Those 70ish Girls

via Murdo Girl…Grandma goes to town.

poured the remword Mom used.
Today, I was rushing to get the laundry put away before I left to run an errand, and I remembered why, shortly after we got the RV and had taken a few trips, I started to put Kip’s washed and folded laundry on top of the stand with the drawers he uses. It was because every time I shut the bottom drawer, I broke it. The first few times, after fixing it, he said, “Since you don’t seem to be able to open and shut this drawer without breaking it, why don’t you just let me put away the things I keep in there?”
So, that is what I did…unless I was preoccupied and forgot, which is what happened today. As I sit here writing this, I know Kip has yet to discover the broken drawer. I can almost feel some of you out there cringing at the thought of having a rackier like me around. Rackiness is something you’re born with and it cannot be easily corrected. It’s part of the afflicted’s DNA.
Mom used to say, “Mary, why do you have to rackey all of your things? Everything you own…your shoes, clothes, toys, books, even the curls I put in your hair, all get rackied right a way. Other kids keep their things nice for at least a little while.”
I’m allergic to rackey… Achoo!!
Mom was right. I undid all of my doll’s perfectly coiffed hair and either cut it or braided it. I altered their clothes and poked a hole in the baby doll’s mouth so I could stick the tip of the doll bottle into it’s mouth so it looked more realistic. I tore apart and changed, everything. I don’t mean maliciously or in a sinister way, I just didn’t take care of things like I should have. Like I said, it was in my DNA. Mom had some rackey DNA, too. I believe she was the only offspring in her family who had a different perspective on “things.” Things were not her thing. In all of her childhood pictures she is wearing coveralls and a hat pulled down over her eyes. In her adult years, she always dressed and looked nice, but she really didn’t care about having anything expensive. She was a one of a kind grown-up, just as she was a one of a kind kid. Her three sisters and her mother, were all ladies. They barely spoke above a whisper. Mom could be loud…but in a good way.
A rare photo of Mom without her tennis shoes on. She bought the cheap ones and colored in the Nike logo, Sisters Ella and Helen are to her left,
Mom let me wear whatever I wanted to. My play clothes and Sunday best were one and the same. I sometimes wore a beautiful taffeta dress to play with my cousins under Grandpa’s trees. I’ve seen the pictures. My cousins all had on their play clothes. My dress soon became rackey red, but I loved it!

Mom would run around the house all day cleaning, and at the end of the day, the house looked exactly the same as it did when she started. She said she wasn’t made to work hard. I think I’ve made the comment before that she hardly ever told me to dust or vacuum… except for the motel rooms I cleaned. I did a pretty good job on those, but you should have seen the cleaning basket I used. What a mess. All the other girls had their cleaning solutions and rags all neatly organized in their baskets. Their dirty rags were always deposited into Mom’s car trunk as soon as they finished cleaning. I, on the other hand, fished mine out the next morning. It was easier to tell which ones were dirty and which were still clean. The dirty rags smelled bad.
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Mom opened up the trunk of her car first thing in the morning and the plastic laundry baskets would be waiting inside for us to fill with all the dirty towels from all the dirty rooms. Mom would haul everything uptown to the laundromat and spend the morning washing and drying all the towels. During the wait time, she had coffee with whomever was at Mack’s Cafe. Mom didn’t fold the towels. That made her crazy. She brought them back for us to neatly fold. Mom, herself, was a bit of a rackier, but she didn’t tolerate rackiness in others.

I like being clean and neat, and sometimes I can go for long periods of time being neat and clean. It’s when I get too many things going on at once or have too many distractions that I lose all control of anything resembling orderly and organized.

I saw a quote at the end of my friend, Judy’s blog that read, “Organized people are just lazy. They don’t like to take the time to look for anything.” I get it!

The subject of tonight’s blog is the tiny home.

Writing about it is probably going to take the spring out of my step, the joy out of my heart, and wipe the smile off of my face. When I have finished outlining, as promised, the good, the bad, and the ugly, I will surely eat several of the chocolate, chocolate chip, muffins I made today so I could practice using the convection oven before making the move to the tiny home. The TH has a stove top range, and a microwave/convection oven, but no regular oven. Wouldn’t you know it? My practice yielded eighteen beautiful and delectably moist, muffins. I haven’t eaten all eighteen yet, but that is how I test the success of my practices.

I made these fake desserts the other day.

Here is a list of things that have to be completed before we move from the RV to the TH.

