Katie Who? (Part One)

In the spirit of Halloween, another scary, silly and rambling story for you to get you in the mood.  Happy Haunting!

Moving to Owl Hollow was supposed to be a new start for Katie, recently widowed and finding herself alone for the first time in 15 years.  Her life had revolved around her late husband Sam, who was taken from this world too soon at the hands of a drunk driver.  Sam and Katie were high school sweethearts who had married just after graduation and although they had never been blessed with children, they lived life to the fullest and were completely and absolutely devoted to each other.  When Sam passed, Katie's world crashed down around her and she fell into a dark depression.  It wasn't until she received a letter from an attorney in Owl Hollow, Tennessee that she began to emerge from her grief.  The letter stated she had inherited a property from a late Uncle she hadn't even known existed.  She had no family or close friends.  Her own parents had died years before in a boating accident, and she hadn't known her mother even had a brother.  She'd never heard of Owl Hollow, and as far as she knew, she had never been to Tennessee.

Katie sold the home she and Sam had shared in the Pacific Northwest and loaded their black Labrador Boo into the Jeep and headed south.  Boo sat in the front seat, anxiously awaiting their adventure.  He was Katie's only comfort since Sam's death.  They had a long drive in front of them, so she patted his soft head for good luck and off they went.

Several days later, after lumpy beds in rundown motels, a night spent sleeping in the Jeep at a campground when they got lost, and horrible convenience store coffee and far from nutritious meals on the go, they finally pulled into the town of Owl Hollow, population 303.  It didn't look like much as she entered the town.  She passed a small gas station with two pumps, a hardware store that had seen better days, and a tiny cafe' with a sign boasting "The Finest Frog Legs and Catfish on Friday Nights!"  There was a bank, a small variety store, a market, a barber shop and a post office with a sign out front that said "Attorney Upstairs" with an arrow that pointed up a rickety set of steps along the side of the building.  There was a tavern at the edge of town and an old six-room motel that had long ago been boarded up with a sign that read "No Vacancy."  After passing this, the road kept going on but all you saw were mailboxes at the end of long driveways with no sign of the homes they belonged to.  There were thick woods all along both sides of the road and occasionally Katie and Boo would catch a glimpse of a light or two peeking through the trees, the only evidence that homes did truly exist along the way.

A few miles out of town, Katie finally saw the cemetery the attorney had said would mark the spot where she would turn to find the homestead she had inherited.  She turned left at the cemetery onto an old dirt road and followed it into the woods for what seemed like another five miles until finally there it was in front of her, a small two bedroom farmhouse with peeling paint and a deep porch that wrapped around one side of the house.  There were no lights to welcome them, so Katie pulled the Jeep right up to the front of the house and let the bright beams illuminate the walkway and porch steps.  Boo seemed to have lost his sense of adventure and cowered on the seat next to her with his ears down and an anxious look in his eyes.  Katie took one look at him and said, "The feeling's mutual, Boy!" and patted his head for reassurance.  She opened the Jeep door and jumped out and Boo reluctantly followed.

Katie hadn't thought to ask the attorney how long it had been since someone had actually lived in the home.  She just assumed it was habitable and that she could move right in.  One step up onto the sagging porch told her it had been quite some time since someone had actually spent time here.  She could see now that there were vines growing all up through the floor boards and wrapping themselves around the porch rails.  The front door of the house wasn't even closed all the way and as she pushed on it, it slowly creaked open on rusty hinges.  She shined her flashlight into the entry way and saw furniture covered in dust, moth-eaten curtains hanging from the windows and what looked to be nests here and there along the baseboards where critters had taken up residence over time.  As they stepped over the threshold, Katie and Boo were shaking like leaves on the trees and goosebumps formed up and down Katie's arms.  She walked through what appeared to be a small living room and into an old kitchen with curling linoleum floors and cupboards with doors hanging listlessly, their contents spilling onto chipped formica countertops cluttered with debris.  Katie turned the handle at the sink and was rewarded with a few rusty drips of water, but that was about it.  No electricity, no running water and obviously no solid roof over their heads as she looked up toward the ceiling to note that she could actually see the moon shining through a huge hole in the rafters overhead.

Katie decided there would be no more exploring for her and Boo until morning light, so she turned and walked back out the front door to the safety of the Jeep.  Another night would be spent cuddling together in the front seat, but they would make the most of it.  At least they had each other.  What had she gotten them into by moving them halfway across the country to this dilapidated old place?

