Tina Mitchell Wilkins Blog

Ode to Betty Jo

1/2/2022

Spirit is Ageless!!

That’s what I thought of when I witnessed Ms. Betty Jo dancing at Gruene Hall. She would step right up in front of the band and dance like everyone was watching. That’s because they were! A lot of us couldn’t help but jump right in there with her, although everyone knew who the real star was. The real star was 80 something years old, with white hair, a big smile and some sweet moves. Ok maybe 3 moves.. but holy moly, she had more energy than most of us, right?

When I heard the sad news that she had passed recently, I searched for the photo that our friend Robbyn took of Betty Jo and I dancing on January 1st, 2020. The beaming smiles, the lightness of the crowd, the joy of the band… all palpable on that first day of the new year. None of us knew what was ahead.. and for that moment, it was as if the universe was yelling at us to PAY ATTENTION. PAY ATTENTION to the lady dancing. Look at her pure love of music, movement and spirit!! PAY ATTENTION to JOY. PAY ATTENTION to your neighbor whom you are sitting so close to and laughing and sharing this most important time together. Because in exactly 2 months and 13 days, the world is going to shut down. No dancing at Gruene. No dancing anywhere, except your living room.

We return to Gruene Hall today with great relief …but also accompanied by extreme caution. Do we dance together? Do we hug one another? Sit close to one another?

Oh how I will miss not seeing Ms. Betty Jo today. I will miss dancing with her, giving her my scarf and watching her sneak a beer or two. Gruene Hall was generous to Betty… as was all of New Braunfels. Her spirit was a welcome reprieve after a long year. Oh how we could use her sweet moves now.

Dance in Peace, Betty Jo.

3 Comments

Go-Aheads

11/29/2021

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I bought some very impractical slippers a few months back. I thought they would be great for recovery after the long days on the Portuguese Camino. They have some kind of fur in them and 2 straps that criss cross at the front of the foot. They are grey and about a half an inch in height. They felt super comfortable when I walked around DSW in them. They are not sexy. Not by any stretch. But like I said, I thought they would be great to rest my feet in after the long walks.

I ended up not taking them on the trip, because I ran out of room in my suitcase. Then, when we returned to Austin, it was summer for another two months. Too warm to wear fuzzy slippers. Finally, the weather dropped below 80, so I pulled them out of the closet. Well, my recovery slippers make me look clunky & caused me to trip...like... a lot. Not only are they NOT comfortable, but they are pretty hideous. They are a little too (with all do respect) guy-like and they are not very practical to wear. BUT, they have a furry lining, so maybe I will give them another try tomorrow.

Truthfully, they remind me of the sandals my dad would wear after he would come back from a run. He would shower, put on his finest terrycloth shirt and 1 of 2 pair of shorts he owned, pour a nice bourbon and walk around in his “go-aheads”. You can’t walk backwards in your go-aheads...that’s why he called them, well, go-aheads. Try it sometime. Especially the kind of slippers/sandals that have the criss cross type of strap.

My dad was a go-ahead kind of guy. He was positive by nature, always uplifting to my brothers, our mom and me. He simply was a solid, lovely human. I often wonder what he would be like now. He left this earth early from pancreatic cancer in 1994. Even when he was wasting away, he would put on his go-aheads and slowly walk around the house. Always moving forward, never feeling sorry for himself. We all cried in the hospital when the doctor told us that he was terminally ill. He said, “I can’t believe I am leaving you." Not poor me. Not bitter. Not angry. Deeply sad of course, but not for himself. He only lasted 3 months after the diagnosis.

So maybe I’ll keep these dang go-aheads. I’ll trip in them, yes, but I’ll keep moving forward, forever onward and clumsily upward.

4 Comments

A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving

11/23/2021

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I love Peanuts. I was born the year A Charlie Brown Christmas was released. I adore the Charlie Brown specials. Well, I adore the old school ones. The newish ones with the different character voices and the more updated cartoons, I really do not relate to as much. There are a few sequels to the trifecta of Charlie Browndom, but they miss the mark, I believe. I hold A Charlie Brown Christmas, It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving close to my heart. I will a l w a y s sit down and watch them when they are on.

