curious dawn

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

"What is a time share?" asked Dawn.  
"Dawn, a timeshare is a capsule people get into for a certain amount of time so that they're oblivious to time for their amount of sharing time; it's really relaxing." I said.
"Sounds neat," she said skeptically, "but something tells me it's not true."
From the driver's seat Daddy said "Y'all talkin' bout that time capsule?  the one where you get in there and twist the knob and it'll take you back to wherever you want to go?"
"Yessir.  Dawn doesn't think it's real, Daddy," I told him.
"Ah no?  Little Megreyer - Dinny???" (megreyer - dinny is a common name daddy uses for dawn)
"Nope, I don't. And see," she said, "That prove my point, 'cause  Gabe said you're 'oblivious to time' and you said they 'twist a knob to go to whatever time they want', but if they were oblivious to time, why would they do that? So it proves that's not real."
 "Time shares," came the soft voice of Milly who was squished between Dawn and me, "Timeshares are cards people buy for a certain price and they assure you of an amount of time to do what you want with it and then you hand the cards out to other people and then they pay you for them…" she trailed off in a laugh.  Daddy's eyes were squinched, I could see his smile wrinkles in the rearview mirror by the light of the street lamps.
"Timeshares," I attempted again, "are giant pie pans that people lie down in and for whatever amount you pay, you get to take up a certain amount of time-space in the pie pan.  You then share your slice of time with everyone else."  Dawn was exasperated and exclaimed earnestly,
 "I am persuaded y'all want me to be an oblivious child who knows NOTHING!  But then when I meet with a public-schooler who knows what a time share IS and they start talking about it one way, I'll say in my ignorance, "What??? NO! A time share is a giant capsule! or some other false thing and they'll say 'Oh look, a stupid homeschooler,' and then that will give homeschoolers a bad name.  See, this is where we get all that nonsense about our sitting around in pajamas all day long with nothing to do except stare out a window or at a tv!  
  We were quiet for a while until Daddy finally explained, "think of a giant hotel room that you get suckered into renting along wit other folks for weeks on end - " 
  But Dawn was done. True or not, she wouldn't trust anymore second - hand knowledge for the night. 

oh, my dawn.

what a good woman won't' do…not much.

"You're gonna do what Mama?" I asked, face squinched.
"Well, honey, it's not often I get to do something for Chris that he really needs or wants.  I'll make a party out of it."
So there we were this morning at 3.00, Mama clanging pans, cooking meat and whipping biscuits.  By 4.00 the kitchen was fairly bustling. We had coffee brewing, all the lamps on and Daddy frying thick bacon slabs.  We were slicing and buttering biscuits and Mama was slapping flour on Daddy's face. When Chris got there at 4.30 or 5.00 he took the sacrificial biscuit and tried it for us, then had two or three more because Mama scrambled eggs and made gravy and there was this season's jam of course, and a strong brew of coffee.
At Delta, there's a policy that if you're late, you bring breakfast one day for the guys on your crew.  Chris has taken lots of breakfasts, but this one was going to put all the rest to shame.  He's day shift, which means getting up at 3.30 am… and for Chris that's not easy, but he was here sharp and bright eyed, poking us and squeezing, kissing Mama, peering at the pots and exclaiming,
"Boy! Smells Good! Think I could smell it from the driveway. Law, law!!!"
"You called Sam, Chris? I want him to get one. You tell him I'm thinking especially of him while I'm making all this." Mama has made food for the guys before, delivered some of their babies, helped out with some life problems they've taken to her, prayed for them, etc. etc.
"Yes'm. I was telling the guys the other day about this and Roger - well, you gotta know Roger. You just can't argue with him, but - "
"He the Japanese guy that gave Dawn the necklace?" Anne shuffled past, fresh from bed, straight to the coffee pot, arm outstretched limply.
"Yeah. He's the one. Well, I told him about Mama making the biscuits and - "
"Honey, stir that right there - Melody, you have those eggs beaten?…Oh! don't open the oven, biscuits rising, Chris, grab that handle."

"Whad'ya say he said, Chris?" Daddy, with black coffee, feet crossed under the table.

"Well, he's all about healthy foods and he sees me eatin' healthy all the time so he starts sayin' 'Ahh…I bet she'll make those whole wheat biscuits….turn out flat!' So I didn't argue with him. Ya just can't."

"That why the number went from 21 to 20?" asked Mama. 

"Reckon so."

