You Can't Make this Stuff Up!

I remember quite a few years ago, back when Ronald Reagan was President to be exact, having a conversation that I have come to regret over the years. My children were 5 and 3 and my life was relatively uncomplicated. As a miliatry family, we moved with some frequency. When the USAF took us to a new location, we made 'home', found a church ASAP and made friends. Quickly, because we probably weren't going to be there long. We lived in 5 different places in three and a half years at one point.

The conversation that I regret had much to do with my innocence and very simple view of the world at that time. There was a family in our church who seemed to go from one disaster or complicated situation to another. It seemed like they had a dark cloud over their heads that they just couldn't shake.

I was having tea with a new girlfriend and said something along the lines of, "I wonder why the Joneses seem to have so much stuff going on all the time? My life is so quiet and calm." Oh, Molli! Poor innocent Molli! Did you really call down the thunder like that? The Mollianne who said that had no idea how many times those words would come back, served up on a platter to be eaten over and over again. Remember Forest Gump and all the ways you can eat shrimp? I have eaten those words more times than I care to count.

Was there really a time when the biggest concern in my everyday life was sorting out which He-Man figure was my son's and which was Billy-the-kid-next-door's? When choosing a pattern and fabric to make an Easter dress for my daughter was the biggest decision I had to make? I lived in such a bubble and was just sure that I was going to live happily ever after. It never occured to me that bad things, tragic events, out of control things...LIFE might happen to me. Who IS that young woman in my memories? How did SHE turn into ME?

Let me just say that my life today seems very disconnected from my life then. As it ought to be. I've grown up, matured and live a life that is more complicated at times than I ever imagined but also has more joy and satisfaction than I could have dreamed. And somewhere in Rocket City, there is probably some wet-behind-the-ears young woman who could look at me and say, "Boy! Compared to her...my life is calm! There is ALWAYS something goofy going on in that family!" And, she would be right.

For instance, I went to the dermatologist on Monday to have a wart removed from the pinky finger of my right hand. Only it turns out that what I have is not a wart. It is some sort of cyst. Which requires surgical removal. Rocket Man and I looked at each other at this bit of news and burst into laughter {much to the doctor's surprise}. Rocket Man said, "Well, of course it does!" Who else goes to the dermatologist to get a pesky wart removed only to find out that surgery is in her immediate future?

I was able to get an appointment with the hand surgeon today, and am scheduled to have surgery next Monday to remove the silly thing. I came home with pain meds and have been thoroughly admonished that the dressing has to remain intact until the stitches are removed 8 days following the procedure.

Honestly. You can't make up stuff like this. I'm going to spend a week with my right hand bandaged up and my pinky finger taped to my ring finger to keep it immobilized. I'm guessing that Rocket Man will be adding some intersting things to the list of things he's never done before.

If you see me next week and think, 'Mollianne's makeup looks like it

was applied by a color-blind rocket engineer'

...You'll probably be right!

~Mollianne

Lest We Forget

January 27, 1967.  January 28, 1986.  February 1, 2003.

Apollo 1

Gus Grissom

Ed White

Roger Chaffee

January 27, 1967

Space Shuttle Challenger

Greg Jarvis

Christa McAuliffe

Ronald McNair

Ellison Onizuka

Judith Resnik

Michael J. Smith

Dick Scobee

January 28, 1986

Space Shuttle Columbia

Rick Husband

William McCool

Michael P. Anderson

David M. Brown

Kelpana Chawa

Laurel B. Clark

Ilan Ramon

February 1, 2003

Heroes.  Magnificent Acheivements.  The American Manned Space Flight Program. We may never see the likes of these again.  I fear that as a nation, we no longer care about space flight and exploration.  It is too hard.  It costs too much.  It is a political punching bag.  NASA's budget is about 1/2 of 1% of the nation's budget, but to many that is too much. It isn't a path we are willing to follow.  We are content to let others lead the way.  And when we find ourselves left behind, we will  have no one to blame but ourselves.