I kind of cheated tonight when I saw that the program was offered on Apple TV. Usually I wait until it shows on one of the big networks, with the myriad of commercials and all. Wine breaks, as I like to call them. I was missing the sweetness of Ted Lasso and the wackiness of Mrs. Maisel, so I was flipping though the channels, looking for something that would bring me lightness and joy. There it was.. A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. So I pressed "Watch".

It all starts with Charlie Brown being coerced into kicking that blessed football. You think by now Charlie B would know that Lucy is, well... a big liar. She never apologizes and continues to manipulate him. She clearly is a narcissist, but he is like 7 years old and takes the bait. She pulls the ball and he flies through the air (quiet impressively, really) and lands flat on his back. She then says something pithy, takes the ball and walks off... making him feel like it is completely his fault. Lucy is a gaslighter too, apparently. It’s a wonder that she and Linus are related.

Oops...sorry, y’all... I’ve been listening to a lot of podcasts lately. Can’t even watch a simple 1973 cartoon without my own Super Soul Sunday narration. But.. don’t you find it crazy that Marcie calls Peppermint Patty “Sir” and she never corrects her?! I do dig Peppermint Patty’s Birkenstocks though. I also find it interesting that she invites herself over for Thanksgiving dinner... and then invites 2 more friends...then complains about the meal. 1973 was very forgiving to kids who have no supervision and zero manners. The coolest of the cool is Snoopy, who effortlessly prepares a last minute meal with color, originality and flair. He is also completely confident that everyone will be thrilled with his presentation. We have a beautiful table in the backyard, with Chip & Joanna mis-matched chairs, fine china and a lovely white table cloth. I think he and Woodstock had approximately 15 minutes to do everything, including butter the toast. It is a kid’s dream feast and Peppermint Patty complains about not having any gravy & potatoes.

Well of course after Peppermint Patty complains, Charlie Brown feels like a failure again. He feels bad for not only being bulldozed into hosting a 7 year old’s view of Thanksgiving, but he also feels like he failed his mission to create anything that actually works out in life. We know people like this, right? Thanks to Linus, who always has the right thing to say, the evening is not a complete loss. He has depth beyond his years. I think he is 6. Dude man has a blanket, but he has a head and a heart full of great wisdom too.

The day is also saved by the mumbling grandma on the telephone, who invites the whole tribe of misfits to her house for a “real” Thanksgiving dinner. They all pile into the back of the station wagon (no seatbelts) and sing their way to her condo. It’s a brilliant story with only a little bit of violence, only a tiny bit of flirtation and a whole lotta hope.

The underdog wins. It’s a subtle win, but alas, a win. Snoopy and his faithful partner, Woodstock, end up having a fabulous feast of real turkey and some kind of colorful baubles that are placed artfully on the silver platter. Even at 8 years old, I wondered what it must have felt like for Woodstock to eat turkey. Still do. Oh well, I must suspend my curiosity and just let it be what it is.

Why do we watch Charlie Brown every year? Because we believe. We believe in good. We believe in kindness. We believe that ultimately love prevails. We believe that Vince Guaraldi was born to accompany those iconic cartoons & scenes and we believe that despite being served jellybeans, the deliciousness is in the company and not what is on the table.

Happy Thanksgiving. kids. Call me if you would like to invite yourself over. Bring 2 friends.

4 Comments

Light Through the Gate

8/13/2021

6 Comments

For about 17 years I have had the great gift to witness the joys and heartache of the first day of of elementary school. The families in our neighborhood walk through the little suburban park that is next to our home, and enter through the gate to schoolyard. I love this ritual. I love hearing the excited voices of the freshly dressed kids and the parents saying... "Don’t run”.

Don’t run, indeed. Take your time. Enjoy this very moment. Enjoy the light that shines through the gate, though you won’t notice it. It beams through so boldly. It’s almost like the Great Spirit is saying, “Welcome to you your New Adventure!” It might be blinding at times... it might be scary...it might be exhilarating, but nonetheless, here is some glorious light to guide your way. Your Way.