"Poor Roger," I say.  "Will Lance be there?"

"Yep, he'll be there."

"I wonder if he'll be wearing Auburn colors." And I laughed to myself because the first time I saw Lance was outside Chris' window, and all I remember was thinking "My…now that's one dedicated Auburn fan." He wore Auburn everything, down to flip flops and tricked Dawn into blindly saying that innocent little line to her soccer coach {an equally dedicated Alabama fan}  'WAR EAGLE'.  He told her just which way to say it, of course.  The intonation, and stress of words. So next time she saw her coach - whom she revered something heavy - she obediently blurted out, "WAR EAGLE, Coach!!!"  Dawn has never forgotten Lance. Nor forgiven him and she is now an unbendable Alabama fan.

 By six we were rolling the ice chest full of biscuits down the walkway to Chris' car, loading it with meats and jellies and notes for him to remember certain things throughout the day, plates, spoons and bags, and then it was Chris rolling out the driveway, in the dark, us waving and dew falling so thick it was almost rain. But it wasn't. We could see the stars bright and clear.

 mischievous mama.

handsome feller.

My eyes were blurry and squinted and I hadn't coordinated my walk yet. It was still the morning shuffle, but I went in the living room at 8.40 after sleeping again and saw Mama chatting with Daddy, Daddy with his boots on and coffee in his hand, hair combed.
  "Mom…you didn't go back to bed?"
"Well, hun," she said airily, "I tried, but every time I did the phone rang or I got a text or something. You'll have to see the text though," and she pulled out her phone.  It was from Chris and said,
"A smashing success," with a photo of empty containers, pots and jars.  Mama wrote back,
"Does it mean all gone?"
"Yep. And all the guys say to thank you."
Mama turned to us and said, "I just thought you'd like to see the fruit of your labors."
"Nothing," Mel and I replied.  She laughed.
"Yes, Nothing!  You've got empty containers and that's it.  Hate to say all that work was in vain, but there you go!"
"Isn't that the perpetual reward of women's labors?  Empty pots?" as I observed that continuous cycle.  "But reckon that's a good thing."

Full bellies make happy men and both are essential to life, as we know full well.

congrats, dawn.

Dawn was my grammar student last year and being the generous, thoughtful, briber I am, I thought I'd take her on an "End of School Outing" in May to celebrate finishing school and forever seal my unquestionable position as 'Blameless Tutor'. Well, that day came finally, though a little later than I had planned.  Not sure how May melted into August like this, but it still works, eh?  So congratulations to Dawn! She officially finished grammar today.

She came to my room last night and we talked til nearly 12 about mind paths, where $20 bills have been, the challenge and reward of school, men like Thomas Jeff, John A. and John Q and the capabilities of humans. 

She started explaining an idea she has about  the collective force of multiple minds working together…but she didn't finish it.

"…all these different channels of thought and possibility and - oh! I get jittery just thinkin' about it, but what if all those channels of thought were connected, why, then someone in Japan could be thinking something and someone here could know what they're thinking and it's just - ah! so amazing.  …….and that's when I stop talking," she said, gathering her dollar bills and jumping off the bed resolutely, 

"because I get so excited it starts getting weird, so I take my money and walk out and put it in an envelope labeled 'tennis shoes'. 

goodnight."

Introducing 'Mango Tango'... little joint in town with super good frozen yogurt and sorbets.

incredibly thankful for this kid.

can't imagine my life without her…she's more than one in a million,

she's dawn.

Dickens at Sea

 {    Life is so full sometimes I can't seem to pick out one thing from my brain and just write about it because all the other topics are equally bursting at the seams to be written about; so I have to compromise.  Turn away altogether from those thoughts that occupy so much of my time and write or copy something completely unattached to those eager topics. 

 Hence, a sea post, as we just visited it last week and more conveniently a journal excerpt.   }

                                                                                                                      Thursday, Aug. 