(read on tomorrow as the story ends with Part Two. . .)

Prison is a Place - Book Review

I've often thought about what it must be like to be imprisoned.  Although I believe for the most part, criminals deserve to be punished, what a terrible thing it must be to be stripped of their freedom.  I know for one, I wouldn't be able to bear it.  Not to have privacy and comfort, or to be denied the ability to go wherever whenever you wanted.  I've always been a bit claustrophobic myself and can't imagine how that would be magnified to be constrained to a cell.  I won't even go on a cruise because I don't like the thought of not being able to get off the ship at any given moment.  Same thing with air travel and being trapped on a plane.  I can hardly stand it.

One of my co-workers, Brent Andrews, edited and published a book recently that was written by a late friend of his.  The friend had been in prison for a long period of his lifetime and had apparently always intended to have the book published, but it never was until Brent happened upon the boxes of manuscript, pages and letters.  Brent spent months putting it all together and the book has just officially come off the press.  After reading it this past weekend, I know the writer would have been proud.

The book is called Prison is a Place and it's by Harley M. Sorensen.  Harley had a difficult life from a very young age and he made some bad decisions along the way and ended up in prison.  He spent over eight years of his life behind bars, but to hear him write about it, it wasn't as bad a place as I always imagined it would be.  Of course this was back in the 60's and things were done differently then, and as he points out several times throughout the book, the prison he was in was one of those rare prisons that has a smaller than normal population with very few unpleasant incidents among inmates and good interaction with prison staff and authority figures.  He made the most of his time there and worked as much as he could, spending his time writing and playing chess, among other things.

One of the projects he worked on while in prison, and the subject content of his eventual book, was to reach out to a local teacher in hopes of corresponding with a class of students to get their ideas of what they thought prison really was.  He found a young teacher willing to embark on a letter exchange and it was fascinating to see what the students had to say and what Harley said in reply.

I especially liked the exchanges between Norman, a silly, smart-alecked boy and with Debbie, who I'm sure grew up to be valedictorian of her class and maybe even went on to be a prison administrator herself.  She was wise beyond her years and Harley seemed to enjoy them both.  Reading all the exchanges was enlightening in so many ways. 

As I read the book, I kept thinking to myself how this type of letter exchange would probably never be possible in today's society.  Parents would highly object to their children corresponding with a convicted felon and teachers would be forbidden to even consider such an assignment.

Brent, I'm so proud of you for getting this book out for everyone to read.  I know Harley would have been so proud.  It would be interesting to find some of these kids now that they are in their 40's and 50's, to see if they even remember Harley and his letters, and to see what each of them has become.  I wonder if he influenced them at all?  I hope he did!

Stormy Soul and Foul-Weather Moods

I don't know what in the world is wrong with me these days, but it seems like every last thing gets on my nerves and makes me grumpy.  You name it, it annoys me:

People who drive waaaaaay below the speed limit, who won't use their turn signals and who don't pay attention because they are on their darned cell phones.

People who talk on their cell phones inside public places.  Like we want to hear their mundane conversations while grocery shopping, or standing in line, or in a bathroom stall.  What did we used to do before we had stupid cell phones?  I know for one, there was a lot more peace and quiet in the world!

Cell phones.

Rudeness, inconsiderate people, people that talk too much, people that interrupt.  People that ask the same questions because they weren't paying attention the first time you told them.

Dogs barking (and barking and barking and barking)

Unruly children. 

Gum smacking and people that chew with their mouths open.

Voice Mail and Caller ID.

Talking to someone who has onion breath.

Hazelnuts and Brazil nuts.

People that drive too close.  Go around me if you're in that big a hurry!  Hopefully there will be a cop hiding around the next bend and you'll get a ticket.

Gossipers that run their mouths about everyone else because their own lives are lacking somehow.

People that yell.

Litter on the sides of the roads.

Loud commercials on tv.

Computer problems and the technicians who can't seem to fix them.

And that's just today!  Here's hoping tomorrow is an uneventful and less grumpy day.  I want to get back to my cheerful and happy self.

