I just returned from a week long trip down south with a busload of senior citizens. At fifty-nine, not all places consider me eligible for the Senior Discount, but for this trip I was one of the gang.
Day One didn't get off to a good start. The drive was long so I slept, woke for rest stops and restaurants, and slept; yep, just like the other fifty people on the bus. After lunch, one man decided we needed a Sunday sermon. He launched into a Bible reading, and then his interpretation. "..blah, blah.... the Jews rejected Jesus and were sent to Hell ..blah, blah." Well, that woke me up! "Did I just hear him say all Jews are going to Hell? " yelled I. "Is he kidding? This is totally inappropriate!!!" To say I was not very popular with much of the bus after that is an understatement. It took a while for us to warm up to each other, but the controversy was an icebreaker; and I do credit myself with helping the people on the bus get to know each other. Yep, they became very friendly talking about my heathen spirit behind my back. Sigh. (For the record, I do attend a Christian church. However, I am born of a Jewish mother, so I am a Jew. And, I do not believe God will send his chosen people to an eternity in Hell. Do not try to convince me otherwise.)
My antics the next day didn't do much to endear me to some of these folks either. We enjoyed a day of sightseeing, and when we got back to the hotel, my BFF, D, and I decided to sit by the pool and relax. Across the pool, were a bunch of grungy guys cooking pork chops on a grill. One character called out, "Hey girls. C'mon over. I'll make you a drink." Girls!! He called us girls! I was out of my chair in a nano-second. We had drinks with Honeybuns, Eddie, and Sausage Man. We laughed ourselves silly the whole time; oh, the stories these guys from Alabama could tell about their jobs in Georgia. Of course, our deeply religious travel companions were playing cards in the room off the pool. They kept looking out the door, peering out the windows, and shaking their heads. Oh well, D and I laughed ourselves silly and slept well that night.
The next morning, I was a minute late boarding the bus. (I thought I was 14 minutes early, but no....) Oh, the dirty looks I got! "What?" I exclaimed. "I'm a minute late. So shoot me." And that's when the tide turned. One of the oldest of the old said, "Honey, your watch is a minute fast. Mine says you're on time." And with that, the people laughed, the bus pulled out, and I started making friends.
The South was wonderful. Each day was a warm, balmy summer adventure. Among the sights were Savannah, St. Simon's Island, and Parris Island. We visited the Juliette Low house on this 100th anniversary of Girl Scouting. We drank mint juleps and margaritas; and if we didn't finish our drink there was always the "to-go" cup. I bought my nieces the best souvenirs...real dead and petrified alligator heads! Way cool. And we all started to Southern drawl a little as the trip progressed.
My last act of rebellion happened on the last night of the trip. They took us to a cramped hall where we joined two other buses of senior travelers for a party dinner. The food was terrible, and the entertainment was a resort-style singer who worked the crowd. "How long have you been married? Let's give a hand, folks, for fifty-eight years of wedded bliss." I felt trapped in the middle of a Saturday Night Live parody. At the chicken dance, I noticed another retired teacher rolling her eyes and she, D, and I ran away! We headed to the bar next to the banquet hall. After a refreshing escape, we were back on the bus.
Truthfully, I had a wonderful time. The people on our bus were, in general, happy and loving people. For once on a trip, my knees could keep up. I was a rock star! Will I take another trip with the old people? You betcha. They've got one going to the Biltmore in November. Grab that AARP card, and hop (or hobble) onto the bus! L'Chayim!
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Laundry Day
I love to hang my laundry out on the clothesline. Yes, I love the fresh clean smell. But mostly, frugal me loves saving electricity. I bought the clothesline the spring after I moved in. It only took twenty years for my brother to install it.
When I bought my house, I had great ideas for it. I'd landscape a huge English garden. That never happened; weeds are not pretty and they seem to thrive in my soil. After that, I'd put in a swimming pool (yes, my yard is that big.) As you know from my last post, the pool never happened. Sometimes I regret missing the opportunity to hire a handsome pool boy. Picture someone like Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise . Hmmmm... but I digress. The reality of it was, the only yard work I did was lawn mowing, lots and lots of lawn mowing, a half acre of lawn mowing. First with a push mower, then with a self-propelled push mower, and finally a riding mower I rode like a motorcycle. When I broke my leg, I hired a local guy to mow and I haven't looked back since. However, he presents a problem when it comes to hanging out my laundry.
Underwear.
