Cell phones and grocery shopping ... go hand in hand

Thank you, Lord, I don't have to do grocery shopping today. That's the thought currently running through my mind. Just as I was sort of preparing myself to make the list and the trip, the phone rang. It was the teen on the other end, asking about anything we might need from the grocery.

Well yes .... we need lots. But his tone said, "Dad means 'short grocery stop, not big.' So I rattled off necessities like milk, hamburger buns for tonight's dinner and regular potatoes if anyone wanted something other than grilled sweet potatoes. Also asked him to check out the avocados. Teen quickly repeated the items, again intonating, "that's all, right?" Right.

About five minutes later, the phone rings for an avocado discussion. It's the husband this time.

"The avocados aren't ripe, is that okay? They're still hard."

"Well, I'd like to make some guacamole tonight. I've got one avocado that needs to be used before it goes bad. Are there any that might be somewhat ripe?" He and I have different definitions of ripe for avocados, but that's an argument ... um ... discussion ... we've learned to just avoid.

"Okay, I'll look."

So I'm turning the radio back up. Oh wait, he's at the grocery outlet that always has bacon on sale. I call the teen's phone. That's the one they're using. The husband's phone is some cheap version of a toy phone he found on ebay for $7. He swears it's a good deal, but I usually can't hear him due to all the scratching noises coming through the receiver. Funny, he says, how it only happens on my phone. Funny, I reply, how I never have that problem with anyone else's phone.

"Check out the bacon. See what they've got on sale there today, especially if it's the thick-sliced, center cut. Get two of those."

I know this is not the last phone call. There will be at least one more, either updating me on the availability of bacon or asking about the brand. That phone call surely came. It was about the lack of any decent bacon there today.

I'm trying to remember what we used to do when we went to the grocery store before the advent of cell phones. Before the opportunity to instantly ask and be answered.  I guess we made up our own mind. We either bought it, or we didn't.

Interesting how my thoughts about not having to do 'big groceries' ended up about cell phones and groceries. But, in this day and time, at least at our household, it takes both a list and a cell phone for any kind of grocery shopping. I bet we're not alone.

Three children. Three weeks. Three stories of cancer. What's up?

What is up with so many young children having cancer? I've heard about 3 children in the last 3 weeks with some form of cancer, in one stage or another. Two holding on to a chance at a cure. One saying goodbye. And that's just in my small little bubble in this giant of a world.

My husband says we just hear about it more often now, due to technology and immediate information at our disposal. I don't agree. I think something else is going on. I heard about two of these children directly from people with huge - and hurting - hearts, close friends with direct knowledge of the suffering. They were helping raise money for the families. I don't know what that 'something else going on' is, but I need to start paying more attention. I think we all do.

Somebody needs to have the answers, and I think it's time to start asking more questions. Cancer is an ugly disease for any person to have withstand. But a child? That just ain't right.

Late fee contracts for doctors and football coaches

Until today, I didn't realize doctors and football coaches have so much in common. They both want you to be at their appointed designation on time, preferably a few minutes earlier. Yet, neither one of them seem to give much care as to when the session is supposed to be over.

My doctor wanted me there at 10 am today. I was. My son's football coach wanted him there at no later than 8:40 am. He was. I was supposed to be out of my appointment by 11 am. I was not. I didn't get out until 11:56 am. I was to be at the high school - at least a twenty minute drive - at noon for pickup.

However, it did not matter that I was late. I was early. By coaches' time, anyway. At 12:40 pm, I was still waiting. I'm thinking about writing up a contract for both my doctor and my son's coach that states if we are not done by agreed upon time, then they will receive and be expected to pay a $25 late fee. They penalize us if we're not on time; why shouldn't they be held to the same standards. Our time is just as valuable as theirs.

Ok, I guess it's all a fantasy. Doesn't work like that in the world of doctors and football, does it? But, it sure does sound like a good idea to me. Any takers?

I left this crappy ass summer weather back in Baton Rouge

I left this crappy ass summer weather back in Baton Rouge in 1985. So, can someone please tell me how it found me way up here in Asheville, North Carolina? Seriously. I moved to the mountains with expectations of cool summers and nasty cold winters that I don't particularly care for. And I was right.

