Saturday, December 01, 2007
That Volcano Acts/Looks Like My Mama
This picture came from the middle school's website yesterday when the sixth graders were making volcanoes. CW is excitedly standing there in a striped shirt, but what really came into my mind was the way the kids are dressed, in shorts, shirtsleeves or a sweatshirt, all illustrating how difficult it is to get dressed each day. It's in the 30s in the morning, but mid sixties by early afternoon, provoking half of my kids to leave their jackets at school each day.
It's a constant battle to make my middle school boys put on a jacket. "I'm not cold!" they protest each day like I'm gonna change the rules. "I don't care," is my automatic response knowing someone would holler that Cindy has so many kids that she doesn't even have enough jackets. I watched other kids arrive at their school in T-shirts, ripped jeans and uncombed hair, weary parents rushing to their jobs, dumping the kids at school while I nerd mine up in collared shirts and wet comb teeth marks, probably really making them then stick out as different.
They really don't feel the cold either. Chuy comes home every day of the year and takes off his shirt. Every day, no matter the weather.
Linda Up North commented yesterday that it was negative eight degrees there in her part of the country (wind chill -29). I would simply wither and die. I've never ever experienced such weather and can't even fathom surviving a winter-long bout of cold. Georgia in January sucks enough for me. Today is going to be another beautiful day and I'm wanting to get the rest of grass clippings from Chuck's yard, at least another truck load to finish off the garden bed that I've rid of crabgrass finally.
I'm working on a large bed in front of the doublewide in an attempt to teach my grown kids how much produce can come from a small plot, maybe 100 square feet, probably more, Monica already making her usual childhood requests for cherry tomatoes and cucumbers - OK girl, wait for spring. With compost, mulch and manure, these beds are wildly productive and easy to maintain.
But dadgum, Linda already got a seed catalog. Not me. I read them cover to cover each year, every word. I've learned more about gardening from seed catalogs than from anywhere else, especially Seeds of Change - it has revolutionized my gardening understanding.
I'd gone walking again yesterday, upping my mood, releasing the endorphins and all that, motivated by the result of an interesting study I'd seen linking the kind of fat one earns from sitting. I'd read this article also about a man I admire, at 96 walking a hundred miles a week.
Tony got mad at me yesterday morning for merely suggesting he get his butt in a higher gear as we were fixing to be late. He huffed and puffed and said he wouldn't make me a soy latte for that, and he didn't. I've switched from Jimbo's vanilla to plain as I can't stomach sweets in the morning, not even my beloved Krispy Kreme like Ms. Carr brought by last night.
I don't have a weight loss problem anymore. Now I have to watch it, no more pigging out for me, 14 months after surgery I am normal. One more pound on my small frame will result in matronly bulges.
Monica and Dewayne have moved into the double wide, now Alana is living nearby which thrills me. Estrella lives here with me, Cindy Mae and CJ come nearly every day as do Hazel and Ray.