When I was Young in the Mountains with Apologies to Cynthia Rylant

*For rather a while I have been kicking around the idea of this post which shares a title with a childen's book by Miss Rylant. My kids first read her book in 3rd grade as a warm up to a writing project in which they each shared about the sound, sights, tastes, and memories of their own young lives in the mountains. This weekend we scattered Aunt Bee's ashes at her place in the mountains and I was reminded what a refuge and place of peace it was for me as a child. 



When I was young in the mountains I walked along the paths as my grandfather told us stories of the first people to live here.

Now that I am older in the mountains I hike the trails thinking about how many generations came before me, how many may follow, and what those coming after me will or won't find.













When I was young in the mountains we took walks in berry season just to fill our caps with sweet, ripe fruit.

Now that I am older in the mountains the taste of fresh berries brings sweet memories to mind.












When I was young in the mountains I felt very big to be allowed to take the row boat out on the lake by myself.

Now that I am older in the mountains I feel very small when I stand at the water's edge in the shadow of the mountain.













When I was young in the mountains sometimes I was afraid of getting lost in the forest.

Now that I am older in the mountains I steal way among the trees hoping no one will find me for a while.













When I was young in the mountains we laughed and sang, "Hear the lively song of the frogs in yonder pond" after an afternoon of catching frogs, toads, and salamanders.

Now that I am older in the mountains I listen to the chorus of spring peepers early in the spring and the thrum of bullfrogs in the summer. I smile knowing these songs were sung long before I ever came to the mountains and will echo long after I have gone.




When I was young in the mountains I found the shady glen on a hot summer day. The ground was covered in moss and ferns which muffled my steps. The water cooled my toes while I listened to the brook burble over the rocks as I teetered on their tops.

Now that I am older in the mountains the ferns beckon with their curled fronds, "Come here, for just a few moments. Come be refreshed."




When I was young in the mountains the great boulders stood like silent, ancient guards in the forest watching over me as I ran along the paths others had cut.

Now that I am older in the mountains the boulders whisper to me of their long forced march at the urging of the glaciers. They sigh in their settled positions after so much restless wandering in the wilderness.

I sigh, knowing one day a rough stone marker will stand over me when I am hidden in the embrace of the mountain while berries grow, the water flows, and the frogs call to each other. And grandfathers, who were not yet imagined when I was an old woman, will lead their own grandchildren along the paths.

Amen

Coopernicus posted this first but I think it's excellent and worthy of the day.

I will remember those we've lost and pray for the comfort of their families and friends.

Diana-isms Again

She's been home only about 24 hours and already we've had a couple of exchanges that crack me up.

D: So the name Roy, is that short for something?
Me: Like what?
D: I don't know.  Royseph? Royger? Roybert? Roycliff?

I was laughing too hard to be able to tell her it's derived from the French word "roi" meaning king.

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When  I took her to the local Greek restaurant for take-out.

D: Oh, man.  I wish it was Wednesday or Saturday so I could have the lamb dinner special!
Me: Sorry, find something else you want.
D: I want lamb.  It's so yummy!  It's my favorite!  
Me: Well, I am glad you're in touch enough with your Greek roots to appreciate good lamb.
D: I am!  I see a fluffy little lamb and I want to KILL it so I can eat it!
Me: I don't think that is quite the reaction most people have when they see lambs.
D: I can't help they are so delicious I want them on my plate!

I thought she'd weep for joy when the counter guy told her that although they didn't have the weekly dinner special they did have lamb souvlaki today.

Trying out the New Lens in Central PA

The weekend before my surgery I went with Diana to a street festival in a small town in central Pennsylvania.  I loved the architectural details on the buildings in the town so it was fun to be able to zoom in and capture some of the details I wouldn't have been able to capture before.

Pretty great pretty grate.

Something about real shutters always catches my eye.

I'd imagine this stained glass is far prettier from the inside with the sun streaming through.

A nice contrast of colors.

This amount of carved detail amazed me. It spanned the length of the building and was on all floors from the second up to the top.

Again, the colors and subtle details caught my eye.

Ok,nothing subtle here.  I've worked as a painter.  May I just say I am exceedingly glad I never had to scrape and paint something like this with all the color changes.  I certainly appreciate whoever did it though.

PSA for the Gents

I am picky about the toiletries I use, mainly because I have sensitive skin and I am inclined to reactions to harsh detergents and chemicals.  Artificial fragrances and perfumes make me crawl right out of my skin.  Consequently, the toiletries I buy tend to be a bit pricier...though for the life of me I don't understand why natural ingredients are more expensive than a bunch of synthetic chemical compounds.

As a bit of background it should be noted that during the last shopping trip I purchased a different brand of bar soap because there was a significant savings over what I normally buy. Mr. Lime informed me that he was not a fan of the new soap. I asked if it was because of the relative lack of lather compared to what I bought before. He shook his head and replied, "Nope. The old stuff makes my balls tingle. This stuff doesn't." Isaac concurred and agreed with a serious preference for the "tingle effect."  They went on to recount an encounter with a particular body wash someone left in the shower when they were on a group trip and housed in a guy's dorm.  The owner of said body wash bemoaned how quickly it ran out, at which point, about four different guys spanning several decades in age admitted using it for the amazing and..erm...invigorating...sensations on one's manly bits.

