The last Musketeer

D'Artagnan

Batman; Superman; Ninja Turtles (all of them); cowboys; Indians; ghosts; goblins; we have had them all visit us at one time or another. They all come up with the name of Micah. He is so dramatic when he becomes a character. He finds out all he can about these characters and I truly believe we are the luckiest people around to get visited by them all!

Yesterday D’Artagnan came to be with us all day. He showed up with a Cameroon flag draped to his back as a cape and a sword strapped to his side. He was valiant appearing but needed one more thing! A hat! “Where is my Zorro hat Pawpaw?” Pawpaw looks around and says, “I think I threw it away ages ago”! Oh no! I see the look of great expectation dampen a bit as though hearing some devastating news. I know he rode over this morning fully expecting to find this hat we’ve hung on to for years. I feel the disappointment so I begin to dig through the toys and on the bottom is this crushed looking hat. I pull it out, dust it off by slapping it against my leg and hand it to a smiling D’Artagnan. He straightens out the brim and places it on his head; looks in the mirror and says, “It needs feathers!”

I think! I think! “Micah, where will we find feathers?” How about the lake? I don’t want to get ready and drive to the lake. I say, “Perhaps Pawpaw will take you later or you could look under the trees out front in the event a bird has a lost a few.” Micah starts through the house and turns and looks at me grinning from ear to ear. He has found his feathers! We pluck a couple from the feather duster and put them in the hat. I say Si Si Senor’ we have found our feathers. He says, “I am D’Artagnan who speaks French, not Spanish” and out come some words that clearly appears to be French. Now, more imagination comes forth. The sword needs some work! He makes a protective slip for it with a funnel and slips it on the sword. He imagines fighting the enemy and I feel protected all day from them. Every time I look around I am learning more about this Musketeer (history). We go to Wikipedia and learn even more. His brother shoots him a few inquiring looks when he comes in and goes about his business helping Pawpaw with the mower; the boat, etc. This does not sway D’Artagnan who has his eyes on protecting his kingdoms and clearly has more important business than the mundane.

At 6:00 p.m. D’Artagnan got on his horse and galloped away… Come back D’Artagnan or surprise me with a new character next time. I must protect all the props from the garbage collectors and Pawpaw!

Easter without kids

This Easter was a mess. Should we plan a family dinner? Should we go out? Should we slink under the covers and pretend it's just another day? Now, don't get me wrong. I know what the Holiday is all about, but this year is different. We did not have our little ones here to rise up early and look about and move to the end of their bed and find what the Easter Bunny brought, while Memaw is in the background filming their every move.

We decided to, first of all, rise from the bed and we rushed into the living room - - no Easter baskets for the kids. Well, I take that back, there were 2 on the table Pawpaw picked up for the boys when they do come. Our dog Molly, didn't look interested in motorcycles and a dab of candy (no chocolate this time). We sat down in our recliners and stared into space. Ummmmm! What now? I wasn't having to hurry and get a ham in the oven! I wasn't rushing around wiping up spills and mopping the floor, tidying up for company! Ooooooooohhhhhhh, this was going to be a long day and not as much fun as we thought.

Okay, I poured my 3rd cup of coffee and got into Sunday Morning. Cute! More stories about Peeps - - every year something new happens with Peeps! This year it is an art contest and amazing what people will pour their time into. Interesting though! Molly lay on the floor with her eyes twirling and her eyes shifted up at me. She wanted something, but what?

A thought! Here is my kid this year. I walked to the kitchen pantry and pulled out her box of training treats she loves. While she was sleeping I hid the treats in Pawpaw's crocks; at the back of my recliner; in a hat; under the rocker; under a pillow and then we called her. Her nose began to move around - - she was definately sniffing. I continued my coffee and watched. She would sniff, hit the air and find! When she couldn't find a treat she would turn and look at us and we would point in the general vicinity and her little fat body (me and that dog have got to walk) in that direction and off she went with her sniffer and sure enough, she made her last find. For 30 minutes she continued to look - - no more eggs (oops, I mean treats) to reveal. Sooo, after she lay on the floor and rolled her eyes at us she knew we needed more entertainment so she ran to the pile of kids toys and pulled out her bunny (her old Easter Bunny the kids gave her) and we played tug of war and "Go get the Bunny". That wore her out and us. We lay back in our chairs and watched the rest of Sunday Morning. It is going to be a long day....

