Diane Stringam Tolley's Blog: On the Border, page 162

Mary's Story: Part Two of Four

(A short story of Fiction) Part Two of Four
For the next several months, we stopped in for a visit with Mary nearly every week.Her windowsills were soon lined with little potted plants (I like plants) and every light bulb in the place had been replaced at least once and most of the doors and windows adjusted. (Frank likes to tinker.)She would show us the amazing quilt she was currently working on and talk about the eventual recipient.Then she would serve us tea.Take our picture.And talk.Week by week, we got to know this marvelous person.
"I haven't told you how Ray and I met," she said, sitting back in her chair and taking a sip of fragrant tea."No, that's one story we haven't heard yet," Frank said.Mary was silent for a moment."Are you comfortable with telling us, dear?" I said.She smiled. "Oh, yes! I just need to gather my thoughts."She set down her tea cup and leaned toward us. "We weren't suppose to be there, either of us.""Where?" Frank said."At the dance.""Dance?""Maybe I'd better start at the front." Her lips parted in a slow smile. "There was a big dance. For New Years. The war was on and people needed some--diversion.""Ah. The war," I said."Yes." Mary nodded. "It was 1944 and we thought the war was never going to end. So any chance we got to kick up our heels and forget for a little while was welcomed. The only problem was that these affairs usually got rather out of hand.""People tried a little too hard to forget?" Frank said."Exactly.""Understandable.""Yes," she smiled, "but not very--" she puckered her brow, "--I guess 'classy' is the only word I can think of."I smiled at her. "I take it your parents didn't approve?""Definitely not. Especially because my best friend, Bea, had gone to one of them and ended up getting married."I frowned. "Getting married isn't so bad.""Well, not when it happens normally. You know - planning, family invited. The problem was that Bea and her beau got married the night they met.""Umm, okay that is a bit different.""How is that possible?" Frank asked.Mary raised her eyebrows. "Well, closer to Vegas, I don't think would have been a problem. Here, in Alberta, though, it wasn't strictly legal. But it was done and the young couple certainly acted as though it was a real and proper ceremony. By the next morning, there was nothing else to be done but have another ceremony. This time with witnesses. And very quickly because the groom only had a 48 hour pass." She smiled. "So the rest of the parents in the town were a trifle--gun shy. So to speak.""I can certainly understand that," I said."Anyway, back to the dance." Her eyes twinkled. "Neither of us was supposed to be there. Me, because I wasn't quite 18 and Ray, because his parents didn't approve of dancing.""So how did you end up there?""Well, I crawled out my window and Ray told his parents he was going to the library."I laughed. "You rotten kids!"Mary smiled. "Yes, weren't we? Then we both felt so guilty about what we had done that we just hovered in the shadows on the outskirts of the party.""And that's when you met?""Yes. Out on the fringes of 'Guiltsville'.Frank and I laughed."Go on," I said."Well, this handsome soldier saw me standing there, tapping to the music and he came over and asked if he could get me a drink." Mary smiled. "I didn't drink, but I was afraid to tell him, so I just asked him to bring whatever he was drinking. He grinned and disappeared. A couple of minutes later, he handed me a tall glass."Mary snorted softly. "I remember staring down into that liquid and ice cubes and thinking about how flawed my plan had been. Then he leaned closer and whispered, "It's just ginger ale", into my ear. I was so relieved! We spent the rest of the evening perched on the table furthest from the dance floor, and talking."Her eyes moistened. "It was the beginning of over fifty years together." She looked up at us. "And we never did stop talking.""What a beautiful, wonderful story, Mary," I said."Thank you," she said. She looked away. "The only thing that dimmed our happiness was the fact that we never could have children.""Oh, Mary, I'm so sorry!" I said.She shrugged. "Yes, well, life is what it is."We were silent for a few moments.Frank looked at the picture over the fireplace. "But I thought . . ." he didn't complete the sentence.Mary followed his gaze. "You thought they were my children?""Well--yes."She smiled. "Well, they are, in a way."I looked at her."I saw that picture in a store and loved it. So I bought it and placed it there, where pictures of one's family should go." She smiled at it fondly. "So they are my family. My 'pseudo' family."I touched her hand and smiled."Well, enough of that!" Mary sat up and gave her grey head a shake. "More tea?"