Attention to the Details

I'm always writing about all the beautiful things I see on the drive in to work.  Deer and turkey, bunnies, cows and horses.  Trees and flowers and all things nature.  It's amazing what you can see from the front seat of a car as you drive along.  We spend so much of our time in cars these days.  Some days we're like zombies just looking straight ahead, not quite awake, our minds so full we're just driving on auto-pilot until we arrive at our destinations.  Some days I'll pass a friend and neighbor and we'll exchange waves and smiles.  Other days, I'm sure I pass that same friend and neighbor and am so deep in my own thoughts that I don't even realize I just missed them drive by.

Sometimes it's not just nature that catches my attention.  This morning, for instance, I saw tiny children clamber up the steps of a big yellow school bus.  I thought about myself when I was that age, so excited to be going to school.  I remember how big those steps up into the bus were, and how I sometimes needed help up that first step.  I watched as a little boy, no bigger than a minute, stood at the top step excitedly waving at his sweet Mama who stood faithfully by the curb.  Some day he'll be older and it won't be "cool" to wave and blow a kiss to his Mom.

Parked at a light, I looked in my rear view mirror and there was a woman in the car behind me, on her cell phone.  She was crying so hard, tears streaming down her face.  She kept wiping her eyes and her face was red.  My heart immediately went out to her and I said a little prayer for her to have peace for whatever was upsetting her.  I had to wonder if she was arguing with a spouse, or had an ailing parent.  Could someone close to her have just died?  Whatever was causing her grief, I prayed for it to pass.

As I was in line at the drive-thru getting coffee, I looked across the parking lot and saw two of the sweetest little elderly women standing next to a car.  They both had pure white hair and looked to be in their 80's.  One had a lavender sweater on, the other a soft yellow.  They were facing each other and holding each other's hands out in front of them, visiting away.  One would reach over and pat the other's cheek adoringly, and then they'd embrace, still holding onto each other's arms as they kept on with their conversation.  One would nod her head in agreement to what the other was saying.  It was so sweet to watch and you wondered what they were talking about so intently.  It was so touching to see how much love and tenderness they were conveying to each other.  They were obviously close friends.  It made me want to jump out and give them both hugs.  It made me miss my Grandma's.

As I rounded the last corner to my office, I saw a man in a big truck driving toward me.  He was on his cell phone and looked to be furiously yelling into the phone.  He was so mad at whoever he was talking to that you could see the vein in the side of his neck bulging out as he pounded his fist on the steering wheel.  I cringed to see him so upset.  What a terrible way to end my drive to work, wondering about what could have made him so mad and worrying about the poor person on the receiving end of that call.  It made my stomach hurt to remember being yelled at myself in the past, and guilty to think back on times when I was mad enough to yell at a loved one myself.

Just one little drive to work and so many emotional observations.

Forgetfulness

While I still consider myself to be VERY young, and by no means old or over-the-hill, my brain just doesn't seem to function like it used to and my memory is getting worse and worse.  I'll find myself writing notes just to remember the simplest of things, and in conversations with Hubby, I tend to forget what I was going to say, even as I start to say it!  I'll think of something I need to do around the house and then walk into a room and think, "What did I come in here for again?"  I'll have to walk back out, sit down and think back to why I was on my way in there in the first place.

The other day I misplaced my cell phone.  I was at my office and I searched high and low, but couldn't find it anywhere.  I looked in and around my desk, on top of file cabinets, in my purse, even in the bathroom.  I went downstairs and searched my truck floorboards, behind the seats, and still no luck.  I thought, okay, I know I had it with me because I've been using the darn thing all morning!  Where could it be?

I used the phone from the office to call my cell number and I could hear it ringing faintly, but still couldn't find it.  I followed the ringing from one side of the office to the other, down and back up the stairs.  I could hear it, but couldn't quite track it down.  Guess where it was!  The back pocket of my jeans!  Oh for Heaven's sake.

I know I'm not alone in my lack of remembering though.  Just the other day, Hubby bought a part for the toilet at the hardware store, brought it home, set it somewhere and then got sidetracked.  Later when he went to fix the toilet and needed the part, he couldn't find it anywhere.  He searched the whole house, his Jeep, the front and back porches, the barn.  He even called me at work to see if I might have inadvertently picked it up and brought it with me.  No such luck.  I told him to trace his steps and relax, he'd eventually find it.

Frustrated, he was just about to go back to the hardware store when he opened the fridge door and there was the part, sitting on the shelf next to the milk.  Good grief!  Silly boy.  And I can't tell you how many times he calls me on the phone and then immediately forgets why he called me in the first place.  We just have too much on our minds, I guess, and I think as you get older, your brain shrinks and just can't fit all the information in there like it used to.

