Supermom!

            I was ready for takeoff with upbeat, exciting orchestral music playing in the background.  But my son refused to run off the cliff with me.  Hang-gliding from Tulsa to Seattle—with a quick drop-off (of him) in Colorado Springs—was simply too scary.  So off I flew alone . . .

            No, I am not suffering from delusions of grandeur.  This scene was from my son’s dream, which we discussed again today over the phone.  I first learned of my hitherto unknown Supermom qualities when he told me about his dream during our November visit with Dana, Shawn, and Benjamin in Bartlesville.

            Granted, the thought of an orchestra accompanying my every move is rather nice.  Who hasn’t wished for background music like in the movies?  I like the idea of being brave and adventuresome—just the idea, mind you.  Hang-gliding ranks right up there with bungee jumping as something I NEVER, EVER want to do.  But it is rather flattering to think my 25-year-old son would dream such a thing, remember the music, and tell me about it.

            I believe that the most adventuresome thing I have ever done in my life was jumping off the high dive when I was eight years old.  At eight, I looked more like five, and I remember the hush as I stood on the diving board trying to work up the courage to leap.  Why I had ever agreed to climb that ladder is beyond me, but it probably had something to do with a dare from my sister. 

            A friend and I almost did something foolhardy once.  The movie Mary Poppins had just come out, and we were enchanted with the idea of flying via umbrella.  Our plan was to step out onto the roof of her two-story home with our umbrellas, open them, jump off the roof, and glide gently to the ground.  Fortunately, my better sense kicked in, and I suggested we try it first from her front porch.  Landing so hard and so fast was an unpleasant surprise. 

            The only other moments of bravery I remember are . . . wait a minute . . . um, I think I’ve run out of stories.  Maybe I should call Joseph back and find out what my Supermom cape looked like.  In the meantime, I think I’ll put on some background music.

Fruits and Vegetables

            Never have I considered putting bananas and carrots in the same muffin.  If I had read the label closely, I probably would not have bought it.  All I saw was “Sun Muffin,” which made me think of sunflower seeds.

            But once bought means must be eaten.  I found out that gluten free and bananas and carrots are an excellent combination.  That with the little waxed box of hazelnut-chocolate soy milk made for a heavenly lunch.  I splurged further and purchased unsulphured mission figs, dried and lightly salted sugar snap peas, and two pieces of black licorice for later consumption.

            This is beginning to sound like my lentil burger days.  Evidently, I have rediscovered my taste for health food snacks.

            Today I had my “day off”:  John took Mom to Seattle for her appointment with the vitreo-retinal specialist.  That’s the dude (excuse me, opthamologist) who gives her a shot in her left eye every couple months to slow down the macular degeneration. 

            So, while they were gone, I spent a few hours on my particular brand of entertainment: browsing in a few thrift stores and eating my healthy junk food lunch at the beach.  It was too cold and windy for me to walk, but I enjoyed watching the waves.

            I didn’t find what I was looking for (a bright yellow or orange parka for Mom) at the thrift stores, but I did come away with a couple bargains : a Land’s End corduroy shirt for her and an Eddie Bauer fleecy  sleep shirt for me. 

            The one thing I didn’t do is the one thing I really needed to do, and that was get the oil changed.

            It might be worth the drive back to Bayview to get another homemade muffin to keep me occupied while my car is being serviced.  

Kindled

            It’s that time of year.  I shopped online for my family and also gave myself the gift that will keep on giving.

            This was no impulse purchase (well, except for the hot pink leather cover with built-in reading light).  For over a year, I’ve read about the Nook and the Kindle, but it wasn’t until recently that I decided I actually wanted my own electronic reader.

            The moment of revelation came with the shipment of books for the online course I am taking (Certificate in Lay Ministry) through Whitworth University.  As I unpacked the books and took in the messy state of my bookcase, which cannot receive one more volume, the light dawned.

            I love books.  Almost always I have a substantial stack of library books ready to read, and I actually get through most of them.  Often I buy a book or two at used bookstores or library book sales.  Sometimes I even order books new—you know, the ones I want to write in and highlight and keep for future reference.

            In the house I have only the smallest sampling of the books I own.  Most of my collection is still boxed up in my brother’s shop from my move here two and a half years ago.  Yet, I can’t seem to quit getting more.

            Thus, the Kindle.  I will still need to read old-fashioned library books because I can’t afford to download that many bestsellers.  But I can build an electronic library of free fiction and purchase the occasional “must-haves” in nonfiction.  And I will no longer face the dilemma of choosing reading material for my frequent trips to Oklahoma by size and weight of book.  I will simply carry my new Kindle, safely ensconced in its hot pink leather cover.

            Already I have downloaded four freebies:  The Holy Bible English Standard Version; Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins; Danger in the Shadows (a novel by Dee Henderson); and Pictures of the Mind:  What the New Neuroscience Tells Us About Who We Are.   (The discussion —which, I am absolutely sure, is dumbed down for scientifically-challenged persons such as myself—about the brain’s neuroplasticity is tremendously exciting.)

            So already the Kindle has kindled my interest in neuroscience and rekindled my love for Hopkins’ poetry.  Not bad for the first week.

"Press One For Yes"

            “Press one for yes.  Press one for yes.  Press two for no.”

            Because our home phone is initially answered by an automated system, by the time it rings for me, I often hear cryptic messages such as this one.  I’m left wondering who the automated caller is and what might happen if I follow the prompts.

            In this case, the repetition made it clear that the sender of the message wanted me to answer “yes,” but I hung up after the “Press two for no.”

            It seems like there should be some sort of lesson or moral to this experience, but I’m not sure what it is.  On the one hand, I have sometimes said yes when I should have said no.  Of course, I’ve also said no when I should have said yes.  Sometimes it was clear what the outcome would be, sometimes not.  Some outcomes were better or worse than others.

            There is a third answer I have often resorted to:  “I don’t know” or “Maybe.”  My children found those third answers hopeful.  They were usually right.  Fortunately for me, they (my children, not my answers) turned out to be fine people despite my waffling will and inconsistent parenting.

            I’m still a “maybe” person, but in recent years I’ve learned more about yeses and nos.  I like being more sure of what I prefer and don’t mind being less sure of being right.  Because so often the times I thought I was so right turned out to be the times I was most wrong.

What Mom Washes (November 6)

            The yellow plastic is about two inches wide and maybe twenty feet long.  I do not know its origin or its former use, but I do know that Mom wants to wash it.

            She soaked the rain gauge for days and finally found a bottle brush to clean out the end of it. 

            The dry pond was carefully swept before the autumn rains began.

            She cleaned out the kitty litter bucket out front with the hose and was determined to scrub the metal scooper, but I intercepted it before she started in on it with the kitchen pot scrubber.

            Meanwhile, I do well to keep the dishes and laundry going, clean the bathroom, and occasionally apply a vacuum, broom, or dust mop to the floor.

            My housekeeping will never pass the white glove test, but we have the cleanest rain gauge in town.