16, 2012 

I like the sound of laughter coming from inside our sea cottage and the continual scraping of furniture being shoved around, for there is always a new reason to move it again.  Move it all together for a movie, shove it apart for daily traffic; move it to corners for cozy, low conversations and all facing each other for devotions.
  Our house is a tall thing on stilts and with ivy in a canopy over the archways. 
  We have been happily situated in a quiet nook at the southern tip of the island.  Daddy was preparing to begin Dicken's "Our Mutual Friend" and he said 'Y'all boys come in here and learn how to get a girl!"
It's a stormy day and we've been snugly tucked away with pillows, blankets and arms, hands and hair cuddled and intwined together as we're heaped on couches, much like puppies. 
The dialogue in-between the script is almost as entertaining as the script itself. 
"What is happening? Why are they digging in the heap?"
"It is the bone man and the one - legged guy…" 
"He is a REALLY bad guy now, isn't he?"
"If you get attached to him, believe me, he'll die," said Mercy morbidly.
Uncle Zack nervously rubbed his fingers together, "Oh…gohllly…good grief…get out. shoot, man…this is gettin' kinda…scary…"
"Oh no! Oh no!" Mama shouted. We were all on edge.  "Not the river! not the RIVERRRR!!!" 
"…Goodness…she's going to refuse him…." And Grandmama looked dubious and perplexed.  "She's going to refuse him and he's going to drown…"
"Yep." said Uncle Zack, rubbing furiously and shaking his head with an intensely blank look on his face. "They're gonna drown together…Gohhhly…"
 At the sight of two men struggling at the river drop off, and both drowning, Grandmama exclaimed, 
"Dickens went a little far with that one!………..a little too far, I think."
At the end, Uncle Zack vowed off Dickens forever, Chris sighed heavily and said, pacing, "Boy! I'm just gonna have to think about all' at…." and Grandmama looked at her book "Christy" and said after a moment of silence…"My….Christy just may not be that exciting after Dickens…"
  Grandmama reads and I lie here, my head on her lap. She strokes my face and plays with my hair. Her hands are cool and strong. 

mondays are for sentimentalists

If I didn't know our family, I wouldn't think it possible for such a sentimental bunch of people to exist. 

I remember the one and only time Daddy changed the lock on the Purple Bathroom Door. He did it when we girls were occupied with something else and so we didn't notice it until one of us blithely skipped in there and turned the lock - What??? It was not the same one at all. Oh that wretched lock! It didn't click when we turned it, and the knob didn't make the swish noise when it twisted. It was bright and shiny and gaudy where our other one was worn with the familiar grip of all our hands…TERROR!  We held a grudge against that knob for the longest time and some were near to tears when it first happened. I believe this is the moment Daddy realized just what he could be in for.  Ever since then, he has been sure to warn us about changes in the house, having sit down pow-wow's and mourning sessions which has alleviated some of the bitterness in change's sting.
Today I found a big piece of crumpled paper on my bed. On it was painted in a scrawling hand a riddle about roses and violets and the name of a 'supposed' flame. I saw it and hmphed, smiling.  Dawn had painted that at least 5 years ago, and I remember exactly where we were when she did it.
"I was going to throw it away," she explained, "But Merry said I should show it to you."
She walked away and I went to fold it and toss it but it stuck in my hand, and I couldn't find a good enough reason to toss away such a valuable piece of history and in the end it was stuffed away in a cozy little nook in the closet.
 
  Sometimes life shoots pure shots of joy. I've taken note of some of these happy scenes and here are some:

• Old man in line with his wife, rubbing her shoulders in the slightly gruff, very manly but gentle way and leaning down every once in a while to smile at her and say something that made her smile.
• Dashing colored couple in the rain, the gentleman holding the umbrella over her bent shoulders and standing very tall in an overcoat
• Chris at his house sitting in the middle of a pile of books and odd sentimental objects…a 'do not remove from AC' sign, a ticket he got in Guatemala, dixie tag, WW2 posters, autographed, napkins from Puerto Rico, photos from Philippines, outdated clothes and foreign money.
• Our church members standing on the edge of a river, one very sunny Sunday, singing and watching Daddy and Dylan wade out into the water for baptizing. The sun filtering down through leaves and brother Hermon wearing his daughter's black square sunglasses.
• Dawn. And her face when she talks to me. Or talks at all. I could stare at her expressions without saying anything, for a very long time.  If you haven't talked to her lately, do it. The conversation is generally twice the reward, and it's almost impossible to walk away without reflecting.

eventide summer

coming home.

  Anne was behind the bathroom door, brushing teeth and doing leg lifts.  We had the same idea.
'What smells like a sweaty spaniard in here, Anne?' She pointed to Abe's shorts laid over the bathtub.

