Piano Lessons

Since I was out in the backyard digging in the flower bed (digging up sunflower seedlings), I almost missed my piano student.  I thought it was five… it was six.  This daylight savings time makes me lose track of the time.

Right now I am up to four students!!  Yippee!  I love it.

piano student

It’s so much fun to watch it come together as they learn to play.  And the books now are great; gets them moving on the piano with both hands right away.

My mom started me taking piano lessons when I was seven or eight.  Mrs. Jennings from Junction gave me lessons every Saturday.  When Darla started taking lessons — (Dar, tell that story) —

weird Japanese stuff

I would get to watch TV during her lesson.  There was always one of those weird Saturday movies on, a Japanese movie with dubbed in English, black and white, something like that.  They were great!

Mom made me practice maybe not every day, but often.  She wanted me to play piano at church, and when I was around 12, she got her wish.  It may have been with one finger a lot of times, but I began playing around then.  And so did Vickie Jerrells (now Vickery).  Vickie plays the organ (the best I’ve ever heard) and I play the piano.  We have played together at church for many, many years now with some intermittent times of playing with other people.

wish we had one of these at church

ours isn't quite this big

I can see us still playing when we are very old, our hands all gnarled with arthritis, pounding away because we can’t hear, with sour looks on our faces because… well, we’re all old and gnarly.  That’s enough reason to look sour!

Playing in the Rain

When I was a child, we had a ditch, not deep, in the front of our house that ran down the hill.  If we had a big rain in the summer, we couldn’t wait to get out there in it to play.  Nothing on but panties.  It was the next thing to a swimming hole, however transient it may have been.  No one had pools, at least not my friends, even the small, plastic ones like we have today.  So rainy days were great days!

Then, when it got blistering hot and the blacktopped roads were starting to melt enough to stick to your bare feet — we never even considered wearing shoes, just hopped off onto the side of the road if we couldn’t take the pain any longer — our mom might, just might if we begged hard and long enough, let us get in the water hose and spray each other for a bit.  Our mom never wasted anything, I mean anything, so that was a great sacrifice on her part to let us do that.   I have a picture of all the girl cousins outside on the concrete patio; the basketball goal at one end; the house at the other.  Posting it wouldn’t have been a very good idea because my cousins would string me up if they caught wind of it; some of those cousins should not have been out there playing in the water wearing only panties.

That was back before the days of internet child porn when people could look at half-naked children playing and think good thoughts, children having fun.  Not that those sick-minded people weren’t out there because they were I found out after I was grown, but we were sheltered from all of it.

Just innocent children playing in the water on a hot summer day.

Past the Princess Stage

Not so deep, and rather silly, thoughts by a Gigi playing princess with two little princesses on the sleepover:

Once upon a time, there was a Gigi past her prime.


Sleeping Beauty, Belle, and Snow White

Made Gigi aware of her pitiful plight.

Cinderella’s fairy godmother got Cindy’s transformation right;

But Gigi’s fairy godmother somehow turned her’s into a fright.

Where once was the smooth, lovely skin of Snow White,

Now crinkled and sagged the skin once tight.

The lush and beautiful locks so much like Beauty’s fair,

Need colored now to resemble pre-Gigi hair.

The ability, as Belle, to charm the Beast in man

Has given way to hot flashes and a fan.

old woman

From Princess to the Ugly Witch,

Gigi transforms without a hitch!

Boo!  Hiss!

Strange Occurrences

Today I have been totally freaked out all day.  Since the last week or so in March, I have been looking everywhere for the cable to my new writer.  I thought it was in the case when I went to Florida only to find out when we got there that it wasn’t in the case.  The plan was to be ready to write with it and practice up for the big test I’m taking next Friday while I was down there, no rushing, nothing else to occupy my mind.  No dice.  The Dork Queen succeeded in dorking that up.

So when I came home, I looked again.  Cleaned the office.  Looked in the basement that’s full of “stuff.”  Looked through the girls’ toys.  Nada.  So I relented, got on line, and ordered another one, thinking I had accidentally thrown it away.  (Yeah, it gets pretty junky around here sometimes.)  That was Monday night.

Wednesday afternoon the guy delivered it!  Woohoo!  Fast service.  Great.  So this morning was take-it-to-work day.  I get the case with the writer in it from the office; go to the kitchen to pick up the new cable.  When I went to put the new cable in the case, there was my original cable and the cloth to clean my screen (also lost) in the case.  Now, the inside pockets in that case are big; there is no way you could not see that cable in there.  And, besides, I had practically turned it upside down and shaken it when I was in Florida.  The cable and cloth packet were not in there.

So how did that happen?  I am deciding to believe that Kate found it in her toys as she played in here yesterday afternoon, and put them back in my case for me.  How she would know they would go there, I haven’t a clue.  Or why she would even bother putting them in there since she has an allergic reaction to and an aversion for picking up anything is also beyond me.  But that is what I am choosing to believe.  I just wish the ghost Kate had put them in there before I ordered the new cable.

At least I know what the loud noise was I heard a minute ago:  my eggs that I was planning to use to make egg salad boiling dry and exploding.  Jeez!  What a day.

I So Want An Oreo

Little Kate learning to eat Oreos correctly

Did you know that Oreos are full of fat?  I was totally crushed to find out just how much fat was in a package one Oreo.  I am in love with them.  And tonight I am craving them… with milk, of course.

But, alas, my milk is sour and my fat quotient for the day is already waaaaay past the legal limit.  The tush needs toning, the legs need leaning, and the tummy needs trimming.

it's not fair!!!!

Besides, those dark chocolate (my favorite kind of chocolate) crunchy outsides would probably get soft and mushy fairly quickly… unless I ate them all tonight.  And that delicious, creamy center would give me cavities… unless I brushed and flossed right after eating the whole package cookie.  Also, I don’t have any fresh milk to dip those delicious cookies.  Dolores?  Where are you?


Um, I’ve got to go.  To the, um, bathroom.  Yeah, that’s the ticket.  The bathroom.  Not the store.  No, to the bedroom… I mean bathroom.  “Where’s my purse?”

Fender Reporting

It was a nice, sunny, summer day; not too hot; just right for a jury trial in our little rural circuit.  We had the jury all seated in the courtroom that would hold at least a hundred spectators if they so chose to come and watch the proceedings.  The courtroom was designed back in the day when people would do just that for entertainment:  come and sit in, listen to the proceedings, then proceed to go out and discuss the events as they sat around the town square on a Saturday night, taking a break to sit on one of the benches and chat in their weekly “going to town” for provisions trip.

The courtroom was also the place to be on election night, watching the numbers written and rewritten on the paper that was taped to the wall, going the full length of the wall, as new voting numbers were tallied then changed as precincts sent in their totals.  The place would be packed on those nights, seats full as well as people standing around the sides of the courtroom, spilling out into the hallways, leaning over the balconies from the open double doors on the second floor; 12 in all, allowing the upper hallway to be fully exposed.

car crash

But today’s jury trial wasn’t anything spectacular, a car wreck, more of a fender bender actually.  So there weren’t any observers.  This made it that much easier for all of us to file out to the road to view the damages to the car.  No observers to follow along, just the 13 jurors, the judge, and me with my writer.

Stenograph Diamante

There were plenty of cars lining the road, all the jurors parked for their civil duty, so I had a nice fender to sit on while I took down the proceedings.

Today I use a shorthand machine, writer, that doesn’t use paper, all computerized with the proceedings all saved on a little disk about as big as my thumb.  Back those several years ago, my writer used paper that rolled from bottom to top and lay in a tray awaiting storage and/or transcription.  As I was sitting on the fender of the vehicle, an automobile of some sort (glad it wasn’t a truck; the tailgate would be way too high), with my machine in front of me, I was furiously writing Q&A with comments thrown in occasionally by the judge.  Q&A in the reporting world is an attorney asking questions and a witness answering.  All was going well until the breeze.

A slight breeze blew up, I’m sure giving everyone a nice “Ah” moment… except me.  When the breeze blew, so did my paper.  Until the rain.  Now, even drops of rain will cause ink to run and smear.  So as the occasional raindrop fell, I would check to see how it had affected my notes.  Okay.  A small smear here or there, nothing I couldn’t figure out later on if I needed to.  Then it really began to sprinkle.  Hmmm.  No one but me noticing this little rain shower heading our way?     Business as usual.

I guess we would have continued the trial in the rain had I not eventually spoke up and told the judge the rain was causing the ink on my notes to smear, and if we didn’t go back in, I wouldn’t be able to read them later.   As if that was the catalyst to cause everyone to notice their surroundings, the judge agreed, and everyone hightailed it back to the courtroom.  Just in time.

Miss Maci Grace

Maci hitting Mom

Miss Maci Grace wasn’t too happy when all her birthday party guests started singing Happy Birthday.  She just couldn’t get her little mind wrapped around being two, I guess, and finally lashed out at the closest person around:  Mom.   Waking up before seven and being on the go all day may have contributed to the almost-two psyche and ability to be charming as the guest of honor.

Getting ready to be 2

Sometimes life is just hard when you’re only two.   Sort of like it is when you’re 32 or 42 or 52 or 62 or …

The Winner is…

Jill with Olivia

JILL IS THE WINNER OF THE CONTEST!!!!  You are No. 66 which is the winning number.

Sorry, Jill, this is the only pic I had, but I love this picture.  You so deserve a great prize!  You were a good sport when I blogged about you, and I’m sure you will be a good sport when I do it again.

I will stick it in the mail on Monday (since I’m in Kansas City) and you should receive it soon.  Do you think you could have Olivia put a pic of the laptop on facebook or send it to me in an email so I can put it on the blog?

Thanks for playing along with me everybody.  I had such fun and hope you did too.  So keep reading because there will be another prize and prizewinner again one of these days.