I’m pretty sure that in 1994, when the school and park were built, no one thought about how the sun would perfectly frame this little gate. I really don’t think that the sidewalk was placed so that the 7:18 morning sun would shine on the children and their new beginnings. I find it hard to imagine that someone planned this park to give the kindergarteners a boost of photosynthesis and the energy that the trees provide. But I also could be very wrong.
The kindergarten parents cry. It doesn’t matter if this is child number 3 or 4 starting school, it probably feels like a piece of you is missing, as soon as you return though the gate. Luckily, one has to walk through the loyal oaks to get home. They will give you comfort and shade, unconditionally and freely.

It’s been a tough year. Times are weird and challenging. The children didn’t run through the gate last year. The park was sad because no one was running to their parents after school let out. This year felt exuberant, but still cautious.

This is a blip in time. One tiny snapshot of lineage, lifetimes, choices, open and closed doors. But the simple act of walking though the sunshiny gate gives us hope. The green on the trees promotes life. The laughter and the tears in the neighborhood gives us belief. No matter if you actually feel it or not, life is happening again, despite the junk we all just went though.

In a 100 years, will kids still be running though that gate? Will the neighbor who lives next to the park peak over the fence to tap into something bigger than herself? Will the parents still cry when they return from dropping off their precious gift to the great mystery ahead?

Today, the kids ran through he illumined gate. I guess that’s all that really matters right now.

6 Comments

Karma & Grace

8/4/2021

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I have the sweet opportunity to work at our friends’ winery in the Hill Country of Texas, whenever they need an extra hand. The tasting room is super busy these days. The wine is fabulous, the place is gorgeous and the whole world is in love with Fredericksburg. I drive an hour and a half to get there. It sounds like a long way to go for a 5 hour shift, but it is totally worth it. It’s a wonderful place to work, hang out and just be. The owners are beautiful souls and the employees & guests are equally so.

I like working Tuesdays because it’s generally void of the madness the weekend in a vacation destination town brings.
I had a particularly off-centered morning a few weeks ago. I was dwelling on the junk rather than the light. I was finding that old familiar ache of not being able to wrangle the past and at the same time thinking I had some control over the future. The past is just that. The future, well.. I’d be a gazillionaire if I could predict it. For some reason on this bright sunny morning, I was trying to live in both realms of consciousness rather than being present. I don’t know why we dwell on the past. I really don’t understand that part of our brain that swings back to bummer days, aches and sadness...rather than looking around and seeing the beauty of the present moment. It doesn’t sneak up on me that often, but sometimes it just does.

So while I was driving to the winery, I tried to subdue the blues and listen to a couple of podcasts. I love listening to anything that will lift me up and or expand my horizons. I have been listening a lot to the Super Soul Sunday Podcast by Oprah. Oprah (my friend who lives in Maui), shares insights from her many guests that have wisdom, depth and spirit filled teachings. I l o v e listening to this particular podcast. I have a notebook that I keep in the passenger seat that holds many scribbles (I’m a note-taker) for me to try and decipher when I arrive. It’s kind of a fun game. A couple of my favorites are: “Noehisn hathingns until youdegirnsglsl.sss. Which I think is supposed to read...”Nothing happens until you decide”. Or this peach: resimenhemegnsig eingnsomgmdrhh Rehinsmgm. Which I figured out to be.. “Resemble, reflect and reveal the character of the One who created us.”
My note taking skills while driving leave something to be desired...but I adore the messages and want to remember that feeling of inspiration. Oprah & her teachers helped me once again find a sense of balance and perspective, before I stepped out of my car and into customer service. I took a moment to sit in my car and center myself. I prayed that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I prayed that I might be an instrument of love. I prayed that I remembered all of the wine lingo that I learned the last time I was at Texas Heritage. I prayed that I would be a better listener than talker.

My first guests of the day were a mother and a daughter on a girl’s trip. They were delightful, light hearted and really kind spirits. I asked, as I often do... what their names were. The mother, who was about 65 years old said her name was Karma. My first guest’s name was Karma. Her daughter’s name was Haley or Kaley or Shalaylee... (so much for being a good listener..) but I was so taken by someone named Karma!!
My second guests were seated at the table next to Karma. They were delightful too. I asked the young lady her name. Her name was Grace.

Karma and Grace.

Karma and Grace.

They could have been seated anywhere on that patio...but just the thought of Karma and Grace stopping by...was a nod & a wink (at least to me) on that beautiful early summer day, after a tough drive... through the Hill Country of Texas.