Mary's Story

(A short story of fiction) - Part One It was a small cabin, hewn from the very stone upon which it stood. It stood some ways back from the main highway, perched precariously on a small cliff, where the road cut through part of the mountain.We had blown past it many, many times. It had always appeared deserted.Admittedly, we had allowed ourselves only the briefest of glances, hurrying to or from family obligations.But one could take note of the empty windows. The vacant chimney.Now, quite obviously, its unoccupied state had changed.The cabin had come to life and was showing a brave, cheerful face to the world.The wide front porch, with its single rocking chair and stone tubs of red blooms looked open and inviting.Windows gleamed.The square central chimney blew merry puffs of smoke into the clear air.My husband slowed down, peering upwards. "Hey, Mare, looks like our little cabin is occupied."I smiled at him. Our little cabin? I, too, looked up. "It does.""I've always wondered how one reached that cabin," he said.I nodded. "Me, too."He glanced over his shoulder. Here, near the cabin, the road twisted through the narrow cutting, disappearing almost immediately behind us. Oncoming traffic was invisible until it was only a couple of car lengths away.It was a dangerous spot to stop.My husband pulled over to the right as far as he could and slowed to a crawl.I could feel the rough stones of the shoulder beneath the tires. "What are you doing?" "Exploring.""Here? Someone's going to come around the corner . . .""We'll be fine."I rolled my eyes and clutched the little potted plant I held, but said nothing.He was studying the steep cliff beside us. Suddenly, he pointed. "There!"A small opening had appeared in the wall of stone. Barely wide enough for a car.No wonder we had missed it.He turned into it.I looked at him. "What are you doing now?" He grinned. "Going to see our cabin.""But, honey, we don't know who lives there!"He glanced at me. "You've always wanted to see it, right?""Well . . . yes.""All right, then."We were silent as the car labored up the short, steep drive.It opened up suddenly and we were on a wide ledge of stone.The cabin stood directly in front of us.My husband pulled next to an ancient car parked there and shut the engine off, then opened his door. "Coming?"I stared at him, shrugged, set my plant on the seat and reached for the door handle. "I guess so."I slid out and stood for a moment, looking at the cabin.From this angle, it looked solid. Square. As though it could meet any challenge.Withstand any threat.I started to close the door, then spied my plant on the front seat. For some reason, I reached out and picked it up, cradling it in my arm as I closed the door.My husband frowned. "What's that for?""I'm not sure."He shrugged and the two of us walked around to the porch, then up a small set of stone steps.Just as we reached the wide front door, it swung inwards.Just a crack."Are you lost?" a sweet little voice asked from the darkness on the other side of the door."No," my husband said. "We drive past here weekly, on our way to my mother's home--"I glanced down at the plant I was still clutching, originally intended for said mother-in-law.My husband was still speaking, "--and we couldn't help but notice that someone was living here. We thought we'd drop in and say hello.""Oh." There was a pause, then, "Well, that's nice. Please, come in." The door swung wide and a tiny, stooped old woman appeared in the opening. "I don't get many visitors," she said.My husband stepped back and let me go through first.I sank into a thick, hand-knotted rag rug covering most of the wide, polished floorboards in the entry/living/family room which took up the entire front of the house.Windows ran on three sides of the room, offering glimpses of the wide porch, the road below and the purple mountains fading into the distance.A fire crackled cheerfully in the stone fireplace across from the entrance. A large, grey cat was asleep on the hearth in front of it. A long, horsehair sofa, brightly covered in a beautiful, hand-stitched quilt, was pushed under the windows to our right with a low, highly polished wooden table in front of it. A single, winged chair with a matching footstool held the place of honor