He doesn't always tell me ahead of time when he's coming to mow. It was pretty embarrassing the day I looked out my kitchen window to see him weedwacking amidst the undies. I wear granny panties. My lawn mower guy shouldn't have to know that. I remember a friend of mine who used to hang out her laundry. The neighborhood perv kid would call her and in a raspy breath say that he could see her underwear. Ugh. I try to hide my rows of bleached clean undies between a row of towels and a row of shorts and shirts. So you probably can't see them (much) unless of course you have to stoop under them to weedwack around the laundry pole.
Ok world! Yes, this former middle school teacher wears underpants. Deal with it!! If there was no lingerie hanging on the lines, you know what that would mean. I think the image of my going commando would be far more horrifying.
Enjoy today's sunshine and sweet breeze! If you have the time and own the line, give your clothes a taste of this gorgeous weather.
When I bought my house, I had great ideas for it. I'd landscape a huge English garden. That never happened; weeds are not pretty and they seem to thrive in my soil. After that, I'd put in a swimming pool (yes, my yard is that big.) As you know from my last post, the pool never happened. Sometimes I regret missing the opportunity to hire a handsome pool boy. Picture someone like Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise . Hmmmm... but I digress. The reality of it was, the only yard work I did was lawn mowing, lots and lots of lawn mowing, a half acre of lawn mowing. First with a push mower, then with a self-propelled push mower, and finally a riding mower I rode like a motorcycle. When I broke my leg, I hired a local guy to mow and I haven't looked back since. However, he presents a problem when it comes to hanging out my laundry.
Underwear.
He doesn't always tell me ahead of time when he's coming to mow. It was pretty embarrassing the day I looked out my kitchen window to see him weedwacking amidst the undies. I wear granny panties. My lawn mower guy shouldn't have to know that. I remember a friend of mine who used to hang out her laundry. The neighborhood perv kid would call her and in a raspy breath say that he could see her underwear. Ugh. I try to hide my rows of bleached clean undies between a row of towels and a row of shorts and shirts. So you probably can't see them (much) unless of course you have to stoop under them to weedwack around the laundry pole.
Ok world! Yes, this former middle school teacher wears underpants. Deal with it!! If there was no lingerie hanging on the lines, you know what that would mean. I think the image of my going commando would be far more horrifying.
Enjoy today's sunshine and sweet breeze! If you have the time and own the line, give your clothes a taste of this gorgeous weather.
Friday, September 21, 2012
What I Did on My Summer Vacation
Guilty! I admit beginning every school year with a variation of this topic. Like it or not, it's a great diagnostic tool. I knew immediately what level my students were on concerning their writing, no expensive standardized test needed. But more importantly, reading these mini-essays gave me insight into the uniqueness of each of my students. It helped me to begin the discovery of how special each of my students would prove to be.
So, do you want to know how special I am? Let me tell you how I spent my summer. It was nothing very special; I went to the pool. Almost every day. The dings running up and down the side of my car is a testimony to its daily battering from the doors of the mommy vans as they were thrown open by their excited kiddies.
While some of them may have beat the hell out of my car, overall, I really liked the kids at the pool. Some of these kids are big kids; they are my former students all grown up and raising their own families. Last year it took them a while to warm up to me. Think about it...your fat old teacher in a bathing suit? Probably about the same yuck factor as stumbling upon the secret of what mom and dad really do behind closed doors.
Last year, E's baby was a huge belly bump. This year the little sweetie wears a swim diaper (thank you E!!) and joins us in the pool. She comes to me, and I get to hold her and say all kinds of gooey baby things. Makes my day. And little El; I just love her. How do I describe her? She's awkward and sometimes a crying mess. But she has grown up so much since last summer. She had a pretty new bathing suit this summer, golden curly hair, and a big smile. I told her how pretty she was, and she was my pool buddy the rest of the summer.
The kids I got the biggest kick out of were the ones who made me laugh. One day my friend D and I were inching our way down the steps and into the water. A whole bunch of kids were playing by the steps, but we could easily skirt by them them (there's a pun to be enjoyed if you've ever noticed the type of bathing suit women my age wear). However, one of the polite boys stood up and announced, "Ok everybody! Move and let the old ladies get by." He seemed confused when we fell into the pool laughing at the top of our lungs. Another time, D was conversing with a little girl who asked her how old she was. I could see the grandmother's horrified face, but D and I just laughed. When D told her the truth, the little one looked seriously at her and said, "Hmm. I thought you were in your twenties." LOL
I grabbed a noodle and floated on my back a lot. Once, a couple of the boys started a water battle in the diving area; they were beating each other with noodles and splashing the water out of the pool. Suddenly, they stopped and I opened my eyes to see them quietly walking past me. One of them waved. As soon as they passed me, they resumed beating the heck out of each other. Gotta love them.
