Reader discretion advised

This entry contains some material that may be inappropriate for younger readers. PG-13


Friday was just excellent. It was the sort of day that should really be "put on your permanent record" instead of the things we always worried were recorded there. Spent the morning at Janie's farm watching the goats, her persimmon-eating pig, and cats wrestling on top of the pool table. After sipping tea with gluten-free brownies, we put on boots to go out in the mud to pick gourds. My big feet had to wear her husband's boots, but they were lost inside them. I walked just like the preschoolers who come to class in big brother's footgear. Janie sat down on the seat of the miniature tractor without noticing the puddle, so the two of us looked like characters from Mayberry.

Major mud and laugh therapy was good for both of us. It's great to know the spirit stays the same when the hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes are lost to chemo. We didn't talk about her ordeal. I admired the way Janie's getting more "crusty". She stands up for herself and seems stronger in some ways than I have ever seen her.

We loaded the Buick trunk with birdhouse gourds to finish drying in my shed. Eventually my students can paint them (and we can play Shaman-For-A-Day) if I can bear to share the fun. As I was unloading the gourds my Wagnerholic lesbian masseuse neighbor walked over to ask what they were. I explained in detail. She responded, "Well, they would make good mammary implants." Yikes!

Since I was so muddy, I put on my swimsuit before I rushed to the aquatic center. Did my short, faster swim instead of my relaxed lengthy swim. After my shower, I discovered I had clean clothes in my bag, but I'd forgotten unmentionables. Terrified two petite Chinese-speaking ladies when I tried to squirm my damp, middle-aged Rubenesque bod into jeans without...They ran screaming from the locker room like extras from the original "Godzilla". Perhaps some blog surfer will find this entry by searching "warm", "moist", "tight", and "bouncing". I am sorry to report that "slippery" was not an applicable adjective.

This is Border's Book Store's "Educator Appreciation Weekend"so I went for the 25% discounts. Good coffee, total zone-out browsing, a chair massage, and a discount on Curious George and Paul Fleischman's Weslandia. What more could a gal want??? Well, she wanted this, too, so she treated herself:


Maria Muldaur's Richland Woman Blues cd is a collection of historic blues songs from the 1920's-1930's. The songs were created by Memphis Minnie, Bessie Smith, Mississippi John Hurt, and Leadbelly, among others. Bonnie Raitt, John Sebastion, Dave Mathews, and other musicians join Maria.

Here's a link to Mississippi John Hurt's lyrics:
http://www.harptab.com/lyrics/ly4539.shtml

Galoshes

Jeff has safely arrived at the midwestern university where he will attend grad school and be a residence hall manager. He is there with all the worldly goods he could stuff into his little used car and still see out the windows. And, he is there with his galoshes! As the Boy Scouts say, "Be prepared, and get those puppies out of your mom's coat closet."

We have lived in Texas for fourteen years now. It's not my idea of an hospitable clime. This time of year when I walk out the door, the muggy heat slams me backward against the nearest wall, czungkak! My chest hurts, and I feel exhausted by my exertion. And that's just going out front to pick up the newspaper at 6:15 a.m.

I started my "new job" the day we all woke up and realized the world did not end on Y2K. One of the first weeks on the job I had to use my break between classes to go to the nearest mall in search of galoshes. Jeff was going to a high school debate tournament at Harvard. He was required to take two suits, a winter coat appropriate for wear over the suits, AND galoshes. I had already searched everywhere in my suburb for galoshes, and I was having to expand my search. My new co-workers offered advice and directions to the mall, and I raced over there. I hit every possible store setting a world speed record pace, and still couldn't find any galoshes.

What I remember is that I was learning this new job, and meeting all these new people, and feeling overwhelmed with their creative brain-storming effort to help me find the darn galoshes. What I forget is that they were learning about this new super-stressed single mom/art teacher and her three sons. As Dr. Seuss writes in What Was I Scared Of? about the empty pale green pants, "...I began to see that I was just as strange to them as they were strange to me!"

So this week these dear friends have laughed with me as I sent Jeff off into adulthood with those darn galoshes. I'm not sure he ever even wore them at Harvard in 2000. I know they've been in the bottom of the coat closet ever since. After we located his coat and the zip-in lining I told Jeff to wait! He needed to take the galoshes, too. I unearthed them, and Jeff said, "So these go on over my shoes, right?" Right, and they are not my responsibility any more! One son crossing over into adulthood as equipped for the real world as I could make him. One mom letting go of the small stuff.

And, just in case you are wondering, I finally found those galoshes at the Army/Navy store. They cost $19.86.