I guess when one has a full life, one’s life is really full. 

It seems as though I have been so busy entertaining my 8 yo granddaughter that my brain has suffered a little from the over stimulation.  Mind you, I love the over stimulation to a certain extent because I have not had uncontrollable stimulation in a long time.  She has helped me to realize that I do not have too much control over too much.  I never know when I will be prompted to wade through another tantrum abate they are fewer these days.  I am not good with bribery, but I have resort to bribery just to get a little peace--faster with fewer words. 

My daugher will probably scream because I once told her that my grandson was being bribed to do things at the youth club where he was a member.  You see, he was given candy and other concessions to do things much as Pavlov’s dog was given a treat to go through the maze when prompted--behavorial reponses.  I exclaimed that he is a human, and I thought it would behoove him to be prompted in other ways rather than with treats--sugery at that.  Although at the time, I had no other suggestions.  I still felt to bribe a child to do what is expected of anyone as unnatural; it was purely an unsound behavorial approach--pompous to say the least.

Fast Forward--15 years.  This week I found myself "bribing"  my granddaughter.  The bribe: if she got up every morning without any fanfare, that I would buy her a "Webkinz" at the end of each week.  Of course, we had to do the "pinky" swear and promise and all the excitement that goes with the "bribe."  I must admit that I am ashamed of myself.  I must admit that it would be easier to have the child in bed by 9:00 pm.  I have put the child in camp and begged the counselors to wear the child out, but when I go to pick up the child the counselors are the only ones who are tuckered out...the children seem to be wired or winded up. 

Consequently, I take my grand for a walk around the mall or to the grocery store or run an earn.  We go home for a bite to eat, or we eat out or get take out.  The only person who is tuckered out when we get home is me.  I literally pass out.  Now, I have a feral child who roams the condo looking for things to do...the computer for Webkinz and Nickturbo for music and games, the refrigerator is raided for milk which cost as much as a gallon of gas.  The milk is consummed as though she runs on it, and the TV for more nick no cartoons--I can’t stand them. 

Mind you, I have tried my level best to out perform this little dynamo who keeps on running like that  pink "EverReady" bunny.  One of my problems is a lack of playmates for her if there were children in my 55+condo then it would be a no brainer, but there are no children--she said, "just old people just like you"--I can handle it. One of my colleagues suggested that I find playmates for her.  I had to give it a little thought because that means that I would have to take my turn with the other child or children.  That means I would have to entertain not one but maybe two or more "EverReady" bunnies.  Then, I would look worse than the haggarded counselors, who thank me graciously for bringing her--if they only knew.  I don’t want to go to that banquet table for even more children.

One thing is for certain I intend to survive this summer.  I have begun to believe that God doesn’t give you any more than you can carry.  My grandmother told me that one.  She said, "Always remember the donkey if the load gets too heavy the donkey will simply sit down." 

Smart donkey....huh?

Last week my granddaughter, sheepishly, told me that one of the girls in the camp told her that her grandmother is weird.

I ask my grand how did she answer her.  "I told her that she was weird."

I told my grand the next time you tell her, "My grandmother is very proud to be weird, and she thanks you for the compliment.    My grandmother said,  she has really worked hard to be weird, and different, and free to be herself, and she has finally made it.  She is so happy that some one has noticed." 

Of course, my grand looked at me as though I had lost it.  She said, "I would never say anything like that to her or any one."

Later she told me that she told the girl what I said.  The little girl answered, "I don’t care."

I told my grand, Well, I would rather you turned it into a positive because I am not ashamed to be weird or whoever it is that some one decides what I am because I can only be me. 

Besides, whatever any one says about me is none of my business.  My mother always said that it took her all day to tend to her business and the other part to stay out of every one else’s.  So, let’s stay out of other people’s business.

Today the hurtful antics that come out of some daycare settings are really demeaning on all levels.  How is a child to grow with so much negative reinforcement that goes unchecked in those motherless holding pens.  Right now, there are a couple of young workers working for us who were raised in those holding pens and their attitudes and work ethics are questionable.  I fear for the children raised on the streets in so many war zones of the world.  I pray our earth does not turn into the "hell holes depicted on the movie screens of the world."   It is really spooky.....