in the center of the room, within toasting distance of the warm flames.A heaped workbasket stood beside it.The opposite side of the room was taken up by a large quilt frame. An intricate, half-finished quilt was fastened to it.The walls, stone and wood, were bare, except for the lone picture of two smiling, apple-cheeked children over the fireplace.It was a warm room.A cozy room.And I felt instantly at home. I turned back to the woman, who had just finished closing the door, and got my first good look at her.She looked--soft.Cuddly soft.Her figure was plump and gently rounded. Her face unlined and pleasant. Snow-white hair was drawn gently back into a loose bun at the back of her head. She had a straight, small nose and a tiny bow of a mouth which seemed to smile readily. Faded blue eyes regarded us with a merry twinkle.Her whole being seemed to shine with good will and happiness.I held out my hand. "I'm Mary. And this is my husband, Frank."The tiny woman grasped my hand firmly. "Mary is my name, too!" She smiled and her blue eyes twinkled. "I won't have any trouble remembering that!"She pressed my hand between both of hers, then turned towards Frank. "And Frank. So nice to meet you!"He shook her hand as well, then cleared his throat uncomfortably. Now that he had gotten us inside, he seemed to be at a loss.I shook my head. My big, strong explorer. Obviously, it was up to me. I held out the plant. "This is for you," I said."Oh!" she clasped her hands together. "Oh, this is lovely!" She reached for the small pot with trembling hands, then held it tightly and smiled at me. "Thank you, my dear!"I smiled back. "You're very welcome." I scratched my forehead, feeling suddenly awkward. "Ummm--Mary, we're sorry to barge in like this, but we have always admired your home here and wanted to just come and take a peek. We really didn't mean to disturb you."Mary smiled. "It's no bother. I watch the cars go past on the road and often wish someone would stop to say hello." She waved a hand towards the front room. "Please. Take a look around."I stepped towards the sofa and glanced out the window. "You have a lovely view.""Oh, yes. That is what I love most about this place. My husband, God rest him, couldn't stand it here. Said it made him feel--hemmed in.""Oh, I'm sorry." I turned back to her. "Has he been gone long?""A few weeks now. But don't feel bad. We had a long and happy life together." She looked around. "This was my parent's home. I was born here.""Oh, how nice!""Yes, but when I married, my husband's work took us to the city and we lived there until--" she paused."Until he--""Yes." I patted her arm.She took a deep breath. "Come. See the rest." She showed us proudly through the little house. The old-fashioned kitchen with its hand pump beside the sink and its wood stove. The two tiny bedrooms, one on either side of the kitchen, with their equally tiny beds covered several layers deep in more of the hand-made quilts.It was like stepping back in time.I had to keep glancing at the electrical wires, obviously a later addition and tacked neatly to the stone and wood walls, to remind myself that we were still in the present.Mary led us back to the main room. "Please sit." She indicated the sofa. "And I'll make tea.""Oh, I don't think--" I got no further."Sit."Obediently, we sank down."Could I at least help with something?"Smilingly, Mary shook her head. "You are my guest. I'll bring in the tea." She disappeared into the kitchen."Now see what comes of being nosey," I whispered to Frank.He gave me a lop-sided grin.In a very short time, Mary was back, with a laden tray. She set it down on the low table, then picked up an old camera, in a worn, leather case. She held it out. "I hope you don't mind, but I get so few visitors that I'd like to record it."Frank shook his head. "We don't mind."The two of us put our heads together and smiled obligingly.The camera clicked.Mary set it back on the tray and proceeded to serve us tea.An hour later, we were once more back in our car, waving at the little, old woman as she smiled at us from her porch."Well, that was an adventure," my husband said, as he negotiated the narrow drive."I thought it was lovely." I smiled to myself. It had been lovely.Was there more to come?

More Travels.