7 Comments

Ranger the Lizard Wrangler

7/17/2021

1 Comment

Our dog Ranger is the best dog in the world. I know.. those are fightin’ words.. but he is. He is part Standard Poodle and part Llewellen Setter. (I know... I never heard of a Llewellen Setter either until Ranger) (crazy that that word has 4 L’s) There really isn’t a particular breed name for him, like Goldendoodle or Labradoodle. When people ask what kind of dog he is I say he is a Spoodle. (spoiled Poodle) He was gifted to us by Sawndra Worrell and Bill Worrell, after Sawndra’s dogs, June and Cash, fell in love and had puppies, on July 4th, 2011.

Side note: If you think that you want a puppy, but your significant other is on the fence, whatever you do, do NOT look up poodle mixes on the internet. You will actually melt into a big blob of gooey mush from the overload of cuteness. I j u s t looked at a St. Berdoodle. No joke.. the snuggliest, largest animal on earth. Like a big character on HR Puf-n-stuff. (retro throwback) (that was a wackadoo show) ( I can’t believe it actually was labeled a kid’s show) (no wonder we are all messed up) (sorry for all of the parenthesis)

ANYway.. back to the most wonderful dog in the world, Ranger. I love this quote.. “Everyone thinks they have the best dog, and none of them are wrong.” -W.R. Purche
Ranger is family. I didn’t know that he would be family when we picked him up, but it was pretty clear that life was going to be a lot different, fluffier & lovelier from here on out. He is now 10 years old, loyal & true and still acts like a puppy. He recently had a major operation, so it slowed him down for a bit. But now, two months later, he is healed and rockin’ again.
One of his favorite things to do is to wrangle lizards. It’s like his special calling (other than taking care of us). He will find the tiniest of space, head and front paws down, nose in the drain or flowerbed or rock pile, hind end in the air, tail wagging profusely... living his best dog life. Even when he was healing, he still would do his best to save us from those evil lizards who were planning world domination. If he saw a lizard, let’s say, last week on our walk around the elementary school, he would drag me to the same exact place to look for it again.

Lizards are super cool. They are hard to see on trees, so they will wait for Ranger to spot them, hang out just long enough to torture him, wait until the right moment and then scurry on up. They know he cannot jump that high and they know that he can’t really see them, but Ranger can most definitely hear them. He looks up in the tree and barks in superhero dog speak... “You fooled me this time Evil Lizard, but next time you will not be so lucky”.

His lizard bark is different from his squirrel bark. His "HEY THERE’S A CAT IN THE BACKYARD” bark is very very loud and kind of squeal-y. His opossum bark is just flat scary. I think he is genuinely afraid of opossums, but truly... wouldn’t you be too with those red eyes looking at you in the pitch dark? It’s like a “What in all things holy ARE you?” kind of bark.

All this good stuff being said about the best dog in the world, he can be a bit of a bossy boss sometimes. Especially if there is a fence involved. He is the boss of all of the fences and everything barking behind it in the neighborhood. He will size up who is behind the fence and if it seems like it’s a dog bigger than him, he will start the fight. If it’s a small dog, he doesn’t bother. Like ‘eh... not worth the barking effort. He’s kind of a fence bully and that’s not cool. It’s also not cool to drag me into the fence as a part of his game. I remind him that I am at the other end of the leash, but he rarely listens when he’s defending his Fencedom.

Ranger’s favorite place in the world is where he was born. New Art, Texas. I love watching him run free at our friend, Bill Worrell’s home. (now the Worrell Family Compound) He covers the yard in seconds flat. He runs across the dirt road to check out the scene. He runs like wild past the gigantic shaman sculptures. It’s a gorgeous sight, watching a dog run free. His ultimate adventure in New Art is going down to the Llano River. The rocks are such that he can jump from them with ease. He loves to stand in the water too and try to catch fish. He looks like a puppy when he is at Worrell’s. I guess when we are aligned with what resonates with us, we feel our happiest. That’s ol’ Ranger. Looking like he did when we picked him up that late September in 2011. Just a little bigger version.
Our dear friend Bill Worrell recently left this earthly plane, but I know he will smile big when he sees Ranger running around his favorite place again. He used to say Raaaaaaanger.. such a good dog.
Such a good dog. indeed. The best dog in the world.