 Well, today is a good day.  My granddaugher and I have reached the thinning out stage of our relationship.  She said, "Mema you know when I am nasty you are nastier, and when I am nice you are nicer."  "I really like it when you are nicer."  Yesterday, I asked her,  "How does your dad wake you up in the mornings?"  "Mmm..." she mused, "he tickles me and promises me blueberry pancakes, especially, on the weekends when he has to work."  I told her that I couldn't do pancakes in the morning, and she wouldn't eat them any ways. She agreed, so this morning I tickled her even more than usual.

And so, this morning we left for the bus stop earlier than usual because she got up and got ready without much prompting.  Because Dunkin Donuts is in front of the bus stop, I decided to get a cup of coffee to share with her.  I asked her if she would like a "sip"  of my coffee.  She got really excited because she has been craving for a "sip" of coffee.  "Daddy always gives me a sip of his coffee."

Before we left for the store, we made sure that the condo was secured, and I made sure that I had the keys and my sunglasses; then, I said "Let's Hit the Road... Jack."   "Why do you keep calling me Jack and telling me to hit the road?" she vehmently exclaimed.    I told her it's just a song, so I started to sing.  "Hit the Road Jack and don't you come back no more, no more, no more, no more.  Hit the road Jack and don't you come back no more."  She gave me one of those you are really weird looks.  I, of course, shrugged it off.

Flashback,  When I was a little girl, my aunts use to sing "Sweet Georgia Brown" at me. You know the theme song for the basketball team the Harlem Globetrotters.  Well, every time I heard that song I would cry.  I thought the song and my aunts were talking about me and calling me skinny.  One day, my grandmother sat me on her lap and asked me, "why do you cry so hard every time that song comes on the radio or the family starts to sing it."  I told her about my aunts teasing and laughing at me.  As Gram and I were talking the song came on the radio, so she asked me to listen to the words as she quietly enunciated the words as she sang along with the song.  After the song was over, she asked me if I heard my name mentioned at any time.  Of course, I whimpered, "No."  She said that song is not about "Little Karean Brown it's about  Sweet Georgia Brown."  And so, this morning I got a flashback of how a youngster can and will misinterpret a song.

After our Dunkin Donut breakfast, we went to the bus stop.  We were there before one of our bus stop friends, "Ms. Carmen."  I asked Carmen if she knew the song "Hit the road Jack."  Carmen started to sing the song, and I joined in we had a little giggle; then, my Grand started to sing the song with us. That you are really wierd look disappeared from her face as she joined in and enjoyed the antics of the two old ladies giggling and doing a little boogie woogie as they sang "Hit the road Jack."

Since I went to HR to start the retirement process, I have been a little meloncholy. 

My excitement has changed to a sense of dread or uncanny lack of energy.  First, I am going to blame it on my running out of my "superfoods" the red and green powders that I take every day.  I have been taking the powders for years; I became so busy I didn’t order my next batch before I ran out.  Now I am waiting for the mailman to bring my supplements. 

Secondly, I am going to blame it on my commitment to taking care of a precocious 8 year old granddaughter.  My granddaugther and I have been coming to terms on what we expect from each other.  I even have the "pinky" swears and promises almost down.  She is learning to pick up her clothes with out being told.  She accuses me of folding up every thing--even the "t" bags from the grocery store.  I complimented her on hanging up her swim suit and towel after her late evening swim last night.  She is really coming around.   I am learning the new ways of raising a child.  I accidentally fell into the "old school" method--that is what my son called it.  When I told her to watch the tone of her voice, and that we were not going to negotiate every thing--tantrum.  We don’t have as many tantrums any more.  She is good with making up and showing her love and affection.  We can now laugh at each other because she is a fun loving youngster. I would say that we have reached the thinning out stage.

Next, I am going to blame it on my being bored with my work. No comment.

I really have to THANK all my friends for the encouraging notes, comments and "CHEER UP’S."   It has really made me feel good and lightened my heart.  Coming Online on AARP has really been a great morale boaster for me.

THANKS TO EVERY ONE...

Today is another day in the neighborhood, and it is indeed a great day.  On Wednesday, I go to HR to sign the exit papers for my impending retirement.  I am very anxious about the date.  Once I sign the papers, it will be like getting married or divorced again.  I am so anxious for this new phase of my life. 