I mourn the loss of these courageous men and women this week.  My heart hurts for their families, friends and the entire aerospace community.  When we lose astronauts we truly lose our brightest and best. 

We appear to be willing to compound that loss by losing the whole thing.  American Manned Spaceflight may soon be a distant memory.  Something to tell my great-grandchildren about when I am old.  I can hold them in my lap tell them how I watched on that old black and white TV when the Saturn Missions launched.  Or that Christmas season when the moon was orbited...and the wondrous summer night that men actually stepped onto the surface of the moon...and I saw it!  The excitement of the Shuttle program and the sorrow I felt when we lost astronauts, both in training and  in flight. 

I can tell them of the whole saga of the Ares IX project and the part that their Granddaddy played in that program.  I will pull out pictures and awards and tell them how amazing it was to be there and watch it launch and how the Roll Control System that the amazing Rocket Man helped build worked perfectly.  The joy and jublilation we all felt at such a monumentous occasion.  Then, the kick in the gut when the program was shut down just a few months after such success.  I hope that my great-grandchildren will grasp the significance of what was accomplished in such a short amount of time.   

And then, willingly it seems, simply gave up. What a shame. 

Who will be their heroes?  Sports stars?  People from the entertainment industry?  Politicians? Will they know what an astronaut is and perhaps aspire to be one? 

Every day, I drive over a hill and the city of Huntsville, Alabama-Rocket City USA-comes into view.  In the distance, I see the Saturn V display at the U.S. Space and Rocket Center.  I've seen the sun set behind that display.  I'm afraid I'm seeing the sun set on U.S. Manned Spaceflight. 

R.I.P. brave astronauts

I hope I don't have to say the same to the program.

~Mollianne

Your Battery is Low

I've spent this evening bundled up in bed all alone with my laptop.  Rocket Man is traveling and I am left to my own devices and am without adult supervision.  I've snoozed a little, watched a movie, read some emails, talked to Rocket Man on the phone, played on facebook and refrained from internet shopping. 

About a year ago, I spent a great deal of time without my adult supervision while Rocket Man was away on business for the better part of 3 months.  He came home regularly during that time, but we spent a long time apart.  I grew weary of my own company and we were quite happy to be reunited.

This little trip is only 2 nights, but it feels all too familiar to be here and all alone.  I don't care for it.

Anyway, when I climbed into bed much earlier this evening, I snuggled down on his side of the bed.  I always sleep on his side when he's gone.  It is somewhat comforting to me to lay where he was night before last and will be again, God willing and if Delta Airlines gets him home, tomorrow night. 

Trouble is...the cord on my laptop doesn't reach that far.  And I am too lazy to crawl under furniture to plug it in to a closer outlet.  A few minutes ago, a warning popped up.

Your battery is low. 

I scrambled over to my side of the bed and plugged back in.  Can't lose my battery.

I realized that my battery really is low. I'm tired.  Not just because I didn't sleep well last night.  But a weary type of tired that goes deeper than one good night of sleep can fix.  Part of it has to do with my autoimmune difficulties, I'm afraid.  Part of it has to do with my lack of a good routine.  If I'm brutally honest, part of it has to do with my eating habits and lack of discipline in exercise. 

As I consider it, the warning tonight isn't the first warning I've had that my battery is low.  I've been just a bit cranky.  Sarcasm rolls off my lips entirely too quickly.  I have been easily irritated and feel anger bubbling just under the surface on occasion.  The worst is the feeling of being overwhelmed.  I just hate that.

So, yes.  My battery is low.  I need to plug back into my Source.  I need to be disciplined about my quiet time, my Bible reading and communion with God.  I need to consider carefully what I put into my body and I need to push it just a bit harder to burn calories and be more intentional about fitness. 

I'm ready.  And the first thing I'm going to do is turn the computer off and turn out the lights and try to get some sleep.  Because, my battery really is low.

I'm unplugging so I can recharge.