'Anna-Lou!' Merry said through the door, eying us both in the mirror,  'I don't know where you've been, but I've been holding this phone for at least 5 minutes!'  Melody's head appeared in the shadow behind Merry's and she ventured,
'If anyone wants to fix my hair for driveway dance, then…that would be nice.'
Anne explained, 'Merry, I was ready to exercise thirty minutes ago, but you said you had to do your little thing.'
I sighed.  Who's pile of hair is that in the floor?...Y'all…c'mon.'  {I try to…. encourage my sistren to sweep up their locks after brushing them out in the floors.}   Melody started laughing.
'They're mine…remember?'  And I did. Because I had brushed them out yesterday when I'd been fixing her hair. Drat. I'm constantly cornering myself, then slapping me, and laughing.

Today was my second time to "jump off"  a car.

visually: Me leaping from the roof of a car.

   Actually: Me trying to remember all the instructions Chris gave to me over my dying phone the one other time I'd done it before, then acting like I knew what to do this time: 'HEH! Jump off a car? Old hat, my dear, a terribly old hat.'…..But when it came to doing it, all I could think was, "Which one am I supposed to attach first??? Red or Black??? Wait…how do I open the hood??  Didn't he say by all means not to let one of them touch ANYTHING once the other one is attached???  I was just glad that this time all of Chris' neighbors were not watching me from their front porches.  But as I attached them, then sat in the truck waiting, I could imagine a clicking noise, then a deafening explosion, and then later, me in the hospital with hanging head, trying to explain to Chris "I thought I had the right ones attached…?"  Machines are such volatile things in my mind.
You can imagine the victory when the car took the feed and started, peacefully. {though, this was with Mama re-adjusting the cord some}.

And now I am taking a crew of kids home.  A crew of happy tired kids with pine straw taped to their faces because they want to be old men,

  good eve.

of madness and brumly.

In our family we firmly believe in butter, double dipping, and prefacing any story with topics, side stories, tidbits of information and observations, regrets and insecurities - relevant, or irrelevant - as long as it adds a little more spice, background, understanding or laughter to the subject. This last habit of heavily prefacing any story, fact or message was pointed out to us today at breakfast among eggs and buttermilk biscuits, coffee and fresh peach jams.  Unfortunately Daddy had just put some biscuit and jam in his mouth when Abraham began this observation and Daddy had to keep it there for the rest of the five or so minutes that Abe was talking because Daddy never stopped laughing long enough to swallow.
  "It's occurred to me," Abe began, "that it must be a family trait for us to heavily introduce any given subject. We can't just say 'Hey guess what?  Today I got hit by a car at 70 miles per hour!' We'd have to start, 'Well, I got up at five o'clock this morning, and if I hadn't been up at all hours last night, I probably wouldn't have had such a hard time waking up. But really I only drank one cup of coffee, when I should have drunk two - I promise I only drank one - and I started driving my way to work.  I decided about a week ago that I should be keeping up with some more people, so on the way to work I thought I should call so-and-so but while I was doing that the cd needed to be changed, so as I was trying to fix it, I suddenly looked up - and, you know how you have those moments of thinking to yourself right before something happens - I looked up and saw that truck coming towards me and I thought - well, I knew he must be going about 70 miles per hour and I thought - ….uh oh….'

 There are some times you must hold your own hand or your stomach or your knees or some other object because you're simply too tense and limp with laughter to do anything else. It was one of those times this morning because that hit us all square in the chest and realizing that if we ever did have to give a yes or no question it'd be like pulling nails.  That, plus the fact that poor daddy is about the only practical, yes or no person among us and that he's been in the clutch of people who will drag out a topic for however long it takes for them to examine every angle, savor every new glimpse of an old scene, turn over the same words, phrases, predicaments over and over, to where he is dazed in the repetitive grind and can no longer function, but was long lost in the maze of crossfires of winding thoughts and narratives.

   It's good to know these things about one's family, oneself.  I believe it aids in coping - in a small degree - to society and the world at large in recognizing them.

Mama made apple pie. I'm going to make another soon. Very.

King Burger…your way…?