1 Comment

Sometimes

7/9/2021

4 Comments

Sometimes you don’t feel like taking your walk. Sometimes it’s just too hot and you just took the pup for a walk and you are sweaty and just want to take a shower and then drink all the wine and watch Ted Lasso. Sometimes your husband can see that you really need to take a walk to perhaps help you stay on track or adjust an attitude or after all the years he deeply knows that walking always makes you feel better about everything. Sometimes you begrudgingly go...

Sometimes you take a different route, because it’s going to rain and you do not not want to die today from the lighting strikes that might just happen. You almost turn around and go back home, but you go to the school instead and begin to trudge around the grounds. Trudge. What a great word. It sounds like it means. An onomatopoeia, if you will. You continue to trudge until your feet finally get sick of you dragging them and they pick up speed for you. You walk a little lighter with each step. Next thing you know you are kind of liking it. You feel better moving. Then you decided to listen to Oprah, because that’s what you do on long walks. Oprah.. my friend that makes the miles breeze by.

In this particular podcast episode, she is talking about crying uncontrollably & feeling sorry for herself. She said that Maya Angelou was consoling her on the phone and she said to her firmly... “Stop it.. stop it right now and say Thank You”. “You don’t understand”..said Oprah. ‘What am I saying Thank You for?” Maya A said, “You are saying Thank You, because Your Faith is so strong ...you will get through it and even in the eye of the storm, God has put a rainbow in the clouds.”

At that very moment, listening to the wisdom & walking, I looked up from my feet and saw a rainbow over the schoolyard. No lightening, no thunder.. a few dark clouds, light rain and a gorgeous rainbow. Then TWO rainbows. It made me shout out loud.... THANK YOU!!! THANK YOU!!! I threw my hands in up in the air, danced around in the rain a little and laughed-cried. Sometimes you scare the people in the car that pulled over to show their kids the double rainbow too, but you just keep dancing anyway.

Sometimes things align at the Divine and Perfect time.

Walk on.