Because my battery is low!

Sledding in Alabama

I live in Alabama, smack dab in the Heart of Dixie. We had {for us} a major weather event this week. North Alabama was covered with anywhere from 6-10 inches of snow. It was beautiful. It also shut us down.

While the streets are relatively clear 5 days into the event, it is bitter cold and some parking lots are a mess. School is still out of session. Parents are tearing their hair out because they feel trapped in the house with their children. Small business owners are going to feel it because folks aren't out spending their money. This has been quite an event.

It has been a week of smiles and memories for me. Growing up in Iowa and Missouri, snow was just part of everyday life in the winter. My early adult life was spent in Germany, Colorado, New York, Ohio and Virginia before moving to the South in my early 30's. I haven't seen much of the white, fluffy stuff in Alabama.

Sunday night, I was at the window, watching the wonder of snow coming down. It was accumulating so quickly on the very cold roads and I began to think that the fervent prayers I had prayed every January and February for the past 13 winters were about to be answered. You see, I've prayed for a snow day so I could stay at home with the Rocket Man. Just the two of us. There have been snow days, but he has always gone on to work anyway. This time was going to be different. I just knew it.

And it was! Monday morning, the yard was full of glorious, white, heavy, beautiful, wonderful snow

I ran downstairs and made coffee and giggled and danced and gathered up my winter gear. Snow! I was going to go out and take pictures and play in the snow.

We bundled up and set out walking. We walked up the street and down to the main road. We talked to neighbors and watched children building snowmen. I was able to lend one of my neighbors my snow shovel {I have an honest-to-goodness real snow shovel} so he could stop using a garden shovel to try to clean off his driveway.

When Rocket Man was colder than he could possibly stand, we came in. I should remind you that he is my Son of the South and he doesn't tolerate cold well. At. All. Just doesn't do it. We are thermatically {is that a word?} incompatible. I love, Love, LOVE cold weather and I especially love snow.

I was chomping at the bits to go sledding, but we decided to wait until evening and give the slush in the roads a chance to freeze. All day long, I was at the window looking out. Oh my! How I love the beauty of that clean wonderful blanket of snow that covered my yard.

After supper, I gathered my winter gear once again. A good friend who lives in our neighborhood had come for supper and we were all going to go sledding. I scampered up into the attic and got down the old Flexible Flyer and was ready to go. It was going to be perfect. It was dark. Nobody else was out on the streets...they were all inside watching the BCS Championship game. I was bundled up and I was going sledding.

We rode up the hill in the back of our friend's truck with the trusty sled. He parked and then Rocket Man and I walked up the next hill. He was doubtful that I would be able to make it down because the slush wasn't frozen as we thought it would be. I was hopeful.

When we reached the summit, I got a lecture from the Man from Macon, Georgia about how to sled. I guess he's an expert because they get so much snow in Macon or something {did you hear the sarcasm?}.

I put the sled on the snow, laid down on it and down I went.It was wonderful. And there really are many good reasons why I probably shouldn't have done it.

I'm 53 years old and a grandmother
I have bronchitis
I have that bad back that is 'off' and 'ain't right'
I could have gotten hurt
I could have gotten sicker
I suppose that I could have gotten killed

But you know what? I flew down that hill, shrieking with pure delight. It was as if I had beomce the child I used to be...a child who loved to play in the snow, who would stand at the door with my hat and mittens frozen solid and beg my Mother to let me stay out for just a few more minutes. I never did that in the spring, summer or fall. Only in the winter when it snowed.

When I got to the bottom, I trudged back up and reluctantly offered the sled to Rocket Man and he politely declined. He said, "Molli. We brought you out to sled. You go down this hill as many times as you can and you enjoy it. Our joy is in watching you." {Did I mention before that I am absolutely crazy in love with this guy...and do you see why?}

So I flew down the hill and trudged back up until I couldn't put one foot in front of the other. And they watched and cheered me on, laughing with me and admonishing me to be careful. When I was done, we loaded back up in the truck and came home.