Why I don't like to sew?

In 1958 I had my 1st experience with sewing. Home economics was a required subject for girls in the 8th grade. My first experience was an apron. That wasn’t so difficult, but then the second experience was a straight skirt with a kick pleat. Mom was an excellent seamstress and we were allowed to take our projects home during the weekend to work on. Mom was great. She did most of it for me because she lacked patience teaching me. I could jam a bobbin in nothing flat and ruin more sewing needles than the whole sewing class.

We picked out a corduroy material in gold with little brown specks in it. Our high school colors were gold and brown and the next year I would be going to school at Central High in Evansville, Indiana. I wanted something that would stand out! The skirt would have a deep kick pleat and a medium waistband. When it was finished it was the most beautiful skirt I had ever seen. I couldn’t wait to wear it. I think I may have even worn it with a few straight pins still intact on the pleat. I got up on Monday morning and put on the beautiful skirt mom and I worked on together and a turtle neck brown sweater; a gold scarf around my neck with my brown penny loafers and bobby socks. I was coordinated from head to toe. Off I went to school with my hair in a pageboy and my new duds on. All day long the boys pestered me and the girls looked envious. Wow what a worthwhile project. It brought me and mom together; made me a 100 in home economics; and I got plenty of attention to boot. I was feeling on top of the world and like Marilyn Monroe.

When I got home from school mom told me to put some empty soda bottles in my basket on my bicycle and gave me some money to go with it for grocery shopping. Linda, my best friend down the street, came by and wanted to hang out, so I told her to hop on my bicycle and I would ride side saddle on the back rack over the bicycle tire. We made it to the grocery store. I enjoyed the trip to the store showing off my new duds. On the way home we had eggs; milk; bread and a few other items. We placed it all in the bicycle basket over the handlebars and I held the eggs to protect them while we bounced over the grass along the side of the street. My other arm was around Linda so I could hold on.

Pride! Humiliation! I was humbled by the next thing that happened. She hit a bump on the side of the street and the bike fell over. I fell off and tumbled backwards holding the eggs as tight as I could. When we stood up I had ripped my kick pleat; had egg dripping off my skirt and grass and dirt ground into my sweater. I was embarrassed and dreading facing mom.
Linda went on home so she wouldn’t get accused of ruining my skirt and the eggs. I went in to face the music. Mom wiped off my skirt with a wet rag; took what was left of the eggs and groceries and sewed up the rip. All was well after all. Mom made my clothes throughout school and helped me with the next project a gathered skirt.

Why then, can’t I sew? Could it be the eggs! Could it be the clogged up bobbins? Could it be mom did most of it for me? Yeah!

Heels over Head

Have you ever been head over heels about something? A couple of days ago I was heels over head and I'm not talking crude! I'm talking stepping into a puddle of water left by melting snow and doing a Dorothy Hamil flip without ice skates. It happened so fast!

My grandsons came running in the back door with snow on their feet and it melted fast. By the time I met them at the back door and spun around to hear what my husband was shouting from the living room I was upside down and on the ground. The boys were looking on in horror as I lay there. First I retrieved my foot from under my body and my leg came with it. I wiggled my toes - - they moved. I tried to move my leg and it hurt. My ankle hurt! My pride hurt! Here were two little innocents running in excited by the snow fall and here lay Memaw who couldn't share in the excitement. Along comes Pawpaw, "Should I call 911?" I said, "No, I have to lay here a minute and see if I'm broken or just bruised". He goes on outside with the kids. I'm thinking I need a Medical Alert button to say, "Help me I've fallen and I can't get up". The more I think about the concern of that man I've lived with for 45 years the madder I get. Mad enough to get up! That's all it took. Logan came back in and brought me crutches from the garage and I got up on them and hobbled to the living room. Sure enough, a deep breath; a little rest; some warm compresses and exercising my ankle, by evening I was up and at 'em a once again. Women can't get sick in this house!

The next day was in the 70's and now today, snow and ice are starting up again and I'm wearing rubber grip boots! No more Dorothy Hamil moves for me!