Honestly, I have never had Dr. Bronner's Magic All-One Peppermint Soap, or any other soap for that matter,  make any part of my anatomy tingle....of course, I also lack external gonads. Aside from it being natural and not making me breakout, I like it because I'm not a morning person and the smell kind of helped me wake up in the shower.  So for the....uh....edification...of my male readers I thought I'd pass along that little gem in case any of you need that extra pick me up in your daily shower.

I guess now we know what the "magic" is all about.

Oh No, She Didn't! (Or Jeff Gets Me in Trouble)

In the past I have mentioned being in touch with my inner 12 year old boy, Jeff.  He's been behaving for a long time but in the past couple of weeks he has come roaring out of hiding.  You know, it has to be him because I am such a well-behaved person, always maintaining decorum...ok, wait....lemme try that again with a straight face.

Well, this week at work Jeff was in rare form.  Usually he only comes out to play when the boss is out of earshot.  His buddy, my coworker's inner 12 year old boy, Barry, is the one who tends to get caught by the boss.  Barry can get really hilariously raunchy and is typically the one who gets busted trying to be discrete about it and failing miserably. The boss is a notorious prankster but very conservative about innuendo so in spite of my tendency toward such on this blog I do attempt to keep it under wraps at work when I am within earshot of the boss. 

One of the adjusting tables had a badly damaged cushion we've been patching pretty regularly.  It finally was beyond such temporary fixes so the boss ordered a replacement cushion.  At the end of one evening it was quite slow so the boss decided to switch out the cushions on the table.  This involved the need for a few tools to partly disassemble the table to remove the old cushion before replacing it with the new one.  Once he was ready to install the new one he held it up to determine how to orient it as Jeff and Barry looked on.  The boss declared with some amazement, "I never know what to do when there are more holes than screws."

Without missing a beat (read: without engaging the brain before opening the mouth) Jeff interjected dryly, "That's what she said."  At which point the boss' jaw dropped at realizing I said this (rather than Barry) boldly, right in front of him.  In shocked tones, as my coworkers looked on in utter speechlessness, he declared in all seriousness that this was the dirtiest joke he'd heard since he was in college.

This is the point at which most people's brain might finally kick in and cause their mouths to slam shut.  Instead, my grey matter continued the chain of misfiring synapses as I struggled to imagine a man over the age of 50 honestly claiming that is the foulest thing he has heard in over 30 years.  My response.....wait for it.....

"Really?  Wow!  You must have lived a very sheltered life!" (Coworkers were turning purple trying to breathe in between guffaws.)

He continued to insist it had been 3 decades since he'd heard anything so filthy as he bent to apply the new cushion and look for hardware that had fallen to the floor saying, "I don't think I have enough screws."

My coworker's alter-ego, Barry, quietly deadpanned, "I never have that problem."

Jeff replied, "That's not what I hear."

The boss wept into the cushion.

Oh Hell No!

Hell No #1

So Mr. Lime, Isaac, and I went out for dinner.  The waitress came to take our drink order.  Mr. Lime ordered a Guinness.  I ordered a hard cider.  The waitress looked at Isaac and asked what he wanted.  He was flipping around in the menu trying to find where they listed the sodas they had available.  He could not find it.  The waitress reached over and handed my 16 year old son the cocktail menu.  Being either relatively innocent or trying to make sure he didn't get in trouble he began looking in there for the soda menu.  The waitress began showing him where the beer listing was.  Finally, Mr. Lime interjected with some firmness, "He'll have a ROOT BEER."  Isaac looked up in his consternation and added with relief, "Yeah, root beer.  I like root beer.  That's what I'd like. Thank you."

His father an I were looking at each other in incredulity.  Granted Isaac is 6'2" and often passes for older than 16 but he does still have a face full of pimples...and we live in a college town...where underage drinking can be an issue...so most restaurants card anyone who appears to be under 30.  Isaac finally noticed our surprised expressions and gave an innocent, "What?  What's going on?"  I informed him that the waitress seemed to think he was legal to drink.  Isaac was deflated to realize he had missed what he thought was a golden opportunity.


Hell No #2

During the same dinner I ordered my second pint of hard cider.  I am not a heavy or even frequent drinker by any stretch of the imagination but I do know how to pace myself so I don't often get tipsy and very rarely get drunk.  Mr. Lime has seen me legless only twice in 25 years.  However, this was less than a week after surgery and halfway through my second pint I noted with surprise that I was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol.  Given that I had been sipping not slurping and that I had food in my stomach I surmised I was still working out some of the drugs in my system if it were hitting me this quickly and stated my intention to slow down.  Isaac was piqued.  "You're drunk?" I told him I was feeling the effects but not trashed.

"Well chug it, Mom!  I want to see you drunk!"

"Not on your life, boy."

"Dad, have you ever seen Mom drunk?  What's she like?"

I arched a single eyebrow at Mr. Lime suggesting he choose his words carefully as I remembered that the second time he saw me completely blasted was only last summer and that the friends we were with found it so hilarious they are still talking about it.  He just smiled and said, "Happy.  She's just a reeeeeeaaally happy drunk."  Which is true and all the boy ever needs to know.