Too Many Chickens

I am trying to move up in the world of technology. I have just activated my voice recognition program for my computer. I’m not sure yet how I feel about this, but if it can listen as fast as I can talk , this could be great. I am having visions (or delusions) of blogs flowing onto the pages…my words magically appearing as I speak…witty prose composed effortlessly… So far, I have had to correct almost everything that I have said! I’m thinking that my computer just doesn’t speak Kentuckian. I am trying so hard to speak clearly and concisely as some old Solaris lamb and I’ll answer all of it last used out if not the case I really are out there she we’re called a valued as saying the debate…you can seat it is not working well for me!!! I will not surrender…I’m just not sure where to find the correct articulation for battle.

I know most of my friends and family have a different opinion of sunrise than I do. It’s my favorite time of the day. I was not always a morning person…I used to believe that no one should be awake before 10 am nor required to move untill noon. But now I look forward to sitting outside with my coffee…watching the color of the light change from white to golden as the rays of the sun break the horizen…listening to the earth as it awakens. The early morning sounds may vary depending on my location, but they remain distinctly familiar… the chirp of a bird…squirrels chattering…the trees or plants rustling…the insects heading out to do whatever it is they do. I usually get to enjoy this alone because my family seems opposed to getting up at what they (not so affectionately) refer to as “the butt-crack of dawn”. It’s hard being a morning person in this family. The only person willing to get up with me is my 4 yr old grandson (and I reeeeally want that first cup before his feet hit the floor running). When my grandson and almost 2 yr old granddaughter spend the night with me, we all sleep in the same big bed. I am reluctant to even try to get up because I know I will wake at least one of them, so I just lie there and wake up slowly. Last time he stayed he woke up before me and whispered, “Mamaw, is it time to get up?”. I told him it was too early…the world was still sleeping. He was quiet for a few seconds and then said. “Well it needs to wake up cause I think I am already”. He likes to help me make the coffee and then wants me to fix his cup with his own creamer. I keep chocolate coffeemate put up for him and he has a little coffee in his creamer and warm water. I know he doesn’t need the chocolate or the caffine, but it is just a little and it’s special to him, so he gets it anyway. I try not to call anyone in my family too early, but I have a hard time knowing when it is late enough. At least once a week I call my sister and wake her up…she mumbles that she isn’t in bed…she’s just napping…for a few more minutes…till the alarm goes off again. I remind her that it is almost 9 am…how can she sleep? She says she wasn’t having any problems sleeping untill the phone started ringing and goes back to sleep. I’m not sure when my internal clock changed and I became unable to sleep in. It doesn’t seem to matter how late I stay up…I can go to sleep at 4 am and I will still wake up in a couple of hours. My body doesn’t switch to daylight savings time in the spring or change back in the fall…I just wake up with the sun. I have also noticed that there are a lot less chickens in my head in the morning…I can have intelligent conversations with myself with very little interuption. This is also the time I have meaningful conversations with GOD…thanking him for understanding our faults and loving us anyway (I know that my guardian angel works overtime). I guess I feel closer to GOD in the early morning…a new day is a new beginning…all fresh, shiney, and glistening with dew. It is my chance to do it right this time…and it happens over and over again…how fantastic is that!

I was watching a commercial on one of those chick oriented mostly movie channels the other night. It was for a movie about this young girl and a horse, and it looked like it might be good for filling some thought-free time. Well, turns out it is about a doll! I know there are a lot of movies out there about story book…cartoon…or comic book characters, but at least the majority of them (other than the super heroes) are animated. I started wondering about this doll and how she rated a movie of her own when I had no idea who she was. I was amazed to find out that she was only one in a collection of these feminine film stars. Most of you probably already know about them, but I was amazed and disturbed at the same time. They sell for an outragous amount of money, and have all sorts of clothing and furniture for each one. This furniture costs as much or more than my own eclectic shabby chic garage sale furnishings, and her clothes are far more expensive than my large discount department store designer apparel. I do not intend to offend any one with my opinion, but the disturbing part for me was the fact that they all come with their own story…a past history…relatives…everything!!! Now I could be wrong (it has happened a few times..lol) but to me, they seem to be created for spoiled little rich girls who are to lazy to use their own imagination. Why would they want someone to script ever aspect of their play time? More importantly why would they need it? I guess I am a little more of an independent thinker than some (I have been called strong willed…stubborn…and even ocasionally rebellious), but if I were playiing with one of these demure divas I know I couldn’t stay with the story line even if I tried…which I am pretty sure I wouldn’t. I hate to seem cliche’ but here goes…… I remember back when my siblings and I were young, we didn’t sit around bored waiting for something for entertain us, we went outside and entertained ourselves. I was still young when the Beatles hit the scene and the thing about them that stuck in my head was the place they were from. I used to spend hours of the day pulling my sister around in our little red wagon from our house to Liverland…you know…the place where those loud singin guys are from. We made soo many trips back and forth that if we had been getting frequent puller miles we could still be enjoying free travel abroad. I always had mud pies which I prepared before hand. I would put them on rocks along our path…baking in the sun…so they would be ready for her lunch. We grew concord grapes so I would add those to her snack pies and I mixed earthworms in the ones for her main meal. (Hey, protien and fruit are important parts of your diet even when you’re world travelers) And yes, I did really feed them to her even if she still swears she never ate them but in my defense I was only five years old. Anyway, we didn’t need to spend a thousand dollars for a doll…clothes…furniture and a prepared story line to follow. We had a fantastic time creating our own storys…at least I did..she may have suffered occasionally from unexplained stomach aches.