I find that I am giving more unsolicited information than I need to.  I remember when my grandmother was on her death bed.  I had to go to the hospital to ask her how to cook "poke greens"  for the life of me I couldn’t remember.  When I got to her bed side, she slowly opened her eyes and told me.  "Candygal, this really is the last time I will be able to tell you how to cook greens of any kind, so pay attention."  She commenced to slowly tell me to make sure that I understood; then, she asked me to repeat the directions to her, which I did.  She promptly went back into her getting ready to die, mindset.  Before I left the room, she asked once more, "do you have the directions?"  "You know; I will not be able to tell you  again."  Once again, I assured her that I would never forget.  Needless to say, some things I have forgotten, and I do forget a lot of things, but I have never forgotten how to cook greens, especially, poke greens.  However, I could not pick them out in a wild field because I don’t remember what they look like, but I could clean and cook a batch if they showed up on my door step.

So, I find that I am constantly giving unsolicited information because I won’t be able to tell you again. So, you have to remember.  I will slowly slip into my retirement mind set--coast.

Today is Sunday,  as usual I am up at 5:30 am no matter what.  I enjoy the fact that I can come online and ramble. 

Usually I ramble in a large journal ledger that I keep in bed with me.  Many years ago, I found that it is comforting for me to just ramble in a journal.  Once I went back, and really read some of the garbage that I had written that is why I call it "vomit" on paper.  Whenever  I would read some of my ramblings, I found that I would put down my dreams and my wonderings.  I would come up with some of the one liners that I am famous for.  For some reason. I can see the mundane, the obvious, and the obtuse.  Beleive me, no real feat just an innate underpinning that is a necessary part of my being.  In other words, I came equipped with it.

However, as I think back and as I listen to my children and grandchildren I think it is a gene because so many of us have it.  Wherever we got it from,  I want to thank the ancestor.  I would like to see one of us really develop it.  I don’t think it will happen during my lifetime because we are a funny bunch of coconuts.  We have this innate gene to be free spirited, to be totally autonomous, to be free willed, and  to be unpretentious with our undertakings, and to be quite forthright with our speech.  We are a hard bunch to take and in a bunch we are a freewiling fun loving, crazy, wild, quick witted,  and high energy bunch.  I swear our energy alone could light the eastern seacoast for at least a week. 

As I ramble along, the sun has started to cascade through the house.  It rises just over Williams Island to the east of my condo and throws its beams down Skylake Lake.  If I stood on my toes and looked to the east,  I could see the ocean about three miles from here.  On a good day I can even see forever. 

I wish some one were in the kitchen "smelling the house up" with a great breakfast.  I can just smell my mother’s pot of coffee wafting through out the house and waking up every one and every thing.  Even the house plants seem to sense that she is up and soon will be talking to them and touching and loving them.  Even the birds seem to sense that every one is slowing coming to.  How I miss those cool mornings of cooking before the sun heats up the house.  Sundays were the days when you could get a good meal anywhere.  Every one cooked on Sunday.   You might not have a great meal during the week after the leftovers were gone.  But, on Sunday’s the family would be sure to be around the table.  The day when all the gossip--community news-- was unleashed and a day to some what plan the week. 

My grandmother had a problem with my planning and day dreaming.  She use to tell me to stop always planning and day dreaming.  Once I asked her why.  She told me that tomorrow is a mystery we don’t know if we will be here.  But, if we are here shouldn’t we have a plan?  No, tomorrow will take care of itself. 

 Day six

On Friday the alarm went off at 5:30am, I hit the snooze button, and lay in bed until 5:45 am.  I was tried to the bone, but my body has a way of quickly reviving itself.  I guess it is because of so many years of running on such a stressful schedule.  About 5:45 am I took my shower and started to dress and mentally plan out the day.  When I called the Grand at 6:00 am, she just grunted and went back to sleep. She did not do her usual sleep walk type of get up and get ready.  She just did not want to move.  She said, "I don’t want to go to camp."  Well, I could appreciate her wanting to shut down.  I considered what I really had to do at work that day.  So, I told her we would take a day off.  "Go back to sleep!"  She looked at me with a disbelieving expression, "For real?"  "Yes, go back to sleep."  She slept until 11:00 am or later.  The poor child is exhausted, too.

About 2:00 pm for lunch, it was her choice, we went to the all you can eat Chinese restaurant.  She gorged herself with noodles.  I would not buy a sugary soft drink for lunch or a pair of polka dot wedgy espadrilles from Payless, so I was high on her "dodo" list.  Of course, you know I could care less. 

