for song lyrics, I have one for my poems and another for quotations. I also like to pick out special journals to take with me on trips. I usually have at least three or four working journals going at one time—feelings and thoughts, gardening and crafts, and story ideas. I keep a journal in my car in case I get caught in traffic, I keep one on my desk at home in case ideas come to me in the middle of the day and I keep one near my bed for dreams and other mystical thoughts.
After I have something to write on, then I need something to write with. I love to write with blue ink; I think that is because I have to write in black at work all the time. All the ink pens I use at home are blue, Pilot Easy Touch; these write smoothly and don’t bleed ink onto the paper or clog up the tip. My handwriting is large and I hate it when the ink pen leaves a big glob of ink right in the middle of a word. I also have some special pens that I use when the mood hits me. One of my favorites is a wooden pen that is carved like a fox head; it is refillable and I like to use it when I’m in a good mood. I will usually find a new pen to take on a special trip, like the lighted pens you see at the checkout stand in Wal-Mart—Winnie the Pooh, Peter Pan, Cinderella. Special pens are good for perking up my mood, but when it comes down to serious writing, I’ll choose my Easy Touch every time.
The next thing you need to be a good nester is snacks—all the favorite foods of each family member. For me, it has to be Twisters because I’m a salty-carbohydrate kind of girl, but Keith likes his Runts from the Kountry Kupboard, and Christine’s weakness is Doritos. These are occasional snacks for us, but I get that warm fuzzy feeling when we are stocked up with all our favorites. It’s good to have nice healthy food to sustain you, but a special treat every now and then is okay too.
Spring is finally in the air. I realize we still have some cold days to look forward to, but the signs of spring are everywhere. Gardening plans are already stewing in my head and I can’t wait to finally be able to get outside and dig in the dirt. On my daily walk through my gardens recently, I was really tempted to start cleaning out flower beds and tidying everything up, but I stopped myself. Right now the birds are using flower heads and shrubbery to live. I see so many Robins, Cardinals, Woodpeckers and Finches still finding seeds to eat and a place for protection. Normally I don’t start trimming up the flowerbeds until about St. Patrick’s’ Day—that is when my Granddaddy Sallee would plant his potatoes and prepare the lettuce beds. This is about the same time my Granny Sallee would plant her sweet peas and start raking out her flowerbeds, especially her peonies.
I also have daffodils and tulips coming up and several trees starting to bud-out. I am always glad to see the first flower in spring, but I would rather delay my joy instead of having everything blooming and then get a big frost. With Kentucky weather, one day we may have 60 degree temperatures, the next day it may never reach 30 degrees.
So, as the gardening and seed catalogs start to accumulate in the mail, I will spend the next few months deciding on what new plants I will try this year. As soon as the soil is workable, I’ll be out getting the veggie garden ready for lettuce and other salad greens plus peas and a few potatoes. Even though I have spring fever, I will still have to wait on Mother Nature to tell me when spring has finally arrived. Until then, I’ll keep busy reading and learning and dreaming of my future gardens.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2005
For me, the first thing I need is something to write with and something to write in. Although most of my writing is done on the laptop, I still have to have a journal to jot down notes, ideas and feelings. I am partial to the half size notebooks with the cloth covering over the spiral edges. I probably have hundreds of these that I have filled with all my thoughts; occasionally I will re-read a journal to pick out patterns in my life. Of course, I also like nice pretty journals and I have many of them that I use for special projects. I have one that is especially for song lyrics, I have one for my poems and another for quotations. I also like to pick out special journals to take with me on trips. I usually have at least three or four working journals going at one time—feelings and thoughts, gardening and crafts, and story ideas. I keep a journal in my car in case I get caught in traffic, I keep one on my desk at home in case ideas come to me in the middle of the day and I keep one near my bed for dreams and other mystical thoughts.
After I have something to write on, then I need something to write with. I love to write with blue ink; I think that is because I have to write in black at work all the time. All the ink pens I use at home are blue, Pilot Easy Touch; these write smoothly and don’t bleed ink onto the paper or clog up the tip. My handwriting is large and I hate it when the ink pen leaves a big glob of ink right in the middle of a word. I also have some special pens that I use when the mood hits me. One of my favorites is a wooden pen that is carved like a fox head; it is refillable and I like to use it when I’m in a good mood. I will usually find a new pen to take on a special trip, like the lighted pens you see at the checkout stand in Wal-Mart—Winnie the Pooh, Peter Pan, Cinderella. Special pens are good for perking up my mood, but when it comes down to serious writing, I’ll choose my Easy Touch every time.
The next thing you need to be a good nester is snacks—all the favorite foods of each family member. For me, it has to be Twisters because I’m a salty-carbohydrate kind of girl, but Keith likes his Runts from the Kountry Kupboard, and Christine’s weakness is Doritos. These are occasional snacks for us, but I get that warm fuzzy feeling when we are stocked up with all our favorites. It’s good to have nice healthy food to sustain you, but a special treat every now and then is okay too.
Spring is finally in the air. I realize we still have some cold days to look forward to, but the signs of spring are everywhere. Gardening plans are already stewing in my head and I can’t wait to finally be able to get outside and dig in the dirt. On my daily walk through my gardens recently, I was really tempted to start cleaning out flower beds and tidying everything up, but I stopped myself. Right now the birds are using flower heads and shrubbery to live. I see so many Robins, Cardinals, Woodpeckers and Finches still finding seeds to eat and a place for protection. Normally I don’t start trimming up the flowerbeds until about St. Patrick’s’ Day—that is when my Granddaddy Sallee would plant his potatoes and prepare the lettuce beds. This is about the same time my Granny Sallee would plant her sweet peas and start raking out her flowerbeds, especially her peonies.
I also have daffodils and tulips coming up and several trees starting to bud-out. I am always glad to see the first flower in spring, but I would rather delay my joy instead of having everything blooming and then get a big frost. With Kentucky weather, one day we may have 60 degree temperatures, the next day it may never reach 30 degrees.
So, as the gardening and seed catalogs start to accumulate in the mail, I will spend the next few months deciding on what new plants I will try this year. As soon as the soil is workable, I’ll be out getting the veggie garden ready for lettuce and other salad greens plus peas and a few potatoes. Even though I have spring fever, I will still have to wait on Mother Nature to tell me when spring has finally arrived. Until then, I’ll keep busy reading and learning and dreaming of my future gardens.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2005
Tuesday, April 5, 2005
Spring Fever
The cold dark days of winter are finally receding with time inching forth and the days getting longer. Cold winter days make my nesting instincts kick into high gear. There is just something warm and fuzzy about being wrapped up in the warmth of your home with all the things you need to keep you comfortable. Just like animals getting ready for the winter, I have this urge stock up on all the creature comforts that make life tolerable.
For me, the first thing I need is something to write with and something to write in. Although most of my writing is done on the laptop, I still have to have a journal to jot down notes, ideas and feelings. I am partial to the half size notebooks with the cloth covering over the spiral edges. I probably have hundreds of these that I have filled with all my thoughts; occasionally I will re-read a journal to pick out patterns in my life. Of course, I also like nice pretty journals and I have many of them that I use for special projects. I have one that is especially for song lyrics, I have one for my poems and another for quotations. I also like to pick out special journals to take with me on trips. I usually have at least three or four working journals going at one time—feelings and thoughts, gardening and crafts, and story ideas. I keep a journal in my car in case I get caught in traffic, I keep one on my desk at home in case ideas come to me in the middle of the day and I keep one near my bed for dreams and other mystical thoughts.
After I have something to write on, then I need something to write with. I love to write with blue ink; I think that is because I have to write in black at work all the time. All the ink pens I use at home are blue, Pilot Easy Touch; these write smoothly and don’t bleed ink onto the paper or clog up the tip. My handwriting is large and I hate it when the ink pen leaves a big glob of ink right in the middle of a word. I also have some special pens that I use when the mood hits me. One of my favorites is a wooden pen that is carved like a fox head; it is refillable and I like to use it when I’m in a good mood. I will usually find a new pen to take on a special trip, like the lighted pens you see at the checkout stand in Wal-Mart—Winnie the Pooh, Peter Pan, Cinderella. Special pens are good for perking up my mood, but when it comes down to serious writing, I’ll choose my Easy Touch every time.
The next thing you need to be a good nester is snacks—all the favorite foods of each family member. For me, it has to be Twisters because I’m a salty-carbohydrate kind of girl, but Keith likes his Runts from the Kountry Kupboard, and Christine’s weakness is Doritos. These are occasional snacks for us, but I get that warm fuzzy feeling when we are stocked up with all our favorites. It’s good to have nice healthy food to sustain you, but a special treat every now and then is okay too.