If I never get to sled again, and I understand that if we go another 14 years before we have significant snow...that quite possibly was my last trip down a hill on the Flexible Flyer...I'm good. Because Monday night was such a wonderful time and I intend to carry it in my heart as a precious treasure.

Where's Molli?

My oldest grandson, Malcolm, got the 'Where's Waldo' collection for Christmas. I don't know if he's spent much time looking for Waldo, but it struck a real chord in me. Where *is* Molli these days?

Not writing blogs

Not cleaning house

Not doing laundry

Not cooking

Not walking,riding bikes or working out

Not making cards

Not taking pictures

Not at work on our first work-day of the year...home sick with bronchitis

Not even very concerned about what she's not doing

Thing is...I wish I could find Molli and get some of these things done. Not that doing things is the end-all, be-all of existence. Doing, however, is the means by which we measure our days.



I have thought a lot lately. Spent time in prayer. Been sick and taken medicine. Napped and rested and spent valuable time with my husband and parents. Riding in the car, seeing old friends and old places.



It seems like its time to re-enter the 'real world' {whatever that is} and get back to some doing. I sort of have a plan. I intend to be gentler to Molli and give her a few more breaks. But, I also intend to try to motivate her to get her butt in gear and get some things done.



Does this make sense? Is anyone else out there with me?



No New Year's resolutions, but a firm resolve to live in better health {with all that encompasses, better eating, more activity, less illness}, to engage my mind in meaningful ways and to continue to try to see the needs of others and help where I can.



God willing, and with a little help from my friends, I think I can do this.

Are you with me?

And, if you happen to run into Molli, tell her its okay to come back home!

Happy 80th Birthday to My Sweet Daddy

Dear Sweet Daddy,

I am sending this with much love and hoping that your party will be a wonderful celebration of your birth. I am sorry that I won’t be there to celebrate with you on the day, but am thankful that we will be there just a few days afterwards to celebrate with you. Enjoy your party!

I have spent a great deal of time pondering what to say to you in this letter. A letter to be put in a memory book for everyone to read. Many, many things come to mind, but have already been written up in blog posts or in the book I did for you in 2009. Or they are simply too personal to put in a letter for all to see.

The thing that continues to come to mind is simply I love you. I hope that you know how much I love you. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t simply love My Sweet Daddy. I’m not sure if I love you more than any daughter ever loved her Daddy, although I have said for years that I am the self-proclaimed Queen of Daddy’s Girls. I only know that I have loved you as long as I can remember and as best I know how.

You have been such a place of earthly comfort and strength to me. As a small child, anything I imagined to be dangerous to me was held at bay when you were close by. I had a fast-held justified true belief that if My Sweet Daddy were near, nothing could harm me. As I grew older and became a little more aware of what danger really was, I still had a sense of well-being when you were close by. My belief grew from knowing that nothing would harm me if you were near to knowing that within your power, you would help keep me from harm if I acted prudently. Even older, when I brought my broken heart to you, you offered comfort and safety and I believe your heart broke along with mine. I took comfort from your care and concern and with courage and perhaps a little craziness dared to love again.

I love you for so many, many reasons. But the one I hold highest above all is the one I believe you would care for the most. And that is this: You lived your life in such a way that you pointed me to One dearer than even my own Sweet Daddy. You led me to a Heavenly Father, with whom I was very comfortable, thanks to the strong concept of Father that I learned from you. Thanks to your life, teaching and witness, I participate in Life Eternal that began all those years ago when you led me to know not only God the Father, but to accept God the Son.

I end with this. Simply one phrase, one solitary phrase that doesn’t say nearly what I want it to say, but also says it all. I love you Daddy!

Your Baby Girl,

Mollianne

My Tacky Treasures

Seriously...who played the trick with my calendar and all the sudden, its December 2? And why didn't somebody warn me that December would come immediately after November this year? Whose job was that? Has it always been this way and I just didn't notice?