1. The pier and beam foundation has to be corrected. The concrete bars were poured for an eighteen foot wide TH. Ours is seventeen feet wide. The construction manager came to the site last Friday and explained to Kip and me how it will be corrected. He said this as we waded through deep puddles of water from the downpour the night before. Anyway, they have to replace the rebar that go down into the ground below the bars, so they will be in the correct position. When that is all corrected, they will anchor the house. If you want to understand what I’m saying, but you don’t…call Kip.
2. Next, FHA will send out an inspector to approve the correction. Who knows how long that will take?
3. When the contractor gets the written approval from FHA, we can get the electricity and the water and sewer hooked-up. Again…we will depend on the kindness of others as far as the timeline is concerned. We are supposedly on the work schedule for the electric company and the water/sewer company. Let’s hope that doesn’t have to be re-set.
4. When the first three items are completed, we can move in.
5. In the meantime, the RV port/garage, metal building, will be built on the slab that has been poured and is ready and waiting. The concrete driveway can be poured after the electricity is routed underground where the driveway will be.
6. I do believe, the last thing that will be completed will be the skirting around the bottom of the house. We don’t have to wait for that to be completed to move in. The tires will be removed when they anchor the house. The hitch was removed today.

So that is it in a nutshell. The BIG variable is the weather. We can’t move through the list if we’re getting significant amounts of rain, which is in the forecast for the next several days. I’m trying not to get depressed about the weather, but I need to be realistic. Ninety-percent chance of precipitation is a pretty strong indicator.

We are entirely comfortable in the RV and the pets don’t know there is anything better waiting for them out there. They, however, are used to traveling in this thing. They can’t figure out why they’re waking up and looking out at the same rather boring scenery day after cotton picking day. I mean the poor things need a break, right? Sorry…that could be some of my own feelings bleeding through.

If I had to be honest, we’ve been far too busy to move. Our days seem to fill up. Why is that I wonder? Why do our days fill up to the brim even when we don’t have to go to work every day?

1. We go to the doctor more.
2. We have more time to participate in time-consuming things, like belonging to things that consume time.

This was either the Star Wars production or our Christmas Play

1. We go to the doctor more. Oh, I already listed that.
2. When we talk, we have to say everything twice. We either forget we already said it, or the other person can’t hear us. Either way, it’s time-consuming.
3. Never mind…it’s dark now. I can go to bed. I have to get up really early tomorrow to watch it rain.

I have a part-time job. I might have a full-time one, too. Sorry…I can’t hear me.

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One more thing………………

Happy Birthday to my dear friend, Pat Davis. You are amazing and I love you bunches.

I wore a hat to church today. It was candy apple red. 

I heard a man behind me say, “That hat could wake the dead!”

Oh, it didn’t hurt my feelings none. I’d pretty much decided…

That funny looking hat would cost me all I’d ever prided.

I never was a classy one. I got no notions to dispel.

I only just found out, my Easter hat should be pastel.

I have to live within my means which mostly are a minus.

‘Sides, the pink hat wouldn’t fit my head. It swolled up from sinusitis.

The onliest dress that sort of fit looks like an Easter egg done died.

Couldn’t find no red to match my hat. Can’t say I really tried.

When I got home from church I found my hat was all askew. 

I shoulda pinned it to my head like Grandma used to do.  

Don’t mind the troubles with my hat, I loved the sermon and the songs.

I knew before the last amen, I was right where I belongs.

I’ll go back agin next week and sit right where I sat. You’ll know zactly who I am…I’ll be wearin my red hat.

I wore a hat to church today and I’m sure glad I did. Cause you’ll know me when you see me, if I don’t flip my bright red lid!

What is More?

By Mary Francis McNinch

I asked my dad to help me with my school report.
He said, “Not now, my little one, my time is just too short.
I know you’ll understand that I have promises to keep.
I work late every night, while you are fast asleep.
You know that old car of ours? It runs great, but it’s not fancy.
You asked for some new dresses and I said that I would see.
I only want the best for you. I work harder than before,
to make a better living so I can give you what is more.”

Dad went off to work that day and I went off to school.
I saw a friend’s new shoes and they were, oh so cool!
I wished that I could have some shoes exactly like she had.
I couldn’t wait til I got home so I could ask my dad
if I could have new shoes, though my old ones were still new,
I didn’t love them anymore, so they would never do.

When Dad got home from work, I could see that he was weary.
Though it was late, I couldn’t wait to approach him with my query.
He said, “I only want the best for you. I’ll work harder than before
to make a better living so I can give you what is more.”
It seemed no matter what I had, I wanted better stuff.
No matter what Dad gave me, it was never quite enough.
We didn’t talk about it, in fact we hardly talked at all.
Soon all those things around me, did nothing to enthrall.