4 Comments

Fairy Garden Party

7/2/2021

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I had the wonderful opportunity to hang out (babysit) with my dearest friend’s granddaughter last week. I was super excited because I hadn’t seen her in about 2 years. Last time I saw her, she was a wild child that loved to climb, run, race, swing and cling to me like a spider monkey.
Two years later, she is a super kind, well behaved, lovely, elegant 5 almost 6 year old. She takes her slippers off at the front door (instead of flip flops, she was raised to call them slippers). She says thank you, please, yes ma’am and is pure delight. She was pure delight the first time I met her too...but she is a more mellow delight now.
Well.. seeing that I live in a house of boys, I was super excited to have a fun girly day ahead! I woke up early and went to Walmart to stock up on all things Fairy Garden. Pink things, sparkly things, sweet things. Glittery things, fluffy things, shiny things. Cakey things, donut-y things and a couple of rainbow tutus. I had so much fun and was kind of distracted... because when I finally checked out, I had about 150 bucks worth of Fairy Garden Party stuff in my basket. OH and a sprinkler. It wasn’t pink, but it would do for now.
I got home, unpacked all of the pink and began to set up. I got out a nice table cloth, fancy glasses, beautiful plates, fancy napkins and fresh flowers. I dug up fluffy things to sit on and fabric-y things to hang above the Fairyland I have in our front yard. Yes.. I even had cloud cutouts for our sandwiches. (you know.. to make your turkey sammies look like a fluffy cumulus summer cloud) I. Was. Ready.
My little friend arrived at 10am. We sat and talked and ate cute mini donuts rolled in rainbow sprinkles with pickle forks (because they are tiny and that’s what a fairy would use to eat donuts). We drank milk in fancy tiny fruit glasses that were passed down from Walt’s mom. I had to fill them up about 5 times each, but so what, they were elegant.
We ate blueberries with our pickle fork too. That was a challenge, but super funny. We ate strawberries dipped in sugar. It was kind of a high sugar day, but hey.. you know.. fairies.
We went outside to play Fairy Garden. It was a lovely morning. T h e n.. I had the idea to invite my next door neighbor girls to the party. They are sweet, fun and lovely too. The girls joined us for the party. It was like Pinterest meets Martha Stewart meets my friend JoAnne Box (who throws fabulous girl parties with wine. For big girls, of course) This was photo gold... for about 3 minutes. Then the sugar, the adrenaline & the excitement of new friends kicked in.
Fairies started flying all over the yard. The 9 year old was climbing the tree..the younger neighbor started chasing my little friend. They started screaming like, well, little girls. They ran into the house. My dog (who is older) started chasing them. He thinks he is a puppy, so the louder they screamed, the more fun he thought he was having. He was barking, the younger girls were screaming, the older girl was still in the tree. I had a flashback to the 2nd grade class I subbed one year when all hell broke loose and a little girl asked why I was smiling. Apparently I smile when I am stressed. Resting smile face, I think they call it. I told her, in my favorite Elf-like-movie-way, that “I like smiling, smiling’s my favorite.” She said... “Well you look kind of creepy”. Flash forward to the cute food that was on the table flying all over the place and kids running with food in their mouth. One kid is coughing.. like the food went down the wrong pipe, like I said it would...like all of our parents said it would. And it did. Cough Cough spit. The dog is still chasing the other child. The older child is now in the house. Thank the Lord.. because she wrangles her sister and I wrangle my friend.
We live next to a park. Yes. The park will save me. The park THEN the school playground. Perfect idea. Except that it’s 103 outside. We need snacks, my littlest neighbor says. So we pack the cute snacks (out of the cute bowls into the baggies) and water. Not soda, for the love of all things sugar. And toys. We need to bring many, many toys to the park, because that’s what we do when we are little girls. A boy is happy with a ball and a stick. Girls need a lot of accessories.
We all and I mean all, run to the park. We are there for approximately 1 minute. Then we run to the playground. We all arrive at the playground safely. I am, of course, the pack mule. I have sticky snacks, half waters, toys and toys. The second we get there, someone loses a toy. Not like a big toy, but the tiniest barbie doll tiny. Not like Skipper (remember Skipper?) But like the mini Barbie series that came out in the 70’s. So, we lost one and had to venture back so we could find him. All I could remember is that the mini doll has on yellow shorts. We looked and looked and moped and moped. We never found him. My guess is that I will come across him on one of my walks, take a photo and post it. (I post items that I see on my walk on my Instagram) Then I will find out that the mini boy doll actually jumped out of the bag, as to have a fun adventure with the fairies we left behind, but that is another blog post and perhaps my wackadoo brain.
We get back to the playground at 107 degrees now. We start to have fun and then someone has to pee. We pack up every last thing we just dumped out and head on back to my house. Quickly, but not running. Running would have brought on a different challenge.
We get to the house and everyone decides that after one uses the restroom, we need to have lunch. Our cute lunch that I planned for my little friend with the pretty dishes and the elegant glassware and the tiniest of pickle forks... is slowly fading. My Martha Stewart badge is now out of reach. I couldn’t even take a photo for JoAnne. She would have shuttered at the way I quickly threw a box pizza in the oven, cut up some already cut up watermelon and hid the donuts. It was madness. Now, I have to tell you... all 3 of ladies are awesome. Kind, loving, mostly mindful and sweet to each other. It’s just that when you have 3 kids together...who have been sequestered away from other kids for a year, it is beautiful and messy. And loud as shit. Loud. As. Shit.
We were quiet while we ate. For a minute. Then, of course, we need to watch a show. This was suggested and thus voted on by all 3 girls. They like Johnny Danger or Micky Danger or Ranger Danger...hell, whatever it was. I kind of loved it...because for a spilt second, it brought me back. I remember that we, who have the smallest house in the neighborhood, would often have the biggest pack of kids over when Luke was a kid. They would play wiffleball, frisbee, slip n slide, running games and an occasion or two, when I could figure out the Wii... Mario Brothers. When I couldn’t figure out the electronics, we would find a Disney show. All Disney shows were he same. Smart aleck-y, cute, kids with not a lot of supervision, getting into all kinds of hijinks. There was always one odd-ball kid, mostly clueless parents, and kids with extremely good vocabularies living in huge homes. The episodes would have slapstick fun, a kid-like troubling problem, a problem solved, canned laughter and lots of colorful everything. And commercials. A shit ton of commercials. Mostly about food and food.
Fast forward 10 years, it’s the same thing.. in my house... right now. My heart was happy. Then I found in my delighted, dream state (insert the Disney flashback fluffy cumulus cloud above my head) that no one was sitting in the living room. They had all gone outside to attach the new sprinkler.
The next several hours were filled with gd running, I mean running. It was also filled with water, playing in the neighbor’s backyard, chasing chickens & dogs. Finally, my friend and I needed to call it a day with the neighbor girls.
These girls were all so kind to each other. They had never met before, found common ground, had no judgements and created a lot of fun in one hot summer day in the suburbs of Texas. Lessons noted. My prayer that evening was to thank God for a great day, my little friend, the neighbor girls, my disheveled dream of a Fairy Garden Day... and for all of the mothers, fathers & caregivers of more than one child. You all deserve a donut. Not just a mini donut with sprinkles, but an adult sized donut dipped in whiskey. With a side of whiskey.

