Tuesday, August 30, 2011


Today is MY DAY. The sun is shining and the weatherman predicts 101 deg for the day. I can't complain. We've experienced harrowing hours watching Irene rip across states leaving death and destruction. My day has seen disasters and accidents in the past:  Katrina six years ago,the flooding of the Delaware River while we were in New York (one of several times in early 2000) and Diana's accident.  Death, destruction and happiness rolled into the last of August.

I came into the world to two hard-working people who lived in Jackson, Mississippi.. Mother was 19 and Daddy 21. They had been married 13  months. I'm not sure my appearance was a good omen or not, because I remember nothing of my childhood but their struggles and their attempts to keep me happy while shielding me from the poverty of the Depression years. From the moment I was able to talk about birthday,  they asked me what I wanted for my gift. I replied, "A pink dress with two pockets." I didn't get that dress until I was10 years old. It was probably on lay-away for  months. Thanks Mom and Dad for rearing me in hard times.

 Happy Birthday to me. Thank you family and friends for remembering an aging creature who appreciates her life.

Above is me at aged 7 or 8 in a flowered dress made by Mother,carrying a purse with a Kleenex inside.
 I felt so grown up that day.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

A Plea in the Dark

Some time in the past three years an inventor heard my impassioned plea. I had begun to dread cleaning up the house. The very idea that to clean floors I had to take the cotton mop, dip it in soapy water, scrub the floors, then rinse, finally with two weakened hands, wring out the water--a waste of my dying strength. So I ignored the floors. I began to ignore everything in the house. I felt like an old woman who made her way through stacks of newspapers and magazines from one room to another, except in my case, it was dodging fluff balls and ignoring the collection of detritus lining the floors in the corners. Sounds terrible, doesn't it? But R said we had too many "things" in our house to have a housekeeper, so the "things" were the only items that didn't collect over time.

That's when someone understood my anguish and invented the Swiffer. Hubby thought owning one was showing how lazy he was. Who could have been  lazier than we? So we waited a year until R's patience blew to the ends of the earth. He went out and bought one version of the Swiffer. Now he loves cleaning the floors.

I suppose one has to get fed up with old ways to suddenly see above your head a  floating suggestion to solve problems.As  new owners we hesitated to tell anyone we had  one for fear we would be seen as slackers. Then the day came when we heard rumblings about cutting down on housework from neighbors and friends and we perked up and told our story. Before too many weeks passed, we discovered the Swiffer was popular in most homes. We didn't stand alone.

Combined with our dish washer and coffee maker, we are now a happy household.