Dad worked so hard there was no time for us to be together.
In time, it didn’t seem like we were two birds of a feather.
I sometimes questioned why things were so different from before.
Didn’t it mean Dad loved me, when he gave me what is more?

I couldn’t understand, why I felt such discontent.
The feeling came along with me, everywhere I went.
One day, though I was early, I thought I must be late.
I saw my dad out back, leaning up against the gate.
He didn’t see me coming. His expression was intense.
What was he looking for on the other side of the fence?
I stood quietly beside him and I felt him squeeze my hand.
We both gazed straight ahead and I began to understand.

“I see the Beasterhop,” I said. “Can you see him, Dad?”
“He’s riding the same old bicycle. The one he’s always had.”

Then Dad did something he hadn’t done in quite a while.
He waved hello to the Beasterhop and smiled a great big smile.

“He’s hard at work in his garden, Dad. He has bunny mouths to feed.”
Dad sighed and said, “Not to mention all of the other things they need.”
“I remember now,” Dad said, as he stopped and rubbed his chin.

I knew what he was thinking and I couldn’t help but grin.

Dad thought a little longer, still staring straight ahead.
And then he spoke to me, and this is what he said.

“I miss these times my little one. I know that I’m to blame.
I wanted to give you the world, and I played the world’s sad game.
The Beasterhop knows better. I just had two words wrong.
I know the right way now. It’s too bad it took so long.
I thought I had to give you the best of what is more. And so I worked much harder than I had ever worked before.

Our life will change. It won’t be both. It might be either or.
I’ll give you what is best for you, instead of what is more.

We’ll have more time together. We’ll make memories to store. And we’ll be thankful for enough instead of wanting more.”

The Beasterhop looked our way and I thought I saw him wink.
If you have enough… more gives you less. At least that’s what I think.

It’s a way of life much easier to talk about than do.
Please say a prayer for me and I will say a prayer for you.

We’ll, I’m not on my way to Pearl the human’s because I haven’t left there, yet. Pearl is over at the Busy Nest planning a Pep Rally fundraiser to help the PTA raise money for new band uniforms. Faith-Hope said Pearl is only doing this because she did something to irritate the President of the PTA, who everybody refers to as Queenie. Queenie is dating Faith-Hope’s Grandpa, so basically, Pearl is trying to get out of hot water with Mr. Crandall and Queenie. The way I look at it, if the school gets new band uniforms out of this crazy idea, it’s a wind, wind situation.

Faith-Hope has on her outfit for the pep rally. I don’t get mine until we get over to the nest. I’m supposed to bring Pearl the dog with me.

I haven’t figured out yet what Pearl did to offend Queenie, but it must have been pretty degredating.

Back to the action…….

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“Essie-Ellie, you grab Pearl, and I’ll go check on Aunt Grace. And then we better get on over to the busier than usual Nest before things get too out of hand.”

We went on over there and Pearl let us in, but not before she looked up and down Main Street to make sure nobody was spying on us. She took us to the meditation slash Elixerfixer room and handed me two costumes. One was for me, and the other one was for Pearl the dog. Pearl was dressed in her second orange and black outfit of the day. I wondered if Queenie had any idea what was about to hit her.

Pearl began giving us our band marching orders….get it? (The band is getting new uniforms.)

” Girls…before we head on over to the auditorium, I need to let you know how this is all going to go down. Our mission is to get Murdo excited about the new uniforms. The object is to raise money, and Pearl here knows how to bring in the cash. I’ve already dropped off rolls of tickets at all of the businesses in town. All of the merchants are going to sell raffle tickets. We’re raffling off the red convertible that’s housed in the Auto Museum.

“Wow, Grams,” Faith-Hope exclaimed! “I can’t believe Mr. G is going to donate the red convertible! How did you talk him into that one?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly talked to him about it yet, but by the time he gets wind of it, I’ll have thought of a way. Now…get on over to the auditorium. Queenie the weenie will probably already be there and I don’t want her to get a leg-up on the competition. Here, grab some of my handbags that are specially designed for pep rallies, and let’s go!”

“Wait, Gram. What do you mean by competition? This whole thing is starting to make my eye twitch and there’s nothing more ridiculous looking than a twenty-three year old cheerleader with a twitching eye.”

‘You fuss too much, Faith. It’ll be fine. Queenie and I are each submitting a design for the new band uniforms. It’s winner take all.”

“Winner take all of what Grams?…Sheesh!”

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Pearl and Queenie’s Pep Rally warm-up

“Good afternoon Coyote fans. I’m PG, which stands for Presho Girl. I was recently hired by the MCN (Murdo Coyote News) to report everybody’s business…clear back to 50 years ago, business. I’ll just be reporting the Murdo folk’s gossip and mudslinging. I got hired because I don’t have a relationship to unsavory things that have been swept under the rug within 8.5 square miles of Murdo. It would be 9 miles, but there was that unfortunate incident near Draper last year and I was found to be a little lopsided with my drawings of the scandal. I’m banned from drawing photographs, but I have a photographic memory and I just got a brownie camera at a garage sale. I don’t even have to take notes if I don’t want to, though I usually wear a pencil in my ear, well not in my ear, above my ear. I think it helps me look more professional…blah, blah, blah…”

“PG…pay attention! Here comes Queenie!”

And here comes Pearl… and Look! Pearl has Pearl the coyote-dog!! Yay… Pearl the Coyote-dog!!! (everybody loves Pearl the Coyote-dog.)

Tomorrow…..The competition for the best uniform design

Oh yeah…I almost forgot the pep rally…and the drawing for the red convertible!

And…A tiny house update

I had a difficult time getting going tonight. Usually, once I decide what I’m in the mood to write about, the blog writes itself. I will show you pictures of the house. It’s on the lot now, but it’s not leveled and attached, and nothing is hooked up. I’ll put some on here, anyway, because It has to do with the other thing I’m going to write about.

Kip and I went out to, “the property,” today to investigate and do what we could inside. We lowered all the blinds and removed all of the tie-downs used to keep everything in place while it was being transported. It made it just fine. See that little machine that is moving the house into place? It is tiny, but powerful and operates by remote. That’s how they can get these houses into tight spots.

Yesterday, our friends, Scott and Fran, who live just a few blocks away, stopped by to watch. Another friend, Bear, road his motorcycle over to see our new home reach it’s destination. In the first picture, below, Fran is getting ready to give Bear a leg-up. (We’re saving up for steps and a sidewalk.)

Back to today. Have you ever felt sort of…off? You might call it something different, but I’d be willing to bet, you have. We’ve been extremely preoccupied with getting the house moved. It was exciting to see it come home, but now we have to wait for the electricity, sewer and water to be connected, before we can get the skirting/siding completed and we can move in. We are at the mercy of others, so we must practice patience and be grateful that so much has gone right. It’s supposed to rain next week, but I’m sure nothing too terrible will happen.

All of that is part of my feeling off, but not the whole of it. The Easter season is upon us. I have been feeling disappointed that I didn’t finish my Beastertown book in time for all of the little kiddos to get one for Easter. I realize, now, that it wasn’t the right time for part two, or least I wasn’t ready to write it.

Today, some other friends, Barbara and Ron, came by to see the house and Barbara brought me two new Easter bunnies. They are the cutest things. I decided I would take some pictures of them, tonight, and write a little story. I’m a little challenged to find suitable photo backgrounds in the RV, so I dug out an old chest that I keep some important mementos in. When I was growing up, it was our family picture box. Gus gave it to me a couple of years ago and it has become one of my most treasured possessions.

I dug inside the little chest and found a glass box that my sister-in-law, Karlyce, gave me a few years ago. Inside the glass box there was a little glass heart, and inside the heart, a beautiful Angel. She’s rather tiny.

It occurred to me that I was really getting into the Beasterhops and Beastertown, but I was forgetting to write about Jesus and the Angels. Don’t get me wrong, the Beasterhops are a big part of the vision I had when I wrote We Shall See what We Shall See. It is all about believing and imagining.

The story goes that Easter Bunnies, who we all know have lots of babies, became the symbol of new life. The Easter Bunny decorates and gives gifts of eggs…also a symbol of new life.

On Easter Sunday, we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. 

The story of Easter week, which begins tomorrow on Palm Sunday, is a beautiful affirmation of the power of good.

The Beasterhop is a made-up character, who represents the importance of trying to lead a life where kindness, love, and concern for the well-being of others is the only way to find true and lasting happiness?

I will write the book. And it will be all about Beastertown and the rabbits and bunnies who live in the city with the shining crown, but I won’t leave out Jesus and the Angels watching over all.

**So many friends have contributed to my Easter Bunny collection. I can’t tell you what it has meant to me. I’m including the giver of the crown that I use for the shining town, and the pictures of bunnies from others who live far away. What I’m trying to say is,  “Thanks to all of you friends and readers who have come to know and love the beasterhop.”