Tuesday, April 24, 2012

love, folded in the sheets {haiku}

our hands together

work shared, 

           whispered hopes, 

folded...in the sheets

As I folded sheets the other day, my mind wandered back to my childhood.  My sister and I would fold sheets together to keep them from dragging on the floor, standing face to face, chest to chest, arms outstretched, snapping the sheets with a sharp pop to smooth them as we folded them.  I closed my eyes briefly and could see her beautiful golden brown eyes on the other side of the sheet, smiling at me as we shared a laugh along with our task.

How I longed to go back for just an instant.  To share a laugh, a whispered joke, a secret between us.  Or just a look.  That secret look sisters share.  The look that lets you know your sister understands you.  Accepts you.  Loves you.  The look that says everything.

Love, folded in the sheets.

life is good.
~cath xo
Twitter @jonesbabie

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

flippin nuts at 5 guys

Wretch and Stevie Wonder
You have to love a man with a sense of humor.  Especially when you've been married to him since the Stone Age and some things just aren't as funny as they were when you were 17.

Last weekend Stevie Wonder, Wretch and I went to Five Guys for lunch.  Steve and I have been dieting since last November and occasionally we indulge in something that has enough calories in it to make an anorexic cringe.

We were drooling by the time we went into Five Guys.  The smell of those burgers and fries was magnetic.  I felt like I was being pulled along by my nose as we went through the door.

We stood in line and placed our order.  I was going to get a table for us, because the place was pretty busy.  I made a general statement about how nice it was outside, and that more people were sitting outside than inside, then looked around and said "I'm going to get a table."  Steve said in a loud voice "I don't want to sit outside!"

I just looked at him like he'd gone insane.  He'd made a radical connection between my two statements, but his hypothesis was wrong.  I glared at him, red-eyed.

does this look like a western theme?
That was when I knew this was a serious meal.  We were cranky.  The smell of the food was too much stimulation for our brains.  We were going to start forking each other soon if we didn't get some food.  Fast.

Wretch and I took our cups to the soda fountain while SW completed our order and paid for it.  Then we sat down and waited.  I was pretty tense by this time.  I looked around and saw SW getting something.  I figured it was ketchup.

It was peanuts.  He sat down and started eating the peanuts.  And flipping the shells in the floor.

Let me give a little background here, or the rest of my tale won't make a damn bit of sense.  There are several restaurants locally that serve peanuts as an appetizer.  When you eat the peanuts, you throw the shells in the floor.  Most of these restaurants have a western or country theme.  You expect to hear the crunch of peanut shells under your feet when you eat there.

I mentioned to Steve as he threw more shells in the floor that Five Guys was not that sort of place.  And this is how the rest of the conversation went:

SW: Sure it is.  There's hulls everywhere.
Me: Show me a single peanut shell.
SW: They are on the floor.
Me: (by now I've scoped the whole place, and no shells anywhere) Nope.  No shells anywhere.  Show me a single shell.  (I knew I had him.  He had no way out.  He had to admit he was WRONG.)
SW: (About this time a young lady walked by with a broom and dustpan and started sweeping up under a table a few rows away.)   See, she's sweeping peanuts up.
Me: Those aren't peanuts, they are french fries that spilled on the floor.
SW: Well, it's job security for her.

About the time he said that, the young lady walked over and said "here let me sweep that up for you".  SW looked at me smugly, as if to say 'see, I told you so'.  After she swept up the small mountain of peanut shells from under SW's feet, she said:

"Let me get you a container to put those shells in."  She walked over to the peanut counter, got another little cardboard container, brought it to the table, and without another word slid it over in front of Steve.

I was good.  I wasn't saying a word.  It was dead silent at the table.  Until Wretch and I made eye contact.

And lost it.  I don't think I have laughed that hard in months.  SW just sat there smiling and not saying a word.  Every time Wretch and I would look at each other, we'd start laughing again.

Life is good.

cath xo
Twitter @jonesbabie

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

in gramps' steps

This was first published in August 2010.  Since then, Gramps has added John to the list of grandkids who follow him like ducks in a row.  He comes to Gramps, holds up his hand to him, and says "side".  And Gramps melts, takes his little hand in his big one, and outside they go, to look for adventures.  John will be 2 on May 1, and the fun is just beginning...

I hope you enjoy the revisit to this post...one of my favorites...

August 23, 2010
Duncan is dedicated to his Gramps.  It wasn't anything we planned, like a 'you take Maddie and I'll take Dunc' sort of thing.  It just happened.

My personal philosophy is that he loved the feel of laying on top of a beach ball when he was a baby.  That hooked him.  Gramps was nice and round and when he got sleepy he would go straight to Gramps and drape himself out spreadeagled on that beach ball belly and be out cold in seconds.

Duncan also likes to help.  In the kitchen, with the garbage, carrying bags of groceries, you name it and he'll help.  And of course the main toter of tools and work stuff at our house is....

you guessed it...Gramps.  He owns everything a little boy could ever dream of laying hands on.  And Gramps also knows how important it is to a fledgling ego to let him help.  So he does.

When they are in the garden, plowing or picking, Dunc makes every step his Gramps does.  It is funny to watch him keeping up...and he never quits until Gramps does... (most of the time...there was the time he got into the okra and the leaves made his legs sting and itch and he took off for the house because he thought he'd been stung...Dunc doesn't tolerate bug bites well...a mosquito bite on his forehead will form a magnificently grotesque horn on his head....fascinating to behold but kind of horrifying too...)

Not only does he help Gramps, but when he tells you about how he helped Gramps, he's laying it off like a Baptist preacher with one finger high in the air and talking loudly in his deep little voice about what ALL THEY DID... and I always listen...and try to keep a straight face....

At bedtime, guess who sleeps with Gramps?  That's right...I made a futile effort one time to get Dunc to let me sleep with them (it's a king sized bed after all and there is plenty of room) but Dunc said "no you can sleep in the other room I gotta sleep with Gramps... and I can't sleep in the middle there isn't room".  So I was banished.

But there was a time when Dunc was mine....when he loved the softness of a Grammy who adored him (not to worry I still do)...then at some point he decided he was a man's man and gave up the hugs and kisses for the holder of the tools....

which is ok...because when he scrapes himself on one of those tools....

he comes back to me.