When You Are Six

When you are six, it doesn't take much to have a bad week.

It starts when six year old boy and the neighbor girl, same age, decide to relieve themselves in the yard rather than take time to go inside to the bathroom.  Girl's daddy doesn't seem to possess a sense of humor.  Boy's daddy knows that the kids are only six years old and when you are six, peeing outside is fun.  Boy's daddy kinda wishes the kid would have found a bush to hide behind, though.  Six year old boy learns that there is less trouble involved if he just goes inside when nature calls.

Then six year old boy comes home spouting a brand new word.  It is unfortunate that this particular word is not one that should be used in polite society.  Boy's daddy wants to know where he heard this particular word.  Six year old boy says that the neighbor boy said it to another kid.  Boy's daddy wants to know if six year old boy knows what this word means.  Six year old boy does not.  Boy's daddy explains that this word is not a nice word.  It is a word that nice people don't use.  He tells six year old boy that if he doesn't know what a word means, he shouldn't say it.  And if he does know what a word means and it is a word that is naughty, he shouldn't say it then, either.  Six year old boy learns a lesson about bad words.

I really like the fact that my son didn't come all unglued when his son added a bad word to his vocabulary.  He patiently explained, without having to go into detail about the meaning of the word which the kid is probably too young to totally grasp, that there are words that are not nice and he would not like to hear those words spoken in their home, or away from it, for that matter.

In these days of extreme political correctness and free speech zones, I am glad that my grandson is being taught right from wrong and not being taught that certain words are not allowed.  The kid, while growing up, is going to be learning lots and lots of new words - not all of them nice.  I believe that learning what is right and what is wrong will serve him much better than an outright banning of words.  And I am certain that if this same kid decides to spout off words he knows are wrong, there will be consequences.  Which makes a lot more sense to me than censoring speech or creating free speech zones.

As for the peeing on the lawn thing, I'm pretty sure that when my grandson has grandchildren of his own, he will probably still be peeing outdoors now and then.  But by then he will have gained enough common sense to at least go find a tree to hide behind.

A Fairy House

A year or two ago, my granddaughter Boston had as one of her class projects the designing and building of a fairy house.  Don't ask me why the class built fairy houses, for I don't know.  I just know that she had fun building it.

This year Maddie Mae has the same teacher that her sister had, and Maddie was excited because that meant she got to build a fairy house, too.  When we were having lunch on Mother's Day, she told me all about it, describing how she was building it.  Today was the big day when she took her finished project to school.

Dad helped her just a little bit with the construction, but the ideas were Maddie's as were the decorations and most of the construction.  My favorite is the Jello pool in front with the Peeps floating in it.  She decided that fairies, after all, like Peeps as much as she does.

That is one pretty cool fairy house, Maddie!  You did a great job.
Love, Grandma

Your Own Paradise

Earlier this week I posted about spending a quiet day, and mentioned that I had a beef stew bubbling on the back burner and that biscuits were about to go in the oven.  One of my regular readers and one I consider to be a friend, Jess over at "Scratching to Escape," left the following comment:  "A quiet day? With homemade stew and biscuits? Sounds like a small piece of paradise."

By the way, if you aren't already reading Jess' blog, you are missing out.  He voices opinions, writes well about a variety of subjects and his stories of fiction that he posts now and then are gems.

Anyway, his comment about my small piece of paradise got me to thinking.  For many years I was a restless person.  I was never quite satisfied with my life.  It wasn't so much about financial matters, for fortunes have never impressed me much.  It was more about that time-worn notion that the grass is always greener over there, just beyond that fence.  I felt that I just could never quite get to the greener grass.

It took me well over 60 years to discover that it had nothing to do with green grass.  It had to do with my own shortcomings.

I have never been one to covet my neighbor's belongings.  If the guy down the street drove a nicer car than I did, I didn't care.  If the next door neighbor had a big screen TV delivered, I was happy for him, but didn't rush out to buy one bigger and better.  If friends belonged to prestigious clubs or organizations, well good for them, but I wasn't interested.

Most folks wouldn't think that living in a three room apartment in a city suburb could be even close to paradise.  For a long time, I didn't think so, either.  But in the past few years, I have come to realize that a person's personal paradise is what they make it.  It is where "Home" is.  It is where you can just be yourself.  Nobody needs to be impressed with your lifestyle if you are happy with it.  In my little apartment, I can do what I like.  I can run my pressure canner to help stock my shelves.  I can spend time making afghans for grandkids.  I can sew a quilt if I choose to.  I can read all night if I want.

When I go outside, I am reminded that I live in a town and I would very much like to live in the country again.  But I refuse to dwell on that aspect of my life, or to let it spoil a perfectly good day.  Oh, there are times when I daydream about a cabin in the woods or on a lake, but now I can see those for what they are - pleasant daydreams.  That's not going to happen at this stage of my life, but it is alright to dream just a bit.