Before we left home, I told her that we could "window shop,"  which means we would shop without spending money.  We would just dream about the things we want.  I committed a "no, no" because I picked up a trinket for my vestibule--which I thought I could use and the price was right.  She wanted to know why I could spend money and not her.  I told her she didn’t have enough money, espadrilles are not for an 8 yo, and I was the "bread winner."  Well, you know the questions started to pour out of that "question bank" that most 8 year old have.  She could not seem to understand that I work for my money, and I have a right to spend my money on whatever I wanted.  She wanted to know where she fit into the scheme of this money thing.  I know it was a teachable moment, but I blew it.  She started to act really unreasonable, so I called her an "old fart."  Boy, I thought the tantrum would be enough for me to go to jail.  I thought, "What a salty child, I have."  She told me about my calling her a name.  I told her that is how you are acting.  I would never have called a sweet child such an awful name if she weren’t acting the part. 

The day was very wearing for me.  I am so glad that I took the day off.  That evening after she had another long nap; then, she couldn’t stop eating. Then, she bugged me about my date who did not show up because I think he forgot the day and time of one my best friends 50th birthday party. 

Later, She cornered me in my bedroom and apologized profusely for her nastiness. She hugged and kissed me and just wanted to cuddle.  I told her I can understand what is going on with her.  I really appreciate what she has been doing to help her dad with his new executive position and me because I still have to work for a short while.  I told her that life always has a way of thinning itself out.  We have to ride life like a roller coaster some times the up’s and some times the down’s.  It is just how we choose to react to the up’s and down’s that are important.  If we try to stay balance during those trying times no matter what, the going doesn’t seem so rough in the end. 

She just mused and started to ask for more concessions and more questions--I don’t think that "question bank" ever closes. 

She is back to her old self "Sweetie."

You know,  I just realized that one has to type to write or "talk" online.  I think that being able to "talk" online is really a necessary means of communication.  However, it is a skill that must be developed. 

In the middle 50’s, I remember when I was in high school.  My mother was only concerned that I could type and take Greg shorthand.  She didn’t care if I made D’s in math because she wasn’t a math person.  However, I had to make A’s in English, or I would be in big trouble.  Of course, I made A’s in PhysEd.  However, when I was in the 10th grade mother made sure that I got the classes I needed to be a secretary.  She wanted me to be able to get a job when I graduated from high school.  The family didn’t care about college because I wasn’t bright enough any ways.  And, a family of girls would only go to college to become a home economics teacher or a nurse, so my stepfather wasn’t wasting his money on a bunch of girls who were only going to get pregnant any ways.  So, my saving grace has always been that I took those keyboard and Greg short hand classes--so, I take copious notes.

I noticed that my oldest granddaughter was impressed because when I type I can’t look at the keyboard.  I told her when I took typing the keys were on a large poster that covered the entire wall near the ceiling in the front of the classroom, so you had to look up to see where the keys are.  The keys on the typewriter were blank only the home keys had a dimple on them.  If you missed your place, all you had to do was search for the dimples on the F left hand and J right hand keys,so even if it is dark, you can still find the keys.   On the old typewriters, every time you reached the margin on the right side you would have to raise your hand and slide a roll that propelled the keys back to the other side of the paper... now, it is the enter key which you use very seldom because of the "wrap" feature of the computer keybaoard.   When the electric typewriters came out, only the good typist were allowed to use them.  I wasn’t a good typist, so I never got the privilege to use the newest invention. 

However, my teacher would stand at the front of the room and tap a pointer--stick-- on her desk.  Every time she tapped you would type a letter that she called out.  You could only look at the poster above her head and search for the dimpled keys; then, type the keys that she called out.  I always wanted to type fast, but I was slow because we didn’t have a typewriter to practice on at home.  Believe me, I am still slow.

My sisters’ and I started to beg the folks for a Corona typewriter, but my mom told us if we quit smoking she would buy us a typewriter for Christmas.  Now, my sisters’ and I really worked at hiding our little smoking habit, so how did she know that we smoked.  Any ways we did not argue because we had already lost, so we consented to stop smoking.  When we got that Corona typewriter, we thought we were big stuff.  Mind you, this was in the 50’s.

Nowadays, I might add that one can take keyboarding classes online for free.  Just know that it takes a lot of practice, but the rewards of expressing oneself with a keyboard are unsurmountable.  To be able to "talk" is a sheer joy.

I just wanted to say that I am so grateful to my mother for prodding me to take typing classes in high school.  My typing and writing skills have been the stalwart of my life.

Day four,

You would think by day four that we would have a pattern of some sort down pat, but the saga continues. 

