Monthly Archives: February 2014

Tidbits and Tattles


Tidbits and tattles:

First of all, I have never been so happy to see February come to an end.  This month has kicked my butt.  Work has been a madhouse, there was the lovely holiday called Valentine’s Day, and sadly, my grandmother passed.  It has been so busy and just too hectic for my naturally calm soul.  I yearn for quiet and color and written words.  Every winter I think this will be the winter I write and write and write.  Somehow, it never happens.  It’s almost like I need the colors of the world for inspiration.  Or maybe I’m just too bogged down and tired to focus.  That definitely could be it.

Or maybe it’s all just an excuse.  Deep in my soul, I want to write (or read) all the time but something always gets in the way.  They are real things…like work and taking care of a house…but regardless, they become excuses.  This past Saturday I spent several hours ‘editing’ an old book of mine (I say editing but I have no real idea how to edit).  It was wonderful.  It was wonderful to put my excuses aside and spend a few hours doing something I love.

I did manage to read a wonderful book this past month.  The Husband’s Secret, written by Liane Moriarty, was a good read.  Cleverly mapped out, it had suspense, love and intrigue.  It also had secrets…lots of secrets.  The first few chapters were tedious as we’re introduced to lots and lots of characters but when the characters start to mesh, it plays out perfectly.  I especially loved the ending…all the ‘what ifs’ and ‘could haves’ were thought provoking.

To the tattles:  like I said, school has been nuts.  N-U-T-T-Y and I feel dang nutty these days.  In the midst of school programs and Parent-Teacher Conferences, I got a new student from Egypt.  He is precious but knows very little English.  And bless him – he somehow found himself in Tennessee with a teacher that has a southern drawl.  He may never learn English.  So far, he hasn’t spoken much.  There are only two phrases I’ve heard him say – please toilet and please drink.   Isn’t that sweet?  He knows what is important.

What is truly precious is watching the other students take care of him.  They figured out quickly that he didn’t speak English, and my little mother hens (the girls) have taken him under their wings.  They want to help him with everything – almost to the point where I’ve had to tell them to back away and let him breath.  The boys, on the other hand, just play with him…blocks, computers, puzzles…and he joins right in.  They communicate with sounds and smiles.

Here’s a funny…I was teaching a lesson on synonyms this week.  I asked the class, “What is the synonym for adore?”  I got many confused looks, several frowns, and finally one little boy spat, “Does it mean I want to date her?”  Close, so close!

I wonder what my new student thinks about being adored?  If there’s anything my class can do, it’s adore someone!  He may be adored to death.

My Grandmother


Let me tell you about my grandmother.  Picture a petite, five foot tall woman with tiny, size five feet.  Imagine short gray hair and sky blue eyes.  Can you see her walking fast, shuffling along much faster than a short woman should?  I can.  And her mind…it was sharp, so very smart.  That is the woman I lost in the wee hours of the morning.  This feisty, witty, loving woman.  She was my grandmother, and now there’s this hole in my heart.  I had my grandmother for 44 years…for that I’m grateful.

This past summer I posted about geraniums, my favorite flower.  I wrote a paragraph about grandmother and thought I’d post it again.  Thank you, grandmother, for passing along your love of flowers and for loving us they way you did.

Geraniums were a staple of my youth…well, at least a staple of my youth at my grandmother’s house.  Every spring, her concrete pots would suddenly sprout a set of matching red geraniums.  They became a symbol of my grandmother…along with her fruit-filled jello salad, scrumptious vegetables she grew in her own enormous garden, and her sparkling blue eyes.  Grandmother was smart, sometimes sharp-tongued, but always nothing more, nothing less than my loving grandmother.  She passed her love of geraniums on to me, and never has there been a summer season without their blossoms gracing my yard.



…Maybe it’s the geranium’s heartiness – a quality we all strive for, or maybe it’s their unique fragrance – different from so many others, which echoes my very being.  Whatever the reason, I adore them.   I will smile each time I see them, thinking of my grandmother, thinking of what she taught us, what she shared.  And I will smile as I remember.

The Beatles


Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It’s based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job, so I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer –

The Beatles

When I was a little girl in the early part of the 70’s, I was a huge fan of The Monkees, along with Donny and Marie and Scooby Doo.  I listened to The Monkees on my orange and white 45 record player.  From an early age, I remember having records and albums in my room.  I spent hours listening to music while sporting posters of Donny and Marie over my bed.

Momma and Daddy always encouraged me to listen to The Beatles but I would have none of it.  I mean, The Monkees had their own T.V. show…and it was funny…and The Monkees had Davy Jones…and he made a guest appearance on The Brady Bunch.  The Monkees won my attention hands down.

I grew up, my taste in music changed, and as an adult I still never really paid much attention to The Beatles.  I appreciated them immensely, don’t get me wrong, but I still didn’t quite love them.

This past weekend, as I sat in an over-the-counter-cold-medicine-fog, I fell in love with The Beatles for the first time.   Watching their 50 years in America special, hearing other artists belt out their songs, I was taken aback by words.  Words I’ve not paid attention to before.  And their words snagged my soul.

I found myself lost in George Harrison’s While My Guitar Gently Weeps.  Absolutely beautiful and a tad haunting.

I was also amazed at Ringo’s vitality and his yearning to still be noticed (he would pat his chest and tell the world…that was me, I did that).  And Sir Paul is still Sir Paul.  How a group of very young, very talented men came together, changed the face of music, and managed to disband by the time they were thirty is amazing.

I’m intrigued, and I may watch the re-play of the T.V. special again tonight!

Who was your favorite Beatle and why?  What is your favorite Beatle song?  (Mine is George, and it’s a toss up between In My Life and Paper Back Writer!)