Spring is finally in the air. I realize we still have some cold days to look forward to, but the signs of spring are everywhere. Gardening plans are already stewing in my head and I can’t wait to finally be able to get outside and dig in the dirt. On my daily walk through my gardens recently, I was really tempted to start cleaning out flower beds and tidying everything up, but I stopped myself. Right now the birds are using flower heads and shrubbery to live. I see so many Robins, Cardinals, Woodpeckers and Finches still finding seeds to eat and a place for protection. Normally I don’t start trimming up the flowerbeds until about St. Patrick’s’ Day—that is when my Granddaddy Sallee would plant his potatoes and prepare the lettuce beds. This is about the same time my Granny Sallee would plant her sweet peas and start raking out her flowerbeds, especially her peonies.
I also have daffodils and tulips coming up and several trees starting to bud-out. I am always glad to see the first flower in spring, but I would rather delay my joy instead of having everything blooming and then get a big frost. With Kentucky weather, one day we may have 60 degree temperatures, the next day it may never reach 30 degrees.
So, as the gardening and seed catalogs start to accumulate in the mail, I will spend the next few months deciding on what new plants I will try this year. As soon as the soil is workable, I’ll be out getting the veggie garden ready for lettuce and other salad greens plus peas and a few potatoes. Even though I have spring fever, I will still have to wait on Mother Nature to tell me when spring has finally arrived. Until then, I’ll keep busy reading and learning and dreaming of my future gardens.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2005
For me, the first thing I need is something to write with and something to write in. Although most of my writing is done on the laptop, I still have to have a journal to jot down notes, ideas and feelings. I am partial to the half size notebooks with the cloth covering over the spiral edges. I probably have hundreds of these that I have filled with all my thoughts; occasionally I will re-read a journal to pick out patterns in my life. Of course, I also like nice pretty journals and I have many of them that I use for special projects. I have one that is especially for song lyrics, I have one for my poems and another for quotations. I also like to pick out special journals to take with me on trips. I usually have at least three or four working journals going at one time—feelings and thoughts, gardening and crafts, and story ideas. I keep a journal in my car in case I get caught in traffic, I keep one on my desk at home in case ideas come to me in the middle of the day and I keep one near my bed for dreams and other mystical thoughts.
After I have something to write on, then I need something to write with. I love to write with blue ink; I think that is because I have to write in black at work all the time. All the ink pens I use at home are blue, Pilot Easy Touch; these write smoothly and don’t bleed ink onto the paper or clog up the tip. My handwriting is large and I hate it when the ink pen leaves a big glob of ink right in the middle of a word. I also have some special pens that I use when the mood hits me. One of my favorites is a wooden pen that is carved like a fox head; it is refillable and I like to use it when I’m in a good mood. I will usually find a new pen to take on a special trip, like the lighted pens you see at the checkout stand in Wal-Mart—Winnie the Pooh, Peter Pan, Cinderella. Special pens are good for perking up my mood, but when it comes down to serious writing, I’ll choose my Easy Touch every time.
The next thing you need to be a good nester is snacks—all the favorite foods of each family member. For me, it has to be Twisters because I’m a salty-carbohydrate kind of girl, but Keith likes his Runts from the Kountry Kupboard, and Christine’s weakness is Doritos. These are occasional snacks for us, but I get that warm fuzzy feeling when we are stocked up with all our favorites. It’s good to have nice healthy food to sustain you, but a special treat every now and then is okay too.
Spring is finally in the air. I realize we still have some cold days to look forward to, but the signs of spring are everywhere. Gardening plans are already stewing in my head and I can’t wait to finally be able to get outside and dig in the dirt. On my daily walk through my gardens recently, I was really tempted to start cleaning out flower beds and tidying everything up, but I stopped myself. Right now the birds are using flower heads and shrubbery to live. I see so many Robins, Cardinals, Woodpeckers and Finches still finding seeds to eat and a place for protection. Normally I don’t start trimming up the flowerbeds until about St. Patrick’s’ Day—that is when my Granddaddy Sallee would plant his potatoes and prepare the lettuce beds. This is about the same time my Granny Sallee would plant her sweet peas and start raking out her flowerbeds, especially her peonies.
I also have daffodils and tulips coming up and several trees starting to bud-out. I am always glad to see the first flower in spring, but I would rather delay my joy instead of having everything blooming and then get a big frost. With Kentucky weather, one day we may have 60 degree temperatures, the next day it may never reach 30 degrees.
So, as the gardening and seed catalogs start to accumulate in the mail, I will spend the next few months deciding on what new plants I will try this year. As soon as the soil is workable, I’ll be out getting the veggie garden ready for lettuce and other salad greens plus peas and a few potatoes. Even though I have spring fever, I will still have to wait on Mother Nature to tell me when spring has finally arrived. Until then, I’ll keep busy reading and learning and dreaming of my future gardens.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 2005
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