This post is a combination:
Travels with Diane-Continued
and
Use Your Words. (A monthly word challenge from my good friend, Karen Blessing of Baking in a Tornado.)
My words this month are:
green ~ slimy ~ frogs ~ bugs ~ firecracker ~ bb gun   Were a gift from Dawn And have been included with the following:
And now, on to theREST of THE STORY:I left you all in Avignon.I hope you had a good rest.Let's continue...
Gordes.Okay, I hadn't heard of it, either, but you can bet I won't forget it soon. Medieval town.And . . . WOW!


Yeah, our pharmacy doesn't look like that . . .From there, a quick hop across and down the road a couple of miles to Rousillon, the RED stone town.



Then on to Antibes. Which sounds like something ancient and Greek. But wasn't.It was our first 'no-frills' hotel. We had to pay extra for parking. Bedding. Towels. Gasp. But the beds were comfy and the view spectacular. See?
Touring Nice.
Just outside of the Old Town . . . Ummm . . .
Old Town Nice. Amazing. Down the road to Monaco.I have one thing to say: Man, do they ever monitor their parking! Fortnately, we escaped unscathed, but they have a whole team of people who spend their entire day towing vehicles. Yow!The beach wasn't spectacular.And the city crowded and under construction.And there are no bathrooms.None.Zip. Nada.Zilch.But the drive! Wow!


Looking down on the medieval town of Eze.
Yeah, it's a restaurant.
I hope they sell really sticky, light food . . . Eze. And a tree. Because.
Husby being photogenic.
The world famous beaches of Monaco.Skipped across the corner of Italy and into Switzerland. Have you ever dreamed about a place all your life and then, when you finally got to visit it was ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING YOU EVER DREAMED?!
Well, that was Switzerland. It was just turning green in the spring sunshine.A little side note: When visiting Switzerland, bring money. Lots and lots of money.

See the little heart-shaped cloud.
Switzerland was happy to see me!
Even the strictly practical had to be picturesque here.
This is the structure wherein they hide the controls for the flood gates.







We explored the country side and then took the 'Bond' ride from Stechelberg to Schilthorn. And for a few hours, stood on top of the world!Watched the skiers. The day was super warm, but the snow wasn't too slimy. Yet.

Whimsical BB gun sighting. 



Where they filmed: On His Majesty's Secret Service. Bond film #1000
Okay, I don't really know the number, but this seems close . . .
Bond and his leading lady: Oldie vonMouldie.
It just stops my heart. Every time.How do you follow that?With chocolate and cheese, of course.So we were off to tour the Cailler Chocolate plant and Gruyeres cheese plant, both in the village of Gruyeres. The best part?SAMPLES!!!

The next stop  was Lausanne and the most unique hotel room I've ever seen: Isn't this the cutest ever?
Yogurt-eating Husband not included.Then a visit to the Mormon temple in Bern followed by a quiet rest-of-the-day in our rooms.Yes!


On to Divonnes-les-Bains.And yes, we were right across the parking lot from the baths.And no, we didn't get a chance to go in.Sigh.


But we did get to see CERN, the super-collider/atom-smasher.Fascinating.And waaay beyond my understanding . . .Where are the men from Big Bang Theory when you need them? CERN visitor's centre.

Covered with equations and names of amazing men and women.
A friendly face in the business part of things . . .
Geneva!It was closed. Ghandi. On the United Nations grounds. Just before we lost our parking . . .
Not your usual used car dealership.
Doesn't it just speak to you?!
Over 140 meters. Straight up.
What can I say: Swan butt.
Maybe fishing for frogs?
Husby getting cold feet. Seriously.
Lake Geneva Super interesting statue. Sisi. Empress of Austria.

Last night: MalesherbeDelightful hotel.Stopped off for some pictures of the Chateau Fontainbleau, then to the airport. Parking garage.
An ancient cottage on the property.
Inside looking out.
Mind the bugs.
The road to . . .
View from my window.
Last dinner in France. What else? French Onion soup!
Fontainbleau. Before the gates open.
And, just like that, it was over.We were home, celebrating our trip by blowing off a few firecrackers.The best parts? All of the above.And patisseries.The worst? Road tolls in France.And things closed between noon and two. Or one and three.Or Thursday.And the prices of everything in Switzerland.Would I do it again? YES!

Several of my blog friends participate in Use Your Words.
You can find them here:
Baking In A Tornado
Spatulas on Parade
The Diary of an Alzheimer's Caregiver
Sparkly Poetic Weirdo
Bookworm in the Kitchen
The Bergham Chronicles
Simply Shannon
Southern Belle Charm
The Angrivated Mom
Climaxed
Not That Sarah Michelle

Travels with Diane, Etc.

Where to start? Where to start?
I guess at the beginning. Good flights. Too much food. and great company.
Wonderful friends/travelling companions
Us
Then: Paris.
Did these inveterate travellers pause? Not for an instant, though we had been conscious for nearly 24 hours. Taxi to our Air B&B, settling in, and back on the street. (In a totally non-prostitute sense...)
Because we were in PARIS! It was a beautiful day (The only one while we were there, as fate would have it) and where else would one go on a beautiful day in Paris? La Tour d'Eiffel!
See how French I am?!




The sheer immensity. Even majesty!
The crowds.
The heights.
Okay, I'm not so good with the heights. But when in Paris . . .

Then because they obviously didn't know we were coming and had scheduled a concert that we weren't invited to, the outside of the Beautiful Paris Opera.
Sigh.

The next day, The Louvre.
Where we spent the requisite two weeks--less one week, six days and 20 hours.
Yes we did the Louvre in only four hours. My advice? Take longer . . .
Venus says 'Hi!"

You know, I thought it would be bigger
Baby hands!!!
Okay, this is definitely NOT what I see when I look up at my ceilings . . .
From there, Notre Dame Cathedral.
In a word? Magnificent.


All I could think was: Who washes THAT window?
The next day, The Catacombes! Dun-dun-duuuuun! After a looooong three hour wait (a word of advice--buy your admission tickets in a group. Online.) in cold wind, we were nearly ready to just take up residence with the other dead bodies.
The nearly-dead.
The truly dead.
Then we warmed up by doing the Champs-Elysees from the Arc de Triomphe to the obelisk (with its attendant 'French Eye' and who thought this was a good idea?) Couple of pictures of Eglise de Madeleine, then groceries, then back to the apartment.



See what I mean? Now THAT'S a church!
Picked up our car, stopped off at Versailles and the new Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saint temple (Ummm wow. And wow.) Then back to the apartment for our last night in Paris.
Dozens of gi-normous rooms. A hundred galleries. His own church. But no bowling alley.
Okay, there were several pools, so the absence of a bowling alley is forgiven.
Missed the open house by days. Days! *sob*
Off on our roadtrip. And a stop at Euro-Disney.
Did I feel guilty for being there without a single one of my grandkids?
Nope.

This is me: Squeeeeeeeeee!

If you stand just right, the lamps inside look like eyes.
True story.


My hero!

First night, Chateau Bellfontaine in Bayeux. A genuine old chateau. And we stayed in it!
Can anyone say: Yow?


Then the Bayeux tapestry. Which really has to be seen to be believed.
Now that would cover one huge wall! Or all of the seven dwarves beds at once. Or . . . well, you really have to see it . . .

Then out to Juno for a lot of tears and some pictures of the Normandy Beach Canadian graveyard.
Then on to a couple of museums . . .

Gorgeous. Peaceful. Everything a cemetery should be.

Then some really big guns . . .
Smile!

On to Mont St. Michel, rising like a man-made mountain out of the sea.


Scenes inside . . .
. . . And out.
And in and out . . .


Stairways great . . . . . . And small.
Then to Tour and the chateaus: Villandry



Usse (Sleeping Beauty)





And Azay-le-Rideau. Again on the water. I wonder what their basement looks like . . .