My Prampa is 97 years young and he can remember things like they happened yesterday!  He tells me story after story and remembers names, dates and places in vivid detail.  I don't know why I haven't taken after him in the memory department.  At the rate I'm going now, I'll be lucky if I remember my own name by the time I turn the big five-o!  Of course, that's many, many, many years away.  (wink wink)

Maybe I'll find me some magical vitamins that enhance brain function I can start taking.  It can't hurt, right?  I'll head over to Walgreens on my lunch break today and see what they offer.  Now, where did I put my car keys. . . . .

Our dog is a what?!

Last week, I took Dudley in for his fourth puppy shot.  From the minute we stepped in the door, it was "Oooohhhhh!" and "Aaaahhhhh!" and all the staff had to take turns holding him and giving him love.  The nurse took him to be weighed and found he had graduated to the Big Boy scales!  He weighed a whopping 21.7 pounds, a far cry from his first weigh-in at eight weeks.  No wonder I'm huffing and puffing carrying him up and down the stairs.  I won't be able to do that much longer. . .

In the exam room, I had the doctor check his ears because we've been having to clean them out a lot more than usual and I could tell they were bothering him because he'd shake his head and paw at them.  Sure enough, he had himself a little yeast infection in his ears and the doctor prescribed some medicine to clear it up.  She also informed me that more than likely, the infection means he's allergic to grain.  Oh no!

After some discussion, she encouraged me to wean him off the food we've been giving him and onto a grain-free product.  She also said we should refrain from feeding him meat, but instead give him a handful of blueberries, a spoonful of canned pumpkin or a few green beans.  What?!  I never heard of such a thing!  She assured me he'd get plenty of protein from the food and it would actually be better nutrition for him.

I was a little skeptical about the blueberry thing.  I never heard of a dog liking fruits and vegetables, but the vet left the room and came back with a handful of fresh blueberries and wouldn't you know Dudley just gobbled them up like there was no tomorrow!  Sheesh!

Our Tubby always ate steak and chuck roast on his food every day, and once a week we'd be cooking it for him and cutting it up into little chunks to sprinkle on his food.  We totally anticipated doing the same thing for Dudley when he got a little older, but now we're faced with the fact that OUR DOG IS A VEGETARIAN!  Oy vay!

When Hubby found out the diagnosis, his face dropped and his whole body just sagged toward the floor.  He looked utterly and totally defeated.  He couldn't believe his rough and tumble, burly bulldog was a sissy la-la health nut!  Not that all vegetarians are sissy la-la's or health nuts.  I know it's a lifestyle choice and I don't mean to offend, but it was a like a slap in the face to my life-long, journeyman butcher of a husband to have to accept the fact that his dog can't eat meat!  He was just shocked beyond belief.

The next few days, we slowly weaned him off the old food and onto the new, and we've been incorporating carrots and sweet potatoes and blueberries as occasional treats.  Dudley seems to be happy as ever and fat as a little butterball, so I guess it's going to be okay.  And his ears are clearing up too, so that's a good thing.

See Daddy, Dudley doesn't have to be a meat-eater to be manly!  Look at Popeye.  He was strong with big muscles and all I ever saw him eat was spinach!

Mrs. Meyer's Meltdown

I went a little overboard yesterday while shopping at Target.  Hubby, if you're reading this, click away and don't even ask me how much I spent.  I won't tell you the truth anyway.

This past weekend, I was reading through my latest issue of Country Living magazine and came across an ad for Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day products.  I had seen these in stores before, and my bosses' wife uses their dish soap.  I hadn't realized how many scents their products come in, and I didn't know they were created by a sweet white-haired Iowa homemaker and mother of nine!

I decided to try them out and loaded up my cart with everything Lemon Verbena!  Who knew there would be so many products to choose from?  Not only do they make dish soap, but they make glass cleaner, countertop sprays, all-purpose cleaners, hand soaps, laundry detergents, dryer sheets and candles.  The list goes on and on!  What I couldn't find on the shelf at Target, I found online at the Mrs. Meyer's website.  Oh boy!

Not only do the products smell divine, they don't have any harsh chemicals in them and are made with all-natural ingredients and essential oils.  I might even actually learn to enjoy housework if I get to smell Lemon Verbena while doing it!  Did you hear that Honey?  Me, enjoying housework!  That alone might be worth the money I spent!