I guess it doesn't matter that I was too busy basking in my Thanksgiving glow to notice. Reality set in and hit me between the eyeballs tonight when I went realized that my neighbors, The Griswalds, had turned on their Christmas lights. I don't have to turn the kitchen lights on at night until after the first of the year. Their Christmas display light up my kitchen from 3 houses down.

Actually, I was somewhat aware of the date and had stopped by our storage facility to pick up some of the Christmas tubs on the way home. It will take several trips to get it all, and then there is the stuff in the attic, and the stuff stashed under the guest room bed...I have lots of Christmas decorations. It takes me several days to get it all unpacked and properly placed. And I don't even decorate the outside. I don't have to. Really, The Griswalds do such a great job of lighting the neighborhood. Why bother?

On our way home from grabbing some fast food for dinner, I had a discussion with Rocket Man about Christmas. Frankly, he isn't the biggest fan of the season. He doesn't like all the fuss and comercialism that tries to overtake the season. He also doesn't care for the way people misbehave during the holidays. Neither of us are fans of what we have dubbed the "North Alabama Holiday Greeting" that we seem to get from fellow drivers in traffic this time of the year. Maybe they have this custom where you live. They point their middle finger at you while wishing you a Merry Christmas. At least, I think that is what they are saying as they pass me, pull in front of me, cut me off or take the parking spot I was just about to pull into. I'm never quite sure.

Anyway...I should also tell you that while Rocket Man occasionaly has a Scrooge attitude, he is one of the most generous humans I have ever known, especially at Christmas. So, I humor him when he's growling, "Humbug" and remind him to smile and say, "Peace on Earth!"

I wasn't playing Christmas Music at a bazillion decibles when I started digging into the tubs, because he seemed just a bit more not into the Christmas Spirit than he normally is. And I completely understand. The economy is bad, he continues to try to find work to keep his people employed and he had been up with me the past 2 nights tending to me while I was running a fever and coughing up a lung. He's earned the right to be a bit grumpy as far as I'm concerned.

I refrained from asking him if he wanted to help me unpack all the treasures. I wandered off by myself and opened the first tub.

There they were.

My choir children. The tackiest Christmas decorations you ever did see. They were my Neenie's and they have rhinestone eyes. She bought 3 of them when I was little, one for me and one for each of my big brothers. They were all blonde, so she painted the hair on two of them a brownish color, because we weren't all blonde. In fact, she always said that the painted ones were the boys and the blonde was me. Actually, I'm the non-blonde in the family.

Anyway, one of them lost its head a long time ago and she glued it back on. Only, she didn't glue it exactly right, so the head is a bit crooked. And the glue has turned brown on the poor choristers neck. But, he keeps that lovely rounded "o" mouth and I'm sure his pitch and diction are still perfect, even though he has had his head knocked off and glued back on. Of all the Christmas decorations I have (and like I said, I have a lot) these are sure to bring a tear to my eye every year.

You see. they bring back such precious memories of Christmas Past. Of snow and Baby Jesus in the Manger and flannel pajamas and the anticipation of our family reading the Christmas Story from Luke (in the King James...red letter edition) before we had a prayer and opened our Christmas presents, and my favorite Christmas books, "Davey's First Christmas" and "The Littlest Angel" and divinity and fudge and rice krispie treats and Christmas Carols, and family and friends and all the things that made our Christmas celebrations so wonderful to me when I was a small child. So I place them properly in a place of honor in my living room. Not the family room where we spend our time, but in the old fashioned living room where there are things that could get broken and portraits of Rocket Man's grandparents hanging on the wall, staring down on me whenever I walk through the room.

By the way...you should hear Rocket Man scoff at that term - properly placed- the bad time he gives me about it...properly placed, indeed! Heaven forbid that any of the Christmas decorations be improperly placed!! (laugh, poke Molli, snicker and snort)

See...I told you they were tacky. But I sure do treasure them!