Last night when I went to pick up my grand from camp there was a note on the door.  "We are in building 9 and will return at 5:30 pm; however, you can pick up your child at buidling 9."  You know, I had walked very fast from building 2 to building 3 which is on the other side a very large campus.  Only to be disappointed by the sign on the door, for some unknown reason, I just sat on the bench for almost a half hour in the rain thinking about the walk to building 9.  While I was there, I fielded many questions about the sign.  Then, I decided I would walk to building 9 to retrieve my child and get the next bus at 5:30 pm.

When I got to the building 9, there was police festival of some sort going on.  The children were wearing painted faces and having a grand time.  I walked in quickly retrieved my child and started to walk to the other side of the campus to catch the 5:30 pm bus.  Needless to say, my grand had to go to the restroom, had to wash the paint off her face because she said, "I look like a dorky clown,"  and chattered like the Mad Hatter the whole time.  When we got on the bus, she tried to go to sleep.  I told her that if she went to sleep that I would not make her oatmeal for dinner.  We had to do some sort of ritual with the "pinky fingers" so that our deal was sealed. She stayed awake and talked to me about her "anti-drug" experience, and how she won her prizes. 

The rain did not let up but continued its momentum then got worse the closer we got to home.  Thankfully, the driver, who is one of my former students, let us off at the bus shelter that is in front of the condo.  Because my grand had left her bag with her umbrella and other things, we had to share my umbrella.  I taught  her how two people link arms and walk closely together to stay as dry as possible under one umbrella.  She giggled and had a good time.

When we got home, I made her oatmeal with cinnamon and blueberry syrup.  She ate all of it.  She played on the computer for about a half hour.  I lay on the the bed and started to watch a black and white TCM movie with Sophia Loren. I didn’t think my grand would enjoy the movie, but she wanted to join me when she finished her allotted time on the computer.  She got comfortable in the chaise. I heard her muse, "Oooh! my favorite chair."  Within a few minutes, I heard soft snoring.  I called her and told her to get in the AeroBed if she were going to sleep.  I called her twice, she stomped out of the room and told me, "you didn’t have to holler at me."  I don’t know how to holler, so I will ask her how does one do that trick.

By 9:00 pm, she was sound asleep on the AeroBed with all the lights in the house OFF.  She was exhausted.

I, on the other hand, spent the entire night wide awake.

Today it is so stormy out, it looks like the making of a hurricane or a good tropical storm. 

However, I am going to lunch with a long time colleague who is retiring on Friday.  My heart is so heavy.  I feel as though I am losing a part of my soul.  It has been such a pleasure to have been his friend for so long.  He is one of those person’s who is always thinking about the little souls in the world. 

For example, when the first soldier to die in the Iraq War was disclosed.  He thought to design and build a monument to this young man who came to America from Mexico just to be a part of the US army.  This young man with a gallant spirit wanted to be a part of the American experience to serve as a soldier in the war.  And so, he admired that dedication to spirit and a cause.  He and his students dedicated the memorial to this young man by erecting a shrine among the trees with beautiful wind chimes. 

The shrine was so beautiful.  One could sit among the wind chimes and listen to them and the birds that flew among the trees in this quiet area of the college campus. 

Then, some years ago, he was instructed to dismantle the wind chime shrine, but by now most of his students who had placed the wind chimes were gone, so he had to dismantle it almost single handedly.  It really hurt him to his heart because it had a significant meaning to all the fallen soldiers. 

Over the years, on Veteran's Day he and his students would read the names of the fallen soldiers aloud.  One year it took hours, as they began to run out of readers, I jumped in and read about a hundred or more names.  I asked him afterwards, how many names had he collected at that time he said three thousand.  There must have been at least hundred or more on my list.  The line for the readers was long, but he was determined to have each and every name on the list read even if he had to read each and every one on his own. Believe me, he and a couple of his students stayed at that memorial until every name was read. 

When he decided to retire sooner than later because he wants to do some projects that he has been dreaming and talking about for years.  After the death of a dear friend, he felt it was time to finish his heartfelt projects.  Like many of us retired folks, one begins to appreciate ones mortality as one starts to lose those who are close to us.

Because of his decision, I, too,  felt it was time to move on and to pursue a couple of projects I want to complete in my life.  So, today at lunch we had a great conversation about where we are going from here.  I really felt better after our conversation; knowing that he has great plans and interests to pursue.  Now, I really feel that the decision I made to leave is right for my heart and health.  After all, this is not a dress rehearsal it is our life.

I truly think that this popular professor will be surely missed.