Until about 7 years ago. Never even had any kind of AC until sometime this decade. It's a one-room unit that cools the front of the house, leaving the back rooms shut, with maybe the ceiling fan just kind of moving the hot air around just enough to make you think you're not completely in Dante's Inferno. But, it has hit me big time this summer that the Baton Rouge heat I once loved, then detested, has found me. I want it to go back the hell home. Asheville is as far north as I have ever lived. There is no southern hospitality in my household towards Summer 2010.

Right now, it is 2 pm, Friday. Clouds are thundering off in the west. Small growls at first, growing into rumbles, then on into downright thunder. The leaves are turning upside down, confirming some wet stuff is going to come pouring down as if it were being dumped directly into a gully. About a half hour from now, the sun will peak through, steam will rise from the streets, and temperatures and humidity will make my head hurt. I will soon seriously think about sticking my head in the refrigerator for at least five minutes, electric bill be damned.

I will be folding up paper towels and placing them in my armpits, held in place by my shirt, hoping they won't fall out and land in the lap of one of my editors.

Oh ... sorry ... I just flashed back to the newsroom where I began my journalistic path in Baton Rouge, the Capitol newspaper, the paper that had once followed Huey P. Long's every step. I started as a typist. It was my job to retype and correct stories sent over some huge electronic typewriter. That's right. I had to RETYPE it. No such thing as email or internet. It was all one huge word processor. AP style was burned into my brain. Then, I became a newsroom aide who got to wander all over the building, meeting and conversing with big wigs, sitting on the roof, overlooking the Mighty Mississippi for a few stolen moments, and enjoying my talks with those considered lower on the totem pole. However, they were the people who actually made sure the newspaper hit the streets before daybreak. I learned it all from the best. But, I digress.

My point is ... if this summer is not proof of global warming .... well, excuse me. I'm going to check and make sure the rain barrel is set to catch the regularly scheduled Asheville afternoon thunderstorm.

From afar that storm was beautiful ... kind of like life sometimes

I have no profound thoughts today. Or maybe I'm just feeling there's enough going on in the world that makes me want to go hide in the closet until the storm passes.

We did have one such storm today. Thunder rumbled off in the distance. A light rain began and the rain barrel was checked to make sure we would capture the water. The chimes twinkled on the front porch. Then it hit full force. Trees blowing, limbs bending, lightening strikes close enough so that Zach and I both jumped when it appeared it was in our back yard. Rain so hard, we could barely see the street. And just as soon as it had stormed in, it went into the distance. Not so scary anymore. We knew were safe. Our trees were not going to fall on the house. The car was not damaged by hail. We listened to the chimes twinkle softly again. We were thankful the rain barrel was once again full. We'll need that water in a few days.

From afar that storm was beautiful. Oh so beautiful. Kind of like life sometimes. However, I prefer to just jump in and dance. Storm and all.

Lunch with my bio sister - shocking, expected, mostly awkward

It took forever for her to look at me. Really look at me. Until we actually sat down to eat, she aimed most of her conversation at my husband. When I first walked through the restaurant, I noticed her right away; we’ve seen each other’s twitter picture, so I acknowledged her. She held out her hand, said “Nice to meet you.” I said, “Nice to meet you also.” She and her husband were waiting in line to check the reservation list. I had not made a reservation. Nerves took over. This was no ordinary ‘how do you do?’ meeting. No matter how casual we tried to act.

I’m adopted, have found my bio parents. Or at least I’ve found my bio mom for sure. Thought I had found and met my bio dad also, but some questions have recently been raised. This meeting was between me and my bio sister on my mom’s side to talk about some of these new questions. Husbands were invited. She took off her glasses, and I saw a smaller, slimmer version of myself. Her eyes are blue like mine, but hers are bright blue. Ocean bright blue. Mine? Well, one is messed up because of all my eye surgeries and the other one is more of a true blue. If someone had gotten a picture of us together, you’d be able to tell we were sisters. My husband noticed that immediately. I would like to have gotten a picture of me and my bio sister but it wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t that kind of family gathering.

This meeting was set up to clarify some questions that don’t need to be exposed here, but she’s known about me since she was a teenager and has been perfectly fine with the relationship as it is. Or, rather as it is not. On the surface, you would have thought two couples had just met, decided to have lunch together. The usual ‘get to know you’ comments and questions were asked. How many children do you have? What’s the weather like where you live? Exactly what part of Texas is your town nearby? How long have you been in Asheville? So on and so on.

