I lost her in produce

The day to find out if the little mother, Mr. Man's 90 year old mum, can do some shopping on her own. She has been staying with us for the last few months having eye surgery and recovering from the loss of her beloved after 72 years. She has done fairly well but has not acclimated to living with her amazon daughter -in-law and her baby boy. We have faced many challenges and obstacles together, her and I. She is 4 foot 7 inches and weighs 100 lb. I outweigh her by nearly double and tower over her at 5 feet 10 inches.

I have lost track of her in department stores, (she is shorter than the clothing racks), the library, the drug store and now at the supermarket. Strangers want to hug her because she is so little and cute. I get angry face. No checker or manager has ever run around a counter and given me a hug because I was little and "darling to the max!"

It is anticipated that mom move into a small apartment less than a mile from 3 of her grandchildren and one of her 4 sons. To do that, she must be able to provide herself with basic care and hygiene, feed herself and know who and how to call for help. Today was our marketing day. I was there for support but was overseeing her purchases to make sure she was finding all the items on her list. Her eye sight is not good, even after bilateral cataract surgery and it seems she has difficulty reading the microscopic writing on the labels. Her food choices were brightly colored and large lettered on the labels. (A genius marketing choice by Best foods, and Nabisco products).

I lost her in produce and toured around the store looking for her little white head. I had her wear a bright blue shirt so she could be spotted easily from afar but this was doing me no good. It seemed to be little old lady day with dozens of white heads and blue shirts of various shades. None of them was short enough. I was beginning to think she had left the store without me and now wandered lost in the town but I caught a glimpse of  her in the unlikeliest of places - behind a cardboard display in the pet food aisle - looking for cereal. I directed her to the cereal aisle and told her to meet me at the checkout lane when she was done.

When I saw her coming toward me pushing the shopping cart, she looked like a child, her head just above the handlebars. She was very excited at her find of the Hostess pastry display at an end-cap, and she shows me her choices of hostess cupcakes and chocolate donuts. We check out and get home- Time spent shopping is 2 hours 15 minutes. The ice cream has melted. A sad loss.

 At home,We are putting our groceries away and little mother is dismayed. Her donuts, cupcakes and box of triscuits are missing. We check all the empty bags and I search the car. Sighing to myself , I head back to the market with the store receipt, approach the same cashier and ask if we have left a bag behind or did it fall off the conveyor belt? She shakes her head no but tells me to get what I have missed and apologizes. No problem. I find the awesome hostess display, resist the twinkies, and check out again. Grand total is $3.10.  As I arrive home, there is little mother, distraught. She is showing me her purse and opening it up and closing it and saying she is sorry. Then I realize, in her excitement to get home with her donut mini pack, she had put them in her purse for safe keeping, along with the rather large triscuit box. She tells me she is probably going to hell for making me go back to the store for something she had all along and I will be going with her because now I am a thief! Assuring her that I will NOT be joining her in Hades, and doubt a theft less than $5 constitutes any prison time. I will make a donation to the stores collection for March of Dimes.

I've told the little mother now that she has made me a thief, am I doomed to be sold off to a brothel next? She is laughing nervously, telling me she is truly repentant and she just won't eat the donuts but I should. Refusing the offer of tainted food obtained illegally-even if it was in error- because at least one of us has some moral standard.

It is 8 hours later and the donuts, cupcakes, and triscuits sit untouched. She won't take them to her room . She's hearing them call her "Liar!" She's saying she will need to ask a priest to forgive her.

Thankfully, I am already forgiven, and do not need a priest to tell me so. I just need to ask Jesus to forgive me and all is well. He died on the cross for all of our sins. This is what Easter is all about. He knows I will make it right with the market. All is well. My conscious is clear. I tell little mother she can rest easy. The police are not coming for her or me. Eat the donuts and enjoy every sweet bite. We are all sinners every day and all we have to do is accept Jesus into our hearts and ask for pardon of our sin sincerely.

Don't let any Hostess product lead you down the path of thievery!!

Happy Easter Everyone.

channeling Pete Seeger and gardening

El Nino has apparently come and gone. All the hype about flooding, freezing weather and massive snowfall  was just that...hype. Yes, we had a few days of heavy rain and it flooded one day. Yes, a lot of snow fell, just not in the Sierras where it is needed most during our eternal drought. The weather has turned unseasonably warm and confused all the citrus so it is now re-blooming and preparing to grow again even though its months ahead of schedule. Unseasonably warm at 90 degrees in February and in the high 70's and 80's in March, there is no sign of the rains here in our wettest month.

I have a little 8 foot by 8 foot garden behind my house that can only be seen from the bathroom window. It is my little secret place and I am the only one who ever goes into it. It dies off in the winter, and gets replanted around Easter. This year, the garden was confused as to what season it was in and went crazy wild growing the vines in every direction and the weeds sprouted overnight to beanstalk heights!

I started to dig out the garden March 1. Stripping it of all the overgrown plants and removing the pots of various dead things until I found the garden path  built from brick pavers buried there. The bird bath had fallen over and was in need of repair. In the corner a little light caught my eye. There she was, my garden Fairy, laying face down in the mud, her little hand extended above the dirt and holding her little garden globe as an SOS beacon. She was in a dismal state with rusted wings, broken off leg and her perch broken in half.

Grateful for her rescue, I gave her a make over and replaced her on her throne to oversee the garden creatures and beckon the butterflies, hummingbirds and finches into the garden.

I sang the garden song to the new plants, channeling Pete Seeger to encourage them to take root. I gave them extra fertilizer to ensure that any tomatoes or herbs brave enough to grow, would have a chance to thrive. The Fairy bobbles and waves her globe to place a rainbow over the newest additions. Garden lizards have returned to make their nests under the geraniums.

My little garden is happy. I am happy. Next time you visit, take a peek out the bathroom window. I hope it makes you happy!

disclaimer: pictured above is NOT my garden but it is my vision for it! I'll post photos when it gets a little more grown up.

The dreaded TSA line

I enjoy traveling. Well, let's say I enjoy going to a new place and experiencing what it offers...then I want to go home.

I really like getting places fast and there is no faster transportation than an airplane. I like to fly. I love to fly. My angst is the airport itself and getting through the TSA line. After I have parked myself by the gate, I am good to go. 

It really isn't unusual to have a fear of flying, or of crowds. I have none of that. My great stressor is getting through the security check and having enough time to get to my plane, without having to hoof it a quarter mile to the flight gate and beat the current distance run record. 

Mr. Man hates to wait for flights so he times his arrival so that sitting by a gate to get onto the plane  isn't even an option. He likes to keep moving and get on as the gate is closing, therefore, not having to wait or lose a precious minute. I don't mind waiting at the gate. I would rather wait so I can collect my thoughts, distress and look like flying around the U.S.A is a daily habit. (God help me if I fly internationally. What will THAT do to me?).

On my last trip, I had many prayer warriors, and friends texting me words of encouragement and hope, praying for travel mercies and safety.  They seem to understand that airports and security lines are my greatest angst. We all have our little quirks and stressors and this is mine.

I was traveling alone this trip. Demanding  Mr. Man to take me to the airport 4 hours before my flight. We compromised and left 3 1/2 hours, allowing 1 hour and 30 minutes for travel to LAX. Well, we made it 50 minutes, which was a good thing because I was detailed searched and my carry on bags emptied and searched, x-rayed 3 times and it was certain my bag would be glowing from all the radiation! When I got the bags back, my wallet and cell phone were gone, oops! and TSA had put them in their little bowl and "forgot" about them. I was instructed to find a bus which took me to a remote airport 10 minutes from the main terminal, showing us the backside of LAX and luxurious private jets not meant for us, and had 20 minutes to settle down before my flight boarded.

So, okay, I made it on. A little inconvenienced and stressed but I made it. The 3 hour drive after the flight to my final destination was a breeze and I had 3 days before having to do it again to go home.

Returning to home sweet home came sooner than I thought it should, but again, returning the rental car the 3 hours back to the airport was a cinch.

As I entered the departure terminal, there was little signage about where my plane was going to be. Finding the one digital screen at the entrance, I made note of the gate and headed to the dreaded TSA line. Heart beating faster as I approached, I was nearly there when I noticed my Drivers License was missing, sliding out of its protective sleeve meant to protect and secure it. OMG! Recovering the ninja warrior buried deep within, I leapt over and under security tapes, slid down the stair case and broke into a gimping middle aged girl run with flailing arms and baggage bumping along behind not sure of which direction the wheels should turn, Why hadn't I taken up marathon running?

Retracing my steps toward the entrance I was trying to calm myself from becoming a hysterical person and truly considered laying down on the floor and wait for the EMS to take me away. Hyperventilating, I felt my blood pressure rise to stroke level and my vision blurred as I panted and sweat throughout my search.

Dragging my luggage all the way back to the entrance, there was my ID, on the ground face up, right in front of the departure screen I had looked over 20 minutes before . I watched as strangers trod over my image not noticing the importance of the ID and with inner reflection of their own battles to gain entrance to the flight gates.

Retrieved the ID and I fell into a chair, and raised up a thankful prayer that I had found the one thing that I needed to get through the dreaded security line and homeward and also that I avoided having a stroke, seizure, apopletic fit, hysteria or heart attack.

As I made my way back to the security line and scrutiny of the officers there, I was asked to step out of the line, and into a vacant check point. Anxiety returning, I was like a lamb submitting to slaughter.

Here is the happy side. I had been tagged very low security risk due to the extensive search leaving LAX  4 days before, and got the free pass through the screening and prodding! Walk on through, do not stop, green light and GO!

Sitting outside my gate with 1 hour and 15 minutes to spare, I had a cold drink, washed my face, took an aspirin ,used the facilities, ate a snack and chatted on the phone. Yes, I did appear to be a seasoned traveler. Outwardly calm and content. The essence of peace. My inner turmoil dissipating as flight time approached.

Once again, as I travel home on the plane, I'm pleased to be going back to my life that I try not to take for granted and hoping that the people waiting for me realize how beloved they are to me and it's never as much fun without them.

And the best: There is Captain Morgan, barking and smiling at me, running around in circles, batting me in the legs with his Frisbee, ready to begin the game where we left off.

There really is no place like home!