    Sometimes a hamburger sounds like the best thing in the world and as I was suddenly and intensely hungry and also on my way to interview some potential clients for a wedding, I figured I should get something to eat and not be sitting in that quiet parlor shooting anxious sideways glances every time my stomach growled.  So, I went to King Burger, and couldn't decide between drive through or going inside, but I ended up doing both because once I'd ordered my food I realized that I was really thirsty…for coke.. {horrible, i know, but sometimes coke is just so good. } Well, here's where I was reminded of just how silly I can be.  I pay for my coke {after waiting a looong time for a man to decide between #1 and #5, and cash or credit or change} then walk over by the fountain drinks to the ice and hold out my hand without the cup, which she reminded me I'd forgotten.  Retrieve it and hold it under the ice…nothing. Ok, so the next ice dispenser…nope. Nothing coming, but that's the moment I realized it was jammed!!!
victory: Remove large obstacle of fused ice which is blocking the pathway of other ice and proceed to fill cup with ice.
 I go to working on this piece of ice, grab a napkin and am attempting to 'melt' it out, but that cotton picker wouldn't budge. The maddening thing was that it was just large enough to not come but small enough to keep me believing that if I could work on it just a little more I'd have it.  I got involved. Studied the mechanics, the estimated time of removal, the force of what it'd take to get it out,  considered simply breaking plastic, applied heat where possible … During this, I happened to glance over my shoulder toward the counter..I don't know, maybe it was tinted with slight desperation, but whatever the case may be, it was enough for the two laid back older black guys to look at me and say in a half laugh,
"Ain' no ice."
….Now, you can imagine my chagrin.  They'd been watching me the whole time and there I'd been wrastling this ice machine for the past 5 minutes and really, I couldn't believe they'd stood there and watched me do it. So I told them,
"No ice??? … I can't believe you just stood there and watched me do this!"
At which they burst out laughing and as I filled up my coke - luke warm - they kept laughing with an occasional,
"She was pullin on that thang! She didn't know they ain' nothin' in there…"
And as I walked out, they were still laughing, but I was too, so I guess that's called a win win.

  OH!!! Home Depot just does something to my insides. I walk in there and feel like I could tear down my whole part of the house and renovate it with my bare hands and a saw.  That smell, the rows of 24 ft. tall shelves, packed with ANY thing you could ever possibly need for ANYTHING…it's overwhelming and dangerous for me to go in there.  I never feel quite satisfied walking out until I can envision dumping my imaginary house inside out and starting with a clean slate full of all the wonderful possibilities in my head and home depot…I passed just the sign tonight and it took all I had not to turn into it, and imagine all the way home what I could do with its treasure store of usefulnesses.

summer grass and thoughts...

     Are our minds not incredible things?  We live with them for decades and become accustomed to the unruffled method of thinking.  We take it for granted that we've settled into the State of Being in that thought place, which we'll be forever. But then a passage in a book, an unexpected conversation, a scene of particularly blended, light, texture, pattern and we're spirited away, as it were, to tunnels of thought we never knew existed. Nor would we have ever thought to ask if they existed as the natures of these thought tunnels are so wholly unimaginable.  And so then, from those mind caverns which we find ourselves in, we concoct experiments, we imagine theories, and connect potential dots to puzzlements of life in general.  Could there be a whole part of our minds that is simply bursting with brilliance and new thoughts??? How many times have we dreamed of beautiful compositions - music we've never heard, places we've never seen and poems we've never read, yet when we wake up it's fresh, almost vivid and just beyond our grasp? …  How masterfully crafted, how intricately designed!  We live in them and are them, and yet, we learn from them, in a way, discovering and exploring their unknown wilderness.

   Today was grass cutting and I do believe cutting grass is not only therapeutic but inspirational. I made two important discoveries today, namely:

* the combination of a hint of sweet grass, crushed {aged} pine cones, a pinch of summer dust and a little dab of lawnmower engine scent, would make an excellent cologne.
* i can pressure wash the dirt from my nails much more easily, quickly and comfortably than I can attempt to remove all such matter with jabby metal points.

 Oh goodness!!! the preacher was right when he said "Vaniy and vexation of spirit"!…That's all this world is! But thanks be to God our Father for His unspeakable gift and that He's begotten us unto a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.

 Heaven is going to be so good. 

So. good.

if i were a rabbit i would run here.

...daddy's tomatoes…

please note the dirt line. one of the dirtiest mowings yet, for some reason.

quiet place

"And then there are days," she admitted in a whisper, "that I find a storm quite and completely irresistible."

~~~~~~~~~~

 So many times in my life I feel as if God has kept me in the eye of a hurricane...that quiet place He reserves for His children when all things are a swirling confusion outside and around us, yet, in that place He keeps us sheltered, protected. I'm so thankful for this Strongtower, this Shield, my King, my Captain, my God who leads me beside the still waters, restores my soul, and hides me under the shadow of His wing.

~~~~~~~~~~

 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. 

 Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; 
 Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah. 

There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High.

Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.
The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah.