Friday, September 30, 2005


I have a big job interview this afternoon. It is complicated. I accepted a position with a company and the very next day my OLD company calls and has a job opening they would like me to apply for.

Then....they call back and want to reschedule the appointment so the General Manager can sit in.

That is when I got nervous.

Even though the company is huge, it still is tight. I realize it is common knowledge what happened to me this summer. I think they want to make it right. I always was a good worker. Maybe I was a little bit of a slacker due to the many years I had on the job and the ability to know how to make things run smoothly. That gave me time to be  a slacker. That was squeezed out of me this summer.

I have been dragging my heels with the other position. I have a moral and ethical tug of war going on in my head. Yet, if XXX offers me the job I will do cartwheels.

This time when they ask me those hard questions  I will not take it so lightly. This is also what is making me nervous.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005



Oh my......just the addition of that little "s" made this challenge a bona fide challenge! It came to me like a bolt of lighting. Ever since I have been a young child I have been full of secrets. It was a logical progression. I was the eldest child, the only girl with three brothers. 11 years later my first sister was born. Saddled with Roman Catholic parents, "from the north",  in a small southern town where everyone knew everyone's business  being secretive was the key to survival.

I'm heavy with secrets. As a child, as a woman. My secrets were much more interesting as a child.  Such as pinching cigarettes from the parents of my friends who were careless with the abandoned packs...usually Larks or Tarytons. We smuggled them  like precious jewels to the tree house to light up and pass from grubby hand to hand at 12 years of age. Younger still, on a dare to blatantly steal from the 5 & 10 the highly coveted sharpeners and mechanical pencils for trading during school. So brazen, we would grab the paper bags from under the counter and walk into the aisles of helpless merchandise. Yes, we got caught. Another story for another time.

I began to write journals at the age of 12. I hid them in my room. I was a champion on finding hiding places.  I had many prying eyes, not only my three savage brothers but my Mom and Mae, the lady Mom had come once a week to help clean the house. (Mae is another story for another time). I wrote all my secrets into those journals. I called them "Bibles". I burnt most of them in the fireplace in 1979. I wish I hadn't. I'd give anything to have them today. Only one survived, the original Bible. It is presently in the storage area.

Once I realized I would photograph my "Bibles"/journals I was able to find several scattered about the house! Hidden...naturally....that is the fun of it.

I am almost finished with the 150 page monster I picked up a year ago. I fancied it because it is a five subject notebook. Translation...eight pockets to stuff things in! It was ambitious for a one year journal. I have about 50 pages left . Lots of room for many more secrets.

The other participants:

Patrick...A Stop At Willoughby

Lahoma...Lahoma's Laments

Promise...Promise Me -Cancelled

Becky...Where Life Takes You

Dorn...Through The Eye Of The Beholder

Karen...Musings from Mavarin

Betty...My Day My Interests

Mary...Alphawoman's Blog

Sara...Photographic Memories

Debbie...Me Thinks Too Much



Marie...Photographs Memories


Monday, September 26, 2005

A Mother Always Knows

Saturday I received a letter from my Mother. I was so thrilled that I was ripping the envelope open even before I had returned to the house. My Mother is part of the last generation of letter writers. She learned the art from her Mother who holds the esteemed title of The Greatest Letter Writer that ever lived. Her mother dutifully wrote letters to all the realitives she left behind when she and her husband immigrated to America.

My Aunt, Mom's sister, is a tremendous letter writer also. She arises at 5am each day and begins her letter writing, as is her custom as was her mothers. I receive notes on a regular basis from Aunt Maura. They are generally informative chatty two page affairs keeping me abreast of all the going on's with my cousins and their families.

I love those notes.

There is something so intimate and joyful about knowing that someone took the time to jot down a few lines, hunt down my address (I have had 20 different addresses in as many years), find a stamp and place the letter in the mail. Do those sending the letters have any notion at the pleasure that accompanies them on their journey?

I remember when I  left home and began my first attempt at college. I traveled 250 miles west to attend Murray State University. I felt at that time that I wanted as far away from my parents as possible! (strict Roman Catholics). The mail boxes for my dormitory were located in Hart Hall. Everyday around mid day I would make the trek to the boxes. They covered three walls, were made of brass, had two tiny knobs for the combination, and a tiny glass window.

To see something in that box always brought a smile. It usually was a letter from my Mom, a letter from one of my friends I left behind, or the home town weekly newspaper. The bouts of loneliness and homesickness an 18 year old child away from home for the first time could be forgotten for awhile at mid day.

It is because of those memories that I make an extreme effort to send Bridget a card each week for the past year and a half since she has moved to Louisville. If I skip a week, she lets me know. It is amazing how much the simple act of a card with an "I love you and I miss you" means. Yet I know. That is why I do it.

I called my Mom yesterday and told her how much I appreciated the note. I told her how I recalled anticipating her letters while at Murray and how I would run to the mail box with hope that I would  be receiving that little bit of home. I told her how much I loved it and looked forward to it and how her letter brought back those memories.

"Oh Mary, don't forget I put $12 in those letters too!"

That woman remembers way too much!

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Writers Cramp

I mean writers block

I was reading Trish and found out her journal is kicking off its third years of existence! I thought "Wait a minute....then so is mine!!" Trish made the very first comment in my journal and I'm forever grateful to her for that rush! I also found out that the VIVI awards are being kicked off!  Please go over and read all about it and cast your vote for the nominees.

Other than that life has been so boring! As a matter of fact it is well after noon and I am sitting in my pj's typing this! I have discovered Soduko and can not pull myself away from the numbers! I even dreamed about number combinations last night, it is that bad.

I have been reading non stop. I have been watching movies rented from Netflix...I love the foreign film selection. I have been doing stretch exercises with the Power 90 DVD's I purchased from a bout of infomercialitis I had earlier this spring. I have been walking and running. I have been walking around taking pictures of my neighborhood. It is a very eclectic Rail Road town. I have been thinking about making wine (I am such a procrastinator). I have been toying with trying to find a job. Fact of the matter is, doing nothing is right up my alley!

The days have been floating by as if I am drifting on a cloud. I realize that Christmas is several months away and I have to spring into action and find gainful employment!

Joe and I went to a small Irish Festival last week end and had a great time. I wanted to see a band called Gaelic Storm which was the band in the movie Titanic, but we could not last till 10pm!

Deep Throat applied for and was given my job in Hell City. The company called me last week and requested that I apply for a position opening up in Ft. Wayne....I just don't know.
A rambling entry just to say thank you AOL for giving us the opportunity to have this tremendous experience with the Journal Community.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005


The Round Robin challenge this time around is "Hero's".

Of all the important people who have been hero's in my lifetime, I have to showcase my parents. I am the most blessed person when it comes to family.

This picture is close to 30 years old. In my minds eye when I think "Mom" or "Dad" the faces that come to me are the faces of their youth and not the Grandma and Grandpa that they have morphed into. Sometimes I dream about them and I see them also as young and vibrant. I awake feeling I have been given a wonderful gift.

A hero is someone you look up to and admire. Someone who is brave in the face of adversity. Someone who can sacrifice for the right cause or any cause that needs help. Hero's are people who help other people. Who have strong convictions about right and wrong. Who lead by example. Who do the right thing even if it is the hardest path to take.  Hero's are people who put the greater good ahead of themselves. They are not selfish, they are not hypocrites. They are kind and generous. Stern and unbendable when they have to be. They live the law of love.

Love your neighbor as yourself.

I could fill page after page of my parents teaching this to their six children. The times when the less fortunate kids from our school would be in our kitchen making Christmas cookies with us. The year we had a house full of girls from South America, who went to the all girls college and could not go home for Christmas so they were at our house. When the neighbor that lived behind us came to the back door to ask my Mom for help, and she was always helped. The bags of corn and tomatoes that were given as gratitude, because the money would/could never be paid back. My father doing income taxes for the elderly and illiterate. My parents paying for memberships to the swimming pool for families that could not afford it. My mother giving away a full blooded Brittany Springer Spaniel puppy to a family who could not pay the asking price and the children were heart broken.

They taught me to give as a way of life.

We celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary several years ago. Hundreds of people came to the party! People came from all over this country to celebrate the auspicious occasion. I heard story after story about their kindness. Some of them whispered in my ear. Others were told looking me directly in the eye.  Some with their eyes downcast. The stories had one common theme, how my parents had changed their lives with some small or large kindness. As simple as the offering of support or encouragement when needed. One teenager told  me of a card with $100 tucked inside so she could go to camp with the other kids.

I know there are a lot of hero's out there in this world. My two hero's come from my small little place in this world.

My parents.


The other Round Robin participants:

Participating Robins...

Monica (Mamarazzi)

Carly (Ellipsis) POSTED!

Phinney (Paragon)

Cosette (Pandora's Box)

Derek (Derek's Picture of the Day)

Robbie (Robbie's Ruminations)

Renee (wwwTimelessCalligraphyStudiocom)

Aunt Nub (Fool's Paradise)

Karen (Musings from Mavarin) POSTED!