Yesterday was a day for reminiscing. My middle child turned 30 yrs old. I have so many memories of him growing up. Of my three kids he was the one who always kept me on my toes. I’ve heard a lot of psycho babble about the trials of the middle child, but I feel quite confident that he would have been the same regardless of the birth order. He has given me soo much joy and has also caused me more than his share of pain. During his childhood years he was the one that everybody liked…everyone was drawn to him. It was so hard to stay mad at him when he screwed up because of his disarming charm. I still remember the time he stole some gum from the grocery store. He was three yrs old and had these big innocent blue eyes. When I made him return the gum and appologize to the manager for taking it…the manager wanted to just let him have it because he was so cute and sweet. He took advantage of this many many times over the years. But, sometimes it didn’t work for him…like the time he wanted some of those horrible disgusting garbage pail kid cards and didn’t have any money left. He got into my purse and took what he thought was a five dollar bill….it turned out to be a fifty. He went to the convenience store around the corner and bought a few packs of the cards. When they gave him the change back he realized how much money he had and started worring about the fact that I was definately going to miss that much money. When his big brother found out that he had taken my money, he gave him a twenty to keep quiet. Later that day I noticed the money missing and my oldest son…who would never pass up an opportunity to bust out his brother…quickly brought me the hush money and the cards. I couldn’t return them because they had already opened them and chewed the gum. Those stupid disgusting cards are collectables now. I have no idea how much they would be worth if he still had them. It almost seems a shame that he and I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting outside with a big metal pan…a spatula…and some charcoal lighter fluid…watching his ill-gotten gains burn to ashes. I don’t mean to insinuate that he was always in trouble…he was good more often than he was bad, and has such a huge caring heart. In his teenage years, while most of his friends were enjoying school breaks, he would spend his time caring for his great grandmother. She was in a wheelchair, and at that point was living a few states away, but she always came back home for a visit in the spring. It usually worked out that he was out of school then, but even if he wasn’t, he would take the week off to go stay and care for all her needs. They had a special bond and he now has a daughter who is named for her great great grandmother. Through all the laughter and the tears he has been my protector…my challenge…my confidant…my wonderful baby boy.

Maybe I should start by explaining the significance of the “chickens”.  One day I was flipping through one of those catalogs you get in the mail that you should immediately pitch in the trash but you don’t cause there might be something in it that you just have to have and will never find again anywhere else and could spend the rest of your life not knowing that you could have had if you had only taken the time to look at the junk mail.  Well anyways, I couldn’t take that chance!  While oohing and awwwing over all the marvelous items I was sure I needed,  I ran across this T-shirt.  It said, “People tell me I have ADD but they just don’t understand  OH LOOK…there goes a chicken!”  I laughed sooo hard I had to run to the bathroom cause I was gonna pee on myself (a lovely side effect of hysterectomies, but wait, that’s a different story).

You would have to sit back and observe my family dynamics in action to truly appreciate the multitude of feathers flying in any given conversation. We don’t just have a chicken or two; we have flocks …whole herds of the noisy cluckers.  We can start off having a perfectly normal conversation and end up with a dozen side stories which are clearly not related to the subject matter. (You have nooo idea the amount of stress I am under right now from trying to stick to the subject matter!!!)  If more than two of us are involved in an important conversation, it frequently becomes necessary for someone to invoke the chicken wire rule. This means that only one of us can speak at a time, and must complete our thought outloud before the next person starts. (most of the time the chickens knock down the wire and get out anyway and we spend the rest of the time chasing them…lol).

For example, I just got off the phone with my sister. My grandson had a pool party a few days ago for his 4th birthday…there was snow and freezing rain outside while everyone played in the heated pool inside. We started with – Are you still in bed? I figured you were getting ready for church? And ended with – Ever since Sam Walton died she’s had to take sooo many things back to the store. The banter in-between included sick kids… money… our recent trip to Las Vegas… guns… internet passwords… firewood… the party (which was the reason I called)… and the whole conversation only lasted 6 minutes and 42 seconds!