3 Comments

Outdoor Couch

6/25/2021

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I have been wanting one of those cool rattan outdoor couches with big fluffy pillows for years now. I have looked longingly at the gorgeous sets at Home Depot, Lowes, World Market and at At Home. I sit in them, sometimes stretch out and lay on them, pretend I am having a conversation with Oprah on them and then ultimately talk myself out of buying them. You see, we have a lot of seating in our backyard. Treasures passed down from our parents & friends, mostly. I even have an old iron combo set from my brief first marriage. (it’s nice that some things last) But I have always wanted the comfort of one of those sweet sofas.

I was casually researching things on the internet and somehow, it read my mind and started interjecting outdoor furniture in my brain space. It’s like when you talk about something in the kitchen and Alexa and your iPhone hears it... and then suddenly ads start popping up everywhere you look. White rattan, tan rattan, chocolate rattan. White pillows, orange pillows, blue pillows. Remember when we would sit in front of the TV on Saturday mornings and watch Bugs Bunny being lured with a carrot? Eyes with hearts in them, half closed and floating toward the trap? Yeah. Me. Couches. Fluffy.

Here’s my reasoning. Thought I would start with that, because you already knew I bought something. Coffee. Coffee made me do it. Every morning (truly, I cannot wait to wake up and have coffee. Some people cannot wait to go to sleep at night, I cannot wait to wake up to French Roast.) During the shutdown, we started our morning with a nice cup and sitting outside. Not too exotic. Not too unusual. People do this all of the time. Well, our dog Ranger thinks it’s a national holiday every time we start the coffee, because that means we are going to SIT down outside, usually together, while he wrangles the lizards that have taken over the world. He LOVES it when we have coffee.

Since the big Texas freeze, our backyard has been in a bit of disarray. It was a tiny fairy garden of love and paradise during the days of Covid, but now needs some attention. Walt is a beautiful gardener, so he is slowly digging, replacing and creating an artistic palate of gold lantana, autumn sage and agave. I painted the concrete patio last year to kind of look like a street in Portugal. I bought a huge stencil, painted the base layer, stenciled for 600 hours (ok, maybe 6 hours) and it actually looked pretty sweet. Now it’s peeling and slowly
making me want to cover it with a dull gray and sadness. BUT.. I bought a couch, so that means we will have coffee outside and that means I will be looking at the sad porch and that means I will need to power wash, sand and start fresh again. Ranger will be happy because we will be outside and I will be happy because I will feel like I am again in Portugal with my loyal pup and the darkest of roasts, for the mornings.

So Wayfair. Wayfair is the devil. Well, not the actual devil, but it has it’s hooks in us. You look up one tiny couch on Wayfair and then all of a sudden your computer is flooded with patio sets, arbors, fountains, jacuzzis, flower planters, back yards in Tuscany and things you absolutely Need. And Want. And Need. So I scroll. I scroll until I find the sofa that will tie it all together, so we can have French Roast coffee... make our dog happy... make each other happy...live life to the fullest and create peace in the world. I found it. It’s beautiful and it will change the course of our backyard parties, thus, the World. But, it cannot be delivered until late July. And there is a hefty delivery charge. Then I happen to remember that Amazon Prime is my friend and so I blow Wayfair and all it’s glory a kiss and drop on into couch-land on Amazon.

