Friday, August 28, 2009

I'm waiting...

My mother-in-love was a wonderful lady. She had so many interesting adventures. Like raising seven children, being a rancher's wife, a nurse, a talented crafter, a mother-in-love and much more.
There was the time she went on a rigorous mountain hiking trip with three of her best friends. As they went along the ridge top they admired the view, and listened to the gurgle of the stream far below. Chatting and gossiping like a happy flock of crows on they trekked. After some distance they decide to take a break and sat down to have a cool drink from their canteens. Each in turn took a big swig, and gasping, swallowed. It was then they discovered, not a one of them had brought water. Each and everyone of them had filled her canteen with vodka.
Then there was the time she was concerned about a friend drinking and driving so she chained the friend's car to one of the trees beside her house. As time went by that evening we kind of forgot about the chained car. When the friend left we heard this terrible thunk, screech! Upon rushing to the windows we viewed the friend making a great effort to leave, repeatedly she took a run at leaving with her car hitting the end of that chain, thunk, tires spinning, screech, thunk, screech.
There was the time I had a bad chest cold. Being the nurse she was she took charge. Slathered stuff on my chest, threw a towel over it, and told me to get some rest. She would take care of everything. When the burning sensation started I screamed, she rushed in and said it would be fine, then lifted the towel. "Oh My God" she said, "I've burned your chest." I healed but never again did I get her famous mustard plaster.
There was the time on the houseboat at the lake, there was the time at the cattleman's dinner, there was the time at the home ranch BBQ, there were a lot of times.
So when her final mass had been said, and we had all gathered out front to await her final journey, it was fitting that my slip would fall to the ground at my feet in front of half the town and all the family. Stepping out of the slip, and stuffing it in my purse, I started to laugh. She could always do me one better, I'm waiting.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Altered Mantra

I have been trying of late to think in a very positive manner. This so that I can get through my classes and on to a new job. A much needed new job. "I can do this" has been my mantra. It has served me well until: late last night after a three hour class, I went and filled the ol' suv with gas, deposited a check in the bank's drive up window and decided to stop by the drugstore to pickup a few necessaries. Parking right at the front door, I went inside, cruised the store for a while, got a few things, and checked out. Returning to the ol'suv, I noticed that the door was locked. Now the windows were down, as it was a warm night, so the door lock being down was odd. That's when I noticed that my briefcase was missing from the front seat. Damn and Blast, some lowlife scumbag stole my briefcase. I'm sure they probably thought there was a computer inside, which thank goodness there wasn't. But still it did contain two VERY expensive textbooks, CD's for texts, a flash drive, a binder with class notes, tests, flash cards, new highlighters, and my very favorite new mechanical pencil. Damn and Blast. My new mantra may have to be altered.

Monday, August 3, 2009

"Your Not Stella"

Living with Himself these many years has been an adventure.
You see Himself is a type A diabetic. He's lived with it since he was 10, against the odds. Often he has a low blood sugar reaction, and that usually at night.
One night, kids tucked in, ranch chores done, he went off to bed, and proceeded to have a bad reaction. 
Now we lived outside a small rural town, everyone pretty much knew everyone else. So, when I called 911, three of the four volunteer firemen that came, worked with me at the school district. The two EMT's that came knew Himself from past encounters. The two county mounties that showed up were having a slow night and knew us, when they heard the call on the radio. 
Now you've got eight guys, our kids, myself and Himself all in our bedroom. I'm in the middle of the bed trying to get glucose gel down Himself, while our audience is considering the best course of action. 
 When suddenly Himself opens his eyes, gives me a startled look and loudly says "Where's Stella?", "right here babe" cause I'd agree to most anything to keep him alive, where upon Himself glares a me and says, "Your Not Stella". 
 I look around in the total silence that follows his proclamation, to find ten faces staring back at me. Because you see they all know I'm Not Stella, too.