I'll bet you're wondering the location of this pool where the water is cool, the trees are shady, and all the little children are polite. I'm not telling unless you promise not to park next to my car.
So, do you want to know how special I am? Let me tell you how I spent my summer. It was nothing very special; I went to the pool. Almost every day. The dings running up and down the side of my car is a testimony to its daily battering from the doors of the mommy vans as they were thrown open by their excited kiddies.
While some of them may have beat the hell out of my car, overall, I really liked the kids at the pool. Some of these kids are big kids; they are my former students all grown up and raising their own families. Last year it took them a while to warm up to me. Think about it...your fat old teacher in a bathing suit? Probably about the same yuck factor as stumbling upon the secret of what mom and dad really do behind closed doors.
Last year, E's baby was a huge belly bump. This year the little sweetie wears a swim diaper (thank you E!!) and joins us in the pool. She comes to me, and I get to hold her and say all kinds of gooey baby things. Makes my day. And little El; I just love her. How do I describe her? She's awkward and sometimes a crying mess. But she has grown up so much since last summer. She had a pretty new bathing suit this summer, golden curly hair, and a big smile. I told her how pretty she was, and she was my pool buddy the rest of the summer.
The kids I got the biggest kick out of were the ones who made me laugh. One day my friend D and I were inching our way down the steps and into the water. A whole bunch of kids were playing by the steps, but we could easily skirt by them them (there's a pun to be enjoyed if you've ever noticed the type of bathing suit women my age wear). However, one of the polite boys stood up and announced, "Ok everybody! Move and let the old ladies get by." He seemed confused when we fell into the pool laughing at the top of our lungs. Another time, D was conversing with a little girl who asked her how old she was. I could see the grandmother's horrified face, but D and I just laughed. When D told her the truth, the little one looked seriously at her and said, "Hmm. I thought you were in your twenties." LOL
I grabbed a noodle and floated on my back a lot. Once, a couple of the boys started a water battle in the diving area; they were beating each other with noodles and splashing the water out of the pool. Suddenly, they stopped and I opened my eyes to see them quietly walking past me. One of them waved. As soon as they passed me, they resumed beating the heck out of each other. Gotta love them.
I'll bet you're wondering the location of this pool where the water is cool, the trees are shady, and all the little children are polite. I'm not telling unless you promise not to park next to my car.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
My Introduction
A long time ago I remember wondering what kind of people would spill their private guts in a public blog. The answer, of course, was/is my kind of people. Me, in particular.
The cartoon character, Maxine, reminds me of me. We are both old and cranky and highly opinionated. We can be funny, we can be sharp, but neither of us is afraid to tell it like it is.
I chose my title because I muse over life. Now, that I'm retired, I have a lot of time to engage in such musing. I float on my back at the pool, musing about the sky, the trees, the lives of the people who think I can't hear them talking. At my advanced age, I am very familiar with insomnia...and that presents a few more hours in the day to muse. I think about everything, all the time.
However, I want the general tone of my blog to be amusing, funny, ya know LOL. I love to laugh. I love it when people laugh with me.
I'm nervous about sharing a blog. I'm known to be a funny person and a good writer. What happens if my readers think I'm a lousy writer and not funny at all? I guess I'll find out, won't I?
The cartoon character, Maxine, reminds me of me. We are both old and cranky and highly opinionated. We can be funny, we can be sharp, but neither of us is afraid to tell it like it is.
I chose my title because I muse over life. Now, that I'm retired, I have a lot of time to engage in such musing. I float on my back at the pool, musing about the sky, the trees, the lives of the people who think I can't hear them talking. At my advanced age, I am very familiar with insomnia...and that presents a few more hours in the day to muse. I think about everything, all the time.
However, I want the general tone of my blog to be amusing, funny, ya know LOL. I love to laugh. I love it when people laugh with me.
I'm nervous about sharing a blog. I'm known to be a funny person and a good writer. What happens if my readers think I'm a lousy writer and not funny at all? I guess I'll find out, won't I?
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