Amazon is a different animal. You want a couch.. here are 4. All the same couch, different suppliers, different prices, but we can get it to you a minute ago. Found it. Bought it. Shipping tomorrow, The world is about to be happy.

Our couch is delivered quickly. It is also in a big box. I might have not read the fine print on Amazon that said, Assembly Required. I open the box and it has everything placed in it perfectly. The couch pieces, the cushions and the millions of screws, bolts and washers. And a tiny screwdriver thing. I am not a fan of putting together IKEA furniture, but I would take it over what was presented to me at this very moment. But the best most worst part was looking at my husband’s face when he saw the box. I now understand why the fabulous couch was on sale. For 200 bucks more, we could have had a fully assembled couch, that fit perfectly in our truck, that 2 of us could lift with ease... but back to the husband’s face... I think he took a look and thought, "There goes my
Saturday” (leaving out the expletives) But he was wrong. It was “There goes my Saturday, Sunday and Monday”. He’s a trooper. I’m a good trooper’s assistant and it was time to either begin or send the huge box back.

We dumped out the 1000 pieces out on the peeling patio and took a look at the instructions.
(note.. below is just one snippet of the instructions... I found the one part on the paper that didn’t have sweat and tears of angels all over it)

See y’all, Piece of cake! A very detailed, time consuming cake. Like a tiramisu, but not as deliciously gratifying.

So we got started. We both worked together, we worked separately. We laughed, we yelled, we fought. Ok, we didn’t yell or fight, but I thought it would be an exciting addition to the murder mystery movie that will come out of me buying a couch in a box on my husband’s one and only half day off. After a day or three, we finished, turned the couch over to its rightful side, added the cushions and stepped back to look at the masterpiece.

I said..”Well... it doesn’t really go with the other outdoor furn... I mean... I LOVE it....(as to not be sleeping on it for the next week)

Cheers! Here's to many morning coffees on the couch. Until the next sale.

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Random thoughts to keep the wheels greased...

1/4/2021

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1/1/21
Ode to a Black Eyed Pea

The child refuses to eat black eyed peas. He's not really a child anymore, but he's still & always will be "our" child. The year needs some luck and without him just trying ONE black eyed pea, it may all go to hell... again. I can't remember if he had one last year on 1-1-20, but there's a pretty good chance that he did not. Not that we're blaming all of 2020 on him, but who knows?

We've tried to disguise them in the Texas Cowboy Caviar or beautifully prepared with vegetables and sausage or hiding it under the ham or even a teaspoon fresh from the can. We tried wrapping it in bologna, like you would if you were feeding your puppy a pill. It takes everything he's got just to swallow one.dang.pea. It's just one. One for the world. Just one pea. Give Peas a Chance, child.

After ribbing and cajoling, he ate one. This year might be a little better than last year. Thanks to the child.

1/4/2020. -Wimberley, Texas
Sister Golden Pants

A near perfect day in the Hill Country.
73 Degrees
Sitting distanced from everyone on the porch at a local restaurant, I notice two lovers on the lower patio. We are merely the landscape, like tiny trees and clouds in a Bob Ross painting to them.

He brought his ukulele and plays love songs. She wears her marigold colored pants with the tiny top that shows just a hint to midriff, just because.. well.. 20.
She sits with her legs propped up on the bench. He wears his sunglasses and sings of her beauty.
The ukulele even has a fancy case. It's life affirming to witness, amidst the distancing and the masks.

I can hear a note or two, but mostly I hear the traffic from the street and the song "If you like Pina Coladas" through the speaker right above my head. This was almost a perfect scene until the Pina Colada played. Now I will be singing "If you like making love at midnight, on the dunes of the cape..." for the rest of the day. The lovers will be kissing and holding hands and not singing the Pina Colada song. They will singing the tune that the brave lover was singing to the tiny top and golden pant sprite. Maybe they will be singing How Deep is Your Love or You are So Beautiful or Brown Eyed Girl, by the creek, on this almost perfect day in the Hill Country.

Now Dream Weaver is playing, boxing Pina Colada right out of my brain, saving my day from a pink & baby blue, feathered hair flashback. Things are looking good again.

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