Lascaux. This time to see the cave drawings. I loved this one. Well, I love them all, but for some reason, this one especially. I guess because I never learned to draw.
Because the cave itself is off limits (pollution) to human interlopers, it has been painstakingly recreated. I couldn't see the difference. Can you see the difference?


Stopped for a photo-op at Carcassonne. Sooo much more impressive than my picture shows.


Then on to Avignon.
Something we want to re-create in our home town. Doable. Right?
Palais des Papes


The famous Avignon half-a-bridge.

View from the famous bridge.
Everybody! "Sur la pont d'Avignon . . ."
A gate latch. I don't know about you, but my gate latches don't look anything like this...

And I'll pick it up there on Friday.
See you then!

Parent Pioneers

Every month, Karen urges her fellow bloggers to participate in a writing challenge, based on a theme. The rules are simple. 
1. Poetry. 2. Write it.
The results are both beautiful and diverse.
This month's theme is RENEW.
For me, the word always brings back thoughts of the ranch. In the spring.
So, this month, I'm going to use a poem written, not by me, but by my mother.
Discovered by me in one of her journals only a couple of years ago, over a decade after her death.
I know this is stretching Karen's rules, but I do hope she'll forgive me . . .

Pioneer Stock [image error]
Fresh, clear air from East to WestAnd room to come and go,To watch the prairie grasses wave,And feel the cool winds blow.
To hear the Whisper through the trees,And watch the morning light,The little prairie creatures stir,The ducks and geese take flight.
To see the lazy shadows playAcross the hills at dawn,And watch the golden sun rays touchA mother and her fawn.
To look out o’er the rolling hills,As far as the eye can see.And not a thing to mar the view,Not road, nor fence, nor tree.
And far across the plains we seeAt the edge of the prairie.A ridge of snow-capped mountains riseIn Splendid majesty.
When winter sheds his frosty coat,And north winds cease to blow,We see the fragile prairie flowersPeek through the melting snow.
When all the lights of the Milky WayPlay eternal melodies,A million winking stars aboveJoin the Heavenly Symphony.
And, stealing ‘cross the rolling land,A whispering, gentle breeze,A haunting, trembling Rhapsody,Stirs leaves in all the trees.
When the moon begins to float,Across the balmy night,Caressing all the troubled world,With it’s glorious, heavenly light.
We see the prairie antelopeCrest the hill at night,A silhouette against the sky,As he pauses in his flight.
As the frogs croak out a lullaby,And all the Prairie sleeps,A purple Shadow treads the TrailWhere the Wiley Coyote creeps.
The tattoo of the horses’ feet,As the stage coach rolls along,The sweat and grime and clouds of dust,The crack of the whip at dawn.
And bounding o’er a craggy ridge,The mocking laugh of Raiders,We hear the loaded wagons roll,With cursing Whiskey traders.
When a fevered child cries out,There is no way to go,To drive the faithful horses throughThe shocking drifts of snow.
Sit anxiously throughout the night,Clutched ln fear and dread.No way to call a Doctor, orTake the infant in the sled.
To rise with the sun and milk the cow,And tend the hungry teams,To pause a bit and watch the flocksFly on to other streams.
To eat a slice of thick, dark bread,Rich butter and some jam,Bowls of steaming porridge, and,A slice of home-cured ham.
Hitch the team up to the plow,And with the help of God,Glean a frugal living fromThe brown unwilling Sod.
Through Silver Willow, Sage, and, Brush,We hear the prairie call,The pioneers of this land are there,Their silent footsteps fall.
We share so much with those who’ve passedTheir hope, their faith, their tears,The courage to rise again and again,Our parent pioneers.
See what the others have done with the theme . . .Karen of Baking In A Tornado: RenewDawn of Spatulas On Parade: RenewSarah of Not That Sarah Michelle: Rebirth

Poetry Monday: He Did

I'm home!
With real WiFi and my  own bed!Tomorrow, I will be taking you along on my once-in-a-lifetime trip through France and Switzerland.But today?Today is for poetry because:Monday is an awkward day,It means the weekend's done away.Faced with a workweek, shiny new,We all need help to not feel blue.
Okay, well, it might take me a while to get back into the groove! :)

For today: When the daughter of my Dad's friend brought her future husband to meet her family, this is what her Dad told her/them.
True story.The brave young man married the girl anyway. I just thought it would sound fun as a poem . . .
Her family had all been awaiting this call.When at last they could meet her intended.Unsure if a wedding ball'd ever befallOr if spinster-hood ever portended.
But a young man, she'd met who was perfect, she'd bet,In whose honour and love she felt sure.So homeward, she'd set, their opinion to get,And to tell her her choice would endure.
Her father shook hands with her handsome young manAnd questioned him closely a while.They talked of his clan, and he asked him his plans,Then he turned to his girl, with a smile.
“From all that I hear, you have nothing to fear.But if his standards aren't mine and your mother'sDon't worry, my dear,” he said to her, clear.“He'll be buried out back with the others!”
Ahhh. Monday.See what my co-conspirators have come up with this fine day!Delores waxes beautifully lyrical at MumblingsJenny talks about her beautiful--but unpredictable--green-eyed fur baby at The Procrastinating Donkey

Modern Medicine

Monday PoetryYesterday would have been Daddy's 92nd. Happy birthday, Daddy!To celebrate, another of his favourite stories!

"I insist!" she told the doctorIn her firmest, loudest voice.When out the door, he would have sent her,Because that was his choice.
"I'm not leaving without answers!"Her voice was now a shout."Is it measles, mumps or hiccups?! I'm prepared to have this out!"
The doctor sighed and shrugged, "You knowThere's something I can try.We know the what and where and who,Well now let's find the 'why'."
So he found a room and parked herTucked up snugly in her bed,Tried, some sense, to whisper, andRelieve her of her dread.
Then upon her firm insistence,And with no more ado,He left, but said he'd send someoneTo give that second view.
All at once, her doorway opened,And a cat stepped in the room.He stopped her there in mid-mope, as,He circled in the gloom.
Three times around, he loped, the whileHe watched her carefully,Then he turned and with a feline smile,Meowed to be set free.
A moment more, the door, again,Swung open. Without guile,A happy Mr. Dog bounced in,Who sat and stared a while.
When the visits of her august guestsHad finished, back he came--Her doctor with some more intel.He called her by her name:
"Well, the catscan's perfect, Ma'am," he said,"I couldn't be more calm.And the Lab work's just as positiveSo it's time for moving on!"
So remember when its 'doctor time'.And you ask for more info.Your doctor looks to many viewsTo make his knowledge grow.
Monday is just better when it starts with poetry!Zip over to Delores at Mumblings and Jenny at The Procrastinating Donkey and see what their day is like!
Still traveling. In Switzerland. One of the biggies off my bucket list!Loving this!

Pebble Debts

Poetry Monday

Feeling a bit pensive today,  being away from family and having time to ponder...

Yes, I stood there with the crowd,

And yes, I joined their actions,

But mine were not as bad as theirs

They were but just a fraction!

I did not throw the biggest stone,

When stones were being tossed.

T'was not my stone that caused most pain, 

Could I, like them, be lost?

The rocks they threw were great, and were

With great precision met,

Mine was just a pebble, true,

Should I receive their debt?

Theirs, they cast with all their might,

Mine, with little force.

If greater strength means greater wrong,

Am I truly on their course?

When sins are being weighed at last

And punishments are laid,

Will the Lord request a smaller due

When my 'pebble' debt is paid?

Zip over to Delores at Mumblings

And

Jenny at The Procrastinating Donkey 

And see what their Monday is like!

Me, I'm still rambling with my Husby and our friends. In the South of France now and heading toward Switzerland. Loving this!

The First Explore

Four little travelers on their first exploreBags packed and loaded, they close the front door.They wave a good-bye to their cozy home nest,And brimming with eagerness, start on their quest.
The first leg is easy, just hop on the plane,They listen intently as things are explained,They try very hard to do all they’ve been told,Keeping seatbelts all fastened and hand luggage stowed.
They eat what they’re given and smile as they do,Pack everything neatly and bid it adieu.They smile and are pleasant to everyone there,All the pilots, attendants and peeps in the chairs.
The flight is so smooth and they’ve had so much fun,They’re really surprised to discover: it’s done!They gather belongings and check once and twice,Then follow the others toward paradise.
Now you have to know all of them really prepared,They read the brochures and their info, they shared,They knew they were set for this little explore,They were ready for all on this thrilling new shore.
There’s just one little thing that they hadn’t expected,An aspect, for them, that’d gone quite undetected.They knew all the culture and customs and facts,Could look up the ‘places to see’, just like that.
But this one little thing they’d forgotten, for sure.Something that wasn’t in any brochure,This something gave those English speakers  a wrench,In France, did you know, all the French people  speak French?!

It’s Poetry Monday.In France!Hop over to Delores and Jenny and see what their Monday is like!

Library Crimes

I rarely look inside my purse.It’s true.I don’t shop. And when I do, it’s so rare, I need instructions about where to slide or insert the little card thingy.
I also love to read.All of this will become relevant . . .When the kids were little, we went to the library.A lot.It builds character.We had our routines. Which usually consisted of me hauling a great bag of books into the place.And another great bag of books out of the place.Why do so many of my life’s memories include me carting heavy loads?Just wondering . . .On many of our visits, several of the books I carried in and out were for me.This is both good and bad. Because I read a lot. Which was good.But I also brought whatever I was reading with me wherever I went in the house. And, because I’m unorganized, usually left it there. So, when the time came for our weekly library trip, I couldn’t yell at my kids for displaced books because I was the worst offender.Sigh.On this particular occasion, I had lost the book I was reading.Really lost it.No amount of hunting and cleaning and interrogating family members brought that little beauty to light.Finally, in desperation, I decided I would simply have to purchase said book.During our library visit, I talked to the girl at the counter, explained my dilemma, and paid for the stupid book.Then gathered my kids and headed toward the exit and my great bag of books that had been slid through and was waiting for me beyond the turnstile.As we neared the gate, a great electronic shriek filled the room. Definitely not a ‘library’ sound.It startled all of us.Including the people behind the desk.“Ma’am?” one of the girls said. “Do you have an unscanned library book?”I looked at my children, all bookless, and shook my head.“May we examine your purse?”Nodding, I handed it to her and she opened it.And there, nestled among the used Kleenex, lipbalm and hairbrushes, was the lost book.I am not making this up.Both of us gaped at it like we had spotted a snake nesting in the warm confines of my handbag.“That’s it!” I exclaimed unnecessarily.She pulled it out and looked at me.I don’t remember what happened after that. I think they gave me my money and kept the book. Everything was a blur.I should tell you I have no idea of how that book got into my purse.
Ahem . . .I swear I’m not indifferent to rules. I understand how a library works—the whole borrowing and returning thing. I also know that when you wish to purchase a book, you go to a book store, pay your money, and then stuff your book into your bag.Knowing isn't doing, I guess.So, if you’re considering going to the local library to apply for a membership card and need a personal recommendation from a friend?Probably you should look elsewhere.
Every month, Karen, of Baking in a Tornado collects words.Then she distributes said words.The result is Use Your Words and it is such fun!
My words this month were:  character ~ unorganized ~ indifferent ~ recommendation ~ library and came to me, via Karen, from Rena at Diary of An Alsheimer's Caregiver 


Here are the other participants:Baking In A Tornado Spatulas on Parade The Diary of an Alzheimer's Caregiver Dinosaur Superhero Mommy The Bergham Chronicles Simply Shannon Confessions of a part time working mom Southern Belle Charm The Angrivated MomClimaxedNot That Sarah Michelle