Mary (Alphawoman's Blog)


Friday, September 9, 2005


The Lexington Cemetery

Quite honestly, there is little I do not love about the South right at this moment. Yet, out of all the wonderful things I miss....the weekly church festivals with gambling and beer booths (Catholic), the Art shows, the hot air balloons floating on the horizon, white fences surrounding horse farms, yellow fields of  ripened tobacco,  the mockingbird and whippoorwill, the flowering weeds, stone fences, peach orchards, farmers markets, drive in movie theaters, magnolia trees, smoky mountains, UK basketball, horse racing, the sing song southern lilt, the farm boys of my youth, my family. So many yet I am going to settle on the cemeteries one finds in the South, I miss them so.

The cemeteries are not just resting places for our loved ones, but beautifully kept gardens full of moss covered stones, exotic flowers,twisty narrow roads over hung with weeping willows, rare trees and bushes, statues and monuments. Very few arboretums can compare to the beauty of a cemetery that is over 200 years old. Entering one during any season can make you catch your breath.

This past winter I kept my camera in the car so if perchance it began to snow I could get to the Lexington Cemetery and get a photograph of the "Wiggins" statue, an aging bronze statue of a fairy with her arms uplifted towards heaven, her head thrown back with a large smile, skipping on her pedestal about eight feet off the ground. I wanted to capture her catching snow flakes!

It never happened last winter.

The best BBQ is slow cooked over a wood fire for hours and hours, and then smeared with molasses, vinegar and lemon juice. It will bring you to your knees.


Wednesday, September 7, 2005

Mary Altogether

You just never know....

I try to run but its sad and I must look ridiculus.

This morning I managed to make myself go to the track behind the local high school.  The track is very forgiving to my bum knee. It is wonderful because unlike the Riverwalk area I do not have to dodge the reckless bicyclists. I can enjoy the tranquility of the morning. I even managed to run a very slow, very feeble two miles.

As I finished I saw that I was not alone. On the stretch stood a tall skinny man watching me walk towards him. He nodded at my knee and asked, "What happened?"

I told him the condensed version of my tale of woe and he reached out and asked for my hand. "Knee injuries can be relieved through the thumb." I turned my hand over to him and he quickly popped my thumb. "How's that?" he asked.

You know what? I think it felt better.

"Your neck is out of alignment.  Come over her and lie down on this carpet." He spoke with such authority what else could I do but lay down on my back and allow him to work me over.

My new angel, Coach Z., 70 years old and retired....from a distance walking up to him, he looked more like has a practice where he works people over. He started with my left knee, which he said he knew was the bum knee even though the right one is wearing the brace. He told me to throw the brace it away it just becomes a crutch. He worked my arms, then he fixed my neck.

"Trust me" he stated.

"Please don't kill me" I replied.

He fixed my neck.

I can not believe it. My neck has been out of whack for many years and I did not realize it only took a simple adjustment in the hands of someone who knows what they are doing.

Five minutes of laying on some scratchy astroturf and I am a new woman. I feel like 10 years have been lifted off my body.

Truly amazing. He told me it was only a bandaid for my situation.  That got my attention.  Now I have added incentive to get a job.

Because Coach Z is going to end up on my payroll!

Per our Blogfather:

Xzasporated1 (aka Jennifer) is doing a charity drive: Go to this entry, read it, and leave a comment, for every comment she gets (on comment per customer!) she'll pitch in a quarter for charity. A quarter's not a lot, but if she gets lots of comments, thenit addsup. So go on over and give her some encouragement. Also, understand if at one point or another she puts a cap on the contribution.


Sunday, September 4, 2005



Yesterday Joe and I traveled the 20 miles north to a car, The Car Show being held in Auburn. Now I am not one who would ordinarily attend a car show. In this case, a friend of mine from Kentucky who is in the concession business was there and gave us passes!

It was unbelievable. A sea of shiny chrome and polished steel, that included every color in the universe, stretched out as far as the eye can see. I have been to car shows before, but not one of this magnitude.

For Joe and I, it was an experience that can be described as a walk down memory lane. When my Nana moved from NYC to Kentucky, she drove a black Ford Fairlane...a 1960 I think. When I saw one yesterday, all those memories of Nana and her little dog Pogo flooded over me.

Car after car, memory after memory. Mach I's, 'Cuda's, Road Runners, Datsun 280Z's, MGB's, Triumph's, Nova's, Mustangs, and the list is endless.

I want one of those 'Cuda's. Next year I plan to bring the checkbook!


Thursday, September 1, 2005

She's Out

My Mom received a phone call this morning from Omega's Mother in Law telling her that they were on their way home.

The National Guard needed the hotel they were in and they were evacuated to the airport  in Baton Rouge and sent home. 

My Mom was crying.  I started to cry.  I knew they would be okay.  I can not believe the horror going on in New Orleans. I am dumbfounded that we can not air lift in supplies to those poor starving, dehydrated and dying people at the Civic Center. It is making me ill.

Please open your hearts and wallets.

I donated. Here.