When the plates were cleared, it was time to get down to business. I brought up the reason for our get-together. Questions and comments were once more exchanged. These were more serious and personal. Some shocking. Some expected. All awkward.

No definite answers at this meeting, but we left with a better understanding of this very strange situation in which we found ourselves. Neither one of us had expected this in our lives. She’s the oldest in her family; she had just met an older sister. I’m the youngest in my adopted family, but I had just met my little bio sister.

When there was nothing more to say, once again she held out her hand and said “Nice to have met you.” I returned her handshake. We turned and left in our own directions. I’m not sure if we will ever physically be together again. Probably not. That is her choice. But, I do know that each of us left that restaurant a changed woman. Whether we care to admit it, or not.

An angel sent me to a biker bar to help a little girl dying of cancer

Bailei Rhom just turned 6 years old. She will never live to see 7 years old. In December 2009, she was diagnosed with a rare brain and spinal cancer. She survived one major and two minor operations. She traveled to Chapel Hill for chemotherapy and radiation treatment. She stayed tough and positive. Just five weeks ago she was cancer free. She had fought the impossible battle and won. It was all a miracle.

In the meantime, friends had been thinking about planning a benefit for Bailei's family because the financial costs were more than adding up. Her father had stayed by her side, accompanying her to appointments, working only odd jobs so that Daddy could be there for his little girl. It was all sad, but Bailei was cancer free and hopes were high that enough money could be raised to at least help the family for the next few months, until they get could back on their feet, until life could return to normal.

That all changed July 14th. Bailei had a post-op check-up on that day and the family learned new tumors had developed. But these tumors were much stronger than the first, and there was no cure. No maybe's. No if's. Just the cold hard fact that Bailei would not be alive much longer. The family was understandably shocked. Friends celebrating Bailei's earlier miraculous recovery were at a loss of words to comfort the family. All anyone could do, was cry. And pray. Hospice has been called in to care for Bailei at home and now the family needs financial help to make her last days happy ones. And they need money to bury her.

Amanda Shelton stepped up to to take on the benefit and make it a bigger and, unfortunately, a much sadder, but very necessary event. She's organized a Benefit Motorcyle Run for Bailei's family this Sunday starting at 12:30. The run's planned route is such: Shart at Shakey's at 12:30, then on to Just One More, Mtn. View, Fairview Tavern, Mark's Place, Hollands and then back to Shakey's for food and a benefit auction. Cost is $10 per person to participate in the run.

I've never met the beautiful Bailei, nor had I met Amanda Shelton until last night. I was in want of a cold beer and didn't know exactly where I was interested in going. I drove down by the river, thinking I might head to one of the local microbreweries that is catching so much attention these days. But, it didn't feel right. I kept traveling along Riverside Drive and remembered a biker bar I had not seen the inside of in years. That's where I was going to stop.

When I got inside, I gravitated to a corner, near where Amanda Shelton was busy writing on her yellow note pad. She asked me if I was going to be there this Sunday for the event. What event? I asked. She told  me and asked me to please tell other people. Telling other people what is going on and helping coordinate special events is what I do. What I've been doing for at least the last 20 years.

I had no reason to stop in Shakey's yesterday, except I was meant to. I'm convinced my own Earl (the angel from TNT's now defunct Saving Grace) led me there, put me on a mission to help get the word out and find a few extra donations to auction off. I didn't get to see any fancy wings or blinding light, but my heart and head just knew - just simply and surely knew - what had happened. Now I know some people might think, 'yeah right, an angel is going to take you into a bar for a beer. A biker's bar at that. You're just making up excuses.' Most people who currently know me know I don't need to make up excuses for my actions, and I have no problem stopping in places where I don't know anyone and striking up an interesting conversation. So there's my story of how I got involved. How are you involved in this story?

Here's a link to a facebook event page that explains more about the day.

http://www.facebook.com/?sk=messages&tid=1250196113347#!/event.php?eid=143734528975540&ref=ts

Hope to see you Sunday. If you can't make it to the event however, and would like to make a cash donation, you can stop at Shakey's at 790 Riverside Drive and give it to the bartender (828-271-6685). Or you can call Amanda Shelton, event organizer, at (828) 712-4974.