Sometimes I can be pretty slow on the uptake.  It took me so very long to remember some advice I was given years ago.  I wish I had remembered sooner.

"Bloom where you're planted."

I Won!

I am so excited!  M. E. Masterson over at her blog, "Adventures of Life!," just held a giveaway.  The drawing was for a beautiful beaded barrette, handmade by herself.  As a lover of all things handmade, I am thrilled to have won the drawing.  When it arrives, I will take pictures to post here.

If you aren't a regular reader of "Adventures of Life!" you should be.  Many thanks to her for this lovely gift.

Anybody stopping by to see me today will be greeted with my grin, which is sure to last all day!

Grumpy

It has been becoming increasingly obvious that this disease called arthritis is not going to allow me to sit through several hours of dance recital tomorrow.  After doing everything I know how to do, I finally threw in the towel and called Youngest Son to let him know.

Sometimes I wish that if I had to have a disease, it would be something more predictable and treatable - something that would allow me a medication regimen or exercise plan or something that would help control it.  Instead I have flare-ups and not always in the same joints.  Sometimes it's in the knees - sometimes hips - sometimes my back.  And then it will tease me into thinking that it is getting better before it nails me again.

This doesn't happen all the time.  Just once in a while.  I can go for weeks at a time with very little problem.  And I am thankful for that.  And I can usually work around the stiffness and pain.  I am slower than I used to be, but still usually able to get around alright.  Except now.  When I really want to watch my sweet granddaughters dance.

OK.  I got that out of my system.  Sometimes it helps to just rant a bit.  I'm still grumpy, but that, too, shall pass.

Thanks for listening.

A Nice Quiet Day

Sometimes a nice quiet day is just what is needed.  The effects of the arthritis flare-up are lessening, but I may just postpone anything very strenuous the rest of the week.  Saturday is my Granddaughter's annual dance recital.  I have been there every year since they started dance, and I sure don't want to miss this one.  I got to watch them perform their solo dances at a competition, but not the group dances, which they will do at the recital.  I look forward to watching them dance on stage every year.  And at each recital there is a Daddy-Daughter dance that is always fun.  Definitely don't want to miss that one!

So today I just puttered about.  I had a good excuse not to get too carried away, as I have no hot water today.  A neighbor has a broken hot water tap in her apartment, so the hot water to the entire building has been shut off until a new tap can be installed this evening.  Yeah, I know that if I wanted to, I could just heat water on the stove, but I will take the excuse to be lazy today instead!

So today wasn't a total loss, I spent the morning finishing up sewing crocheted granny squares together to form long strips, and am in the process of sewing those strips together to form the afghan.  The pooches are happy, for they have been taking turns curling up in my lap for pets and belly rubs.  The sun is shining.  A slight breeze is coming in my open windows.  A beef stew is bubbling on the back burner and soon I will stir up a pan of biscuits to go with it.

There is something to be said for spending a nice, quiet day.

Sidelined

Today I am sidelined.  Arthritis has decided to take up residence in my hip.  So I am taking things slow and easy and with any kind of luck, tomorrow will be a better day.

In between taking care of the necessaries - washing dishes, getting a crock pot meal going for supper, sweeping the kitchen floor - I am working on Granddaughter's afghan, which seems to have taken on a life of it's own!  But I think the end may be in sight.  It is a lot bigger than planned, but that's OK.  Just taking more time to complete than I thought.

So as a diversion from the boring aspect of sewing together all of these little granny squares, I flipped on the police scanner for Minneapolis.  I am always astounded at the things people will do in order to gain the attention of the police.  The following are the dispatcher's calls from between noon and 2 PM.

• Two black males breaking into a patio door using a crowbar.
• One black male in the center of an intersection, suspected to be high on drugs, trying to take his clothes off.
• Welfare check on a person who is likely on crack.
• Report of three small children sitting on the front steps of a home.  Parents are inside and won't let the kids in.  (temp is 46 degrees)
• One white male picked a fight with a construction worker.
• Group of five individuals shoplifting at a major department store.
• Unidentified person driving off without paying for gas.  License plate numbers don't match the car.
• Intoxicated black male harassing shoppers trying to enter or leave WalMart.
• Black male stopped for careless driving.  Identification comes back to person wanted in Illinois for forgery.  Known to be armed and dangerous.
• White male wearing a trench coat (I'm not making this up!) reported for public urination and indecent exposure (on a busy street corner).
• Female juvenile detained at a store for shoplifting.
• Two male bus passengers, harassing and threatening other passengers.
• Out of control 14 year old female - breaking furniture, destroying objects in her home.
• Two black males, both wearing black hoodies, seen breaking into a house.  One is carrying a bag.  Caught trying to escape in a waiting van.

These calls didn't include the usual traffic stops or calls about domestic abuse.  Neither did they include fire calls or those involving medical issues.  These were just the ones that caught my attention.

I guess there really is no cure for stupid.